Drawing: Jesus, where did you find this lot?

A drawing from 2007. I went through a phase of writing fantasies all over the drawings, to accompany the images. The text from this one reads:

THE AIR WAS HUMMING. MALE ADOLESCENT STINK: SWEATY JOCK-STRAP MUSK MIXED WITH MARIJUANA, POPPERS, CUM AND CHEAP SPORTS DEODORANT. EVERYWHERE SLIMY ROCK-SOLID DICK-SHAFTS WERE SINKING INTO PINK HAIRLESS GREASY ASSHOLES, SOME ALREADY OOZING CUM THAT RAN DOWN LEAN SWEAT-GLOSSED THIGHS. RED FACED DUDES WITH BLANK DAZED EXPRESSIONS AND GLAZED HUNGRY EYES TROKED THEIR DICKS ABSENT-MINDEDLY AS THEY WANDERED IN SEARCH OF THE NEXT ASS TO EAT, OR FINGER, OR FUCK, OR THE NEXT DONG TO SWALLOW, OR SLIDE ONTO AND BOUNCE ON UNTIL IT BLEW ANOTHER LOAD INTO THEIR ALREADY SLOPPY FULL ASSHOLES.
"JESUS" I MURMURED, "WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS LOT?"
THE PROFESSOR SHRUGGED. "THEY'RE JUST A BUNCH OF PHYS. ED. MAJORS WE ROUNDED UP. TOLD 'EM THERE WAS SOME CASUAL LABOURING GOING, $30 AN HOUR AND LUNCH."
I WAS CONFUSED, "AND THIS?"
"THEY WON'T REMEMBER THIS. THEY'LL WAKE UP TOMORROW THINKING THEY SPENT THE DAY LIFTING AND CARRYING."
I WAS CONFUSED, EVEN MORE.
"WE DON'T EVEN HAVE TO PAY THEM," THE PROFESSOR SMILED, "THEY'LL THINK THEY BLEW THE MONEY GETTING TANKED."
"SO ARE THEY DRUGGED?"
"NOT HEAVILY. THEY'RE DRUNK AND HIGH, THERE'RE A LOT OF PHEREMONES IN THE AIR-CONDITIONING, SOME LIGHT HYPNOSIS. IT DOESN'T TAKE TOO MUCH TO GET THE GUYS INTO THIS STATE, WE FIND."

"LOOK AT THIS," THE PROFESSOR INDICATED A NEWSPAPER CLIPPING OF THE LOCAL HOCKEY CAPTAIN HOLDING A TROPHY, FLANKED BY TWO STAR PLAYERS. THE PROFESSOR POINTED ACROSS THE ROOM TO THREE YOUNG MEN WHO I RECOGNISED FROM THE PHOTOGRAPH AS THE SAME HOCKEY PLAYERS.
"IT SEEMS THAT EVEN IN THIS STATE THEY RECOGNISE FAMILIAR SOCIAL BONDS. CURIOUS."
AT THIS POINT THE HOCKEY CAPTAIN, WHO WAS ON HIS BACK ON A TABLE, OPENED HIS MOUTH FOR HIS TEAM MATE TO EJACULATE INTO. THE OTHER SHOT A LOAD INTO HIS HOLE, WHICH HE HELD OPEN.

I STARED AT THE ORGY AROUND US. ONE BLUE-EYED ALL-AMERICAN TYPE GUY WALKED OVER TO US, SOAKED IN SWEAT, HIS EYES PINK AND BLOODSHOT AND HIS MOUTH AND CHIN SPATTERED WITH SEMEN. I BRUSHED HIM AWAY, TURNING TO THE PROFESSOR, "WHAT HAPPENS TO THEM NEXT?"
"THEY'LL TIRE EVENTUALLY. MOST ONLY EJACULATE FIVE OR SIX TIMES, HAVE A REST, GO HOME, SLEEP IT OFF, FORGET THE WHOLE THING. THEY'LL BE BACK IN CLASS ON MONDAY WITH NO IDEA ABOUT THEY'VE DONE TO EACH OTHER."
I WAS ASTONISHED BY HOW CALM AND MATTER-OF-FACT THE PROFESSOR WAS.
"YOU THINK YOU'LL GET AWAY WITH THIS?" I ASKED.
"WE HAVE DONE SO FAR," HE REPLIED. "THEY MIGHT NOTICE A FEW THINGS OUT OF THE ORDINARY BUT THEY WON'T TALK. COME ON, WHAT PHYS. ED. GUY IS GOING TO TELL HIS BUDDIES HE WOKE UP THIS MORNING HUNG OVER WITH THE TASTE OF DICK IN HIS MOUTH, A SORE STRETCHED ASSHOLE, AND HIS THIGHS AND BUTTCRACK STUCK TOGETHER WITH SPUNK?"