Bradi 01

Bradi 01

Well then, it's about time you guys made time for me and found me! I've been waiting for quite a while now to remind all of you why you have kept me towards the bottom of your list! But I'm glad you finally came around and found me.

Anyways, I'm Bradi, I'm a bit chatty, I'm a little skittish at times, but I'm not afraid, I don't cut and run, I'm so, so, so close to turning 21 soon, I have dimples, dimples, dimples, which blow up my smile, I'm known by some people, but not overly popular because it's my firm belief that it's okay that I turned left on North Fem Street without being much of a sexual partner, hence, LOL, the not overly popular part and like most people, I have a couple of other things about me that you might find interesting. Or you might decide that any of the weird things about me are why you never bothered to find me, tee he.

So, in no particular order, here is a little something about a few of things about me and because I forgot to include that I'm a bit OCD above, this is the exact order as I see it (neatly fans the index cards before reading).

I max out. And obviously I mean that I max out when it comes to things like heated embraces in the dark. And it's not you, that's just me. But I do max out at the upper end of the scale when it comes to things like mad make out sessions. But I max out, so, LOL, again, the not overly popular part when it comes to the dating scene. I mean, why one thing has to automatically lead to another thing is not recognized by my mission statement, so, I max out.

But it's not all bad news for you because I will go with the flow or for a wild ride just as long as it's not actually me being ridden in the traditional sense. I mean, I'm there for you and if you can figure out how to max yourself out while we're sharing a hot blast furnace moment, then go for it. I mean, I actually enjoy the hotter moments too. Not that I have had an overabundance of blast furnace moments or anything, but my dimples seem to stoke the flames and I've been involved in a couple of situations where it worked out for everyone, even though I maxed out first, but I stuck with it, I didn't cut and run and I think that's all I'll say about that.

Well, let me just finish with that my max line has moved up over the past couple of years and my max line has a little wiggle room. I mean, just because I don't subscribe to the step-by-step procedure where flirting leads to kissing and kissing leads to groping and groping leads to kneeling and kneeling opens the door to laying down, I mean, I want you to max out. Every single time! Not that there have been all that many times, but, every single time. I mean, I like all that "argh, spew, argh, spew" stuff and I'll wiggle my body or my booty off for it. If that type of information is helpful to you and helps you get past my maxed-out line (turn on the hypnotizing subliminal flashing of adorable dimples App for the audience and then delete this sentence).

Oh, and by the way and these are not my words except for that they are exactly my words, my dimples almost demand that a red, blue, red Whippy Frozen Swirl as being the way to start things out. And these are the words of this guy named Josh, after I yelled at him, but a green, blue, gray Twirled Swirly Whip is not exactly the same.

Anyways, for the most part, I'm comfortable with things the way they are and with how I live and I get along just fine and if you can overlook that I'm just a wiggling tease with dimples who enjoys mad, mad make out sessions up to my max point, but with plenty of body grinding and squirming who subscribes to the belief that one thing absolutely does not have to lead beyond my max point, then, shoot, hold please.

[Scribble updates mission statement with it's no wonder it took so long for them to find me]

Anyways, before I drive you away, again, for maxing out too soon, let me try to invigorate your interest by getting to what I think is my favorite thing and most distinguishing thing about me and sort of my trademark (add swirling and spinning wheels behind the hypnotizing subliminal flashing of adorable dimples App to secure their interest and then delete this sentence.)

My favorite thing and it's only half weird, is my Denim. And I mean all of my Denim, no matter if they are shorts, capri's, skinny, boot cut, flares or any other style of Denim and that thing is how I have the left rear pocket carefully removed before wearing or washing them. I like the blank, yet visible ghostly pocket outline that is left behind on my behind and that's my thing. And I might not be the only one who does that worldwide, but I'm pretty sure that it's something that I own in and around the city of Middleton. So, that's my thing and you'll always know me from behind from my ghostly missing pocket behind.

Oh, and it's the missing pocket face that makes it seem like I strut with a slight limp. You know, one of those optical illusion things and it's just one of those things that the brain and the eyeballs interpret incorrectly since our functional systems have evolved to know that there should be two evenly spaced pocket faces on the bouncing ball. And I bounce as best as I can.

