Rings of smoke around my knees, like a steam train.
When I was a young lad, I got up to all kind of crazy shenanigans in the kitchen. I remember having fun with cucumbers, custard and all kinds of other items. I even put a can of apricots in my anus once, that was a tight fit.
The story I have to tell today is one that I have kept safely locked away for over forty years, so lean in, and listen closely. My voice may become hoarse with excitement at some stage.
Wait, I'm typing this, and you'll be reading it. Ignore the previous paragraph, although, it does help to set the mood, so on third thoughts, read it, and allow it to croon you into a dozy arousedness, much like that of a highly sexed kitten that has just finished chasing paper, and is quite tired. But very horny.
As a fourteen year old I was consigned to a fat camp for the summer. They called it a health camp, but most of the things I did there were certainly not healthy. After drills and marching in the square in the mornings, we were allowed the middle part of the day for play, which I enjoyed.
I would skip off to the woods, and lay amongst the leaves, masturbating myself into a glorious stupor that would have made poseidon very angry if I was in the ocean, and a greek mythological character. Why was he so mean to Odysseus?
Anywho, I would often try to steal fruit of veges from the kitchen in order to make these sessions more enjoyable.
On one occaision, as I lay prone on the forest floor, with pumpkin soup drizzled all over my nether region, I heard a faint giggle. I immediately dropped the french stick and pate that I was holding and scanned the edge of the clearing.
There she was. Helga. The big meaty cooks big meaty daughter, covering her mouth and staring wide eyed at my orange cock and balls. As I saw her, she noticed that I had seen her, and looked afraid, like a male panda staring at cooch. I beckoned her over, and told her it was ok, and that if she liked, we could stuff her vagina with the freeze dried lentils and pistachio nuts that I had brought for just such an occaision.
She seemed completely freaked out at first, but after I had said please several times made a pouty fave at her, she decided that she did want to play after all.
What ensued was not appropriate for this site, but I can say that it involved a squirrel, three gallons of chocolate milk and a police baton. Great times.
Helga and I have not seen each other for 40 years, and I am certainly not welcome at the Health camp any longer, but I still dream of that meaty little German girl, and generally when I do, I'm balls deep in a watermelon moaning to the heavens, like a flambouyant harbourmaster.