Toronto Pub Affair – An Erotic Writer’s Review of the Foggy Dew

Toronto Pub, The Foggy DewMy darling, we have enjoyed three years together in secret. Three years of drinks, meals, and glorious sexual innuendo.

But, alas, our time is at an end. I must end this.

Though I was vague to protect our tryst but many of my readers would recognize you, my gorgeous mistress…I have often described your sensual nooks and crevices, your aged woodwork, your playful barmaids, and your glorious beer selection in my stories.

I did not, however, criticize you for shortening up on your menu and no longer allowing me the luxurious and luscious taste of steak and Caesar. I kept my mouth shut for fear of pushing you away.

Not sure why I bring it up now, as that is not why I am ending this affair. And it was an affair. With your kilts, cleavage and ability to flip channels so I could watch Denver Bronco games, how could it not be?

You were the submissive, of course, in our relationship…the ultimate bottom…okay, mostly as you were on the ground floor of my building, but you took my orders as a good girl should.

Took this at the Toronto pub myself, The Foggy DewYes, I said were. You will remain on the corner of King St. W. and Niagara St. in Toronto’s King West interior…but I must go. I must leave you and head to the distant and mysterious land of Mississauga’s burbs. Having seen the men and women that you attract, you will have no difficulty finding another to serve.

I did never disrespect these vaunted tables, nor barmaids…though, believe me, darlin’, I wanted to. I often used your beauty and spunk to inspire stories in both setting and concept…

…and my favorite barmaid…whoa boy.

I’m sorry, I know we discussed this and I was not supposed to have a favorite. However, she has become a very celebrated erotic heroine in my works. I’ll never tell…

Big sigh.

I promised I wasn’t going to cry…I also promised no erections.

Dammit. Failed on both.

That dark wooden bartop still is the perfect setting for the fuck session to end all taboos…but only just fantasy, now, as I can no longer fondle her dark aged wood and brass.

Again with the wood.

Dammit.

This would be so much easier had I simply broken down and done that favorite barmaid atop that glorious bar. I want to say yet as I’ve little doubt I’ll be back…sometime…I mean, Mississauga is not that far away.

But will you have me? Will you again serve and accept my flogging tongue downing your ale?

You have always been the perfect type of rugged without being rough. You have always been the right type of sportsy without being a sports bar. You have always been the right type of affectionately slutty without being…um…okay, one can never get enough of that.

I became the Morn to your Sam Malone. I was the ying to your wtf? I was the roll to your eye.

Please, I’ve done enough crying for both of us. The erection…um…feel free to help with that.

I will be back in your arms…in your bosom…one last eve, tomorrow. Then it will be time for me to move on. I believe we both agree that we are each better for the time we have spent together.

I’m just so thankful we could have this talk.

I couldn’t speak like this with my other mistress…um, you know…the chiropractor…WHAT???…she meant nothing to me! You must believe this!

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