Mean Queen's Mechanic

The other day I watched a man change a tire in front of Mean Queen's palace. At first, because he was on the asphalt with only his legs protruding from the back, I thought it was Daddy. It wasn't, and when he stood, my interest perked.

First, he was handsome and secondly he was dressed in a suit. Well, shirt and tie with suit pants. I guess his coat was somewhere else. I have a thing for suits. There is something about a man in a suit that does it for me. But like all uniforms, they only work while the person is clothed. This one worked and him changing a tire was a perk. He spoke Middle Eastern, whatever in hell he said came out strong, so he had a good set of balls on him. I like that.

I'm not sure if the tire change worked. In a short while of him being very butch in a commanding voice, everything stopped and he went into the house. I suspect to fuck someone. Men like that go into houses for a purpose. They go in to fuck or eat--or both.

Mean Queen has been silent of late. She probably got the fucking. I don't see Daddy getting fucked. Mean Queen got fucked good, so good that she stopped pestering Daddy. Stopped nagging the shit out of him for more and more. Mean Queen had her pussy opened and drilled by a hot guy in a suit, sweaty and some grease on his hands and face. Sweat and axle grease from working on a big black car. He must have fucked the shit out of someone in the Palace. Fucked them good I bet. It would mellow me out as well, hell who wouldn't enjoy a good fucking now and then.

It's Spring, time for the Antler Dance. Time to take off the cock and ball warmer and in its place have on a crochet butt-flosser. Now I've been thinking, these Zionist Jihad Party Boys would be into a crochet butt-flosser. These boys have big butts. Big beefy butts that could use a good flossing. And I'm sure, once I show them how easy it is to slip the crochet straps into the crack and how, by simply walking from one barrack to the other, they can, at the same time, floss their ass crack. It prevents dingle-berries. Those untidy little bits that collect around the pucker. No he-man in a suit is going to mount an un-flossed butt. He-men want squeaky clean butts. So, if they ever want a chance for a good fucking. An Antler Dance with a he-man, they had damn well better learn how to crochet and wear a butt-flosser.