Foiled Again!


My long weekend with my old girlfriend at the Tygart Lake State Park in Grafton, West Virginia, had it’s high points and low points. It was a great accomplishment for me when she told me, “Stop making me laugh or I’m going to wet my pants!”
At six in the evening I suggested we go into the bedroom and “rest up.”
Immediately, she said there would be no hanky-panky on this this trip. She was not happy with her body, and when I laid on top of her she could not breath. I had heard this a hundred times before.

I knew I had to get some alcohol in her. I quickly fixed a quart-sized Rum and Coke, her favorite. She said she knew what I was up to and drank it anyway.
“Get me another one, please,” she said. I raced to the bar and doubled the rum in this one. If she wanted a third I was in like Flint. She practically chugged the second quart. Then, she got up and headed for the bedroom.
The cabin on the lake with deer and raccoons running around was nice, but this was the moment I was waiting for. The door to the bedroom was locked.
This was a low point of the trip. I slept on my rubber raft.
Once again, no booty. Life goes on.


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