I originally went out to meet an English girl who, while traveling the States, made a stop in Austin. But the day of sight seeing took its toll on her, so she called the bar and promised to meet the next night. Truly a pity, her smile and accent really did a number on me. My friend Kat happened to walk in about five minutes after the phone call of suck. My broken plans drew a slight grin from her face as well as a shot of bourbon. That night, the DJs stuck to a progressive house mix. Progressive house really sucks if you're dwelling on fallen expectations. The repetition the music draws from tends to take that single shitty thought and constantly recycle the source of your pain. Kat bought my techno pain theory and agreed to roll to another bar with me.

We've always felt attraction, Kat and I, just us hooking up doesn't make sense. We hang with the same people, and we're both fucking insane. While insanity creates a spark hotter than Georgia asphalt, the couple of hours sweating create later memories with nothing but regret. So we get to a bar named after it's street address and celebrate the occasion with more bourbon and a couple of Harps. About five minutes after we walked in, some ear screeching punk quieted all the stupid things people say in bars. We found a corner booth and drank to something we would later forget. By the time we had finished our 2nd round, our motives started listening to the calls from down under. I really like that shit when normal body movement becomes an excuse to touch and rub, but only when reciprocated. Every slight touch seems to escalate the vibe until the tension breaks at a slight kiss. One where the lips simply drag against each other. These sort of actions tend to make two people forget they shouldn’t hook up.

It takes a real lack of self control to start a night meeting one girl, and then finding oneself about to make a huge mistake with a friend. We both knew it, every touch seemed a little wrong. But we didn’t stop, we couldn’t stop, every kiss and amount of pressure delivered seemed to multiply the amount of pleasure. I guess Kat knew something I didn’t, but what she did turned a could be catastrophe into an inside joke for the ages.

”We’re gonna finish this right here and right now……..then it’ll be over, OK?”

With Kat’s statement, I thought we’d make our way to the bathroom, but we didn’t. Instead, she smoothly grinded across me until she appeared to be sitting on my lap with her skirt pulled up secretly. Generally, dry humping generates most of the money a stripper makes in a night. But Kat wasn’t a stripper, and this dry hump would obliterate any memory I’ve had of a lap dance. I was in the house, that night wearing a 80% cotton and 20% polyester blend by Claiborne for men. Loose fitting cotton boxers around my waist, I was a happy man. So details of the entire event needn’t be shared, but this indeed……halfway through she reached orgasm, and as she started slowing I asked not too stop. The previous dry hump experience I encountered taught me the definition of blue balls. And the only cure for that is a painstaking round of masturbation, one I hope I’ll never face again. I bit her on the back and she responded with encouraged movement. So I continued to nibble and bite on her back while she finished me off. The loud punk music mixed with her soft whimpers of delight seemed to be the perfect soundtrack to an act I thought would be retired in high school. She slowly moved off me into a nice sweet kiss. We smiled at our exhibitionism and noticed a couple of silly grins staring at us. Then Kat took an opportunity to laugh her ass off. She looked at my pants and almost fell out of the booth. The slacks that had made the hump so fun now looked so bad. Without much description, I noticed my pants weren’t presentable for the rest of the evening. I asked Kat to get a couple more shots of JD and some extra napkins. The JD did more for me than the napkins did for my trousers. My only option seemed to be getting to may car and going home. Kat took the chance to make me look really stupid leaving the bar, bringing lots of attention to me. Yelling across the bar about people having accidents, or perhaps I should get some Depends. I am thankful she didn't accompany me to my car parked 6 blocks away. But we ended it there, and for that reason we laugh anytime one of us brings this up.

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