It began when Erma Lou looked at me with that beautiful eye and her seductive smile. I walked over to her table and asked her to dance. She said yes, of course.
We found an empty spot on the dance floor. I moved toward her and put my hands on her teats. She snuggled close and put one hand over my shoulder and the other grasped my wang.
The song started with a swelling of strings. She squeezed my pud and we traipsed around in a circle. She squeezed tighter and I did the same. Everything was beautiful.
Then one of the regulars, Tiny Arms, tapped my shoulder and asked if he could cut in. I looked at Erma Lou and she shook her head. I said no to Tiny Arms and he walked back to the bar. We danced till the song ended and then went back to her table. Her friend Felix had arrived as we were dancing and he had ordered a pitcher of Blatz. I helped myself to a glass and poured it on my dork. Felix asked why I wasted a full glass of beer. I told him about Erma Lou’s death grip. He laughed and poured me another.
We chatted about playing frisbee on mushrooms and hot knifing opium. The bartender announced the last call so I ordered a round of speefnarkles and we toasted to woodchucks and shower farts.
When the bar closed we said goodnight to Felix and I rode Erma Lou to a motel on my unicycle. We checked in under Mr. and Mrs. Chesterbuck.
The room was reasonably nice. It wasn’t festering with cockroaches and the thread count on the sheets was acceptably high. Erma Lou pulled out a doobie and lit it. I pulled off my boots and put them by the door. I put my wallet and keys in the boots and then took off my pants. My underwear was stuck to my bluto. Erma Lou had squeezed it so hard while we were dancing that she scraped off the outer layer of skin. My dick was destroyed for the week. I told her about it and she laughed. I didn’t laugh.
I put my clothes back on, went to the lobby and asked for my money back. The desk clerk asked why. When I told him, he refused. Then I laughed because I had used my American Express gold card.