Touching Base
I must humbly touch base with the touchdown mistress - the base of her muddy cleats, that is!
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She approaches me, presumably after a game? |
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If so, I hope her team won - otherwise she might take out her frustrations on me! |
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Her cleats stop directly in front of my confined and helpless face |
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Then her right shoe is unceremoniously shoved towards my menial mouth for respect-kissing! |
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Swiftly followed by her left! |
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Her sports socks tower ominously over my humble head |
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Her pretty face is, of course, protected by her face guard. Only mine is fully exposed - to her cleats! |
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Kissing her cleats was never going to be enough... |
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...Inevitably, I move on to lickshining them! |
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It's nothing less than she expects of me! |