Shaking the Dew Off the Lilly - The Fine Line Between the Post-Piss Shake and Whacking Off (1367 hits)
Category: NoneRating: 1.72 on 18 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by NerfHerder <NerfHerder.at.comic.com> (View user info) at 2004-11-01 13:11:18 EST
You've just completed another successful sacrifice to the porcelain god, all while standing up. The corners of your pants and your belt still dangle out in the air, dry as when you came in. Good work.
But right before you tuck yourself back in, you notice that there is a problem.
Not unlike the dew that collects on the grass in the mornings and subsequently soaks my shoes, there is a drop at the very head of your penis. It's too late to pull the extra sacrifice back, but the liquid is still reluctant to drown like its brethren.
What do you do? What DO you do?
You shake the dew off of the lily, my friends.
As anyone with a degree in physics or just a penis knows, the best way to get that little drop off of your body is to shake. Not back and forth like a dog would shake or even up and down as someone might nod their head. No, the best way to push this drop off is to go back and forth.
Now, this is harmless in most cases. Most people can take care of this drop in one or two shakes and even combine the move with the tucking in of the penis.
Others cannot.
I've heard unconfirmed reports that there are some guys who don't spend a lot of quality time with their genitals and, as such, don't really know how to do a correct shaking. Some of these people include (but are not limited to) small children and idiots. Or, in the most extreme cases, an individual can be stricken with both diseases. Truly it wouldn't be much worse to be fucked by piranhas with strap-ons on each and every one of their teeth but were sharpened to a point so stab holes in your rectum in several places.
--
Last weekend, in between Power Hours, me and my tipsy friends decided to rendezvous at one of the university's fine dining establishments that would give us food in exchange for our souls.
Apparently, my soul is equal to 4 pieces of pizza, a grilled cheese sandwich, nachos and cheese, a bowl of soup, and a roll, with complementary soft drink.
But the thing about being drunk, if you've never been, is that you have to piss all of the time. Even when you've just finished pissing, you have to piss again. And while you're pissing, you cannot wait until you get to piss again. Just to feel the initial relief of your bladder is comparable to an orgasm when you are drunk.
And it's even better when that first splash hits inside the bowl.
So I was releasing the American answer to Canada's Niagara Falls (other than the actual American falls, which suck) and moaning audibly in the stall when I heard someone else enter the bathroom.
Now, in a guys restroom, the unspoken rule is unspoken. Why? Because nobody talks in the guys restroom. Did I not just say that? I freak out when I get so little as a nod of acknowledgement. There's no time for talking in the bathroom. A man goes into the bathroom because he is weak.
There's something in the body that I cannot deal with. I tried to save it for as long as I could, but I just can't do anything more with this. I'm sorry world, you win. Take this back and never let me see it or think about it again.
And the waste is flushed down from whence it came.
So, as I said earlier, I was pissing in a stall when another man came into the bathroom. His entrance was nothing special. I heard the familiar loud squeak of the door opening and the unmistakable plod plod of tennis shoes on linoleum. There was one final squeak, signifying a divergence of paths. At this point, one scans which stalls are open and which one is least likely to be harboring a child molester. Not because of the molesting, but because you have to pick another stall. You also have to factor in the other residents of the bathroom. Because if you get too close to another guy and have to see even just a glimpse of another foot, your concentration could be lost and so could your claim of 100% accuracy.
So, as soon as I heard the stall door next to me open, I was a little bit more than surprised. Squeak squeak squeak went the anonymous shoes.
Squeak squeak squeak went all of my muscles as I waited for the intruder to take his rightful place as far away from me as possible.
I closed my eyes in order to heighten my other senses. The shoes, which I later learned were attached to a male body, opened the door directly next to mine, paused, and then rushed in. Immediately, the torrent of water gushed out and hit the floor, some of which splashes on my shoes.
I opened my eyes and looked down and saw 31 droplets of urine on my shoes. None of it was mine. My head jerked to the side, and I gave my unknown assailant a sneer that would've melted Jesus.
Unfortunately, there was an impermeable wall between us, so the stare went unnoticed. However, when I jerked around, my dick swung with me, which was still hanging out of my pants. It smacked so hard against the impermeable wall that I gave a yelp and my penis began to swell with pain and blood.
