Wet Spot

Sometimes it is the little things that drive a man crazy. A beautiful young lady walked into the store today, she was accompanied by an overweight chap with fading hairline--he sought to hide this fact by sporting a buzz cut; however, his hair only grew on the back three quarters of the scalp, leaving the front section lacking both follicles and dignity. Now, let it be said, and said quite loudly, I am all for obese men escorting attractive young ladies. In fact, I, too, hope one day to find a chubby-chaser. But, this woman was extremely attractive and way too interested in her male companion. The pangs of jealousy threatened to overcome me, thankfully, these feelings were abruptly interrupted: the earthly vision did speak.

There are times when a man knows that he is a man, and then there are times when a man knows that he is only a pale shadow of wo-man. At first it wasn't the words, it was show she said them. Her accent was thick and most definitely French. I am a sucker for European accents, especially English and French. She was asking her boy-who-should-be-her-friend-and-only-her-friend about antiques, and all I could do was envision sticking French fries into her various orifices. My libido was about to peak, and before I knew it, the explosion occurred.

It was an orgasm in language, a syllabic explosion, a very good reason to change my underwear. She said, "They fucking rich." You might not understand by reading it, but when I heard it, it was as if her very voice had reverberated deep in my soul/pants. Of course, the moment, while intense, was also extremely short, and other then a loud grunt, my moment of carnal bliss went unnoticed. She left shortly thereafter with her brutish mate, and I excused myself to the bathroom and attempted to wipe clean my beautiful memory with a moist paper towel.

gth