Right… so, not sure how to tell this story. As most already know, I’ve been banned from seeing some of my favourite treats for quite some time now (put a gavel in someone’s hand, and people seem to think that they can tell you what to do…). In any case, about a month and a half ago I finally found someone who told me that they believed that they could get those particular decisions/orders reversed (so long as said treats did not take the trouble to renew their complaints, I guess). I was so happy, and this individual rapidly became one of my favourite people in the whole entire world. Then he sodomized me. 
Which brings me to an aside, and a bit of a question arises for all the lovely ladies out there who permit this sort of thing under the “cute” euphemism of “providing greek”:
How is THAT O.K.?
How the F#CK is *THAT* O.K.???
HOW
THE
F#CK
IS
* * * THAT * * *
O.
K.
???
Not only was the moment like having someone sucker punch your kidneys through your anus, but it turned out to be a “gift that kept on giving”. Seriously, for THREE WHOLE DAYS, I felt like I had to poop. For THREE WHOLE DAYS – when I tried to poop, I couldn’t poop. For THREE WHOLE DAYS, I was never (and I mean NEVER) sure at any given moment that I wasn’t actually pooping.
How is ***THAT*** O.K.??????
Sure, some of you might be thinking that money makes that O.K…. and I guess that might be true at some level. But $60/$80/even $100??? I don’t think so, Tim. If someone wants a piece of THIS raisin-maker, they better be throwing around Saudi prince kinda money (and I’m not talking the “dime-a-dozen regular Saudi prince” kinda money – I’m talking about “next-in-the-line-of-succession Saudi prince” kinda money… and even then, buddy’s gonna have to choose between humping my backside and bailing out Citibank, because I can guarantee that even he can’t afford to do both).
…which brings us back to the current portion of this odd little story. See, this particular individual said that things were nearly complete, and he only needed one more "little thing" from me, and that I would be able to FINALLY see my special sweet indulgences again. And after I made him promise that this “little thing” was not my rectum, the temptation and dispair got the better of me, and with great hopes, I went hopping off to see him again.
Completely true to his word, the “little thing” had nothing to do with my anus. That said, the “little thing” he wanted turned out to make the "sodomy game" seem like getting showered in butterfly kisses.
*…sits curled up in the corner staring out at the world with suspicion and contempt, scarfing down Vicodin from a Daffy Duck PEZ dispenser…*
I just wanted to see my treats. Now I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m hurt, and I want to go home.
That said, if this guy comes through and my ban is lifted, I suppose it would still have been worth it….
Which brings me to an aside, and a bit of a question arises for all the lovely ladies out there who permit this sort of thing under the “cute” euphemism of “providing greek”:
How is THAT O.K.?
How the F#CK is *THAT* O.K.???
HOW
THE
F#CK
IS
* * * THAT * * *
O.
K.
???
Not only was the moment like having someone sucker punch your kidneys through your anus, but it turned out to be a “gift that kept on giving”. Seriously, for THREE WHOLE DAYS, I felt like I had to poop. For THREE WHOLE DAYS – when I tried to poop, I couldn’t poop. For THREE WHOLE DAYS, I was never (and I mean NEVER) sure at any given moment that I wasn’t actually pooping.
How is ***THAT*** O.K.??????
Sure, some of you might be thinking that money makes that O.K…. and I guess that might be true at some level. But $60/$80/even $100??? I don’t think so, Tim. If someone wants a piece of THIS raisin-maker, they better be throwing around Saudi prince kinda money (and I’m not talking the “dime-a-dozen regular Saudi prince” kinda money – I’m talking about “next-in-the-line-of-succession Saudi prince” kinda money… and even then, buddy’s gonna have to choose between humping my backside and bailing out Citibank, because I can guarantee that even he can’t afford to do both).
…which brings us back to the current portion of this odd little story. See, this particular individual said that things were nearly complete, and he only needed one more "little thing" from me, and that I would be able to FINALLY see my special sweet indulgences again. And after I made him promise that this “little thing” was not my rectum, the temptation and dispair got the better of me, and with great hopes, I went hopping off to see him again.
Completely true to his word, the “little thing” had nothing to do with my anus. That said, the “little thing” he wanted turned out to make the "sodomy game" seem like getting showered in butterfly kisses.
*…sits curled up in the corner staring out at the world with suspicion and contempt, scarfing down Vicodin from a Daffy Duck PEZ dispenser…*
I just wanted to see my treats. Now I’m tired, I’m sick, I’m hurt, and I want to go home.
That said, if this guy comes through and my ban is lifted, I suppose it would still have been worth it….
