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Many years ago during my married days, I accidentally overturned my golf cart.
Elizabeth, a very attractive and keen golfer, who lived in a villa on the golf course, heard the noise and called out: “Are you okay? What’s your name?”
“It’s John, and I’m okay, thanks,” I replied as I pulled myself out of the twisted cart.
“John,” she said, (firm loose brsts undulating beneath her white silky robe) “forget your troubles.
Come to my villa, rest a while and I’ll help you get the cart up later.”
“That’s mighty nice of you,” I answered, “but I don’t think my wife would like it.”
“Oh, come on now,” Elizabeth insisted.
She was so pretty, very very hot and very persuasive … I was weak.
“Well okay,” I finally agreed but thought to myself, “my wife won’t like it.
“After a couple of restorative Scotch and waters, I thanked Elizabeth.
“I feel a lot better now, but I know my wife is going to be really upset. So I’d best go now.”
“Don’t be silly!” Elizabeth said with a smile, letting her robe fall open slightly.
“She won’t know anything. By the way, where is she?”
“Still under the cart, I guess.”
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