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Thursday, 4 October 2012

image for My life as a man #17 I will take of the glasses before you begin your moustache ride

Free moustache rides to Cow Girls who will help me train

This morning, I received an email from a woman friend on my SitonmyFacebook page who informed me that a former girlfriend was trashing me over my short-comings as a cunnilinguist.

Well, that's just wrong, dammit!

I consider myself to be artiste at the craft, and I'll tell you why (you knew I would, dincha). Due to the fact that I am penile-challenged and, at the age of 61 have certain "duration" limitations, I have to work even harder to make up for those deficits with other skills at which I excel.

I excel at cunnilingus.

Going down on my female partners is not only a patriotic duty for me, but it is a holy calling. In fact, I have, on many occasions, performed my duty "in the highest traditions of the US Naval service," and at great risk to my health. On more than one occasion I went down for the count and nearly died, at my post, bravely giving my all in efforts surely due to be judged "as above and beyond the call of duty."

I never complained about the arduousness of the task-not once.

To be perfectly fair to myself, I must say that even if I lack certain technique, my enthusiasm has always been top-notch. No woman ever complained during, or after, I serviced her.

Out of the scores of thousands of women I've totally satisfied as a cunning cunnilinguist and, mind you, fewer than 20% were paid participants, it is just this one, mean spirited, never pleased by any goddamned thing, whiny, nasty, man-trap, strap-on wearing, domineering, sly, back-stabbing, arseaholic, shit-hole, beanbag decorating, mile-wide twat with the intellect of a lava lamp who complained!

And she was just pissed off because I threw her near the end of a drawn-out, ninety-one minute moustache ride. This twit would complain if I waxed Her moustache for free, god's sake.

How can anybody please someone so demanding?

But I'm not bitter about her trashing me on my SitonmyFacebook page.

I've offered her a rematch.

But this time, it'll be different.

I'm bringing in former President Jimmy Carter to ensure everything is on the up and up.

I admit to being a wee bit frightened; it has been a long time since I was straddled without a saddle. It is possible I've forgotten some of the basic or more advanced skills, so I'm going to need a lot of practice. My problem is I know so few ladies locally with whom I may practice giving moustache rides.

And then it hit me: I should ask my loyal female fan club, right here on thespoof.com, and on all the other internet sites where they follow me, like on FB, to help me out.

That's the ticket!

So, I am asking for at least six of my lady readers to sign up to help me regain my far-greater-than-average prowess at cunnilingus. Volunteer to remove your clothing, to step up to the corral, to climb over the gate, and to hop onto my face.

Ride, cowgirl, ride!

A regulation ride is ninety minutes, but it is an exceptional "cow girl" who can carry it off on her very first attempt. To be fair to you novices who are willing to help, but are new to moustache riding, I'll allow you to get back on, again and again and again, if at first you fall off.

For your participation in my training regime, I promise your reward will be a moustache ride far greater than any you've ever experienced! And far, far more rewarding, too, since you will have the added satisfaction of knowing that you are helping an aging moustache to gallup into his final sunset, a winner still.

You may leave your comments below. Please state your name, age, height, weight, waxed or natural, allergies to mustache waxes, physical limitations---the date you are available, and your phone number.

Or call me here at the retreat: you know the number. If the lines are jammed, keep trying; or just come by the convent to sign up, especially if you've never had a moustache ride. I'll be happy to teach you how it's properly done. I know that once you get the hang of moustache riding you come to my stables often.

The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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