Banter Stories

He was hot. In a sweaty way. Not that I could talk, I’d out perspired a horse in this ensemble hours ago.  “Who said I was nice?” I smirked, pulling an extra long neon pink straw from my French plait. His muddy eyes widened, mouth flapping semi seductively, trying to formulate an answer.  I tipped the appletini onto my plastic covered lap, hooking my ankles together to avoid spillage in one practiced move.”The mug was dir...

How could you?Send me a poem so crappyClaiming it to be sappy?I hope you are happy.I read it.You asked me to followYou spit, I swallow,But your poem has no flowNor a dipNot a single solitary beatAlthough some words are sweet,Not the part that goes "skeet skeet"Try again?If you have something to showMaybe with some ebb and flowBut that last piece of crap...Just NO***banter and fun. Also a bit to myself. Lol. Sometimes I wr...