Anyways, the back story for how one missing pocket face became my thing stems (tee he, I totally booty humped his stem) back a while during a heated and mad, mad make out session with this guy named Teddy when we shared a moment alone behind his garage at his very late in the summer graduation party about two years ago, but that's how and when it happened and that's when I actually liked the end result of having a pocket face ripped off since that's what happened in the blast furnace heat of the moment that we shared that night, so, that's how my "one pocket missing" thing became my thing. I mean, Teddy just reached around and down and grabbed it and ripped the damn thing off! And I liked it. Oh, the look, that's what I liked. And the grabbing too because that's way, way, way inside of my maxed-out line. As long as nothing goes inside of my body in either available location, everything else is on the table (add floating tables around the swirling and spinning wheels behind the hypnotizing subliminal flashing of adorable dimples App to capture their interest and then delete this sentence.)

And then, I think my last thing is how I wear my hoodies, when I wear hoodies. I'm not much of one for the baggy look, so, my XXS hoodies fit me like a dress shirt and I've been known to wear them as just my shirt, like a lot and if you want to expose my smooth and boyish chest as we make out madly, well, then zip, zip, zip away! I may not be much a third base sex machine, but skin on skin, in many forms, is also way, way inside of my max line.

So, that's me in a nutshell, I guess, so, thanks for finding me (turn off the hypnotizing App and then delete this sentence because my Chang DM box is starting to reach the max limits.)

So, a couple of cleanup items then, right?

Above, I mentioned that I'm very close to reaching 21 and I'm seriously considering of celebrating that by moving my maxed-out bar up about five notches. It might be just for one night or even one entire weekend, but it's a plan that I have in the works (ping, ping, ping, the DM box is exploding), so, we'll see.

And about the skittish thing that I mentioned, well, my gym, right? I mean, I can wear XXS hoodies as a shirt for a reason, but damn, half of my workout comes from battling off people, who, tee he, have been dying for me to beat them off in a different way, but still, the gym is tough. Tough, tough, tough. I so need access to someone's personal home gym (ping, ping, ping, the DM box is sparking).

And the same goes for the stupid grocery store too! I mean, I'm actually known for eating healthy, but screw that if the healthy stuff is on a lower shelf! Helping me reach something from the upper shelf is fine and tee he, fun a couple of times because I am a huge flirt, but my first time bending over is not going to happen in public! And add a huge and loud "sheesh" right here, guys! Well, not so huge like Mrs. Bentley is huge, but still, seduce me and move my max lines in a different place. Sheesh.

"(Giggles)"

So, other than I've just confessed that my mission statement is that of a self-proclaimed tease with a max limit, who believes that squirming skin to skin is sex to the max, hey there, I'm Bradi and my story today begins, um, hold please.

[Considers setting fire to mission statement because it really doesn't really sound so good]

Um, a little voice in my head is screaming at me to move on, so, that's what I'm going to do because apparently, laying out the truth might be overrated. And because I can't find a cigarette lighter.

So, today, I'm actually starting out on the Friday afternoon of a recent weekend festival, the "Mow the Switchgrass Festival" because you all know Mrs. Bentley. The city of Middleton has to have a festival to celebrate literally everything! I mean, how huge of a problem is overgrown Switchgrass anyways then, hmm? I mean, it can't be as huge as Mrs. Bentley, but whatever.

"(Giggles)"

And to set the scene, I mean, I'm taking a leap frog leap over the last two years because my dating scene max bar took a while to move up enough not to be totally embarrassing. And nobody gets out of the gate as an expert bronco rider from the start, so, um, let's just leap frog over my learning curve time.

So, the afternoon of the "Mow the Switchgrass" festival then, right? It started out with my other thing of being a needy, I mean, being a friend in need when it comes to eating healthier. Oh, not for me since I do that all the time anyways because it's the right thing to do and it reduces the need for the constant battles of gym time, but as a helping hand for a couple of friends.

And oh, again, tee he, I wasn't helping out as a buy off for this guy named the Iceman, who works at the Ice Cube Shop on the Strip, but he does have a few "grunting and mumbling" issues with people like me who have a mailing address on North Fem Street. However, his roomie, Cooper, might be a good match for me come my 21st celebration and adventure and I kind of have this thing in my head about making a walk of finally losing shame up a set of carpeted stairways, so, my plan was to chill out the Iceman first.

