I am not Freqpposter. but

I'm getting to the point (I'm 39) where the mothers of most of the high school kids I cover are about my age. And I live in a town with a lot of doctors and lawyers, thus many of them are trophy wives. High school baseball playoffs in mid-to-late May is Cougar Heaven.

 

Given the dr and lawyer trophy wives you are around, what's the ratio of real tits vs. fake tits among the MILFs?

Not that the answer matters... they're all good in my book.

I was teasing around a MILF when she said she was tired of men wanting to be just friends with benefits, and trust me, what I did is not a good pick up line. I said, well fuck being friends, how about just some benefits?

And then it happened, I got what I consider the ultimate cock-blocking word in response:

"Oh, I like you too much as a PLATONIC friend!"

I hate the word PLATONIC. Goddamn, fucking Plato fucks me again. Fuck it all. I hate that word. PLATONIC. Aw just emasculate me now why don't you. FUCK PLATONIC.

 

It's not heaven for you if the cougars are prowling for younger meat.

 

Not to mention all the moms in their tight v-neck t-shirts that make their chest stick out.

Simple rule. If a 40 year mom at a soccer game is wearing jeans with shiny flair all over the back, she may be very open to some extra encounters. Like an otter sending out a scent during mating season.

As for a pickup line. bold can be good.

I was once chatting up a cougar during an out of town soccer tournament. Her kid's team was from two states away but she was gorgeous.

"Another Diet Coke?" I ask as she polished one off.

She shakes her head. "Are you hitting on me?"

"I have one minivan, two games today and three girlfriends. I don't need a fourth. Need another Diet Coke?"

She takes her sunglasses off, smiles and says "sure".

Between games, our kids wanted to be with their teammates at the hotel pool.

We ordered room service.

 

Freq!

Great to have you back!

 

Something tells me freq's had an infidelity relapse.

 

More Freq stories please.

 

No relapse.

That was from a few summers ago.

Last interesting soccer tournament I attended.

 

Dear Penthouse...

 

"Room service? I'd like to order some orange slices."

 

I give it a 6.

I loved this part: "Simple rule. If a 40 year mom at a soccer game is wearing jeans with shiny flair all over the back, she may be very open to some extra encounters. Like an otter sending out a scent during mating season."

But freq stories are best when they contain an air of believability. This one doesn't. The hotel pool? Between games? No self-respecting coach would let his kids swim between games.

 

As opposed to all those believable stories about cornfields and wheel wells.