Thursday, October 06, 2005
Now it's two weeks later, I feel such a traitor. Oh, I let you in my backdoor...
I already copped to my mild penchant for the pious in a comment a few days back. Not so unusual, right? I think it stems from an old tennis buddy of mine. Does it skeeve you that he was way hotter to me in the cassock than on the court? Something about defiling the devout gets a rise out of me. Or maybe it's that sense of coiled potential energy that's straining for release. It's probably just my black soul. Anyway, as long as I'm listing predilections, shall we talk about the very generic but omnipresent lust for hot dads? DILFs. Yeah, I know. How banal. Trite don't make me any less sprung, though. I hope it's not too creepy that the dad above has his kids in tow. I never said this shit would be varnished, bitches.
Recently I had a run-in with an uber-DILF. I'd known the wife and SIX kids (he must shoot a rich mix) in a professional capacity for a few years, charming and attractive all, but I'd never met dad. I was expecting mom to be in the room, so when I looked up and this strapping mofo was standing there, I choked. Dudes, this brotha is part Falcon exclusive, part J. Crew model, and now part owner of my soul. 6'4", built, piercing eyes, huge hands and GREAT with his kids. The very next day I was shopping when someone big drapes his arm around my neck and shoulder, and in a scratchy voice that makes you shaky, offers me a tie that would look great with the shirt. It's him. And her. I'm usually easy with the chit-chat but all the blood was in the blush and in the bone, so who knows what I said. Think they knew which one I'd do with no hesitation and considerable guilt?