Erotic Notion #30: Festival Fucking
By Hapax Legomenon

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Unconscious Rivals,  Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, 1893
Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Unconscious Rivals, 1893

Two high school girls with backpacks walked by, excitedly pointing at the stage. Both were in shorts; one was talking on the phone.

"Well, what do you think?" Mary asked.

"Both of them," I said, taking a sip from my drink.

An Asian woman with her husband crossed the path, along with their teenage daughter.

"Surprisingly, no to the Asian girl," I said, "but yes to her mother. She has an old-fashioned elegance … and a body used to experiencing pleasures."

"Wait," Mary said. "Here's a few." Three Latino men in their 20s walked by, barely interested in the festival booths while they smoked cigarettes. "I like the one in the middle," she said.

"Yuck!" I muttered.

"Sure, he's dangerous-looking on the outside, but when you're alone with him, I'm sure he's a delicious cuddle-bunny."

"If you only knew …" I said.

"And I wouldn't mind doing his buddy with the cap – if he ever shaved."

We kept walking. Mary saw a stocky man, someone in his forties with a beard.

"Him too."

"Ok, but I get her," I said, pointing to two women ambling casually through the crowd. "The one on the left..the woman with the braid in her hair … would be a doll."

"Suit yourself," Mary said. "She doesn't seem your type."


"A little too prim and proper."

I laughed. "Looks can be deceiving. She may look tame, but in the sack, she'd probably be eager and aggressive."

The concert was about to start, and people started sitting down on their blankets. A Latin jazz group started performing, and I said, "Ok, I assume that all the musicians onstage are 'your type.'"

"Ugh … not really. That lead singer looks like a crybaby. The drummer looks friendly enough. But I could really go for the soundcheck guy."


"Him," she said, pointing. The soundcheck guy was a short young man with a goatee and sunglasses.

"You have to be kidding." I said.

She kissed me and laughed. "You should never trust me alone in a room with him."

The concert went on, and I ogled the crowd for more females. A group of college-aged students were sitting together. They were drinking beer and hardly paying attention to the music, but I focused on one: a dark-haired beauty in a loose-fitting blouse who curled up her knees. I tapped Mary on the shoulder and motioned to them. "The one in the blue blouse."

"Egad," Mary said. "She's just a little girl."

"Exactly," I said, stroking her arm. "Just a bad little girl." We sat on the grass. "After a good spanking, I'd teach her all kinds of things."

I smiled at Mary, but she looked slightly horrified.

"Sometimes you can be scary," she said.

I gave her a kiss. "Are you jealous? You can watch ...if you want."

A man walked towards us, and Mary looked at me, and I knew without words she had chosen him. He had simple dress and an ordinary face, but strutted around with confidence and serenity. As he approached, Mary waited to smile in his direction. But the man walked past Mary without even glancing at her.

"That must have hurt," I said, and Mary grimaced.

Minutes later we were walking to another concert, playing the game again. This time we picked partners for our mates. I found a young policeman on a horse who smiled nonchalantly at passersby.

"He's perfect!" she said, making underneath her breath. "I could just eat him up."

Now Mary had to find someone for me. I watched the women go by, wondering which one Mary would pair me up with. I saw one particularly attractive Latina girl walk by, but Mary ignored her. Finally Mary nudged me, and I looked.

"No way!" I said. The woman Mary had found was tall, athletic and tomboyish; she looked almost aggressive. "Pick me another."

"Ok," Mary said, looking around some more. Finally, she pointed out a college-aged girl with blond hair.

"No," I said. "She's nice-looking, but definitely not my type. She looks bitchy and annoying."

"If you actually talked to her, she could turn out to be a nice person."

"Another, please."

The next few women who walked by seemed attractive enough, including a a tall Indian girl with brown eyes and long flowing hair. She was sipping an oversized drink and gazing at the arts and crafts. But either Mary didn't notice them or found a reason to rule them out for me. Then I noticed a girl with raggedy-looking blonde hair walking towards us. Her body and figure looked ok, but her face just looked uninteresting. "How about her?" she said.

"She's okay," I said, aware I was starting to sound fussy. "I certainly wouldn't turn her away, but she's nothing special."

Mary, I realized, had little idea of what things attracted me to a woman. She knew I found her attractive, but other than that she had little understanding of what went through a man's mind sometimes.

