Shari grabbed me by the skinny bicep, pinned me against the cinder blocks of Mrs. Rowe's Western Civ class and whispered, "I want you to take me out and fuck me." I was a late comer to the school and a late bloomer in life. Still am. Didn't know what to do with myself then or now. Somehow, things worked out okay.
If a band buzzard with a Charles Atlas before physique can get laid, anyone can. Maybe not by a sharp strawberry blonde like Shari, but as the song says, love the one. If that opportunity never presents, do the math. Is it the fault of one person or an entire gender?
If a band buzzard with a Charles Atlas before physique can get laid, anyone can. Maybe not by a sharp strawberry blonde like Shari, but as the song says, love the one. If that opportunity never presents, do the math. Is it the fault of one person or an entire gender?