Artie 01 - Sex Stories

Artie 01

... am I winning now, Nate (gulp)?"

[Smoothly pulls back bowstring, aims, releases, swoosh, zip-zip-zip-zip-zip-zip, whap, twang!]

"Hah, all red and that's my last shot, Artie, so, it's your last turn now, so, make it count or I'll recount all of the paper cash in your back pockets again."

[Grr, grr, manages to pull back bowstring, closes one eye, goes with duck lips, releases, flutter, fizzle, whizzle, wobble, whirl, whizzle, wobble, whirl, thumps into something soft like a straw filled target]

"[Off to right] ouch! Medic! Butt arrow!"

"That's two points, right, Nate? I split my previous arrow too, right?"

"Well, Artie, you did manage to split that guy's, um, okay then, we need to drop the bows like we were never here and scram back to your place for an early snack, quick, Artie!"

[Expensive festival compound bows hit the dirt like nobody was watching and they scrammed]

You know, folks, somehow that all felt like a little bit of a setup, don't you don't think? I mean, not the guy with an arrow in his, um, it was my best seductive schmoozing to date and we took off to my place like at the birds and the bee's speed!

[Huffing, ducking, puffing, wheeze running, huff, hey, wait, wait, hit the renaissance brakes]

Well, we made it a long way from the archery range and all of those people were busy trying to pull my arrow out of that guy's, um, hey, look, a Renaissance Festival food tent!

"Wench, Wench, Wench Wendy!"

"OMFG, Artie, call me Wench Wendy ...

... one more time and your post grad "undies" posted selfies will need to be reposted to show that 3 is a lie because I have a big knife to cut off these big turkey legs! Anyways, how are my renaissance boobs looking today, hmm?"

"Fuller than ever, Wench Wendy. Anyways, I owe Nate a midnight snack at 7pm now because I lost his challenge, so I need two oversized turkey legs, a container of brown slop and a container of the white sludge, all to go and a text or two on what happens after the meal, like at playtime, so?"

"OMFG, do I really need to explain the birds and the bees to you today, Artie? Also, is Nate your dinner boyfriend tonight then, hmm? And how did he trick you into a challenge where you wouldn't be able to throw literally any object, hmm?"

I mean, they should put a sign on the Renaissance Festival Food Tents in that fancy old timey calligraphy lettering, that's hard to read in these modern times, that says "Renaissance food and wench boobs only! No relationship advice!", am I right, people?

[Um, Renaissance festival food "to go" bags might be made of fur too]

"Are you bitching out on me, Artie?"

"Oh, no way, Nate, um, um, I'm in for a penny and I'm in for a pound, or maybe for a pounding if things get that frisky, um, um, um, there has never been a condom in my apartment!"

Update, the Renaissance festival people should put up a fancy lettering sign that says "whisper fool" or something like that, I suppose, um, my bad.

So, um, Nate and I had ...