Just then a bosomy Latino walked by, her small breasts jutting out conspicuously. She noticed my glance and gave me a quick smile before leaving. Mary stood watching my reaction. I nodded.

"Her?" she said in amazement. "She's so...she's flaunting it; she looks like a streetwalker."

"Yes, she's a little slutty," I admitted, "but probably good in bed." And probably easy to seduce, I thought to myself.

Finally, in an effort to teach Mary about my tastes in woman, I held her hand while we walked around the concert park. Whenever we passed someone I liked, I would motion and squeeze Mary's hand. As it turned out, the next dozen or so women we walked by were fairly attractive – especially a leggy blonde talking on the cellphone – she looked positively divine. I kept nudging Mary to the point where it became annoying.

"So you didn't like any of the women I chose for you, yet you salivate every two seconds for this kind of woman. Honestly, I don't understand." We came to another concert area on a hill, where a group of 10 or 15 woman lay on blankets, chattering away about unimportant things. Suddenly one of them leapt up, made a goofy dance and started imitating a singer's dance movements to the delight of her friends.

Mary glanced at me. "Okay, I know you are interested in at least one of those girls. But which one?"

"Actually," I said, composing a checklist in my head, "Any of them would be fine. Better yet, send all of them to my bedroom tonight."

"All of them?" She laughed at the absurdity of it.


"I'm speechless. They're all relatively young, I admit, but don't you know how to discriminate?"

"All of them are good," I repeated. Actually, I noticed one who had a plainer face, so I considered revising my statement. But then I thought, she's not bad-looking; there was no need to amend my previous statement.

"So if any one of them came over and offered to sleep with you, you'd say, 'yes.'"

"Well, obviously, this is pretend," I said. "But from a purely physical standpoint, I'd find a sexual encounter with any of them to be pleasant."

"Hilarious," she said – not bothered but mystified. Then, I saw the tall woman from five minutes ago walking toward the concession stand.

"That's her," I said.

"Who?" Mary asked.

I pointed her out to Mary and announced that she was my Golden Girl. Each of us could make contact with one piece of eye candy. We were just playing; basically, we would just go up to them and make up an excuse to have a conversation.

I walked over to the concession counter, standing behind the tall women in line. So close I could touch her bare shoulder.

"Excuse me," I said, tapping her shoulder gently. "Do you know where the Contemporary Stage is?"

The woman turned around and frowned slightly. "No...sorry," she said. Before I could say something else, she took the drink from her server and walked off.

"Have fun?" Mary asked me, laughing.

"Be quiet," I said.

We played the game some more. This time I tried to predict her preferences. It was hard. Mary found attractive a smaller proportion of people than I did. I was more drawn to youth and physical characteristics and bubbly energy. She was more drawn to quirky appearances and personality. Some of the men she preferred were (to me at least) horrifying. One looked like a scruffy drug addict (who was well-built, I had to admit); another was a clean-cut lumbering type who looked ready for a round of golf; another was an unassuming teenager with a serious expression and gentle blue eyes.

Then, a bearded man with glasses man walked by, and Mary insisted on getting a better view. At first, he struck me as unremarkable, but he had a distinguished – almost professorial – look – along with a sincere smile. He looked predictable, happy-go-lucky, attentive and well-adjusted. We followed him from behind for a few seconds, then Mary announced that this man was to be her her lust object for today, her "Golden Boy." She went ahead to talk to him, while I tagged behind, enjoying the show. She followed him down the block while I kept a safe distance, hoping she'd also make a fool out of herself.

Finally, Mary accosted him. She looked like she was pretending to ask for directions, and then the two of them started a conversation as she walked backwards to keep up with him. Finally they stopped, and I could see Mary explaining something and laughing – god, she could be such a flirt! I knew she was working hard to make me jealous. I wouldn't give in. But the longer they talked, the more it was beginning to get on my nerves. Ok, Mary, enough! Now say goodbye!

But the two of them kept talking, and even started walking forward together. I went up closer, but by then they had swapped business cards and he had given her a small kind of hug.

Mary saw me quickly approaching and started laughing. "And here's my husband Daniel."

The man shook hands with me, and said, "I heard Mary got married, but I didn't realize she still lived in Dallas."

"And you are – "

"Roger – a college friend."

Mary smiled.

Written April, 2007.

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"Egad," Mary said. "She's just a little girl."
"Exactly," I said, stroking her arm. "Just a bad little girl."
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