Only very rarely do I receive a complaint about these stories. Someone has pointed out that there’s very little sex going on in any of the tales. They wondered if I was a prude or merely inadequate. I explained that such a thing was occurring in these romances by insinuation, and not by bold, in-your-face descriptions of you-know-what.
However, to counteract this horrific accusation today’s story is riddled with sex. Sex sex non-stop sex. If you think you might be offended by this fair enough, but don’t read on. You might end up thinking that I’ve got sex on the brain – that I am an out-and-out sex maniac, a dirty old man, a degenerate lecher, a debauched sleazebag, an insatiable nookie machine. Anyway, here is today’s story:
Have you seen what all these summer flies have been doing on the ceiling?