(Sorry, about that; I try never to be afraid of writing anything, but I’m trying to keep the number of spam visitors down to a dull roar, so the word that rhymes with “Corn” will not be allowed here. Oh, by the way, this is X, or at least NC-17, rated content here, but not p**n, never p**n. This is a family site.)
She threw down Jack Daniel’s like it was pineapple/orange koolaid on a hot summer day.
“What are you lookin’ at?”
“A reasonably attractive woman who likes her booze.”
“Says the man who adds ice and water to his bourbon.”
“I like my whiskey cold and my women stupid.”
“You look like you’d like to be fucking an 83-year old Chinese midget woman.”
“You look like you’re all pissed off that I’m not in your mouth already.”
“Goddammit!” She slammed her empty glass on the bar and pulled me off my stool. 83 seconds later I was balls deep in her in the women’s bathroom.
17 minutes after that, she was squeezing back into her leather pants. “Now what are you looking at,” she asked.
“I’m looking for the tattoo that says ‘Run, run away as fast as you can!'”
She grabbed me and kissed me, but there was fear in her eyes. I saw us in the mirror behind her; there was someone, who looked a little like me, kissing a woman way too beautiful for him, and there was the same fear in his eyes.
“By the way,” she said, “your mom should really ease up a little; she’ll end up breaking something off someone one of these days.”
“My mom’s gone, but I’m betting you already knew that I won’t hold that against you.”
“You can’t be afraid in life; you have to say it. Sometimes it backfires, sometimes it doesn’t.”
“You mean like me calling you ‘reasonably attractive’ and knowing it would get me laid?”
“Yeah, like that, asshole,” she answered with a smile. “Sorry about your mom, by the way. I’m sure she was a great lady.”
“The sweetest ever. She tried to make me a nice person, but then I ran into troublesome women and southern whiskey, and here I am.”
We walked back into the bar. She drank me under the table for 3 hours. We walked back to her place. I banged her under the kitchen table for 3 hours.
*We lived happily ever after.*
I’ve always liked the idea of writing smutty stuff, but, you know, people that I know (and some I may meet in the future) will read this someday, people I’d like to have a decent opinion of me, not think I’m some sort of sex-crazed pervert with wicked thoughts about what I’d like to do to and with women, fabulously willing women. Not unwilling women; that would be a serial killer novel, wouldn’t it?
By the way, nearly all of us are sex-crazed perverts somewhere in our minds, aren’t we? After all (unless something horrible happened) your momma LET your daddy come in her, and I doubt she was thinking about menu-planning right then.
Anyway, to climb back out of the gutter a little: I started this the other day, whipping out the whole beginning up to and including the tattoo part, in just a few minutes, but the rest trickled in over the weekend. I’m toying with keeping on with it, and throwing it out here on an irregular basis, but, to keep it odd and lighthearted in the finest TTD style, whether it ends here as a little short smut story, or goes on as a sex-mystery-romance book or something, I’ll probably end every section (if there’s more), with the “happily ever after” tagline. If there actually is a Chapter 2, then the “happily ever after” tag will disappear (in the reader’s mind) and reappear at the end of the next section (bracketed with stars again). It’s an attempt at something unique, but mostly a way for me to be lazy and end the damn thing any time I want to.
Thanks for reading.