Karaoke... no matter where you are...

So, here I am miles away from Osaka's... went with my siblings out to karaoke bar tonight after the children and the 'rents had gone down for the night... only stayed a bit over an hour-and-a-half... mild time; we're all too old now & never really partied together, anyway...

So, there I am in this other bar... sure, the set up was different and the singers different and the food -- well, the spicy chicken tenders weren't anything like Osaka's -- but the music was the same and, amazingly, the skin was the same... there's something about the current fashion that I just adore: women wearing low-rise jeans and high rise, tight blouses. Why the hell wasn't this in fashion when I was 21?

Here we are, the weekend following Thanksgiving... college students are home; I can remember coming home from Ohio and hooking up with my buds from Bernard's, and we'd go out and drink too much and make fools of ourselves while telling lies about how much we were getting laid at college... well, there tonight, was a host of college students, mostly women (at least the ones I noticed) and they were getting all buzzed and flirting around... and I know there'll be some sex tonight... even as I write this -- with my one beer buzz -- I know that within miles from here, all those nubile young woman are getting down and dirty with their male friends or their fuck buddies or the guys they picked up at the bar. Low rise jeans are coming off, sliding down smooth legs in the cramped space of Asian imported cars. Guys are pushing the seats as far back as possible, climbing onto the floor, pulling aside thong underwear, and licking wet pussies. I just know it's going on.

There was one hot brunette who had on low rise jeans (a damn rise of not more than 6 inches, I swear) and a top that came down just inches below her pert, firm breasts, leaving a good 8 inches of firm, tan belly showing. By the time we left, she was looking pretty buzzed and horny, rubbing up against the folks in her group, boys and girls alike. I can imagine her, back at her parent's place in the furnished basement with a group of her friends. The lights are low, and the group of them is sitting around finishing the multiple six-backs of long necks they bought from the bar. They're yapping about something, and she's getting flustered and hot; she reaches out to the guy beside her, an old friend from high school. She touches his thighs and then turns her head to kiss him. Soon, they're making out in plain view; she's too drunk to care and he's too hot to care. He caresses her tight stomach, tracing the muscle lines from the top of her jeans to the bottom of her shirt; his hand becomes bolder, moving higher and moving lower with each trace. Soon, he's copping a feel of her breasts and tracing the lines of her cunt lips through the fabric while their friends from high school look on, beer buzzes making comprehension slow.

Yes, I know it's going on... I just wish I were there...