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Weekend Roundup: Juvenile Behavior before/after
me:"Okay, here it is: I will give you a dollar if you touch that girl's back."
It was Saturday night until the fun began.
After friday night, which turned into a lame fuckaround despite making good time with the barmaid at the P/S Lounge who has a thing for me and is brown haired and blue-eyed, I decided a karmaic shift was in order.
And there is nothing more karma warping than smoking Dunhill Superior Mild ciggarrettes.
This has been documented in months past.
Before the obnoxiousness began, I searched about four different stores before locating the necessary karma changing carcinogens.
The odd dice-throwing phenomenon is remarkable in that it will change your fortunes, yet in what direction is indeterminable.
So equipped, armed with a pack of Dunhill Superior Milds, wearing black corduroy pants, soft-leather black shoes, a black t-shirt (tight fit, not that it really matters) and a button down short sleeved swanky yet stylish blue hawaiian shirt that has traveled with me to the other side of the globe...Athens, Istanbul, Cittavechia, the Medeterranean, its seen it all, we went out on the town.
We had been watching a girl at the Funky Bhudda Lounge, a club atmosphere type counter-culture bar. Sort of a compromise between Extacsy and yuppie hell, the Lounge is and will always be hoplessly trendy.
A girl with an unfathomably beautiful back was wearing a backless club shirt, the kind with the front of a tank-top and a spaghetti string strap on the back to keep it together was captivating our blindly juvenile attention.
cj:"Okay"
Roomie sauntered over and asked what was happening. So I told him.
Roomie:"Thanks for taking me back to the 9th grade guys."
And we meandered through the evening. I talked to a few girls, and at one point, got deeply involved in one of those bar conversations when you feel obligated to pour out a schpiel of the last few years in a nutshell because someone has prompted you to this precipice...
I need to learn to lie in these situations. As in, "Yeah, I used to design spitting cages for a local S&M store for a few years until the neighbors burned my front yard, and I poisoned the well they drank from, and they died...in the late summer months."
Anyway, I got involved in this conversation and something strange happened. She'd cozied up to me, and we flirted in fine form. Good fit, she snuggled casually without throwing an arm around me, with full body contact head to toes, our lips inches away from each other as we chatted, when I felt a supple, yet firm female behind brush into my left hand, and stay there.
Normally someone gives, and moves, usually the person being touched as it freaks them right out. But she stayed where she was.
Curious, I traced the line of her french-cut panties delicately with my index finger, without being noticed by my current object of attention.
She slowly turned and looked at me, saying nothing. And I had not broken eye contact with my current conversation. She then proceded to rub her breasts on me somewhat subtly.
Within minutes, it seemed, I was surrounded by a crush of a couple of girls, and each seemed to take their turn at making a pass at me. Beautiful breasts being rubbed on me, one pair at a time from different sides, while Susi snuggled into me.
To my credit, I did not glance from her eyes, as I find it rude to talk to someone, and they check out everyone else in the room but you.
She seemed disturbed by all the contact I was receiving , but said not a word. Gradually, she turned, and stroked my cock with her hip softly and repeatedly, arousing me.
I settled myself down, as I did not at this point desire to stand in a public place with an erect cock while wearing corduroy jeans. Usually, I'm uncaring, and enjoy it to a certain extent, but I did not feel comfortable in this situation, piling around with a stiffy and a big smile on my face that says , "Hey! Hi! How's it going! Lookit me! "
At this point, the guys wanted to go to another bar to try their luck, and I assented. CJ immediately turned and touched the girl with the gorgeous back and club shirt.
Getting no response, he touched her some more. By now, I am laughing with abandon, amazed that at this age (and I am the youngest) that guys still manage to be juvenile, obnoxious, and above all, amused by such stupidity so long after puberty.
I put my head in my hand, and while doing so, CJ manages to untie her shirt, which immediatly uncovers her breasts.
Random Girl :"Hey, a girl was just shirtless."
me:"Really? Where?"
And it dawned on me just how far CJ had gone. Whoops. Time to bail.
So we left, and made it to the Goosetown Pub. Obnoxiousness in full swing. Roomie had a date the next day with Timi, a girl he met at the Funky Bhudda, so he started to shreik "Tim-may!" for no particular reason.
So the refrain began. Sometimes leaning on the bar, and sometimes clinging seemingly for dear life, I too, shreiked with joy and enthusiasm, amid gales of laughter, "Tim-may!"
Roomie:"Wouldn't it be cool, if she was blowin' me, and I pulled out at the last second...and came on her face while I shouted 'Tim-may!'"
Roomie's well adjusted, considering the freakish turn of events his life was at one point, but sometimes...I still wonder about his motivations.
Roomie:"Tim-may!"
At this point, I recalled the night Roomie and I were at the Fifteenth St. Tavern, and he began shoting "Woo! Yeah! Suck that cock!" in front of two clearly out of place, nice pre-yuppie girls, causing them to blush.
So I started to shout this, with abandon. Just to see how it felt.
And it felt fine. A few people standing nearby noticed, and laughed at the freakishness factor of my statement, but in the main it was much as I suspected: no one noticed.
Girls still made eyes at me. People still chatted. Nothing.
So I went home, and soaked in the hot-tub, smoking Dunhill Superior Milds, gazing up at the blanket of stars, and musing about the triviality of life in a geological time perspective.
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