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Barangus
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Newsgroups: alt.butt.harp
Subject: *BARANGUS*!
Message-ID: <[email protected]>
I lived with five guys and one woman senior year. The Gresge
had the room across from hers and he was obsessed with her. He
showed us how his closet was right next to her bed and he could sit
in there and listen to her and any one of the numerous boys she
brought home with her. One day, she forgot to lock her door in the
morning and his subsequent search turned up a mongo vibrator and a
huge drum of lube. Sometimes he would report on her in the morning
before class.
"Yup. She took it up the ass again last night." He showed
how he'd worked out a pattern to her lovemaking. "Yeah, she always
starts by sucking the guy off, then, if he can get it up again she
has him fuck her ass while she's on her back and she plays with her
clit until she comes. If the guy can't get it up again, she has
him use her vibrator. Man."
Ralph had problems with women, to say the least. It was he
who got me the job delivering pizzas in town and one day, he was in
heaven because an Ithaca College freshman co-ed that he'd brought
a pizza to had "gotten on her knees and worked it like a champ."
Of course, we didn't believe him, but he *did* start shaving
regularly that week and was making daily trips over to IC. A week
later, (God knows *what* he'd done to her), the girl became a
lesbian and hasn't dated a guy since.
He was a very comfortable guy, and wasn't really into doing
his wash. In the morning he'd come downstairs in a robe, throw a
pig(a huge rack of pre-cooked, packaged barbecue ribs) into the
microwave, disappear into the basement, and come up fully dressed.
He never took his clothes out of the dryer. If he had no ribs for
breakfast, he'd drink some barbecue sauce or ketchup and begin his
day.
Once, we were driving from Ithaca to T-burg(Trumansburg) and
we passed a bar that looked like something straight out of Urban
Cowboy. It was called 'Barangus' and there was a huge set of
animal horns above the name. The parking lot was filled with
pickup trucks and I dared him to go in and buy a beer. He never
backed off from a stupid dare and so he pulled his Trans Am into
the lot and we both got out. As we'd expected there were old farm
tools hanging on the walls, along with many bear and other traps,
animal heads, and old guns.
We sidled up up the bar and Ralph said "Two Lites." The
others at the bar quieted down and looked over. Without cowboy
boots we might as well have been naked. "And two shots of Jack."
The moment passed and we sat down at a table near the back exit,
where we'd parked the car.
"You ready to bolt, Ralph?" I said.
"Oh yeah." Ralph was a big, husky guy but he could run when
being chased.
We did our shots and I said, loud enough, "You know what
Barangus *means*, don't you?" We both slid our chairs back and
leaned forward a little.
"What?"
"It's the sound gay cowboys make when they come."
And then we were gone.
RICHH
--BaRANGus!
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