The 100th Horse Theory and the 50th Vagina

When he posts his 100th story I want to take him out and flirt with him. I want to go bleary-eyed and beer-kiss him on the mouth and because my wild days are over and because I am in love with someone else, I want to take him to a strip club and watch his cheeks pink as some other girl in a g-string and the tiniest triangle of fabric over her nipples, looses balance on her get-out-of-here stilettos and falls into his chaste lap. I want to watch his horror and embarrassment at other men pawing over the nearly-naked flesh. I want to watch his horror and embarrassment over his own barely-concealed erection. I want to watch his reaction to my noticing his barely-concealed erection.

Poor man. What did he do to deserve my unwanted friendship? He diligently chipped away at 100 blog posts, some of which made the furious vagina jealous, all of which were posted on schedule, a magnificent performance. Horses are ahead by a nose, but vaginas are coming up the rear.

So now it will be just him and me and a stripper in a pony costume with an iced cake. Happy 100 Horses it will say, and he will blush and blush and blush...

* Also, a special day today for the Furious Vagina. It is my 50th post. 50 day's of sexual exploits. Thank you readers for spending time with me. Many happy returns.