I came to get down OPEN
Aug 16, 2012 14:17:59 GMT -5
Post by kneedles on Aug 16, 2012 14:17:59 GMT -5
[/font][/size][/color]Arriving in district four- his only chance perhaps ever to stand on the soil of another district, to experience something as prestigious as the Panem Olympics- The Scoot had two main questions. 1) Where were the bitches? 2) How did he get at the bitches?
His events weren’t troubling him, naturally The Scoot was entered into most of the track sports and then it was just a case of doing what came natural. The real game, Scooter had decided was going to be outside of the arenas, in the Village where a whole new classification of females were waiting for him; shiny, hardboiled honey’s from district one who would insist on being on top, bouncing bronzed babes from District 4, with strong swimming arms and hair kinked by seawater in a way that The Scoot found sexy as hell as well as the girls from his own district who were getting into the spirit of the Olympics and might be willing to hit the showers with him after a big win. Basically,it was going to be wall to wall banging; Scooter was more than ready for this- had made his Ma pack his best undies, had shaved places because the rumours were that’s how girls from District 4 liked their men and he’d bought a scented candle. The Scoot wasn’t sure what the scented candle was for at what point he wheeled it out or exactly how long it would last considering he was planning on using it on more than a couple girls.
So when he pulled on his sports gear early that morning for a warm up jog, limbering up for the days of physical exertion ahead, it wasn’t just keeping his muscles working playing on The Scoot’s mind. He could picture them before he’d even left his rooms, with their pert little round asses you could bounce pennies off of crammed into tiny lyrca jogging shorts, breasts penned in firmly with sports bras but still heaving ever so slightly. And there he’d be in the middle of it all, the most gorgeous freaking thing any of those poor girls had ever seen. They don’t make em like that in our district, they’d sigh to themselves, hair sticking to their foreheads, pouring their water bottles over their heads so The Scoot could see everything beneath the thin materials of their too tight t-shirts. And then the Olympics- the real ones could start.
“WHOO!” it was good to start a run with a few whooping cheers, helped the lungs, built up energy which he was gonna need and also would help attract any eyes towards where he was. It was a public service, no one wanted to miss the Scoot demonstrate the exact meaning behind the phrase ‘Poetry in Motion’. It wasn’t even warm out, but The Scoot still disposed of his hoodie, revealing just a vest and biceps so freaking sexy that The Scoot would have made out with them if only they had lips and a tongue. Bouncing a little on the spot, The Scoot tried to see if he had an audience- but to his great disappointment couldn’t make one out. Early days though, he’d get one soon enough.
Head back, shoulders loose, The Scooter bounced a little more, shook out his limbs and began his circuit of the village.