The evening at the Cubby Bear did not go as I had expected. But then, waking up that morning with a p***y between my legs had severely altered what I might consider reasonable expectations.
What I had dreamed of was straight men, straight men, and more straight men, using me over and over again in a delicious frenzy of f*****g! Yes! That’s what this girl wants…or so I thought when I entered the Cubby Bear, one of Chicago’s most famous, and testosterone-charged, singles venues. I imagined them lining up in a nearby alley, taking turns; I imagined my feet smearing the fog shrouded back windows of many BMWs, Jags, Porsches, and even the occasional Hyundai; I imagined using a ladies room stall as my own personal boudoir, toilet paper at the ready to sop up the furious flood of love juices tha
