A lot of people have opinions about cougars. What the proper hunting techniques are, catch and release policies, etc, etc. I steer clear of putting much thought into these particular queries and instead let the pitchers or Blue Moon and sacks of winey goodness make these decisions. I do this for one very simple reason: To free up the small amount of memory still available in my booze clouded cranium. This allows me to store snippets of the night for simple chuckles and laughs down the road.
This is one of my favorites:
Railyard. Summer 2006.
Lawyer and I are moments from giving up on the parking lot scene when I’m beckoned to the concrete patio.
Sandy (we’ll call her that because that is her name): I just wanted to tell you that you are the hottest guy in the bar.
Me: How would you like to take the hottest guy in the bar back to your place?
Me: That’s ALL I do.
Me: You’re getting tongue…
(Time passes. Hard to say how long)
Me: I’m going to walk you to your car, and then you can make the right decision and invite me to your place.
On the way to her car, which was over by YVBC, I pulled her into every businesses doorway. It was warm out, but I didn’t mind warming my hands in her pants along the way.
Once we arrived at her car she called a cab, as we both had our fair share of drinks (and smokes for me). While we waited, we dry humped in her car and went to a parking lot with a bunch of tires and forklifts and pissed on things.
That’s right folks, she will dry hump in a car that resembles her personal smoke-filled trash receptacle and piss on tractor equipment with me but not take me home. I guess that goes back to the saying “you can’t say overreacting without saying ovary”.
The end of our relationship came moments later when the cab pulled up and she came over for one last kiss. I stepped to the plate, slipped my hand into her pants and started rubbing her panties…
Me: You sure you don’t need some bedroom company?
(a minute of biting her lip and some serious mental deliberation)
I sometimes wonder if that cab ride home was cold. I had those panties SOAKED! She was 42.
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Ah, the good old days. Cougar huntin' at the Yard. Was this the inaugural coug? Are we going to see a post about the mother, I mean, grandmother of them all in Lava?
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