There Eric Fyord was, in the one of the best clubs for picking up co-eds, on one of the best nights to be scoring with slutty-costumed horny women, and he had blown his load amidst everyone. Thankfully, it wasn't in the middle of the dance floor from a sorority sister grinding on his groin, but it also wasn't in the partial privacy of a bathroom stall from a business major blowing him. Someone had just jerked and sucked him off beneath the table he was standing at while friends and potential conquests were right at his side.
That in and of itself wasn't catastrophic; Eric's regular gym routine and good diet (and youthful age) meant that he had a fantastic refractory period. He would be ready to gush cum across a slut's back in less than an hour--plenty of time to seduce one of the scantily clad dancers on the floor.
What was potentially an obstacle between him and tearing lace delicates with his teeth was that while distracted by a rather intense orgasm, Eric had lost his underpants. The under-table blower and jerker had de-pantsed him, and Eric's special occasion tiny briefs had fallen to the skuzzy club floor while his balls emptied. It seemed likely the violator had scooped them up as a trophy, but could it have been the Indian engineering student who copped a feel of his bare bubble butt?
Regardless of who had his underwear, Eric considered it worth chasing down. His toga costume had a very high hemline, fitting in with any of the slutty costume miniskirts that occasionally gave a flirty glimpse of chew-worthy cheeks or silk panties. Unlike those gals, who at the very least would be wearing a g-string, Eric had nothing cladding his junk. His balls were hanging somewhat low from the heat of the club, and despite the very recent climax, his cock was still swollen and tilted forward. When Eric was fully erect, his dong would angle up, which would certainly lift the skirt of his toga and be almost impossible to hide. At the least, he would be laughed at and tossed out of the club--probably banned for life, too. At the worst, he would have his romantic reputation ruined, and he would only be able to prey upon freshman girls in the first week of the semesters. Or maybe the horny tanned milfs that sometimes stalked into bars around the campus to find a young buck for a ride. There were worse fates, but Eric liked his freedom and his options. He needed to find that underwear.
He looked under the table, careful to bend down with his knees since bending at the waist would mean his ass was bared and his junk likely dangling into view of anyone behind him. The lighting was less than ideal. He saw some glistening goo on the floor where he was standing, dribbles from his spent cock, and he blushed at the thought his cock was likely still dripping here and there on the floor. He hoped it wouldn't soak into the white fabric of his costume. Whoever the blower was, they were long gone. No one was lurking under the table, and no sign of his missing clothes.
He did see, though, with the sweeping dance floor lights plenty of long shapely legs standing around the table. He was usually more of a tits and ass guy--or lips--all three were frequent sources of pleasure for his cock, but this sea of legs stirred thoughts in his mind. He felt his cock stir a bit, and he shook his head. No erotic thoughts until his cock was at some lady's apartment or safely wrapped in cotton again.
He stood back up and decided his best course would be to check on the engineering student. That guy had seen that his ass was exposed and had felt up his butt and thighs. He was right there when Eric came, and maybe he had seen the briefs on the floor? Eric hadn't been watching him the whole time--his frat brothers were chatting him up and there was that little matter of an orgasm blurring his senses--so maybe when Eric had felt the engineering student move around next to him, he was stooping down to snag his pervy prize.
Eric pushed into the crowd with his drink in his hand, which might prove to be a useful distraction or prop for securing his stolen pair. People were milling about, some sorta dancing here off to the side of the floor, others going back and forth between the bar and main dance area. Legs and butts and hands brushed against him, each with tantalizing doses of friction against his still-sensitive member. Eric moved his free hand to shield the further swelling appendage, anxious that someone might swing a hand into cupping his penis or balls, each worryingly more sensitive than usual to each and every sensation. A short Thor came at Eric head-on (jeez, did someone bring their kid, Eric mused) and brushed by, Eric uncharacteristically yielding space to avoid the prop Mjolnir warhammer from whacking his junk. On the back side, though, that short Thor inadvertently (Eric assumed) swished Eric's toga skirt up, and the warhammer slapped his ass. Eric swung his free hand to the back to sweep the skirt back into place as he heard some very drunk girl hoot, hopefully at something other than his momentary exposure.
Finally, Eric arrived at the local meeting of the Engineering, Math, and Physics students--aka, the cluster of Southeast Asian students at the fringes of the dance floor. Eric played it cool and faced towards the main clump of dancers with the group on his right. He side-eyed the guys, looking for that goateed face that was next to him 10 minutes ago when he came and lost his underwear. Eric found him. He was chatting with a friend and then gave that friend a shove forward towards the dance floor. Eric and Goatee met eyes, and Goatee gave him a big smile. Eric offered a small smile in return before taking a sip of his drink. Eric looked away, but after a moment let his eyes drift back to scan Goatee--his costume didn't look like it had any pockets...where could he hid his prize?
As Eric considered, another of the students rushed up from the back area and fired off some rapid, excited words to a couple of the guys clustered there, and following him was one of the biggest dudes Eric had seen. By BMI, the guy would probably be classed as 'obese' but he wasn't a ball of mass. Instead, he was both tall and thick, only verging on fat. Eric knew of him vaguely from seeing that giant guy on campus, and he was somewhat certain he was a linebacker for the football team, which made perfect sense. That's exactly what Eric thought when he saw him around in classes and the library.
The excited guy waved something around in his hand, and when Eric saw it, his heart sank a bit at a suspicion of what it was. It looked like something small, something white, and something cottony. Eric couldn't hear what was being said over the music, so he nonchalantly maneuvered through the people to get within earshot of the excited guy.
"--on the floor," he was rattling off.
"Told him that was gross," Mr. Linebacker said. He was wearing a baseball uniform as a costume with number 44 on the back. The excited guy brought his hand up to his face and took a dramatic sniff.
"This is to find my Cinderella," he laughed. "I'll know when her ass smells like this panty." Eric took another drink nearby. So, this guy thought he scored some woman's abandoned underwear, but how in the world did Eric's underwear end up over this way, if they were, indeed, his? And how would Eric get it back? The excited guy did a little dance with the next drop of bass from the DJ, and he twirled the garment over his head. Yeah, Eric was pretty sure those were his. Damn. Mr. Linebacker would be a problem; Eric definitely didn't want the football team learning that he was prancing around a club with his cock swinging bare.
