Tongue In Cheek

I am a sucker for women of well-endowed features. They tend to abound at WalMart. Before you laugh your ass off, I want to state that this is not the only reason for my visiting this icon of American genius in retail marketing. I go there to buy lawn chairs, kitty litter, and an occasional box of ammunition for my various guns after I had used them for legal purposes. I know this is weird, but from time to time, I can find attractive females even at WalMart. I consider it slumming. This is no reference to the employees, but to the shoppers, of whom I am one.


Between getting my thrills with visits to see the WalMart fauna, I bring up websites occasionally to get some ammunition of a different type to replenish my supply. These sites present females of slightly higher presumed quality, for most of them appear washed, albeit, heavily made-up. I know, appearances can be deceiving. However, when my expectations are mostly limited to looks, pictures are, as we often say, perfect. Unless the soles of her feet show that she had been frequenting the WalMart parking lot barefooted, lack of cleanliness is not clearly discernible, so I can assume pristine qualities for the moment. With my hormones raising hell from below, I can be excused of going with those first looks: they are delicious. They are the caliber of female that I imagine would feel good under my fingers and tongue. But that is just a mental hobby without any possibility of physical fulfillment. I spend no effort or tangible resources to pursue it further than looking on my wide-screen monitor. I imagine. I wish. And then I go on to more justifiable pursuits, such as reading world news, and making indignant comments at the reported and recorded stupidity of our elected representatives at the federal, state, and local level. After a while I return to the women of large caliber for rest and relaxation, which brings up the subject of this post: my tongue between some cheeks.

In support of my part-time hobby I want to leave you with something pleasant. She is not exactly WalMart material. Given the context, heavy makeup is not an issue. Not being clean is defined only by the quality of the river water in which she has obviously dipped as evidenced by her damp hair and the sun reflecting off her wet skin. She has a natural beauty without artificial means, background, lights, or paraphernalia. Sure, being young helps, but I suspect that her beauty transcends her weight and her age. She would attract a regular human male plus or minus many pounds of weight and years. The second picture is even more earthy. You can see the hot sand clinging to her perspiring body. A dip in the surf with her would be lovely.