Doughy

I saw you this evening, at the adult video store. You were the rather large man, mid 50’s, with the comb-over and the eyeglasses case in your pocket. I was the young guy with the stiffie standing almost beside you. I knew from the moment you walked in that I wanted you. As I cautiously approached you, I smelled your intoxicating aroma. That mysterious mixture of Preferred Stock and Doritos. I could tell by the bulge in your chip-stained, pleat-front slacks that you wanted me. You glanced across to me, and our eyes locked. You looked at me like you were a supermodel, and I was three ounces of chicken. You had that look of both predator and prey. My eyes then traveled from your face, down your unusually large breasts, past your belly that was partly showing below the hemline of your shirt, down those trunk-like thighs and I knew that this enormous bulldozer of a man had to be mine. If you remember me, tell me what I was wearing, or what I said to you when you told me that you were craving doughnuts. That way I’ll know its you. Email me you big, sexy hunk of doughy manflesh.