LARGETONY Blog

So, I’m in line at the market last night and rip out a pretty big sneeze. Normally I’m not a big sneezer. I don’t know if it’s self-consciousness about the size of my nose or what, but I try to be as quiet as possible when I sneeze. (Sort of like a heavy person who eats taking dainty little bites). The result is generally a somewhat airy grunt. But last night, at the store, it sort of snuck up on me. It must have been dust or irritation or something because it was a dry one. I don’t want to imagine the gooey disaster that might have occurred if one that forceful was wet. Even dry, it had enough mustard on it to make the woman in front of me pull up her collar around her chin and mouth for fear she had been contaminated. Excuse me, Mrs. Silkwood.

This made me think of a guy I used to mess around with on a regualr basis back in my early twenties. At least part of that time I was living with my brother, so there really was no bringing a guy home for recreational purposes (some things never change.) And this guy, “D,” had a roommate or some similar situation and we couldn’t always use his place, so we often had to look elsewhere to get busy. Not that we ever got really busy much. I mean like really, really, busy. You know, like herding Shamu into the culvert kind of busy.

We tried that a few times, but it never really quite worked out. He just wasn’t built that way. Wired for it, yeah. But built for it? Not so much. So, generally our imtimate moments amounted to a lot of bone-smoking and chicken-choking. And I was usually the smokee or the chokee. Not that I haven’t done my share of smoking and choking, but “D” wasn’t really interested in that. His favorite thing to do was to play with my dong while we made out. The thing that really thrilled him was that, because he was sort of a little guy, I really filled his fist and by the time I got fully starched, his fingers didn’t quite meet. He loved to lay his head on my belly and and just watch while he worked. Hey, I’m a good guy. Why should I deny anyone their simple joys?

So one night we are parked in “D”‘s car at a pull-off spot somewhere. (After all, the evening usually ended with pulling one off). The car was on old Maxima from the 1980′s and the seats would recline all the way. So we were just laying back and talking and stuff. I was on my back and he was on his side sort of facing me. Like he had dozens of time before, “D” unzipped my britches and slid his hand in my fly while our conversation continued. He always took his time, starting out with a few squeezes and a gentle massage and eventually getting to the point where he would tug out it into the open. He was funny because instead of opening my pants completely, he liked to keep the button done at the waist and thread the meat and two veg through the fly. He said it made it look bigger. (Some people just can’t ever be satisfied.)

After a while, his patented twist and stroke (he gave GREAT hand) was having it’s effect. My breath was getting short, toes were crunching up in my shoes, nuts drawing up to my neck. He knew it was close so he sat up a bit so that his face wasn’t in the line of fire. His hand sped up and his stroke got shorter. He had me figuratively and literally in the palm of his hand. I was at the point of no return and just as the cannon started to unload, I sneezed.

Now, as I said before, I generally try to hold sneezes in…or at least dampen them. When you hold back a sneeze, your body tenses and contracts…which sort of is the same thing that happens when you bust a nut. Imagine the two together. I would give anything to be able to recreate the moment (or at least the feeling ) of sneezing as you cum. It was amazing. And let me tell you, it went everywhere. It’s like when you change the nozzle setting on a bottle of bathroom cleanser from “stream” to “spray.” Needless to say, his move to get out of the way as I fired, well…backfired.

For me it was one of those moments where things didn’t go as planned and it was just plain funny. It was an “I Love Lucy” episode, only instead of a chocolate factory, it was my nuts. “D” didn’t see the humor. (At least Lucy stuffed the candy in her mouth.) He got real pissy about being cummy and got mad at me for dousing him. Excuse me, Mrs. Silkwood. He should have known better. I’m a redneck, we shoot with buckshot instead of bullets.

Being the gentleman that I am, I took off my t-shirt to dab up my stray offspring from his face and clothes (and dashboard, side window, and any other place I saw pearly specks gleaming in the moonlight) as he continued to rage and accuse me of doing it on purpose. Of course it was not on purpose, but believe you me, if I could bust one like that on purpose I would. Hell, I would attend sex parties and make fellow guests run through it like inner-city children playing in a fire hydrant on a hot day. (Okay, I wouldn’t really go to sex parties…but I’d think about it.)

By the time we got back to where my car was parked the mood was as sour as a jock strap worn for thirty days. I opened the door to get out and when the interior light came on I saw a strand of creamy drizzle dangling smack over his head. It was slowly stretching toward his scalp. If I was as nice as everyone thinks I am, I probably would have warned him or wiped it off. But, because he just couldn’t manage to lighten up, I delighted to watch it go plop in his hair. He didn’t feel a thing. Karma is a wonderful thing. Ah-choo!

This entry was posted on Wednesday, November 2nd, 2005 at 2:41 am and is filed under dating and sex, humor. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.