In the beginning, there was a man. A man with a voice. A man with a vision. A man who dared to speak his mind, no matter what the consequences. A man who, more frequently than not, had to pull himself up by his own jockstrap just to get his point of view across. A man who was a manly man, manlier than the manliest man. A man who wasn't afraid to tell it like it was back in the day.
Yes. He was a man's man. And because he was a man's man, he was able to put on his big boy pants not one leg at a time, but both legs at the same time. And after he put those big boy pants on, he walked to the kitchen to cook himself the manliest breakfast that only a man's man would even attempt to eat. Because he was a man's man.
In the ending, there was a woman. A woman with a sensuous voice. A woman with a cat's eye vision. A woman who spoke her mind, no matter what anyone said otherwise. A woman who, more frequently than not, had to pull herself up by her own bra straps just to get her point across. A woman who was the be all to end all, oozing sensuality 'cause she was da bomb. A woman who sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone forget who she was back in her day.
Yes. She was a woman's woman. And because she was a woman's woman, she was able to put her big girls outfit on not one extremity at a time, but all at the same time. And after she had gotten dressed in her weapon of choice, she walked to the kitchen to get the breakfast that her slave cooked, because damn it, that's what boy toy slaves are for. Yes, she was a woman's woman, so don't you ever tell her to step aside 'cause not only will she tear you a new one, but she'll beat you down and you damn well better enjoy it. Because high heels, dog collars and chains will be your salvation. Because after all, you are a man's man.
At least, the last time you checked with your dom.
(c) 2013 by G.B. Miller. All Rights Reserved.