Just now saw this...better tell the rest of the story, for the record.
The only thing your woman loves to see me in more than that shirt are her pants
Hey, got nothing more than a common law agreement with "Muffin," so I bear no malice. Anyway, Muffin lives in the lower Gainesville/Williston area and works as a "hostess" at a fine entertainment establishment in the quiet little hamlet of Micanopy. She says she met Ray and three golfing companions recently when they dropped in after a round at, I think, Ironwood. A fine meal at the cafe along with libations and the floor show was just what four tired linksters needed to help them unwind and prepare for day two on their junket. After some of the best scrambled eggs and Natural Lite a man could ask for, Ray and co. settled in at Muffin's station. His companions were quite a bit rowdy and in addition to flicking their lit cigarette butts at her bare backside, they also made fun of the prosthesis she wore in place of her missing left leg. Ray, on the other hand, was quite the gentleman and obviously smitten, and quickly directed the others to a different station. After watching Muffin do her thing (a Twerk and a Lap Dance respectively) to two of his favorite love songs/ballads ("Cherry Pie" by Warrant and "Cold Hard Bitch" by Jet), Ray asked her to join him for drinks and small talk. The talk was bigger than expected, one thing led to another, and the new "couple" retired to the aged Winnebago parked out back.
In a role reversal, Muffin convinced Ray to do the burlesque thing for her viewing pleasure. She was both amused and aroused that her new "agent provocateur," who a moment before was nattily attired in his Under Armor golf shorts and a sleeveless golf shirt, no doubt from the Larry the Cable guy line, was now standing before her in nothing but his Hanes white briefs. As he turned seductively before her, she admired the ornately scripted tattoo in the small of his back that said "Aaron," a past lover, perhaps? She also admired his semi-sculpted body. "We can work around his small package" she thought as she licked her rouge-coated lips. Ray completed disrobing and prepared to, in his mind, to do this chick justice. But Muffin had something else up her sleeve. Unbeknownst to Ray, she had opened a can of cling peaches, purchased just for this type of tryst, and began pouring the nectar over her pasty but firm, nude body. She beckoned Ray over and guided him from one end to the other, beginning at the stump of her left leg, then upward to the "valley of sin," and finally to the "two dunes alongside the Irish Sea" (golf metaphors that turned the heat up for Ray). Not a drop of the sweet nectar remained when the two consummated the evening, concluded when Ray arched his back, eyes rolled back in his head, and shouted "Fore Left!" (most likely due to his affliction with Peyronie Disease and a starboard alignment). Ordinarily, Muffin would be laying limp and smoking an unfiltered Camel while her partner did his best, but she crushed the cigarette out early on and found she actually enjoyed his efforts.
As the two lay in each other's arms during the recovery phase, Muffin was curiously struck by the juxtaposition of her feeling satisfied on one hand and almost motherly on the other as she held Ray close, aware of the soft sobs coming from this love-struck pup. She was, she thought, a Jocasta to his Oedipus. They later enjoyed a little chit chat and she was impressed when Ray disclosed he was the owner and CEO of a multi-national web conglomerate called GCMB. Things were going vey well he said, except for a couple of entry level workers, "Ox" and "J," who he would have to let go due to their incompetence. The evening ended with a warm embrace and a promise to get together again soon. She hesitated to accept the $20 she usually charged, but didn't want to appear ungrateful. Ray departed, picking up his now sh!tty-drunk mates, and they retired to their motel. They played their final round the next day and flew northward to home. Muffin did get a plane ticket in the mail a couple of weeks later that would take her to a city she and Ray could meet in and rekindle the flame that they started. She thought better of it and traded the ticket for a bottle of Rebel Yell and a carton of smokes. She decided not to risk losing everything she had worked so hard for: her lucrative career in entertainment and her recently paid-for single-wide. The memories of that one great evening would just have to do.
Ok so now that that's over, how has the swing work translated to your golf game? :)
I really like Avalon.
Use the BB code editor.
