My Dude My Girl: Metal Punk Romance

We tend to fuck as most couples do. They tend spin a narrative to make us think this isn't so, and certainly isn't how it should be. Perhaps it's part of that young folks procreation propaganda that they are the creative, new school of fucking. Folks always been fucking. There ain't nothing new. Maybe around here, who fucks who or how they fuck is a new topic in broader circles, but the actual act...no act is new. So we tend to fuck as most couples do and have done. The keep it spicy narrative is just that, a story. Do we fuck right? We still fucking? Right.

Like all couples who been fucking as long as we have, we have that nostalgia. We remember them early days. We didn't know what we were gunna do, we didn't know us as we yet. For we started in a typical place. Nothing special about our story, but it is still our story.

We arrived with our friends. Two eclectic groups who had not crossed paths before. I was there for Mike. You were there for Les. Months into the 90's we didn't understand we were standing at cultural crossroads with planetary implications. Well, maybe my friend Sharish and your friend Jemal know, but we certainly had no clue.

As FNM played the Crab Song and it transitioned into Pump Up The Jam/Chinese Arithmetic mashup we were jumping togetherness have been doing just that together ever since. But that moment that played out during The Crab Song...that's what did it.

I didn't have the language for it at the time, but I was comfortable in my own skin, but really didn't feel like one of the girls. I have no idea how this kismet worked, but we both now know you wouldn't change a thing about yourself, but you were not and have never been one of the bro's. Our brains identify in a heteronormativity binary world as one thing and the rest of us are easily categorized as the other, when we don't wish to change a thing. How we found each other thrashing around that night...again kismet.

The pit has just cooled for the song has a soulful and acoustic Indy punk beginning, that builds. It just took the two of us away. Transported us from our friends two another plain of existence.

Some fucker pushed me As The Worm Turned. Thankfully right into you. You somehow lifted my fat ass up and asked if I was all right. At least I thought that was what you said...so loud. Of course I yelled back, just as the evening hit it's quietest moment:

"THE GIRLS ARE ALL RIGHT!"

You responded uncharacteristically, with a machismo boldness:

"Yeah they are!"

Now I would know for sure how much this would be a joke among girlfriends and not a dude bro line, but somehow in the moment I sensed this and was unusually comfortable with it. As you know normally I am looking to deck someone. In fact before you lifted me up, that fucker who pushed me was going to Kaiser ER.

The Crab song took us, or rather brought us together, as we both adore Chuck, but really Mike's vocals on it, hooked us to be present.

We started grooving and grinding...as the packed crowd left little room for anything other than bump, grind and mosh.

I could feel you on my ass. You couldn't control it. The thick meat hanging between your legs could not handle the massive booty I was swaying. I know exactly what I was getting myself into.

We know we would hook up. What you didn't know was my kootch could handle that shit right. Though my all women curves were certain indicating potential. My boyish mind knew exactly what I wanted...just needed to convince your girly mind that a good fuck was exactly what we needed.

As you watched me rule the pit during Surprise Your Dead and as we cuddled during War Pigs, our friends were brought together. We know by then what's up.

After Eddy's Shakes, I took you to my room. The street light illuminated what we intimately know we were working with with one exception.

You finally saw my massive camel toe. Two rows of fat cuddled under my ponch, being squeezed by these ham sized thunder thighs. What was dangling between your legs was now full mast ready to fuck this shit up. Epic.

You lifted me up. A move that shocked me. I was a good 275 ibs and you were a skinny lanky dude back them...packing a thick swaying appendage. My massive GG tits engulfed your beautiful face, my dear. You placed me down and removed my underwear. You cuddle my massive thighs. Spending time to get to know and press both. My curvy calf's impressive to your intimate understanding of how I carried myself. How I would fucking murder anyone who touched you wrong. I would feel your cock with my feet. Your face set up camp in my cunt. Fuck that feels good when you eat me out. Your digits exploring inside, making sure there was a chance I could take that salami. My body convulsions, my breathy demand, you know who was in charge.

"I need it now! Stop teasing me bitch."

My demand answered with you ever so slowly turning me around. My 65 inch arse backing up, my face down. You gentility entered my thoroughly lubricant huge snatch. One inch at a time, for a few minutes each inch then my next organism came shockingly on with just a third of you in. The girth was like nothing I had experienced and it was exactly what I love to this fucking day. Halfway in another. 2/3rds in another. Finally all of

you in and I could take over. We worked in tandem to get me turned around and up in the air. My tits slapping your bitch as up. They mothered your pansy arse. Skinny bitch was all mine for the rest of my days. I got you on your back and road you like I do to this day. Like a boss. I smother you...I fucked the shit out of you.

And then, I sit on your face and you lick up the mess you made until I cum and fall on you exhausted. Sometime, you sneaky bitch cuddle right and your manhood wakes me up and I let it in again. I rub my self out, and you go quick this time. We sleep and then you wake me up with the smell of coffee and eating me out. Saturday nights and Sunday mornings are so fucking routine. Just keeping it real decades later, my girl.

Love your Dude for life.