ChaBroDawg

Gentlemen,

It is with great relief that I write this post. I need to get something off my chest that has been there for oh so long. Recently I have found myself more and more attracted to that man in the single. You know which one I am talking about; he wears flannels all the time and I often see his Colorado tanned body wheelin' around campus on one of those over sized skateboards. I just can't take it anymore.

We never did let anyone know why we decided not to live together this year, it is time you know the truth.

One hazy May evening last spring both the ChaBroDawg and myself had been out at the bars enjoying ourselves, indulging in the magic "Jus". Now this was back before the 4Loko craze, so this was some powerful shiz, ya know!
Anyways, we returned from our indulgence to our fabled room in Larson. Nate went immediately to bed and looked like a light sleeping bear in hibernation . So cute, except anytime I moved my chair or opened a closet door he awoke. One time, I moved my chair a little too far.

"Hey, man can you quiet down? I've got physics in the morning, bro." Nate gargled.
"I am so sorry, Nate. Is there anyway I can make it up to you?" I responded.



I slowly reached down and removed one of my socks. The second I struggled to remove, and hopped around the room on one foot like a rodeo clown until it was off. Then I slowly sauntered over to Nate's bed and hopped in. I felt his warm body against mine. The scratchiness of his lumberjack like beard made it even more sensual.

"Dude, what are you doing, get off," said Nate. "This isn't cool"
"It would be cooler if you put your flannel on," I hinted.

What happened next is too graphic to write out, but can best be described in this video. Dark, confusing, loud.



After the blood had settled and we had sent Nate's sheets to the washer, he spoke to me.

"We can never, ever do that again."
"Okay tight," I said, rolling over to pass out.
"No man, get into your own bed, I can't sleep with two people on these things," he said, pushing me out.
"Sounds good, night!"

And so that is the story. We both awoke the next morning in a pool of fluids. Nate unaware where his sheets were, and I was missing my dignity. For both of us, I ask that you do not post this anywhere where someone other than SP012 could see it.

Keep it Secret, Keep it Safe.

PS. I still pitch a major tent anytime I see/hear/sense Nate in any of the following situations:
Bashing the candle, Bleeding the weasel, bleedin the weed, buffing the banana, bopping the baloney, burping the worm, choking the chicken, cleaning your rifle, corking the bat, cranking the shank, cuffing the carrot, fisting your mister, flogging your dog, floggin the frog, flogging the hog, flogging the log, flute solo, jerkin'the gherkin, looping the mule, manual override, painting the pickle, pocket pinball, pocket pool, polishing the banister, polishing the rocket, pounding your flounder, pumping the python, roping the pony, spanking the monkey, teasing the weasel, tossing the turkey, walking the dog, whipping the willy, wonking your cronker, yanking the crank.