Ok, I see a danger here. It’s just the mood I’m in as I spout this stuff, but you read the first few entries on spec and form an opinion of me, yes? Damn.
So, that’s it, I’m just some geezer hung up on age? No I’m not, honest. I’m an observer. But, the first thing I’m telling you I can see is me. Well, maybe that’s not 100% true, I see the me I’d like to be.
That’s why there’s that little confusion when I interface with younger girls. Yep, I look at a girl maybe 30 years younger than me. Maybe she’ll smile back at me. That’s because she sees this gentle old man who maybe reminds her of her dad or, eek, her granddad. She treats the elderly with a kindness.
What she doesn’t know is that this old man on the inside looking out is ravishing her body in his mind, and his smile hides an extreme need to spend an evening or two locked in a fluid exchanging lust with extreme prejudice.
England's England 