The white-haired equipment man was hard at work along with one of his sons, a man of fifty or so who was called a clubhouse "boy." I introduced myself... both men squinted at me, measuring, and I said I needed a uniform and a locker."Number matter?" the father said as he stuffed towels into a oversized washing machine."Plenty of cubicles. They's coming and going fast around here," said the younger man. "Been through least a hundred." Any number," I told them, "about a forty-two I suppose." I. It was a biological imperative. They had to spread their seed because it was nature’s way of making sure the population survived. Women, on the other hand, needed to be controlled, to learn their place; otherwise they’d just run around all day spreading their legs for every cock they came across.His Dad had been clear on the point. All women were just fucking whores who needed a real man to keep them in their place. Otherwise, they’d get uppity and fuck anything that moved.His Dad let him watch. More

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