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Good morrow tossers all, it's Ungry again
I went off to New York last month for the Annual Congress of the Mobile Philosopher and Psychotherapists of which I am the Clapham Branch Convenor and met a very intersting geezer.
Whadday do I said and he said I am a cosmetic and reconstructive gynaecologist (niall.fig4uathotmail.com).
You fix up fannies I said, I wouldn't have thought there would be much of a run on that - well he said you'd be wrong because I am overwhelmed with work in 3 sectors - charity, NHS and private. For charity he said getting very serious you gotta think of them poor gilrs in Kosova tweenty times and then having the hot barrel of a Kalashnikov stuck up it - and I was a bit chagrined that I had been so insensitive. So I says low self-estemee - dead right and often pissing themsleves too and I don't mean pissing themselves laughing.
On the NHS he said you gotta think of the freaks of nature - you thik of a 12 year old just going up into secondary school and when she gets into the showers all the other girls see she's gort a four inch long clitoris - take this piss, bullying - well you wouldn't believe it.
And I'm thinking he's a bit of a worthy gent - I can't I say see you making a lot of dosh out of this but you ain't dressed out of a charity shop, no he says that's where private practice comes in. i do a lot with actresses and in the mid-East. Once you've got a lot of money like that Gwyneth what er name he says and you've done everything and cured the aroma of your twat you st rat worrying about its appearance - what they want is a perfect fig. Mnay of em have a perfecrt cauliflower but that reaks no ice with their self-image and their boredom. So I fix them up. And there's another big money earner, some of them women when they get marroied for the umpteenth time, particularly the Yanks, want to present themselves as a virgin to the new hubbie - to me its jsut a money spinner I fit them up with a new hymen and next night they go and have big dong tear it out again. It pays the bills though.
Anyway, we go our separate ways at JFK. That night I down a few in an Italian bar and get taliking to this black bit - well she's no Diana Ross, but she's no Winifred Atwell either and a lot better and younger thatn Mrs Ungry by a decade or two. Now cabbies are one of the great professions that hold British society together but in the USA it's a fuck-all job for new immigrants who can afford an A to Z. So I tell her I am a cosmegtic and reconstructive gynaecologist and she is all over me - admiration and all aand I am just touching her knees in the bar and getting no turn back - so I says I must go because I will be a naughty boy if I stay while at the same time getting her phone number, and as I leave I stick my hand up her skirt and give the old Bowler Hat a gentle stroke.
So I ring her imediately and say come on up to my hotel room and to cutr a long story short she comes up and she's got her kit off before you know it. I'm on top form and I suck her toes and eat her pussy and lick her nipples and gently but sweetly kiss her arm-pits (which were a bit disappointing because of the bitter taste of deodorant). Fuck me she says, I'll get on top. And I'm ready for it but here comes the tricky bit - put on a condomn she says and I have'nt got one and neither has she, but I want up it and she refuses and she gets her way because I know she's right. So she gets on me and slaps my dick between her lips but not up it and goes off like a train. I think the od Brillo is going to wear down my tool, but in fact theres lubrication in volumes and we cum off nearly simultaneously. To that point a wonderful night and then she strats off about all her troubles and all I want is a bit of kip.
So I have to think fast and faster. Are you staying the night I ask, and she says no I have my kids to get home to. And I says you'd better go now then, and she says are'nt you a bit keen to see me going ? I thought she syas that this was true love. I admire you so, for what you do for those poor women in Kosovo because I'd given her all that stuff in spoades.
No I says givi ng what must be the greatest excuse of all times - I need a shite. Yu can go in the bathroom she says. No I says I can't shite with someone so lovely close by in the next room, hearing me smelling me. Are you all right she says, is it your Chalfonts that embarass you (of course she's American and she doesn't say Chalfonts but I can't spell haemmorroids). I ahven't got no Chalfonts I say, I am merely trying to preserve this moment of perfection without blighting it with the ordure of my bowels, but at the same time I can't keep it up my arse much longer.
And so she departed and as fate would have it we were never to meet again