Binghamton offers all sorts of education from engineering courses to nursing. There’s probably other schools of thought to be taught too, but who cares? Those at the Student Association do, it seems, as the Sexapalooza event held last Saturday delved into the ins, outs, ins, outs, ins, and outs of groinage. Those who attended preferred a hands-on approach on such topics, reports show, as not even five minutes into the event, the room bursted into hot, steamy lovemaking en masse.
“Not only were they having copious amounts of sex,” missionary Willy Stroker revealed, “but they were even doing drugs and listening to rock and roll while they were having copious amounts of sex.” When asked to clarify his statement, he noted that “They were blasting Meat Loaf, Ratt, Mötley Crüe, Red Hot Chilli Peppers, the works. Oingo Boingo too, but their stuff is a little too ‘New Wave’ for my taste. Did you know that Danny Elfman released his own solo album, appropriately titled So-Lo, that includes the other members of Oingo Boingo, completely negating its solo nature? Oh, and some people were smoking weed there too, I guess, but they announced to the group that they were over 21 and carried a legal amount on their person at all times.” Thank you Joe Biden.
Nothing was off limits: arm-sized dildos with chainsaw handles revved up nearby femdoms blowtorching testicles alongside men in clown makeup going to clown-town on a lucky lad in latex under a miasma of purple sights and smells. And oh, don’t even get me started on all the foot stuff going on during all of this.¹ Although we can neither confirm nor deny Baxter the Bearcat’s involvement within this entanglement of limbs and phalanges…
“It was just like Euphoria on HBO Max™,” assumed Binghamton student Charlie Dolan Jr.. His faceplate promptly fell off to reveal the synthetic interior underneath. In the wake of this malfunction, his self-destruct sequence set off, leaving nothing but a smoldering pile of ash and subscription money in the wake of a cataclysmic explosion. What a jerk. Screw him, just thinking about him grinds my bulge. I’m going to go grab my blowtorch and go have sex now to take my mind off it. At least the blast acted as a form of post-Sexapalooza cleanup, leaving nothing you could see under a black light remaining. The only remnants of this event are its listing on B-Engaged and what remains in/on partygoers' genitals. Remember to always pee after sex.
1. We here at The BUTT do not condone shaming those with sexual interests that do not harm those who do not enjoy being harmed within a sexual context. You do you, man. In fact, I shoot ropes to goblins, bees pollinating flowers, the letter “H,” people acquiring large sums of money, claymation skeletons, your mom, beavers building dams, dams, women in their late thirties transforming into cacti, Slavic creation myths, gasoline, faux sheepskin coats, zombies who have been fully resurrected, speculative zoology, those gnomes that wear hats which cover their eyes but not their noses, sakuga, being told I’m the distant heir to a long forgotten throne, the concept of a panopticon (as depicted below), etc.
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