The way my people shake hands  

rm_Pariah270123 48M
1 posts
9/10/2005 3:12 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

The way my people shake hands

I was at a thrift store a couple of weeks ago looking for a pair of day-glo green cowboy boots and eating--not a Mars bar--but a limited edition Venus bar. (They're shaped more like vaginas than penises, but still technically called a "bar" for some reason.)

I saw this great t-shirt that had the picture of Prince Harry in the SS uniform being spanked by Gandhi. You know the one. And I went to the changing room to try it on.

While I was in there I noticed that the protein powder shakes and special exercises had started to pay off and the muscles responsible for my characteristic flaring of the nostrils were supple and well defined... cut, if you will.

And as I was noticing this in the heavily graffitied mirror of the changing room, a portly, older woman in a flower patterned brown mu-mu entered my stall, unzipped my pants and unceremoniously--without so much as a "by your leave"--started... well, milking me.

She was all business. She had brought a tin pail and a tiny wooden stool to sit on, and I watched her mouth squinch up with concentration as she worked me with her meaty, over-manicured hands.

"Excuse me," I said, "but that's mine."

She looked at me with the same friendliness I'm used to getting at the DMV. "Be through in a minute," she said and started working my balls.

I must admit, it felt incredibly good, but there was a principle involved here. I wasn't sure what the hell that principle was at that moment but still. "Ma'am, you're really not my type," I said just before climaxing. (She had snuck a finger in my ass, and that's like Kryptonite to me.)

"There we go," she said in a rhetorical manner that was almost vulgar, and, against my will, I came into the pail.

But it wasn't like any other ejaculation I'd ever had before or since. It was really a lot like turning on a faucet and the pail was quickly filling. My balls shriveled to a useless size and I could feel my body kind of deflating like a party balloon that was ineptly tied.

As soon as the pail was frothing near the top her finger came out of my ass with an audible pop and she examined it like she was checking a tire pressure gauge before she left.

"Nice nostrils," I remember her saying as she vanished mysteriously into the next stall.

Sometimes I still go back to that store.

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