Hoodlin, Where Are You?

I never knew her name until just recently. A fine looking woman. The fine was mostly in the eyes. I like hirsute strong women. Sometimes I'm not sure what they look like. Hoodlin had it all. I spotted her in the back of the cootie bus. A woman in the front of the bus was yelling "Hoodlin, hey Hoodlin."

Hoodlin responded. Now I knew her name.

The bus rolled down the hill through the S turn centered with a four pillar concrete bridge draped over Chocolate Run. Chocolate run was the eastern border of my grandfather's property. It widened out in his low grounds into a salt lick. In the depression era Hoover diggers deepened the channel and messed up everything. Grandpa liked to sit on the hill and watch the critter's that came from miles around to lick on salty rocks.

Today was the Fourth of July. The bus of people were friends of cooties and cooties. Cooties are an honorary group of people who were prisoners of was. They are sponsored by the local VFW post. My Grandfather Curley was a post Commander and plank member of the First VFW post which came out of Cleveland, Ohio. Most people think that Post number 1 was the first post—wrong. They were the first to determine they needed a number.

Grandpa Curley put on a hell of a picnic. He caught all of the northern Pike from Lake Erie. Grew the new potatoes. Grew the corn. Caught the snapper turtles up Eagle Creek by diving out of his Old Town canoe. Grandpa caught them by the tail and flipped them into his canoe. They got an upside down ride to their new home, shaded barrels of creek water along the grape arbor.

He did his cooking on a large stone fireplace that had steel plate covers for cooking corn and potatoes. The fish was fried in metal kettles over the hottest part of the fire.

After the eating the men retired to the edge of the grape arbor area. This location gave them a good shot at the cherry trees. Most of the cherries were done. Curley had a late producer next to the grape arbor. The select group of men had two things and both smoked. They had their favorite pistol and either a cigar or pipe to smoke.

My father and his brother and his dad-Curley all had lugers. My dad had got all of the lugers from the Germans during world war two. He was a medic and used his ambulance to bring back war items. The guys on the front lines had plenty of lugers, cameras and burp guns. No way to get them in rear with the gear and then mailed back. My dad was the connection. He sold most of the collection while I was still a young lad. I got to play with the burp gun and lugers. Dad loved that burp gun he used it to chop down trees. He traded it for a speed boat that lasted one summer before he wrecked it.

Hoodlin has not been forgotten. I watched her all day. I knew everything about her by watching her mannerisms. I thought I did. I knew I was ready to make my move.

Hoodlin sat down in the grape arbor area. I moved in for the killer opening statement. I sat beside her. She looked at me and smiled. I said, "Hi"

She said, "Hi"

I said, "That's my grandpa, dad and uncle. They are going to start killing every bird in the cherry tree.'

She said, "I heard that your grandfather is a trick shot and can shoot the ash off your grandma's cigarette, over his shoulder using a mirror."

I said, "Yeah its true but he hasn't had enough to drink yet and neither has my grandma. Do you want to look at the snapper barrel?"

She responded with, "I'm with you and whatever you want to do will be fun."

I spend the rest of the short day showing Hoodlin around the orchards. The gardens and flowers. Grandpa's place was on the botanical tour. He had brass rosa-blanca.ru on brass rods next to each plant with its name in English and Latin. We ended up in a secluded area in the hedge row. The grass was silky and ready. So were we.

"Hoodlin, I feel like you are my woman and I've known you forever."

Hoodlin said, "That's the first time you have used my name."

"I believe that your name is very special."

"I will use your name when we share something special. I'm not like other women; you have to be matched to me. I'd like to share myself with you, if we match. I'll show you mine. Yours will have to match perfectly or it won't work."

She lowered herself as she pulled off her pants. She positioned herself on top of her pants and slid off her panties. She had a beautiful prime in season pelted triangle. I was a muskrat trapper looking at a mink for the first time. I started to get rid of action inhibiting clothes.

She said. "Stop, I haven't showed you what is special yet." She spread out her legs and reached to her glossing pelted area. She spread her lips apart for my viewing.

It was big and it was square.

She said in a lower urgent voice. "If you want to be my man you need to have a square dick and it needs to be the right size. Not too big, not too small. Keep your pants on if you are not my special man."

I pulled my pants off and kicked them on to one of the flower rosa-blanca.ru. I'm not sure which one, I was concentrating on reforming my dick into a squarer and larger version then I was normally sporting. I heard her gasp.

"Hurry!"

I glanced down. Damn it was dead on. It was plumbed straight and true. The corners had a very sharp radius to match hers.

"Hurry!"

It looked to be the correct size. I wasn't sure about the length, but my square nuts in my square ball bag urged.

"Hurry!"

I don't remember the positioning, it was fast. I remember the melting and becoming one as Hoodlin said my name.