This Old Whore: Bob Vila Exposed

We had a bitter battle over the naming rights to his show and my nickname on the cold hard streets. I eventually won him over, although, he was very reluctant at first. He grabbed me with his bear claw hands and enveloped me. He kissed me with his gruff beard and it tickled me into submission. He brought his tool belt too: screwdriver, a hammer and an automatic drill. I undressed him; he’s got some hairy areolas. His taco meat chest unfurled upon mine. He seemed scared for some reason though as we progressed. As I took off his jeans, they were as tight was ever, he slapped my hand away. We stopped and talked over a Lipton’s Ice Tea, as his overbearing body was dripping with sweat. Soon, soothed by the ice tea, he revealed his insecurity: his stuff didn’t work tonight. Claiming over use, I countered the opposite. He still resisted. Then he pulled IT out. IT was huge. Bob Vila, you came prepared. His driller was massive. When IT was on, I trembled in utmost fear. But fear of pleasure. He came closer. His hair added to the excitement. His lumberjack fingers groped the every untouched part remaining on my body. Puny hands in all, he satisfied me. Who’d a thunk it? Bob Vila being scared of his work. And when you least expect it, his crafty artisanship shows and wows. Clever, witty and amazing, Bobby Vila has a trick up his tool belt.