Mr.Biggs
02-07-2006, 11:49 AM
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I got up this morning and walked thru the kitchen – on my way to charge and fire the coffee pot. The first rays of the day were sneaking over the mountain tops and gracefully illuminating the back yard. There, resting under the leafless willow trees, a peach-tinted light caressed the dew-laden contours of a 44-year old sweetheart as she sat slumbering and waiting for someone to spend some time with her. Her siren call was heard with the first day’s glimpse of her. I walked right past the Mr. Coffee, stopped in front of the big window, and let her dew be-jeweled sveltness extend it’s visual pheromones to me, full strength.
It’s no casual claim when I say that the years only make her look better and better. There’s been a race since she was born, that I’m glad to say she wasn’t a part of. That race to see how appealing a peeled potato can be made to look – or how aerodynamically one can configure a box, is one that this enchantress and her many divine sisters were spared having to be subjected to.
She’s born of a time when men sculpted their loves to arouse and delight them – not to be objects of efficiency and servitude. Not to say those qualities have never been addressed or delivered by this charmer, but her undeniable attractiveness calls out to you long before you’re close enough to read her name or even tickle her ignition switch.
In fact, even with my aging eyes, I could easily spot her from half a mile or more away. The two men who had the most influence on her curvaceous existence have long since departed this life. And yet, that they understood what mortal men look for most in a love, is evident with the first glance at their creation. They left behind a message that doesn’t have to be translated into all the languages of the globe. One look – and you “get it”.
I keep stealing peeks at her as I go thru the morning rituals in the kitchen. She taunts with each little gander. A fender edge here, a graceful wheel well there, there’s not an angle that doesn’t flirt with your gaze.
Her bold front and her trim and tailored butt offer up a trans-gender appeal to come and be one with her. It’s hell being a match-maker when you adore every sweetie you foster![:X]
Miscreant at large.
1957 Transtar 1/2ton
1960 Larkvertible V8
1958 Provincial wagon
1953 Commander coupe
1957 President 2-dr
1955 President State
1951 Champion Biz cpe
1963 Daytona project FS
I got up this morning and walked thru the kitchen – on my way to charge and fire the coffee pot. The first rays of the day were sneaking over the mountain tops and gracefully illuminating the back yard. There, resting under the leafless willow trees, a peach-tinted light caressed the dew-laden contours of a 44-year old sweetheart as she sat slumbering and waiting for someone to spend some time with her. Her siren call was heard with the first day’s glimpse of her. I walked right past the Mr. Coffee, stopped in front of the big window, and let her dew be-jeweled sveltness extend it’s visual pheromones to me, full strength.
It’s no casual claim when I say that the years only make her look better and better. There’s been a race since she was born, that I’m glad to say she wasn’t a part of. That race to see how appealing a peeled potato can be made to look – or how aerodynamically one can configure a box, is one that this enchantress and her many divine sisters were spared having to be subjected to.
She’s born of a time when men sculpted their loves to arouse and delight them – not to be objects of efficiency and servitude. Not to say those qualities have never been addressed or delivered by this charmer, but her undeniable attractiveness calls out to you long before you’re close enough to read her name or even tickle her ignition switch.
In fact, even with my aging eyes, I could easily spot her from half a mile or more away. The two men who had the most influence on her curvaceous existence have long since departed this life. And yet, that they understood what mortal men look for most in a love, is evident with the first glance at their creation. They left behind a message that doesn’t have to be translated into all the languages of the globe. One look – and you “get it”.
I keep stealing peeks at her as I go thru the morning rituals in the kitchen. She taunts with each little gander. A fender edge here, a graceful wheel well there, there’s not an angle that doesn’t flirt with your gaze.
Her bold front and her trim and tailored butt offer up a trans-gender appeal to come and be one with her. It’s hell being a match-maker when you adore every sweetie you foster![:X]
Miscreant at large.
1957 Transtar 1/2ton
1960 Larkvertible V8
1958 Provincial wagon
1953 Commander coupe
1957 President 2-dr
1955 President State
1951 Champion Biz cpe
1963 Daytona project FS