Français
Normally, this little corner of the river is my secret domain. Rarely are there other fishermen and even more rarely are there troublesome bathers to scare away the fish that amuse themselves playing in the rocks.
But this particular morning (morning, but not too early, after all…) the goddess bitch of the rivers decided otherwise, as demonstrated by the couple of immigrants from the Pas-de-Calais, their kids and their obese, menacing dog. The dog, with his olive green coat, made me think he was from the extreme right. The man, who was around 53 years old, looked at me like I was an old rusted can-opener abandoned near the water by campers. Immediately, with all my might, I detested him, but above all I was here to fish, especially with new JMC shoes, a gift from my marvelous wife. Oh, boy, these shoes were so comfortable!
Usually I hate weaving laurels for fishing gear, publicity is not my strong point, but these shoes quickly made me forget that miserable family who inflict their wretchedness on the world.
The shoes made me feel that I was walking on chocolate cakes, if you know what I mean. Delicious for my fragile, old toes. Ah! What a bargain.
Things rapidly took a turn for the worse; that horrible dog, from that horrible family snuck up near my thigh, curling his lips and growling.
“Come here my little treasure, c’mon back to mama. Now, now, my little chickadee… Don’t disturb the man, my little treasure!” said the rotund woman wearing a robe imprinted with diverse vegetables in bright colors. Especially carrots. (I deduced that the woman must have a great love of carrots!)
“Come here! Bastard!” said the distinguished man.
“Papa, papa, I’m being washed away!” cried the boy as he passed my line.
I was clearly time to wrap it up, clear out and make for the shore.
It was at that moment that the hairy, nazi beast tore into my thigh; I gave him a violent kick in the face with my JMC shoes. Ah! These shoes… what resistance! The dog made a pirouette backwards and disappeared into the thicket of stinging nettles.
That’s when his master came to his rescue and planted himself in front of me in a Bruce Lee pose, like in the marvelous film “A day in the country”.
One kick in the balls calmed him instantly.
To my great joy, I realized that these marvelous JMC shoes were, with great ease, equally efficient in crushing the testicles of aggressive northerners .
About then the plump wife came towards me with a big smile; she opened her robe, crowded with carrots, and offered her body.
To say that my JMC shoes enhanced the torrid orgasm that followed might seem exaggerated. In any case, they didn’t harm it.