Pass The Butchy To The Left Hand Side

Yesterday we went a-walking to fetch the Sunday paper and take in some fresh air. I was in faded camos and a shaved head and a Mr B shirt, prompting Monster to turn to me and tell me I was hot when I was butch.

In reply, I turned and skipped with delight across the verge, and probably blushed a little. At least I stifled the squeal.