Beaver Tale

So, I was out and about the other day and I was wearing one of my fave vintage fur coats~ it’s a 1950’s swing cut, about thigh length, short & shiny black fur with big black buttons up the front.  I’ve nearly worn it to death over about 15 years ~ the outside is immaculate, but the lining is torn to shreds and I really should take it somewhere to get it relined.. .but anyway.. that’s not the point of this story.  
So, I’m out and about, wearing this coat, minding my own business, dreamily ogling an over sized red patent leather bag, when an older gentleman (prob in his 70s) walked past me a few times~ back and forth, back and forth.  The lustful vibes radiating from him were very strong and only an idiot could have missed them, but he wasn’t doing it in a creepy way… I finally allowed him to *catch my eye* and he reached his hand out towards me and with open palm, he touched my arm and *rubbed* my fur.  “What kind of coat is that?”, he asked.  His eyes were full of longing, his crinkled lips were dried up like dusty old apricots, I can only assume he’d not had physical contact with a woman in a very long time!  I stared into his eyes for a moment, I watched him crumble inside, I watched him shrink even further into the relic of his masculinity and I purred…”It’s beeeeaverrr”.  His lids lowered, his brain exploded, and his hips buckled.  I didn’t take a peek, but I’m fairly certain he must have shot some rickety ole cob webs into his pants.  He thanked me and wandered off down the aisle and I didn’t see him again.

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