And Cooper would be a good match for me. I mean, we were schoolmates back in the day and maybe we shared a couple of bumps here and there, so, maybe Cooper wasn't my prom date, but we knew each other and that brings a comfort level, so that's how and why Cooper became my "lose it or switch back" target for my upcoming 21st. Also, I was banned from attending my prom because I started to move boxes into my place on North Fem Street before I should have. Not that some schoolmates, well, never mind.

So, since I'm skittish about being the reason they call out "man mess clean up in aisle two" at the grocery store, I've employed another old classmate, Kaley, to assist with my grocery shopping since she works there and Kaley always helps out when she needs a few extra bucks to buy something, so, it all works out. I make a list and hand it off to Kaley and it saves me from being asked over and over again if I would like to sample a free hot dog, you know, from guys who don't even work at the grocery store.

Well, this one guy, Ben, who works there and apparently likes what I bring to the aisles asks me stuff from time to time, but I think he's more scared than I am, so, that's actually the most awkward flirting I've ever experienced. But it's cool. I guess.

[The grocery store door chime jingle, jangle, well, swoosh, swoosh since they are auto sliding doors]

"Hah! I can tell that your list today is different, Bradi. But if you're going to try to upgrade the eating habits of your crush and his roomie and their gamer dude buds, well, I support that. However, tee he, just so I don't screw things up because I need my entire shopping fee today because I need new tall boots for the switchgrass festival bonfire tomorrow night to protect my feet from the sparks of fire, does this line imply that you want a bunch of bananas or just some bananas that make up what is usually called a bunch of bananas, which is still just a bunch of bananas, so, help me out with your banana needs, Bradi. Is this a bunch of bananas or just a bunch of bananas, hmm?"

"Kaley, first all of, I think they are called bonfire embers and not sparks and second of all..."

"Oh, so, Bradi, then you already talked to Amber then, hmm? Which means she should have made it clear to you that a new pair of sparks protection boots mandates a new pair of skinny capri jeans to tuck inside, so, did I just receive permission from you that I can abuse your account a little extra tonight, hmm? I mean, this year, the switchgrass feels like it's sexy night and the Pocket Jeans Shop is right next door to the Sparks Protection Boots Shop in the middle of the Strip and Gabbi texted me told me that your new modified and left ghost pocket jeans are ready for pick up, so?"

"I mean, Kaley, I didn't even get to say my second of all and we leap frogged to about my fourth of all argument back and that's not how this is supposed to work, so I'm putting my foot..."

[Scribbles an additional item to the shopping list and flashes the additional item in Bradi's face]

"Ahem, I added extra, extra virgin olive oil to the list because sometimes sexy night makes my thighs sore from dodging guys at the bonfire, so, sometimes I rub my thighs down after sexy night with extra, extra, virgin olive oil, so?"

Stupid visions that can be inserted into one's head! Also, shouldn't Gabbi have texted me that my new jeans had the left pocket removed, hmm?

[Slick thigh rub image, slick thigh rub image, slick and shiny thigh rubbing images running through head]

"Oh, well, sixth of all, I mean, when should I come back and, tee he, is that Ben working in the veggie area right now, um, tee he????"

"Oh, well, yes that is Banana Ben working over there and..."

[Scratches the bunch of banana needs off of the shopping list]

"And since I'm confused about your banana needs, maybe you can stroll over there and take care of that yourself then, hmm? Also, since Gabbi told me that your account limit is about a bazillion, can my abuse of your account be more of a hammering, Bradi?"

[Kayla thighs must already be aching from working on the floor of the grocery store because she started to rub them over her faded work jeans]

"You cheat, Kayla!"

"LOL, yep, tee he. Go about your business, Bradi and I'll drop off your groceries later, tootles."

Well, I mean, seventhly of all, um, well, whatever.

[Goes with the flow because visions of a woman rubbing her tired and sore thighs down with extra, extra virgin olive oil cannot be overrated.] [Right?]

"Hey, you, are you going to buy that bunch of bananas or just manhandle them, ooh, oh, well then, Bradi, Bradi, Bradi, I thought you outsourced your shopping to Kaley because this place is worse than the gym, so, am I winning then, hmm? And I changed gym location per the court's order, so, we can start fresh, right?"

