So as most of you know I’ve tried to focus my efforts on other things of late. My Vegas exploits went largely undocumented except for a few tweets here and there. There should have been a blog on Elfvis alone. BTW the couches at the MGM are too narrow to have someone kneel on them to be fucked doggie style while looking out over the strip so you’ll just have to bend her over the windows eal…or so I’ve been told. I’ve been working too much and actually writing and recording music once again. It seems though that the kinky life can’t escape me for long, some of us despite our best efforts just don’t belong in polite and sexually repressed society. So as I headed out Saturday night with some friends of the Blonde’s. I expected nothing more than dinner, drinks, some old friends, and a few new acquaintances. Seems a few of those folks may not be as pure as I anticipated, which is of course perfectly fine with me and made for a much better evening.
Alcohol is an amazing moral liberator even in limited quantities. Me I was sipping diet coke at an alarming rate since I’m already pretty open minded. After a few hours I can always play the sharp tongued sarcastic prick or shameless flirt. Though I’m not really playing since that tends to be who I am once I get comfortable with the people I’m around.
The restaurant had an edgy sexual theme which worked just fine for me. The Menu featured “happy Endings” that included DD Cup Cakes, Of course there was the dominate red meat chilli and the submissive baked potato soup that I couldn’t help but point out to my usual companion who just rolled her eyes and said “sure why don’t you take a picture and tweet it”. So I did as others looked on and I explained there were a few menu items I wanted to share with some other friends. No one asked, most people were only two drinks in at that point and even if they did I didn’t give a fuck.
What are they going to say “Oh mike what are you taking a picture of?”
“The portion of the menu that has an S&M theme to it, I’ve got a few (hundred) twisted friends who would get off on it”. The shock value would have been great. But no one asked.
Normally I’m rather quiet at these things having learned over the years that my views and expectations of acceptable behave are best reserved for like minded souls. Then I heard. “wow look at that guy he’s got a 70’s porno mustache.” First I was shocked to hear the statement, second the man was right and third three of the ladies at the table that I had just met agreed emphatically. The next hour was spent discussing the different era’s of Porn, stylistically of course and in a euphemism laden, semi wholesome way. Bush management and fitness levels were the main topics. They were more my type of crowd than I could have imagined.
A few hours later with the beer flowing like a river, margarita’s by the truck load and the shots arriving for the birthday boy the party was in honor of inevitably a Blow Job arrived. Now the poor soul had no clue how to drink the damn thing, was two and a half sheets to the wind, and probably couldn’t stop looking at the waitress’ cleavage as she explained the rules. Well I was having that problem so I figured a drunk guy wouldn’t fare much better.
Anyway after an odd attempt the included him wearing more of the shot than anything the curvy blond next to me offered “when I turned 21 I had to do three Blow Jobs off this disgusting old guys lap in front of the bar before he spanked me.” I just smiled. “it was my birthday” she then offered explaining why she was getting spanked. So my smile went to my somewhat infamous knowing devilish grin, The Chesty Blonde just eyed me as the woman spoke knowing all to well something was afoot. She’s seen that look directed at her too many times to not be able to spot it instantly. So my sinister intent begins offering my new friend “Oh so that’s why you got spanked. Too that’s bad.”
She blushed “it was the last time I was spanked in public” she said, her eyes telling me I’d hit a nerve, in a good way. So much for an all nilla crowd. So I offered to fix that. She never answered rather she just blushed the color I imagined I’d like to turn her beautiful ass. After a few intense seconds with three others I barely knew listening in I simply changed the subject and she spent the rest of the night chatting me up about everything and nothing at all.
The remainder of the night I never bought up anything other than not so polite bar conversation and avoided all lifestyle topics focusing my attention on the lithe dark red haired server at the next establishment. Sure when the group teased me about convincing some poor bastard there for his bachelor party to not get married I launched in to an x rated triad about how marriage will make a man drink diet coke and drive a sedan (I was of course drinking a diet coke and arrived in a sedan). Pontificating that why should someone be with just one woman who would destroy your soul when you could enjoy so many in a biblical sense and live an inspired existence. Everyone laughed as they looked nervously at the Chesty Blonde who has heard the same bit a million times before and just smiled back at them. I tell everyone whether I know them or not to never get married and always have.
The poor bachelor upon my obvious to the world and oblivious to him approach quickly admitted he had been puking in the restroom on and off for the last two hours and that the toilet seat kept falling hitting him in the head while blowing chunks. I decided that the impending miserable marriage of a total stranger was not more important than avoiding getting puked on. So I spared him my diatribe sent him another drink and turned my attention and venomous rage at the guy playing trumpet in the band and singing off key.
And there you have it folks my life in a nut shell. A seemingly nice, sober guy out with his beautiful wife and her friends for a little harmless fun and instead of talking about little Susie’s soccer game and family shit I’m talking porn, trying to figure out how to turn the woman that I sat down next to randomly into a play partner of some type, and telling everyone wit in ear shot how stupid marriage is while trying to seduce a 20 something lithe little red head despite the fact I very much like being married to my wife and she was sitting on the other side of me.
Most people would be headed to divorce court, couples therapy, or the morgue because someone killed them in their sleep; but not me. It’s just another day in my life and while days like this aren’t as common as they used to be they’re not so out of the ordinary either.