E R N I E ' S H O U S E O F W H O O P A S S
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Part I: The Seduction
credit given to original author if known
As I carefully unpack the bag containing the essentials of the evening, I smile, thinking of Vomit Boy's earlier phone call.
"You bring that fucking bag of yours and you'll be spending the weekend alone."
I tell him the anticipation and excitement of forthcoming events keeps me in a state of arousal.
"I've been dreading this for weeks. You just *had* to post that shit about my ass, didn't you?"
I reassure him that my intentions are honorable, and that I will be gentle.
"You fuck like a wild woman. I'm surprised my dick is still attached. You want me to believe you're going to be gentle? Ha!"
I speak softly and tell him I am here to care for him, body and soul.
"You scare the living shit out of me."
I smile. I know.
"I'll be there in about an hour."
I prepare my work with the precision of a serial killer. I don my work attire: scrub suit, hat, boots, mask and gloves. I lay out the necessary tools: Blood pressure cuff, stethoscope, foley catheter, Citrus Smirnoff and lube. I am ready.
I answer the soft knock at the door. He stands there pale, tense and hyperventilating, beads of perspiration on his forehead. He clutches a pack of Newports, his head enveloped in a cloud of smoke.
"Why are you dressed like that? You know I hate that blue crap."
I laugh again.
He glares at me with piercing brown eyes. He walks past me and sits, arms crossed, knees trembling.
"OK, [Nurzy real name], just because I showed up, doesn't mean you're doing anything weird."
I tell him it's time to start the examination.
"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" "Come on, honey, can't we just fuck like normal people for once?"
I don't answer him. I take his arm and wrap the blood pressure cuff around it. He looks up at me like a doomed man being strapped into the electric chair.
I take his blood pressure and pulse. He's not surprisingly hypertensive; his heart is racing. So is mine.
"This isn't funny any more. You're pissing me off."
He glances over to my equipment. He moans. I tell him to get undressed and lay on the bed.
"Not unless you do, too."
I tell him to stop wasting time. Again, I tell him to get undressed and lay on the bed.
He jumps up and undresses, staring at me. He doesn't smile. His movements are rough, forcibly throwing his shirt on the dresser, kicking his jeans into the corner. I remind him of penalties for roughness. He reminds me of paybacks.
"I can't believe you're making me do this."
I take him by the arm and walk him to the bed. He lays on his back, knees trembling. I tell him his penis is sucked in so far that it's probably sticking out his back. He retorts with a smartass remark about how my ass looks bigger than usual in scrub pants.
I snap my gloves. He apologizes. I smile. He doesn't.
He looks like he's approaching cardiac arrest.
I lean over and whisper, "Let's begin, shall we?"
Part II: The Dance
He knows I hate that word. He will pay.
"I'm sorry, Nurzy."
I threaten to tie him to the bed and telephone Bobbi Hatch and give her our location.
"Oh, great. Make sure somebody tells Doc Maxwell to pick up my body at the morgue."
I reply that there may not be enough left to pick up... He reaches over and slaps me on my ass. He grabs his drink off the nightstand and downs it.
"And just what are you planning to do with that brown thing?"
I tell him the brown thing is called a foley catheter and I only brought it because I knew it would piss him off.
"Thoughtful little bitch." [mumbles]
He lays there watching my every move. He jumps when I run my fingers from his ankle up to his thigh.
"I think I'm gonna puke."
My fingertips reach his nipples; I squeeze and pull on a hair or two.
"I think I have to shit."
I run my hands over his hips and his abdomen, I poke my finger in his belly button.
"Now I *know* I'm going to shit."
Standing at his right side at the edge of the bed, I put one palm on his hip and the other on his shoulder and roll him over.
I stand there in total amazement. I remind him that all I've done is roll him over. He screams.
"Just go ahead and do it! Get it over with, you psychotic pain in the ass!"
I find great satisfaction in his words. I reach for the lube and smear my right glove. His head is buried in the pillow, his butt cheeks clenched as if protecting the key to the universe.
"Come on, [Nurzy], [whine] gimmee a break."
I lean across his back to try to keep him from moving.
"I promise not to misspell 'their' anymore, honest."
I reach between his legs and massage his balls with the lube. He finally shuts up for the moment. (Little VomitChoad is still nowhere to be found -- most likely hiding in safer confines.)
I try to separate his ass cheeks. They are stuck together like those of a butt master addicted sumo wrestler. I almost throw my back out trying to pry them apart. It becomes hard work. I'm sweating, I'm panting, I'm getting pissed.
I bite his ass.
Part III: The Final Frontier
I am blinded by a General Tso fart. I am not pleased. He is laughing hysterically. My eyes water, my nose burns.
"Serves ya right, damn it!"
He turns on his back, giggling. I stare wicked blue eyes at his laughing brown. I distract him with a little tongue action on his chest. Then, without warning, I dart my finger in his puckered starfish. He inhales quickly and stops breathing, his cheeks cutting off circulation to my hand.
My finger struggles to twirl and wiggle in this uncharted territory. Little Vomit finally peeks its head out and starts to look around as if something is pushing it out from the inside. I greet L.V. with a big kiss.
He's laying there with a blank look on his face. He slowly leans forward to face me and suddenly screams like he's auditioning for a cheap horror flick.
"I, I, I...oh, SSHHHHIIIITTTTTTTTTT..."
He leaps up and runs to the bathroom. I am sitting on the side of the bed with lube dripping down my wrist. I shake my head, wondering how fortunate I am to have acquired such a hyper and spastic spoo toy.
He's now sitting on the toilet, both hands gripping the seat. His facial expression tells me he's either giving birth to an alligator through his ass, or all that General Tso from the night before is exiting him at breakneck speed because of my digital stimulation.
I stand at the bathroom door and tell him when he's finished, to come back to bed so I can finish what I started.
He makes rude remarks about my heritage. I tell him I have plenty of lube and the weekend has just begun. He whines and covers his face with both hands.
He finally returns to bed. He looks totally exhausted, so I don't force the finger issue. I figure a half-inch of my finger was pretty good for a start. I put all my supplies away and he starts to relax.
I take off my scrubs, hat, mask, boots and gloves. I climb into the sack next to him. He rolls over towards me and wraps his scrawny arms around me. He whispers,