"Bloody hell – what's that in the corner?"Returning home from a night off the leash on the last day of our Air Cadets annual camp – in which we were quite rightly flung out of a local pub after one of our number asked for "a cup of beer, please mister" – we trooped into a darkened barrack room to be met with a mysterious shape on one of the beds at the far end.
Someone switched on the lights with the pink-pink-pink-hum you only get with ancient fluoresent tubes. God, I wish they hadn't done that.
It was Marky. Marky was naked. Marky was naked, on his barrack room bed, sucking himself off in a manner that would make any yoga aficionado proud. That which has been seen cannot be unseen, and the sight of the skinny wretch playing a solo on the pink oboe will live for me for the rest of my life.
And if there's one rule in the cadet forces, it is this: Never, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be caught by your peers sucking yourself off in the barrack room. Publicly disgusted but secretly impressed, "You sick, sick fucker" and "Just wait until we tell EVERYBODY" and "I'm gonna puke" rang out as others ran in to see what the fuss was about.
And then, Gaz pointed at something. Something on Marky's cock, which by now resembled the nozzle on a rapidly deflating airbed. Normally, you'd be vilified for looking at your mate's hampton, but these were extraordinary circumstances.
"Jesus H – are you bleeding?"
"N...N...No," stammered Marky, who was only just recovering the power of speech, "It's jam."
Strawberry jam.
"I stick me cock in the jam," he said with a new-found air of belligerence, "...an' then I suck it off."
"Wait..." I ask, dreadful thoughts filling my head, "how often have you done this?"
Not the words I wanted to hear: "Every night since we got here. There's fuckloads in the kitchen."
"I had jam on my toast this morning. You didn't...?"
The question that did not need to be asked. But he nodded anyway.
We covered him in jam and left him naked and screaming on the other side of the airfield. That learned him.
25 comments:
FURST......
......now for some jam-free toast.
All jammed up, left in a jam, Got himself in a jam, Oh my God what is this sore on my lip....Yes I will not go there.
That jammy bastard. Everyone knows you use penis butter instead.
Did Marky change name mid-sucking?
I guess the jam was no longer the seedless variety.
Zed: Yes. Yes he did.
Gentlemen - this is a very good idea. Next time you ask a lady to do this for you, plz to supply jam. Or chocolate sauce. Or chilli sauce, if you are man enough.
tie him up and cover his body with jam. invite army of ants to munch every inch of his body.
that learned him
A wise man once said - "if you can’t be with the one you love, honey, love the one you’re with"
p.s. they don't mention anything about jam though.
And as a serving suggestion. just add custard, et voila! Spotted dick.
Nigella - I can sell you an ointment for that. See me at work.
Just wondering how you knew it was strawberry.
I was just wondering about jam on toast for breakfast in a little while, but I've rather lost my appetite now...
And wot Aunty Brenda said - Jammy bastard!
Yey! Proper mirth and woe!
Please to have more!
I know someone who used toothpaste to make it palatable to his lady friend.
Yes, it did.
(it wasn't me. Honest)
So did Marky go on to become a yoga instructor?
Erin, I believe Marky won a prize later that year at the Crufts "person who looks most like their" dog competition. They still whisper in awe about his "performance" with his shitzu Julian.
Squeaky - what's a shitzu?
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One with no animals in it.
Pass the mind-bleach please.
I think jam ought to be compulsory.
Rik.........did she have lovely White teeth with a Ring of Confidence?
Squeakypony - this makes complete sense. ;)
Is it just me or is the look on that little girls face somewhat scary?
toadold - it's not just you :)
So mommy dearest may end up losing a finger there. The swing flu virus has mutated and is turning children into...."Kannibal Kids!"
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