Unnamed Hot Girl

She is so divine

The way she looks tonight

Holding her red solo cup

She must be at least a D cup


Hands clutched

Eyes wide open

Anxious sweat drips from our foreheads

Five yards to go. Three. One.

A wave of relief washes over us

He made it


Filled to the brim

Cold glass kisses my soft lips

My flatophobia put to ease

As carbonated delicacy fills my mouth