A Pepe Le Peu Story  

rm_piewinch 35F
28 posts
2/26/2006 4:45 am

Last Read:
3/7/2006 12:52 pm

A Pepe Le Peu Story

Since my profile seems a bit somber, I thought I would put up this story for some light reading fare. The subtext to these events: it was a week after the end of an entirely sexless relationship.

Around midnight one Saturday night in recent history, I met up with my friend Kaytayp, her friend A. and some others in Roppongi. The first place (Hideout) we went to was a dive, though we managed to have a good time. Most of the people in the club were in their twenties or early thirties, with the notable exception of one old man who seemed to be in his sixties, wielding a pair of laser pointers as if they were glowsticks.

Things got more interesting when we moved to Wall Street, across the street from Hideout. Wall Street consists of a bar, a dance floor, semi-private booths and a VIP area occupied almost entirely by strippers and men in suits. As we made our way onto a crowded dance floor, I suddenly felt like a hungry lion being given a tour of a wildlife preserve. The prey might have seemed scrawny and unappealing, but I was ready to settle. I decided that I could not go another minute without kissing someone.

I told kaytayp and A. of my predicament. "We'll find you somebody," they promised. A. said,"There are lots of Brazilian guys here. Want to meet a Brazilian? C. can talk to them for you." She pointed out a few, but I wasn't interested. A. turned to her boyfriend. "Estamos buscando un chico para ella." In an effort to remember my Spanish, I said,"Estoy buscando un chico guapo para besar!" C. nodded his head. We started to scope out cute guys.

I noticed a well-built fellow to our left, wearing a soccer shirt with the number 19. But I quickly rejected him as being out of my league. Then I caught sight of a guy wearing a puffy green coat with his back to a pillar. "That guy's kind of cute!" I said. He was a Latin boy, not much taller than myself, with fine features that reminded me of the Argentinian from last summer. [Ed: Why was this guy wearing a puffy green coat in a hot, crowded club? What was I thinking?]

kaytayp and A. stayed by the bar, drinking. I went back into the crowd to find the rest of my friends. I discovered that two of them had hooked up with one another over the course of the night. People were getting along better than I had expected! Then A. approached me. "That guy's Brazilian!" she said. "The one in the big green coat, right?" Suddenly her boyfriend C. appeared. He took me by the hand and led me towards the Brazilian. I protested, somewhat fakely. In reality, I was intrigued as to the outcome. "I don't know if C. is capable of being subtle," A. said, trying not to laugh. I stood back while C. talked to Green Jacket. I saw them glance in my direction. Green Jacket looked confused and flattered. Eventually he came over.

We quickly established that Green Jacket and I did not share a common language. He knew a few words in Japanese, and I had a bit of high school Spanish. "Shigoto wa?" ("Work?") he asked. "Traduccion!" ("Translation!") I replied. For once, our failure to communicate did not seem relevant. Green Jacket must have thought so too, because he grabbed me by the small of my back as we started kissing all over the dance floor.

This is the part where the story gets genuinely embarrassing.

Green Jacket and I were dancing very close. He had both of his hands on my rear. As Green Jacket and I kissed, I could feel the endorphin levels jumping in my skull. Suddenly, I felt a mysterious touch upon the bum. It was like Green Jacket had grown an extra arm. In any case, I was too intent upon Green Jacket to let it bother me. Not only had it been five months since I'd gotten laid, but it had been ages since I'd been properly kissed.

The touches on my bum grew into pinches. Soon the disembodied hand was happily navigating its way along my front. Green Jacket did not seem to notice - perhaps his winter gear was making him unaware of the activity under my shirt.

Then my right breast was squeezed fiercely. I began to feel concerned. I turned around and saw a cheery, sweaty man in his middle years. He wore a green and white shirt, had a bit of a belly, and was evidently blissed out.

In trepidation, I backed away from Green Shirt. And continued to kiss Green Jacket. But no matter where I went on the dance floor - even after Green Jacket's precipitious flight from the club - I was pursued relentessly by the oblivious Green Shirt.

It was a real Pepe Le Peu story. I would flee to one corner of the dance floor, imagining myself safe. Suddenly, Green Shirt would materialize in front of me. He stretched his hand out to my crotch, seemingly hypnotized. I felt like some new type of snack food. Just as he was about to begin his mysterious caresses, I fled.

Eventually I did something completely uncharacteristic - I made a fist with my right hand, pumped it over my head, and told him I'd kick his fucking ass if he ever did it again.

elysianpleasure 48M

2/26/2006 7:18 am

Welcome... way to take care of yourself. Elysian

love_money_power 42M

2/27/2006 12:51 am

Thats why I fucking hate roppongi...too much of the scum of the earth is there for me to feel enjoyment.

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