G and Me and the Tunnel Of Love

Another Friday night and G and I had plans to go terrorize some poor drinking establishments again. I was supposed meet G at a tavern near work. Once I got there I saw he was sitting with a woman that had just started working in our department 2 days earlier. She was already a legend with us, even earning the title “Tunnel of Love”. She got that because she had told everybody at work at least 75 times about an operation she had had on her female parts to make her tighter and more pleasurable feeling. She claimed the doctors had built a tight tunnel down there and that it was not to be missed. This was her main topic of conversation. She also didn’t stop talking. It was as if she was on speed constantly. It was amazing.

Naturally I was not too happy to see her there. But since we weren’t staying, I didn’t panic. I got a brew and sat down and listened to TOL blabber on and on about her lovers and yada yada yada. Finally she went to the restroom and I asked G what was going on. He said she had overheard us planning where to meet and just followed him there. We both agreed that she was not coming along for the evening. When she came back, I left to get brews for the home stash and G was left to ditch her and meet me at his house. Yeah right.

Once I got to G’s house I saw that TOL’s car was there and his wasn’t. As I was walking in I remember thinking “Well, away we go!” I get inside the door and TOL immediately comes over to me and kisses my cheek, grabs a beer and grabs me ‘down there’. She was ‘just checking to see if I was ready’. WTF? Me, being me, I just blurt out, “OK, what’s going on? I don’t remember us deciding to have baggage with us tonight.” G just about chokes on his brew and starts to explain how TOL just broke down crying when he told her she wasn’t invited to go with us. Apparently it got pretty bad. Of course she interrupts him and tells her side, something about a fear of being alone or rejected. She also goes into this whole idea of how having sex is a natural thing and we could have sex tonight, even have a threesome and how we didn’t need to feel obligated to her after doing her and how her love tunnel has been surgically rebuilt to make it very pleasurable…..

At this point I’m ready to go so I get the two of them started and out the door. There is no way in hell I’m having a threesome with G and anybody. (If you haven’t read the past G stories, you should so you totally understand that.) I’m especially not doing anything with TOL. Who knows what STDs she’s carrying? So we get outside and she of course insists we use her car. It was a 300ZX Turbo and she was really proud of it, so we took her up on it. She had removed the T-tops and it was a warm evening, plus I got to drive it since G couldn’t drive a manual transmission. Too cool. Something positive. We cruise some back roads, music blaring, wind blowing through the car and cold brews in hand.

We arrive at one of G’s favorite spots, a biker bar out in the middle of no-where that once was some 1700’s farmhouse. The place is really cool. The bar is huge! A giant horse shoe shaped thing that takes up the whole first room in the building. We park ourselves on one side of the bar and order some drinks. Within minutes, TOL is talking louder than anyone else and going on and on about needing to ‘be balled’. G just looks over at me and rolls his eyes. I know he’s thinking the same thing as I am, just how the hell are we going to get out of this one? Well, TOL just helps us out pretty darn quick, I’ll tell ya!

She starts flirting across the bar with a biker dude who looks to be maybe 50. She does enough loud flirting that people in the bar start yelling at her to come across or shut up. So naturally, she goes across to Grampa Harley and plops right down on his lap. Once she’s gone, G and I start to plan how we’re going to escape. It turns out to be a moot point. After I take a restroom break, I come out to Gramps and TOL handing us the car keys and leaving to go to his place. They claim they know how to find us in the morning, so we should take the car. Weeellll, not being one to argue with good fortune, we went ahead and spent the whole night running the piss out of that little race car. Not to mention cruising to 3 other bars in absolutely no condition to be driving.

We found ourselves back at G’s place in the morning. I woke to a strange sound on the roof. Still trying to recover my senses I step outside into a downpour. Usually this is no big deal, but the T tops are still off the car. I try to get them on, even though the inside is already soaked, but I have no idea how. G can’t figure it out either. So we just sit them on top hoping that will slow down the soaking.

A few hours later, it’s sunny and warm and who should show up but TOL and Grampa Harley on his bike. We try to tell her about the wet seat problem but all she wants to talk about is how great getting balled last night was and how much she needed to be balled and how we should have balled her before leaving and etc, etc….. After all is said and done, she admits the tops are extremely difficult to put back on, but she doesn’t care. She’s taking the car and going back to Gramps’ place for some more boinking. She just wanted to come by and thank us for last night, get the car and disappear. OK by me.

Well, she was serious about disappearing. She never did show up for work again. Her live in boyfriend started calling a few days later asking where he could find her. Apparently she never did go home again. I guess Grampa Harley still had a lot of fire in his kitchen. As for all of us that knew TOL for those 2 to 2.5 days, it was a relief. I don’t think I could have listened to her operation story one more time without screaming.