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Forum Category: Erotic Stories
 Originator Date Posted 
   A Work of Friction   

12/3/2012 18:50
Posted By:  - MINNEAPOLIS, MN  
Date Posted: 12/3/2012 18:50
   Legal Disclaimer: This is a work of friction. All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, virtual or imaginary is purely coincidental.


The bar was so thick with smoke that were it northern Arizona, half the drivers would’ve wound up at the bottom of the Grand Canyon and the surviving half would be dead of lung cancer. Anyway, it was white and thick, like a Santa Claus erection.

A man, buttocks clenched tight as if cracking a walnut leaned over:

He was so close, I could see the dimples on his cheeks. No, the ones on his lower back:

- Just curious how couples go about finding single males. He elaborated. Over the years I've  heard they are everywhere but really now I am wondering how that is true. 

Something was wrong, I sensed. For one thing, it took me three sentences to realize he was talking out of his ass. Like I said, it was thick and white. Like the early nineties LS party lady’s room lines. On the mirror.

- I've never relied on LL to meet singles in the past (and no I'm not married) so I am kinda wonder how people even make threesome fantasies happen via a site that has worked really well for me.
He continued unfazed. Like DC current on Lionel Model Train Set.

Why me? I thought. What is it about me that always seem to attract that line of query. Then I realized, he wasn’t talking to me; he was talking at a couple of hot chicks at my table, dressed so scantily you could see their eyes because seeing nips posed no challenge. How the fuck did I miss them? I wondered.  Then I realized how white and thick…it was. With smoke. Et cete- no! It was so white and thick, in fact, that were I to reach for a failed-simile-turn-comparison, I’d liken it to a milky discharge from a gonorrhea patient.  

- My only conclusion is that my success on LL was based on the low number of fit single males actually on LL in given area OR the majority of couples on LL aren't into threesomes at all

Well, I thought. That’s one doosy of a non-sequitur. When is another doozy coming, I thought then. As if reading my mind, he wrapped up:

- There are so many tangents to these statements that perhaps a poll would better sample my question. But as of right now I am concerned that there really aren't that many SM on LL that are into MFM.

Any advice on finding fit and hung single males would be appreciated; at least by the standards I've been judged by over the years which I believe don't really make much sense now.

An eternal student of novel punctuation schemes, I was delighted. But there was work afoot! There was no time to punctuate! Damn it! Double damn it, for I was too late: in a blink of an eye a guy tossed him his room keys, a woman swooned and my two vixen neighbors quipped something so witty as to render my response irrelevant. Damn, as I said, it. Exclamation point.

-          hmm still waiting

This guy was a hummer.

- Pardon me if I am confused, but for clarity sake, you're a SM looking for a SM? Someone tossed him a rope.  But you can’t push a rope:

- hmm guess I'm just a guy who isn't married that thought this was an open minded site to meet singles or couples.  If I wanted to fish I would probably just email 20+ couples a day and say how awesome they are. I mean really guess my only mistake was expecting much from the bar types. So I apologize if you can only analyze my post rather than expand upon it.

Poor guy, I thought. I felt for him Right here [pointing]. No, to the heart, damn it. Poor bastard. Poor motherfucker. I am gonna help him. Because nobody else, I realized, will.

"[in/out]side of the men's room," I said. "YW, "  said. For, I thought, what more was there to be said?

A waiter walked by carrying a tureen of soup. Clam chowder, I sensed. Or lobster bisque. My hunch proved right; it was something fishy:

- Wal*Mart, piped in the waiter.

Motherfucker, I thought. Why, I bet that bastard has eleven pages of soup. I mean places to meet men.

- uh I give up on LL bars. I guess my biggest mistake was confusing those who critiques bars from most members who don't even bother with them

He was speaking in tongues, I realized. To attract chicks. What a clever devil. I grew jealous at the subtle and oblique ways of his tongue.          

