Adventures of Bunny

Swingers stole my girlfriend

This excursion began as a graduation celebration for my best friend. It was also her last week in town, before she moved to Seattle. So, of course I had to make sure to send her off with a bang!

(Those of you who are my devoted readers, you’ll notice the use of the word “bang“. Please refer to previous post titled, “Third Time is the Charm“. It has a wide variety of uses… Remember, use bang like you really mean it! However, you’re “banging“!)

We pre-gamed at my place, then took a pedicab downtown to meet a gentleman I had been talking to. He also brought a couple along too. They treated us all evening. We were drinking, dancing, eating etc.

We stopped at a cigar bar. It had a cozy gentlemen’s club feel to it. It’s a dimly lit space, with leather furniture, people drinking scotch and smoking cigars (I’m aware it sounds like a cliché, but its the truth). We are seated in the back on a sofa. I’m seated on my date’s lap. He was more comfy than the sofa. My friend was seated in between the couple. The boyfriend is caressing my friend’s leg. The girlfriend is complimenting her hair and ensemble. It’s at this point when I begin to think, hmm there’s more to this couple than meets the eye…

But my friend isn’t giving me the oh shit, bail me out look. So, I let the caressing of her leg continue.

Due to the copious amounts of alcohol we consumed I’m not exactly sure why we ended up at a local tapas bar. But that’s the last place I can remember. Yes, we continued the consumption of alcohol there too. It’s a going away party after all! What type of friend sends your best friend off without some frivolity? Let me go ahead and answer that question. Only a BAD friend would commit such a heinous atrocity!  My beloved readers I am not a bad friend.

My friend has excused herself to the bathroom. I’m beginning to feel like I’ve hit my limit. So, I cut myself off.

I notice that my friend has been in the bathroom a long time. I go to the bathroom to check on her. I walk by the stalls to find her shoes. I see pointed black stiletto heels and I’ve found her. I knock, she lets me in, I discover her seated on the floor. The look on her face DOES NOT comfort me. She informs me that she feels like she’s going to be sick.

It’s time for me to be the responsible friend. I walk out of the bathroom and inform my date and couple that its been a GREAT night but I need to take care of my friend.

They side track me with one more drink…

Okay, so my next memory is that I’m walking up stairs and leaving the restaurant. I turn around and I only see my date. I ask him where my friend is. He informs me that the couple has taken her and will take good care of her.

I’m starting to feel uneasy on my feet at this point. I use him as a crutch to steady myself. Then I think to myself if she didn’t come to find me/get me she must be fine.

So, I continue on with my date.

We are walking to his car. He opens the door for me, then grabs me, and we have a great make out session on the street with my back against the car. It was a quality session! So, hands are moving here, there, and everywhere…

He’s basically grinding up against my body by this point. He puts a sudden halt to the session. and asks, “Your place or mine?”

In my head, I do the check list.

Y’all know what I mean. Are my sheets clean? Are there clothes on my floor? Is there makeup all over my counter? Do I have any clean mugs for coffee in the morning? Because coffee is a definite yes! I realize while going over my check list that my place is NOT suitable for a gentleman caller.

So, we go to his place. He buckles me in, gives me a kiss on the cheek, and we are on our way.

But on the way in his vehicle I had a little incident. The motion from the car is not doing great things for my stomach. But I’m too embarrassed to ask him to pull over. I lean down and put my head in between my legs and my purse is on the floor in front of me. I say that I’m looking in my purse for something so he won’t realize that I feel like I’m about to be SICK. He asks if I’m feeling okay. I tell him I’m fine, I’m just looking for my phone because I want to check on my friend.

He asks if I need anything. I tell him no, no I’m fine.

It’s after I make that statement to him that I realize I’m far from fine. The music is blaring, so I know he won’t hear anything. I’m still bent over at this point “digging thru my purse”. I then decide that my only course of action is unfortunately to toss my cookies, as the kids say. So, I stretch the front of my cow neck dress forward in front of me and I vomit into it.

NOT my finest moment. But it had to be done.

Now, I’ve got an entirely different problem. How do you camouflage a vomit filled dress?

There isn’t a website with beauty tips for moments like this. My mother never thought she’d have to warn me about a day like this either.

Needless to say I’m befuddled as to how I’m going to handle this situation.

So, I do what every girl does. I grab my purse and just like the bag in Mary Poppins it holds the answers to my problems. I hold it tightly to my chest.

This is covering incident for now.

We arrive at his place. I’m holding onto my purse for dear life. I inform him that someone spilled their drink on me during the evening. I just need to toss it in the washer. He offers to wash it for me. I tell him it has “special” washing instructions, so its better if I do it myself and a t-shirt would be great.

I put the dress in the washer. I go into the half bath, and washed the vomit off of my chest. My purse was my savior yet again after a mini bird bath, I spray myself with a generous amount of perfume, brush my hair, apply a little makeup, and toss on the t-shirt.

I’m now good as new. No one will ever know about the incident.

He greets me with a glass of my favorite red wine as I walk out of the bathroom. I think damn, just what I don’t need. But it would be rude to say no and you can’t just pour it back into the bottle. So, I drink it. While I’m drinking the wine he gives me a tour of the house.

We make it to the last stop on the tour, the MASTER bedroom.

First thing I notice, the California king bed is the focus of the cobalt room. Along with the normal decorative pieces, lamps, wall accents, but there’s something unique about the space. I look up and lo and behold I see my reflection. Mirrors on the ceiling, at least when I need to check how I look in the morning I won’t have to search for a mirror.

I’m not feeling particularly sexy, after the incident. But I can tell that he wants to play. So, I woman up. I decide a quickie is the most he’ll receive this evening. We can worry about the rest in the morning.

I’m pleasantly awakened by a orgasmic experience. After multiple experiences…

He then hands me a cup of coffee made just the way I like it. It’s not quite as delicious as the establishment where my elixir of life is made. Y’all know to which establishment I’m referring to, Starbucks. But his coffee runs a pretty close second. Well, second and a half. The elixir of life at Starbucks is a sacred. So, I’m drinking the wanna-be elixir of life.

He then asks if I’d like breakfast. I reply with yes of course! What intelligent woman says no to bacon? I believe in bacon!

I realize that while I’m in bacon bliss, my phone is dead. I need to charge it and check to see how my friend fared the evening. I ask to borrow his charger. He obliges.

Now that my phone is alive again, I realize I have multiple missed messages. The messages are at least six hours old. This is an oh shit moment! The messages vary, but they basically are her realizing that she went home with the swinger couple. I decided that an actual call back would be best at this point. I get her on the phone two rings in.

A very grouchy/tired individual answers. I ask how’s she feeling? She proceeds to HANG UP on me.

She then calls me back and claims the hang up was an accident. She informs me that nothing happened. The swinger couple took care of her all evening long. I know what y’all are thinking, there’s some hidden meaning behind that. For once there is NO hidden meaning, they literally took care of her in her inebriated state. They checked on her in bed, made her food, fluffed her pillows, etc.

They also took turns cuddling with her in bed…

I’m not sure how that was beneficial to her health. But anyway they took exceedingly good care of her. They informed her that she was welcome to stay as long as she liked.

I personally think they wanted to keep her as their personal snuggie.

But that’s just my opinion.
© southerngabunny

7 thoughts on “Swingers stole my girlfriend

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