I heard the stream next to me stop.
I expected to hear the few extra drops plunge into the toilet. No such luck.
I heard the unmistakable sounds of the attempt to make drops plunge. The ol' squish-squash, squish-squash. The sound of skin bunching up at the head of the penis in order to expel the extra drops.
Still, no drops came.
But the squish-squash continued.
"Squish-squash," it said to me.
What should've I done? Ran. I should've sprinted out of there, penis hanging out and all, and told all my friends what was going on so we could've gone in there and laughed at the guy. I should've made a noise to let him know he wasn't alone. I should've put my penis back in my pants. But all of those options paled in comparison to what I did.
"Hey..." I started to ask, "you need any help over there?"
As soon as it came out, I knew that this wasn't exactly the right phrase. I knew that this could be taken the wrong way by anybody. I knew that I had just offered to jack off some random guy.
The squish-squashing stopped.
The man's shoes turned to face me. One disappeared. Two disappeared.
Then they re-appeared. But instead of below me, on the other side of the wall, the shoes appeared above me, on my side of the wall. And they were followed by legs. And those legs were followed by genitals. And those genitals were followed by a biker.
"Howdy pilgrim," said my new friend the biker, who apparently talked like a cowboy. His eyes surveyed me, up and down and stopped at my crotch. He was looking at my penis, which was still in its engorged state from smacking it against the wall.
"Why do you talk like a cowboy, biker man?" I asked, still in a quasi-drunk state.
"Why aren't you suckin' on my dick, you little queer?" retorted the biker with a convincing point.
"Because I was...erm...just leaving. I have 3 more pieces of pizza to eat and you know how thing...get...um...cold when they aren't eaten."
"Yeah," said the biker. "Somehow I know exactly what you mean. Like my friend right here," he said as he pointed to his dick. "He's getting cold. Now eat him all up and he'll fill you up right."
Nah, I couldn't do that. I wanted pizza. But the more I thought about it, the more full I was. I didn't really need any more food.
So what could I do?
...time for dessert.
User Reviews
Submitted by hyprspacd (user info) at 2004-11-16 13:54:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"Why do you talk like a cowboy, biker man?" I asked, still in a quasi-drunk state.
The voices in my head made this really funny.
Submitted by Degreeless_Capibara (user info) at 2004-11-01 19:35:45 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I always heard this one phrase, "If you shake it more than twice, you're playing with it."
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2004-11-01 19:26:24 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
and that biker grew up to be Mary Worth.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2004-11-01 19:19:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
MRR here we come!
Submitted by Quartermain (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:36:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
You shake it more than twice you're playing with it.
Submitted by thaumaturge (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:27:55 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Gotta hate those anxious cowboy-bikers that hang around campus restaurants.
Submitted by Satansgotsyphillis (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:22:41 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
very deep.
Submitted by Badlands (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:17:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Wait a minute here......you sucked that biker's cock, didn't you!!!
Submitted by espo (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:04:10 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
have another
Submitted by espo (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:03:47 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
my bad.
Submitted by espo (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:03:32 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
Well Nerf, well done. Bathroom posts always merit a +2 from me.
And in the spirit of the whole pissing post theme, let me bring back one from the VAULT - we're going way back here - back to the OLD ESPO username. That's right you sick newbie fucks - I've been here long enough to eat your soul.
Enjoy.
http://www.ubersite.com/m/11428
Peace,
Espo
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-11-01 14:02:21 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I have no words.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:56:49 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
quality. a piss post about the post piss piss shake.
Submitted by TigerLilly (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:33:22 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
I hear club soda removes urine stains.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:31:28 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
"A man goes into the bathroom because he is weak."
True.
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:27:13 EST (#)
Ranking: 1
Not back and forth like a dog would shake, yet hte best way is to go back and forth? This confused me.
Submitted by NerfHerder (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:22:30 EST (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't do part 2s.
Nobody ever remembers/cares about part 1.
Submitted by FATMANTPK (user info) at 2004-11-01 13:18:31 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
Please tell me there is a Part 2? You can't go out like that!