- yep I give up on seeking advice from a bar. I think I'll just show a few pics of me with a cute girl friend and see how people analyze that and questions my question posing skills in a swing bar. my bad 

I felt something die deep inside of me. I couldn’t see what it was because of how white and thick it was. Like a KKK rally. But he elaborated:

- opps i meant question rather than questions. guess ive been working more than writing lately my apologies

That was a relief. I suddenly felt better, as if a giant question, I mean questions were lifted off my chest. Still, I felt responsible. Those mean fuckers. Those crusty bastards. Those grizzled motherfuckers. What do they know about feelings, those cunts. Only how to hurt them. I was out of expletives. So I apologized:

- if it helps any, i blame myself for your inability to properly frame a question in the Forum.

mea fucking culpa, I said. I meant it. Mea fucking culpa. I like Latin: their chicks are so spicy and exotic (but I like them thick and white too, like…but we digress).

The same waiter was walking back, ladle cocked and ready to fire soup:

- Taco Bell?

I wished he’d stick to his soup.

Taco Hell started an avalanche: another dude squeezed in on my two hotties, complimenting their divine tooshies. “Nice ass”, he said, looking squarely at the SM looking for SM’s, but I know what he meant. He meant my two honeys. The ones with the nipples and the eyes. Yes, those. Fuck off.  Problem was, so did the waiter:

-    You should see her vagina, he said, the fucker.

That’s when a free-for-all started, as they oft do. With a coochie joke. I felt responsible. But damn it, it was the waiter’s fault too. And what the fuck was a soup waiter doing in a smoky bar? It was so white and thick, like my lapsed judgment, that further analogies or analysis failed me.

The dude was turning defensive, as in “the best defense is offense”:

- I think craigs list comes with less of a headache then what I just encountered here geez

I felt the need to bail him out. STAT:

- a word of advice, I said: much like [in/out]side of men's room, on CraigsList one must be particularly careful as to how s/he frames a preposition so as not to wind up in a some sort of a hilarious misunderstanding.  /clips to follow/

Rotten luck, nobody brought along any clips. Honestly, how these people expect to make small talk without charts or visual aids is beyond me. Pussy riot. That’s where they live, the fuckers.

- It's amazing how helpful people are behind a table. I've done well as a single male in the past so I'll just imagine I wouldn't have issues as a couple.  Have fun nuking the bar question all you want

Nothing else really happened that night. Nothing really worth noting. I finished my bowl of soup and went home.

Not so fast! (it turns out). A carrier pigeon must’ve followed me home. “It took a dump on you!” you’re no doubt thinking. And you’re no doubt right. Here is the dump it took on me:

really? It started. I wondered what it meant. It meant “really”:

I mean really? I just wanted advice on where couples primarily meet single men. I've seen far less clear posts in my four years on the site….I mean I just meet a girl who wants to explore and your trying to make me look like a creep. why? It doesnt matter but I just don't get how you can be so negative, and yes I'm trying to be polite…. I would love to compare myself to your aura of excellence but "really" whats the point?  hopefully 20 years from now I won't be belittling people in their twenties trying to break into the lifestyle. so hope you have a good night and continue your you-tube crusade to enlighten the LL forums. Really I think time is on my side when your jokes are less relevant..

But the pigeon was waiting. I mean, really. Really. It, like, really, stood there waiting. Really.

So, compelled not to keep the crapper waiting, I fashioned some sort of a response along the lines of:

“if you are so convinced in your righteousness, your right to be indignant at any challenge to your cryptic posts questions, then why, pray tell, bother with the email pigeon?”

I went on then, on about the aura, the flora, the fauna.

my ONLY point was (and still is), until he learned to express thoughts in a clear manner, he deserved the responses he got. finally, I concluded, “your uncanny ability to repeatedly step into the same pile of shit is comical. do not begrudge those entertained by the entertainment you stubbornly provide.  best of luck, amigo, and thanks for all the laughs. I am honestly grateful for what you started.”

That’d be that, I thought. It wasn’t. That wasn’t that. At all.  I mean, really. I was almost that. But not that. Here is what it was, it was a boomeranging pigeon:

- Figures thanks for the advanced enlightenment. It takes me about 2 sentences to acknowledge it.

But it was time to wrap it up. It was getting to be three and a half pages long:

"whoever taught you English", I replied, "ought to be shot."

And that was that. 

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