Stranger Fantasy It’s obvious you and the girls at your table have been discussing me and the boys at mine since a few minutes after you all arrived. We can’t hear you, but at least one of you looks over here every few seconds, and based on the expressions on your faces it seems we might not be doing so well. Eventually, though, when my boys step to the bar for another round, you sidle over from your table and look me in the eye. “My girlfriends think every guy in this bar is gonna be a porn-damaged bro douchebag,” you say. “Let’s see if they’re right. Tell me the fantasy you keep coming back to.” “You mean… like a sex fantasy?” I ask. My question alone might provide all the confirmation you need, but your nod tells me all is not yet lost. A flash of instinct tells me to reveal one of my deepest secrets. “I… get really turned on by… making babies,” I say. My secret is not exactly a dark one, but it’s a deep one because it’s not “bro” at all, and who knows what hum...
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