I swear on everything sacred that this story is a 100% true and accurate account of something that happened to me maybe 13 or 14 years ago. I still marvel at that day and how crazy it was, this much later!! I wrote it down maybe two or three years ago. When I write (just recreationally, to blow off steam), I go for humor more than anything else because I’m a seasoned guy who doesn’t take himself too seriously at age 50. My hobby writing doesn’t ever involve graphic sex, but after pulling it out and reading it again, maybe I need to rethink that strategy haha. I hope you appreciate it.
Maybe 10 years ago, I was surrounded by all of my faux Catholic friends who rationalized 11 months or so of total debauchery with the cleansing, "I'm giving it up for Lent" schtick. Out of what I can only describe as leftover Catholic guilt from my upbringing, I decided to give up jerkin’ the gherkin...or so I thought.
Lent is something like 44 days. I lasted 42, and by that point I was so horny and my balls were so big and sore (I debated buying a wheelbarrow to lug them around in) that I phoned up a masseuse I had seen once before who was hot and took a liking to me that first time. In hindsight, maybe I should've given up seeing a masseuse since I had only been to one once.
I get there, get naked, she gives me the half-assed "normal massage", then starts waxing my porpoise and comments, impressed, about the “nice looking cock” (her words) that she remembered from the last time.
I tell her my Lent story and she confesses that she had recently been fantasizing about a guy giving her a facial (not the make-up kind, dummies). She said it turned her on so much that she would forego the cash for the massage if I'd straddle her on the table, fuck her tits and shoot my load in her face.
At this point, her just talking about it is risky because Mount Vasdeferens is about to totally erupt. Nevertheless, I ask her if she's sure (since I'm 6'6" 265 lbs and she's like 5'3" and a buck-oh-5). As I ask, I realize that she's so turned on she's fingering herself with one hand (obviously not a good Catholic like myself lol) and greasing up her funbags with the other one. I get on her and start pumping. I tell her I'm about to come and she starts moaning, mouth open, tongue out and ready to receive. Right when she says, "Oh God...I'm gonna come", I shoot about 9 gallons of baby batter in her face, her eyes, her hair, her nose, the wall three feet behind the back of her head, etc.
I thought I drowned her so start to apologize (about the mess, not the most satisfying load of all time, even to this day and in my decades of spanking the monkey...and maybe even better than the same decades worth of actual sex), but she's still feverishly flicking her bean and moaning.
She pulls me close and wants to start making out and I jump off the table and say, "Uh...you're a mess...let's get you cleaned up," but she instead starts rubbing it all over her face, her chest, licking her fingers, etc. I finally get her to agree to finish fingerpainting and hop in the shower. She's all over me. She's in love now. Wants to know if I could get it up again. Nope. Gotta go. I'm a bad Catholic now due to what is clearly an adulterous act (I'll plead total rationalizing denial on the first rub & tug a month earlier)...and one in which I have now also failed this Lenten sacrifice shit.
I stumble to my car and smoke the roach that I had in my ashtray (from the joint I smoked just to get the nerve up to go in there again...maybe I should've taken the easy way out and given THAT up for Lent). My mind is completely blown.
After Easter, I listen to all of my asswipe friends pat themselves on the back for having successfully given up drinking beer or smoking butts, or picking their nose for 40 days or whatever the fuck it is. Thankfully, I only really hung out with them when we were drinking together so I was spared the embarrassment of telling them that I gave up beating the Bishop for Lent DURING Lent, and then just told them (the next night out drinking) that I gave up hanging out with all of them for Lent because they were jackasses. And that now facial-junkie masseuse? She called me daily at work for a month, leaving me messages begging me to come see her again. Temptation is a gun. She was a she-devil with an M-60. I avoided it like the creeping death.
In that time, I gave notice at that job to take a new job out of the city. The poor person who inherited that phone must've gotten some interesting voicemails. I never saw or talked to her again...and I never gave up masturbating (or anything, for that matter) for Lent again. True story. The shit still freaks me out this many years later. This may be the first time I've told the tale LOL
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