Sports and Shorts (the naked truth)...
After having sneaked into the Madonna concert last Saturday I went to Sports and Shorts at the Stag in Victoria. Earlier in the day I had bought some Arsenal shorts and socks to go with my Arsenal shirt. When I turned up at the pub they had no changing room :( so I got changed in the ladies loo instead. Class act, me. I think I looked quite the part. Number-one crop, sexy footy kit, broad grin. I scanned the pub but there was no-one there I knew. Hmph. The place was packed though with every coloured strip you could think of. The ultraviolet lights made the strips glow in the goom like gaily coloured pixies in pixieland - only a lot butcher. I bought a beer and stood by myself at the bar. The people were friendly. A few came and spoke to me. All very social. Well, before long someone had looked me up and down and fallen to their knees infront of me. Gulp. I tried to look casual. Looking at my watch and supping my ale. Gulp. The guy leaned forward on his knees and inched down my shorts. Gulp. One thing lead to another and we soon had a small audience round us transfixed. A few nudges and winks later we decided to retire to a cubicle to be on our own for something a bit more serious. Turned out his name was Lofty. But not that Lofty. I bought him a drink for his trouble. As I say, class act, me.
Competitions were being run all night; wet football strip, most original strip etc. I was back at the bar at this point watching the proceedings when I spotted someone I knew from yonks ago. He was on stage entering one of the competitions. He didn't win but certainly scored later (fnah, fnah). We went back to his place and had a fucking fabulous time. His squeeze is a DJ so I made myself scarce and was home by 4:30am.
So all in all it was a top, top night: Madge, exhibitionist sex and a hot shag. What more could you ask for?