The day began like all others, climbing out of bed at the crack of noon, devouring a Toaster Strudel and mayonnaise sandwich before braving the crisp Canadian weather by going to Vancouver's Public Market for fresh seafood now that I'm eating healthy.  Along the way I passed a group of American hipsters vaping cannabis oil on a street corner, celebrating Tommy Chong's birthday.  Damn Americans! Since Trump's election, they have flocked here like a silverfish infestation.  Silverfish, that reminded me about the Public Market.  Which is fortunate since I was standing in the middle of it, ranting about Americans, omitting the fact I'm from Ohio. 

From the corner of my eye, I detected a short, attractive brunette waving a well-endowed cucumber around as if she was conducting Wagner, the Vegan years. Luckily I don't demand intelligence for a sexual tryst since she was asking the proprietor what size batteries the cucumber used.  Being helpful to a flaw, I edged next to her meaning to elbow her in the ribs for clarification.  Unfortunately, she was considerably shorter than I realized so instead of the ribs my elbow struck her directly in the right temple. She immediately hit the ground with a groan and a thud, to my bemusement.  I mean...really?  Here I am with possibly a fractured elbow and this bitch is sobbing and thrashing on the ground like Hillary on either her wedding or election night. 
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But being kind-hearted, I offered my hand to assist and possibly avoid incarceration. Her eyes were sparkling as she held my hand, possibly a concussion side effect. 

"My name is Hannah.  It's a pleasure meeting you."  

As she rubbed her temple, she whispered, "Hi Hannah, I'm Winter...Winter Summer"
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During this trading of aliases I let my eyes travel over her delicious ass, so curvy it needed warning signs...and I was warned.  Leaning closer I whispered while handing her the fearful cucumber "I have all sorts of batteries at my place.  The locals even refer to it as "Battery Manor." 

"Do you have a D?" she asked? 

"You tell me," I responded placing her hand on my left boob.  

"I'd say a solid C," she said with a wicked grin (the best grin of all) after a firm squeeze as if checking a melon for freshness, she twirled as said "Let's go, Enchantress," and suddenly the game was afoot, Watson!

Knowing we would pass the vase clouds again, I stopped for another dozen donuts and a side order of nipple clamps before guiding this floozie home  Along the way my hand gripped her toned butt cheek so tightly as if it were floating debris from the Titanic and I'm Kate Winslet. After finally getting her inside, and serenading her with a rousing rendition of Love Shack, I offered her a donut and chocolate milk.  (Being the perfect hostess is so trying but was she satisfied?) You tell me as she asked, "Donuts and chocolate milk? What's for lunch; corn dogs and tater tots?"  Damn, a sarcastic woman! I thought that was just an urban legend, but yet here I am with one

While her Highness dined, I moved to step two, bending to tie my Nikes and taking far too long, giving her the opportunity to gaze at my bottom. Apparently, it didn't work as well as I hoped since her lone observation was "What's wrong?  Did you hurt your back?'  

"Not yet" I muttered.

Then turning, spinning like a ballerina with an inner ear infection I stumbled behind her, massaging her soft shoulders and nibbling on her neck. What a messy eater she is. How did she get donut glaze on her neck?  With her delicate moans inspiring me, my teeth began to tug at her taut skin like a sparkling vampire.  In a hoarse whisper "Stand my pretty"

Kneeling before her my shaking fingers began to slowly tug down her very snug jeans. Leaning, I planted a tender kiss on her hunter green panties, slightly worried the green might be mildew and caressing her now bare thighs. Looking up into her soulful  eyes, "Shall I continue?"

At which point she put a dent in my skull with that damn cucumber and screamed yes so loud, an avalanche was reported on Grouse Mountain.  "It was a rhetorical question," I was able to reply before losing both consciousness and the ability to control my bladder. When I did awaken I spotted her on the couch, wearing only panties, which helped revive me in record time.  Crawling to her and then collapsing face down in her lap,  I slipped my devious fingers in the waistband and began lowering her panties to her adorable ankles. (Who the fuck has adorable ankles?)

It was now that I got my first surprise. Winter was quite hirsute, (it's a fucking word, look it up, hillbilly). I mean there was a dense undergrowth going on there. It looked she was sitting on the face of a Hasidic rabbi. But being an eternal optimist, I knew I could save time on my busy schedule by going down on her while simultaneously flossing.  Win/win. Plus it reminded me to order Brilliant Pads from Amazon. So I  dove in.  As the tip took a leisurely tour around her pulsating clit, her hips were thrusting and her back arching. I thought to myself 'Wow, it's true. Winter is cumming.' (Let's count the pop culture references).

In this moment of passion, she screamed "Oh God" with such gusto  Alexa turned my TV onto the All Mass Channel.  Shaking my head side to side, I gently eased my fingertip inside her deliciously tight anus and as always...let the fun commence!  It was at this climactic moment that brought me my second surprise. Winter was a squirter...not a dribbler, a full-fledged SQUIRTER.  The eruption looked like the Bellagio fountain in Vegas, covering me, the floor, walls and even the ceiling.  Even on my knees I was slipping and sliding on my hardwood floor like I was taking my first curling lesson.  

Her thighs were like two shapely pythons squeezing my head as the tremors flowed through her convulsions.  Thinking of those pythons, I half expected the Spanish Inquisition to barge through my door, (shout out to all you Monty Python nerds, you know who you are).

Suddenly from the door, I heard a robotic voice. "Oh hell no!"  Barely able to glance in that direction I saw my Roomba glancing at our beautiful mess. At this point, the automated vacuum turned one hundred and eighty degrees, and high tailed it away like R2-D2 fleeing a Jawa.  Since I could tell Winter was not going to stop until she was dehydrated, I donned my yellow vinyl raincoat and hat, and I slipped into my trusty galoshes until I resembled the old fisherman on a box of fish sticks and dove back into the bush, like Crocodile Dundee.

To be continued should even one reader find this to be remotely worth the effort