"Oh, hey there, Ben, I didn't know that you were working today, which is why I'm shopping for myself, but since I entered your space, I won't tell the courts that you're violating the personal space PPO, so, are you going to the bonfire tomorrow, hmm? And what's the difference between a bunch of bananas and just a bunch of bananas, hmm?"

"Bradi, never mind all that because I have a legit proposal for you since you're not calling the authorities yet and it goes like..."

"Banana Ben, stop right there because every time someone says "it's legit" these days, I mean, it's never legit from my viewpoint and over my maxed-out line, but I have a few minutes, so, let me hear how non legit your legit proposal is then, so, go ahead, I'll listen as I tap my toes and bounce this bunch of bananas in my hands, so?"

"Oh, wow, I didn't think that would work, um and that bunch of bananas you're stroking is actually a bunch of bananas, but listen, Bradi, close your eyes for a moment and open your mind and drift off to the future, like to tomorrow night and imagine an image of the two of us slipping off into the darkness just after the bonfire fireworks and then imagine the two us slipping into your place just after midnight and let your mind wander next to how you slip into something more comfortable and then quick switch your moniker on Chang to Blueberry Bush for 30 minutes, which will keep your "I'm basically frigid, Bradi" status intact and then I mount you from behind and grip both of your bare booty buns and squeeze them together and then I get with it and slip slide hot dog the hell out of you like a madman until I max out and mark your lower back with my max mess, um, ooh, the end????"

"OMFG, Victor! And by that, I mean, OMFG, Victor! I mean, I have another place to be right now! But text me sometime."

[Scribble updates the mission statement]

Whew, I need a minute, folks.

Hmm, Ben would never tell, um, I could handle a pair of hands gripping my bare booty buns, um, I have undies that reveal my booty buns, um, my lower back is better than my face, um, but he could try to trick me from the position and quick slip inside, but I'm quick and could flip over, um, but that would put his blast furnace pointing right at my face, sort of, um, but breaking my seal by ho dogging trick might be easier said than done, um, he would never tell, um, Blueberry Bush sounds like a legit, yet, anonymous one night stand, um, I like that he said booty buns to me, um, my max line would go up like five notches, um, wait, did he go "aha, aha, aha" or not while we were talking, but, um, with a little baby oil, um, ooh, I could wear a blind fold, oh, no, no blind fold because if he is willing to go all "argh, argh, argh" with me and just use my bare back, then I should play back proper, oh, Ben would never tell, huh, um [shakes head violently from side to side], well, damn, does no ever mean maybe? Maybe?

[Still shaking head] huh, where was I then, hmm? Oh yeah, onto my next stop for the day because I wanted to get a feel for a status update of my possible 21st celebration maxed to the limit date, Ben! Wait, tee he, not Ben. Tee he, Cooper, not Banana Ben. Cooper from several paragraphs above. The roomie of the Iceman, Iceman the grunter who doesn't recognize any of us homeowners who moved in on North Fem Street on the eastside of Middleton.

[Vroom, oops, no vroom and stays parked in the grocery store parking lot to think about a few things because maybe whatever happens when known as Blueberry Bush is not overrated]

[But there is another vroom, park and a beep, beep]

"Hey, we've met before, so?"

"Oh, we have, have we, then what's my name, hot rod, hmm?"

"You're Max, Maxie Pocketless, we met at the Blue Cruise Crew hangout spot down the Strip a couple of weeks ago, so, do you remember when we met before since you clearly remember my nickname, huh, Pockets?"

Well, that's my bad for using the universal "hot rod" callout to a stranger in a hot rod who happens to have the nickname of Hot Rod, right?

"I'm not in the mood, Hot Rod, so, maybe another time. Also, I'm only sitting in this parking lot because my head is spinning for how my max line might have more wiggle room than I ever thought as long as a hot dog free sample is involved, so, I'm out!"

"Tease! But I'll look for you at the switchgrass bonfire tonight, Pockets! Wear something special for me, bye!"

[Screech, peel out, burn rubber, cough, cough, squeal, vroom, vroom]

Oh, that's already on my mission statement! Tease, a lip smacking, hump hugging, cock tease with dimples! And self-proclaimed, as I said before and because I know who I am and what my max line has to offer you. But clap back about how you feel about hot dogs. Oh, you guys, not Hot Rod. He peeled out.