Back To Business
I used to cut grass as a kid for some extra money.
The work was hot and miserable.
I envied the paper boy who spent his days running from dogs cursing life all the same.
I used to wish I would find a horny housewife who would invite me in , fuck my brains out and leave me with a smile and some wild stories to tell.
I cut yards for mostly elderly men and women.
I was glad to just get paid instead.
Leave with a few dollars and sweat covering my body grass and gasoline were my constant.
I knew a old fart who would buy me a case of beer and a bottle of Jack.
I was sixteen and didn’t know shit like everyone at that age.
Eventually I grew up and now I only cut my own.
Usually when its about knee high and filled with snakes.
I always hated cutting grass.
But I be willing to do so for sex if a horny woman should read this.
My standards have greatly changed.
I do not believe my business is going anywhere.
Last week I got cocktail and a hand job.
It’s hell being your only client.
add another meaning to weed whacker …..
Ha! We can always count on you, Vincent!
“…leave me with a smile and some wild stories to tell…” I dig it, brother, nice one.