All Comments on 'Friday Night in San Francisco'

is more pussy. :)

Excellent! As a woman, we don't always see when our dancing affects the men we aren't with. You always write with such rich detail. I really felt I was in the bar, watching her with you.

*note to self, dig out that comfy pair of faded Levis*

I'm glad you didn't drive into the ocean.

...that stuff most definitely works. The guys who were with her weren't seeming to pay much attention to her, in part because they were shitfaced drunk and losing their minds with joy when Daniel Castro was playing "Sweet Home Chicago." They were all singing to it at the top of their lungs, showing off their Bears gear as they danced. Those of us though who weren't part of their group were definitely noticing her little 'chair dancing' display, with her shoulders subtly moving and that enigmatic little grin playing on her face. I thought she looked simply amazing doing that. She was so softly feminine; nearly feline.<p>

Of course, everyone definitely began noticing her once she seriously turned herself loose with the writhing and touching herself.<p>

Her ass in those jeans was a gift, but it was that coy smile she maintained that really ripped right through me. She was just so sexy, and she knew it. A confidently sexy woman like that is just such a powerful force.

There is no toll booth Eastbound on I-80 at the Bay Bridge. Otherwise a well written story with no actual sex.

Just past Martinez, before Vallejo.

Westbound on I-80, the toll booth is just past Oakland, right before the Bay Bridge. Eastbound, it's just past the Carquinez Bridge, between Crockett and Vallejo.

In any case, I didn't say the tollbooth was on the Bay Bridge. I said it was on I-80...

"The only thing I remember about the trip home was my constant thought of driving my car into the ocean. I don't recall the lefts and rights I made to get from the wharf onto the Bay Bridge, nor do I recall stopping at the tollbooth on I-80."

The described sequence: lefts and rights from the wharf to the Bay Bridge, then the Bay Bridge, then the tollbooth on I-80.

As for this piece having no sex, well, as I explained in the beginning, this was originally just an e-mail I'd sent to a couple of friends, one of whom insisted that I submit it here. My intention wasn't to write another sex story, per se; rather, it was to describe the devastating emotional impact Danielle made on me that night.