Woodshed Whuppin'

Ah, the dog days of summer - and the imagination starts to conjure dreams of long lazy afternoons on the old homestead, of shining fields of wheat and corn, of lounging under that old elm by the murmuring stream with a fishin' rod dangling in the slow, sun-kissed water. And, of course, of Sally - the way her tanned thighs fairly gleam in the sun, the way the line of her butt cheeks showed below the hem of those tight little cut-off jeans...

Mind you, if you had been doing your chores like she asked, instead of goofing off, she might not have gotten mad as a wet hen and made you cut a switch and meet her at the woodshed....