While Maria spun herself into orgasmic oblivion Travis went to his well hung wardrobe to look at his selection of garments to decide what kind of image to portray to the ladies at the party.

A few ideas churned in his mind. Kenyan pimp, ex sports guy with an old injury he never shuts up about, and apprentice butcher. Not Elon level ideas by any stretch of the imagination but he was ecstatic at the opportunity of getting some less than boring sex for once. Poor Travis had seen more missionary action than the Spanish conquest of South America, minus the smallpox and tribal saggy boobs responsible for the popularity of National Geographic magazine and the countless ejaculations by horny men wanking over pics of women with plates in their lower lip, usually a few tribal hotties standing next to a questionable water source or malnourished cattle. Sometimes you saw a bit of cock too.

Travis decided to go with the "Kenyan sports butcher" look. A dark felted purple hat with a wide brim , a striped blue and white short sleeved shirt and rock climbing shoes.

A dapper look sure to get the juices flowing of any red blooded female who wasn't laying at room temperature.

All he had to do now was not die in the next couple of days, nor have his car break down or get lost on the way to the party.

He decided he would get an uber the night of the party to kill two birds with one stone, as he had noticed that his car wasn't running right after he had driven over the downs the week earlier.

The teachers at the special school were left traumatized by this.