happenstance

a hipster bar, you were grinding a portly businessman after sharing a pitcher of Fosters, when across the room you saw a beautiful young woman in a tight fitting garment, with Digital Phone Company stretched across her magnificent bosom.

You moved away from the businessman with a series of hand gestures and tongue clicks, which was the style at the time, and at that moment the DJ dropped When Smokey Sings (Miami Mix) by ABC.

Your cha-cha slides in perfect syncronity with the booming 'bom bom boms', the female of the species couldn't help but be transfixed as your moon boots glid across the damp parquet.

"I love your tits, and your t-shirt" you spluttered as you fronted the female. She said nothing, put a finger to your lip, and said "I don't even know if they're playing tonight, you sexy little male".

As Martin Fry crooned about birds in flight, the Fosters in your throat and the yellow-shirted lust in your eyes combined and you became a Norwich City fan, now and forever.

Later, after bad sex, the girl would show you the best sex moves, really good ones, using a handful of raisins and a Aviva clapper. The rematch would be a cavalcade of shared cumming and the Oldest Football Song In The World.

AND EVERYTHINGS GOOD IN THE WORLD, TONIGHT.

Posted By: MIKEWALKER, Apr 5, 10:12:52