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Fool's Paradise – Infinity on a Shoestring

PAYTON L. INKLETTER


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Sunday, February 15, 2009

HARARE: Robert Mugabe offers Payton L. Inkletter Z$100 trillion to write a speech for his 85th birthday next Saturday: “Enemies, dobermans, henchmen,”


Be all that as it may, meanwhile:

In other news…

15th February 2009:


Sunday: I was dead tired when I hit the sack, and I didn’t feel much better when I got up. A warm day, not hot. Just before My Beloved I delivered vittles to Pa pree, who had me look into some issues with his computer, so I missed the beginning of the aforementioned program, love of my viewing life.


With the intention of watering and doing the special blood and bone once weekly fertilizing outside, I began instead clearing up a section of the carport under lights, and before I knew where I was, Missus Inklelastdayoffiftyone called me in to see Compass on Aunty. I took so long cleaning myself up I missed the start of it, but not to worry. It featured the Billy Graham crusades in Australia in the late fifties. My view of mass preaching as done in the world of the last hundred or two years?: good can come of it, and often does, however the whole style and choreography is irrelevant to spiritual progress, and often inimical to it. It’s most often a brief fix for the audience, and it is highly likely to warp the deliverer.


I was growing sleepy at a rate of knots, and was fighting a losing battle (not the first as it transpired – keep reading, but only if you’re over 18…) between trying to return outside to get a million things done and staying put and listening to the lovely piano music of Roberto Giordano. The peeanee was too nice to resist, so I enjoyed it to the end, and then began to notice those terrifying bedroom eyes grow big and dewy behind lusty eyelids of my spouse, and I soon realised that no matter whether I needed to sleep, or go outside and get all that watering done, I was at extreme risk of another ravishing, the second in as many nights.


Well, to cut a long story short, Missus Inklethechurchdoesn’tneedyourmanhood,Ido got her way, and again I was ravished, ogled, and rodgered (I’ve included the ‘d’ this time) right up to my vinegar string this time, that last precious inch succumbing to her intensity. After this assault upon my innocence and virtue we settled under the covers on this cooler February night to sleep, which I managed before her. I slept for almost two hours, then had a fitful session of dozing for hours, while she couldn’t sleep early on (but then, having just been sent to Paradise propelled by multiple extended waves of legendary strength and piquancy orgasms, internal, external, and blended, what woman could?), but the release into the Land of Nod did eventually come for her much later.


Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame Missus InkleImusthavePaytonoftenalwaysandthensome, for the girl has needs, and I’ve set the bar very high, competing against myself. Any red-blooded woman would find me, as she does, impossible to resist, but sometimes I just wish she would simply hold me, nurture me, love me, just for being me, rather than treating me as a wild bucking bronco stallion meat slab, as a mains powered, 3-phase, heavy duty sex machine. Oh just to be held tenderly sometimes, and have sweet nothings whispered into my ear, and that be that…


So no walk was had, the outside work was left undone, and the computing jobs mounted.

+paytontedwithlove+

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