The Punany Poets Pt. 1

I got a call from Lala, the girl from “The Enterprise Mission” blog, telling me about the Punany Poets coming to Michigan. I’d seen them before on HBO and I’m into mature events like that, so I told her to pick up a ticket for me when she went to get hers and I’d give her the money back. “Excuse me?,” she responded, as if I’d just asked her to give me head on a public bus. I thought I was the clear the first time, but I repeated myself anyway. “No,” she said. “There’s no point in us going together if we’re paying for our tickets separately”. “That’s not a date, we’re not going as a couple, we might as well sit on different sides of the room.” What the fuck? As Freckles would say, that’s petty. I would have liked to go with her, but that immature foolishness led to my typical response, “no problem.” I’ll just go with someone else.

I would have just gone with Bubbles, but she’s so dry with stuff like this. She finds bisexuality to be utterly disgusting and this venue was taking place were girls frequently kiss other girls, plus she had to work. So I called up the few ladies that I’d be willing to go out in public with, that I KNEW I was going to have sex with before, maybe during, and after the show. Most of the women had to work, so up to the day before, I figured I wasn’t going at all, but I ended up get a text from T saying she’d like to go. GREEN LIGHT.

T is a freak. Meaning, she is proactively in touch with her sexuality. I know a lot of women who will do just about anything, but you have to bring it to them. You have to suggest everything, you have to make the first move. I love a woman who just comes and grabs my dick out of my pants while I’m playing NBA2k. A woman who could care less if I’m sleepy or tired, she just takes it, as I would do to her. T embraces that mindframe, which is another reason we get along.
She’s from Canada, but she born in Trinidad. She reserved a room near the club, so when I picked her up from the Ren Cen, we drove right there. On the ride there she asked, “are you coming in? I need a quickie.” I was going to just wait in the car for her while she changed her shoes so we could get to the event on time, but she had me following her in without much effort.

She sat on the bed, wide eyed, waiting to see what steps I’d take to undress her. I stood in front of her, instructing her to unbutton my pants and she took over from there. As usual, the head was nice. She got on top of me and rode me for a good 5 minutes or so. She came, I came soon after. Then we were off to the show.

The line at Club 9 in Ferndale extended well outside of the doors onto the sidewalk. Pretty women filled the area; old friends hugged and men introduced themselves to the most attractive women around. Those who had VIP tickets, whom I was not one of, walked freely into the club, while the rest of us stood outside in the cold. That won’t happen again, TRUST that. We finally made it up to the door, checked in, and began to look for a seat. The place was packed before the show ever began. Scantly dressed women were everywhere. All sizes, all shapes. Some were studs, whom I ignored; others were multi-racial beauties whom were in groups filled with fine women as if they had a physical standards to even be their friend.

A part of me wished I would have just came with one of my boys and used this perfect opportunity to recruit bisexual women for many future blogs, but I knew that T and I got along very well, not to mention that she was a freak. The show started off with some brother literally talking the panties off of the horny single women that filled the crowd. I think 5 or 6 women slid him their numbers when he left the stage. More poets followed, including a woman who was butt naked in a fishnet dress. While her breasts were nice, her overly muscular tone wasn’t my cup of tea. Think Serena Williams (minus the donk) and Tina Turner. One of the stud’s delivered several EXCELLENT poems. One in specific had to do with her father not accepting the fact that she was a lebsian. Powerful music in deed. Porn star Sinnamon Love was also in attendance. I didn’t really care for her poetry, but she provided a lot of sex appeal on some of the dance sequences.

T rubbed her hands across my pants during the more erotic parts of the show, whispering, “I’m so fucking horny,” as to suggest I start fucking her right there on the table. I wanted to start sucking her breasts a few times, but I held back. The show finally ended with sort-of a “3rd base” orgy going on on stage, which included patrons and performers. Several bisexual women from the audience found their way to the breast of other women, which I enjoyed undoubtedly.

While T was in the bathroom, one lady approached me very politely. She asked me my name, what I did for a living, etc… but I was not attracted to her in the least bit, so I told her that I was there with a young lady and I didn’t want to be rude. She gave me her number, that I acted like I was entering into my phone, and then she left. Other than that, it was just T and I.

After the show, we went to get something to eat. I’d say we learned a lot about each other in that 30-45 minutes at the restaurant. The conversation flowed very smoothly about all types of topics from race and family to the importance of a college education and the scam of what they call “mandatory courses.” She foot the bill generously, without even giving it a second thought, which turned me on more. Now it’s back to the room…..

Pt. 2 Coming tomorrow….

Related Posts:

• The Punany Poets Pt. 2
• Kyla Is Back; The Recasting
• The Matchmaker
• The Mobile Hotel: Sweat, Cream, and Cameras
• Who’s The Boss?

Author: The Undresser

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