The boys and I headed to Rochesterfest last night. With Tammy moved to Phoenix it is just me and guys now. I'm okay with that. They are a great group of men to be friends with. Rochesterfest is a week long street party here in town. Events include family night, country night, street dances on friday and saturday, parades, greasy fair food, you know, the typical town celebration stuff. We went down on Wednesday night after volleyball to grab some deep friend breaded cheese curd, capable of clogging one's arteries in a few seconds flat, but damn they taste good. Last night, a larger group of us went to listen to a band called Tracy's Alibi. They aren't world famous or anything but they were pretty good. Sort of Dave Miller ish (Clinton-ish for those of you back in Montana). The average age of the crowd was around 18 though. A lot of drunk 18 year olds at that. But we stuck around until the band was done (midnight due to city noise ordinances).
This is where the night started to get interesting. While we were standing near the band area a very large breasted young woman ran into me. Now, it was a pure accident but once she realized her breasts were up against me she "stayed for a while". Just long enough to feel somewhat inappropriate. The guys loved it. they laughed, band ended, we decided to head to Kathy's Pub. Kathy's is a little two story bar that usually has music downstairs and a pretty reasonable game room upstairs. The guys and I headed upstairs to play pool. Again...four guys and me. I'm in denim short shorts and a brown silk camisole. Pretty basic summer wear with a touch of sexy. We start playing pool.
I'm leaning against the wall rail drinking my beer, chatting with Paul. I feel a caress. Not a tap, not a bump, a very definite, purposeful CARESS. A young, very intoxicated, blond is caressing my top and whispers into my ear "that is a nice shirt, I really like your shirt". I bust out laughing and sort of ignore her. The guys are begging for me to play it up. I can't stop laughing. I proceed to take my turn at the pool table, make my shot, come back to where I was at. I'm holding the pool cue and a good song comes on overhead so I start dancing a little. The before mentioned blond slides in between Dave and I, looks at him, says "i'm dancing with her". Now does he say, "nope, she's with me". OF COURSE NOT...his reply "sure". Thanks babe! I stop dancing, again start laughing and she wanders away. Away to the edge of the pool table where she parks her back side at every pocket I'm aiming at. By this point I'm near peeing down my leg I'm laughing so hard. The guys are quite disappointed, encouraging me to "take one for the team" to help this young lady out. Whatever!
Little innocent drunk blonde wanders downstairs. We continue drinking beer and playing pool. Again, standing at the wall counter, this time with my back to Paul and Dan. Quite unexpectedly someone smacks my ass. We are talking cracking of flesh on tight ass jeans. It stung! As I grab my ass to rub the sting out, I turn to Dan and Paul expecting one of them to fess up. Nope. They have this dumbass blank "oh my" look on their faces. I turn back to face forward and standing in front of me is another young lady, less intoxicated, brunette in a pink top about to fall off. She is giving me the finger in front of her pursed lips, doe eyed, "oh, did I do that look".
OH MY GOD! That made three women making less than subtle contact with my body. By this time the guys are nearly in heaven, begging for me to act on at least ONE of the three offers. Now, I don't want to sound arrogant, but I did look good last night. I was feeling my groove. None of the guys in my group were complaining about anything I was or wasn't wearing. But to have THREE girls cuddle, caress, and slap me? Come on! I'm not opposed to the whole girl on girl thing, I've done it on the dance floor...BUT with friends, GOOD friends at that!
Supposedly Kirk and Paul have pictures of two of the three women. If we can get them off their camera phone I will share. until then, OH BOY! That's all I can say.
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