This post is also available in: Deutsch
Entertaining field report from Capogambino about his night almost stealing a sexhibitionist from her borefriend.
I’m at the local pub on a Friday, and a guy walks in with two girls dressed for the club scene. One girl is a bit chubby and totally forgettable. The other, his girlfriend, is a solid 9, full slut uniform, hair, makeup, tight stretch black dress barely covering her ass. At several times during the night, as she’s walking around the bar or dancing, her dress rides up, revealing a juicy crescent of ripe cheek for a few moments before she pulls it back down. All the guys in the bar are staring at her, waiting for the next wardrobe malfunction.
At one point, the group I’m with is sitting at the table next to theirs, and I overhear her say, “I can get any guy in this bar to buy me a drink.” Her boyfriend and the other chic are doubting her, so she calls over to our table, “I need a drink, who wants to get me one?” The guys at my table are staring at her, not sure how to react, the girls looking like they want to set her on fire and feed her ashes to dogs. I chime in first, “Depends. What are you drinking?”
“Aw, a foofy drink. We should do shots. I’m thinking tequila.”
She looks surprised, and mildly intrigued.
“No, I want a ginger snap.” She’s testing me.
We go back a forth a bit but she won’t come off the ginger snap, so I turn back to my table and start chatting.
I glance over and her friends are looking at her like “ha-ha told you so”, and she’s looking disappointed. She sees me looking over, so she tries again. “So you’re not gonna buy me a drink?”
I stand up, walk over, stand close to her looking down, take her by the hand, and say, “Let’s go to the bar and pick something out.”
Her eyes light up like she’s been hit by lighting. She gets up, takes me arm-in-arm, pulling me close so my arm is pressed against the side of her tit, and we start walking to the bar.
I’m thinking I don’t really want to get into a fight with her boyfriend and get kicked out of my favorite pub, so I pull away a little. She looks me in the eye with a mischievous twinkle, pulls me back in, and starts rubbing my arm against the side of her tit.
At this point I’m wondering whether this girl has any boundaries, and thinking mischievously myself about how to test them. We get to the bar and she still has my arm locked against her tit. As we’re waiting for the bartender, we banter back and forth about what drink I’m getting her, with me teasing her about her wimpy girly drinks. I pull my arm free and move it to her lower back and stroke it slowly. She turns to me, presses her tits into me and puts her hand on my chest. At this point I’m in the bubble and completely forgetting about the boyfriend. I imagine he must have been seething back at the table watching our little scene.
I think maybe my stroking gets her dress to misbehaving again, and she reaches down and starts pulling it back into place, commenting about how she keeps flashing everyone. I snicker and tell her she’s got a great ass, and that all the guys in the bar have been staring at it all night. I give a couple gentle tugs on the back of her dress and say, “Why don’t you give ‘em all a show?” She gives me a naughty girl look, and says, “Go for it.” I pull slowly on the back of her dress. I can feel it coming up, but I have no idea how much, because I’m eye locked with her, and she’s staring back with a look like she wants me to throw her across the bar and ravage. Then she giggles and says, “Not that far,” and starts pulling her dress back down. That’s when the forgotten boyfriend shows up.
He pushes us apart, turns to me and yells “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!”
Part of my brain is telling me to get ready for a fight and start thinking about how to calm him down, but I can’t help just laughing. Then the girl shouts, “Leave us alone!” She starts trying to claw her way past him to get back to me. He turns to her, pushes her back, and yells, “WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!”
“Go away! He’s buying me a drink!” They’re in a little wrestling match as she’s still trying to wriggle around him and he’s holding her back.
I figure this is my chance to exit stage left before things get ugly, so I retreat to the bathroom. I take a piss, then I’m washing my hands as he storms in. “Dude, that was so uncool!” I back up, ready for a fight. I look at him for a moment and decide he’s not gonna fight over it. So I do a weak mea culpa, calm him down, and he leaves.
When I get back to the table a WK friend of mine hits me with “That was just so wrong, you shouldn’t have done that.”
So I say “She asked me to.” I tell the story of what we said at the bar, and we all have a good laugh about it. I can feel the stares of the two of them boring into me. When I glance over, I see them looking at me, him with daggers, her with tingles. They pay their bill and leave, so no chance to seal the deal.
Mate guarding when the whore is out of the barn is never a good look; it’s bound to push the girl even further away. The boyfriend in this tale of ho should dump her post haste because she’s gonna cheat on him soon if she isn’t already.
This girl is a particularly noxious genus of exhibitionist, the “let’s you and him fight” variety who uses the public display of her dripping sexuality as a red cape for any alpha males nearby who could conceivably challenge her boyfriend’s ownership of her and provide her with the ferocious tingles that only two men fighting for her glans can coax.
Similarly, her exhibitionism could have been motivated by relationship trouble (her bf ignoring her, for example) and she was keen to enlist Mr. Stranger Danger to ignite her boyfriend’s jealously so that he’d appreciate her again. Either way, the recruited interloper is playing with fire; he gets the bf’s fury or the slut’s retconned rejection.
Copagambino had some ZFG fun and played his hand well, but in the end an exhibitionist got the drama she needed and Copa narrowly avoided the drama he didn’t need.