'The hokey-cokey’ (or 'Pooflake's blowjob lesson')...

It seems like this QotW has only just had its hymen twanged, yet the subject of cock-chugging has already been mentioned quite a bit. I apologise from the heart of my bottom for bringing it up again.

But this...is my (sort of) 'BJ' story...

After my parents moved house, my new school was situated in what seemed like a different time zone. Every day I had to get up at stupid o'clock…to walk half a million miles to the cunting bus stop and then endure the arduous cockstick journey through every bastard village on the fuckpig way to whoring Rugby. Suffice to say I wasn’t a happy bunny.

The only thing that made it remotely worthwhile was that I used to claim the very front seat of the coach as my own, as it was much lower than the rest, and there was always an opportunity to look up the shorter skirts of the older girls as they ascended the steps to the ‘regular’ seats.

In the next Village lived a lad called Liam, and he always used to sit next to me. He was a bit younger than I was, but even for his age was young looking, short and naive. Therefore the unwritten law was passed, and the task was thrust up myself to teach him the ‘code of the schoolyard’.

I relished this opportunity to pass on all my worldly knowledge…regarding such great topics as ‘cleavage', moving on to 'boobage’ and then 'fun with breasticles'(advanced). Over time I was painstakingly moulding the budding padawan in my own graven image of a sweary sexual deviant.

One fine summer morning, as I was trying to catch a few Z’s on the way to school, I was gently nudged by Liam:

“pooflake…...Pooflake!” He whispered sheepishly in my ear “I’ve got something to ask you...”

“What the bloated mimsy-rot do you want?” I snorted derisively at him for interrupting my slumber.

"Erm...the thing is…I’ve heard about something...I'm not sure...but I think it's a bit rude and I don’t know what it is” he tentatively replied.

Raising an eyebrow I sneered: "Oh, go on then, what have you heard?"...half expecting him to start talking about 'wispy hair' in his undercrackers.

He replied: "Erm...well......What's a 'Blow Job'?"

Time stopped.

At this point I had a choice. He had taken a massive gamble, sharing a potentially gargantuan moment of embarrassment with me. This was something deeply personal that he was questioning to his trusted friend and mentor. He didn't want to risk looking like a 'prize-winning porridge pistol' in front of his mates, so had sensitively and privately enquired to me. (I mean, where do people go to learn about this stuff anyway?)

So there he was, reaching out...a heartfelt plea to be given the lowdown and guidance regarding something vital…life-changingly important....all he was certain about at that point was that the subject matter was of the sort of rudey nature that he could never ask his teacher...or (god forbid), his parents about. He had put himself in a very vulnerable position…

Well, what could I do?

I was tender in years myself, and although furnished with some knowledge of such matters, intensely inexperienced.

However, it soon became evident that even at that young age...I was still an utter cunt.

"Right then mate, let me tell ya" I said, stifling a giggle and putting my arm around him reassuringly. I could almost feel the relief ebbing from the boy, who had no doubt lay awake all night pondering over whether or not he should ask for my sage advice on this delicate quandry.

I continued: "Well, I'm not gong to lie to you. As you can imagine, it's a sexual thing. How it works is...a boy and a girlie take off their clothes, then…the girlie slips behind the boy and she reaches around with the left arm, grabbing his nutsack firmly and tightly. She then breathes in really deeply and puffs out her cheeks as much as she can. This creates a strange biological and physical effect in girlies that results in an increased pressure of the grip, and she holds tighter and tighter for as long as he (or she) can stand. It may sound weird, but it feels really nice for the boy"

(Cue Liam's jaw dropping wide open and a prolonged pause as he attempts to process what has just been relayed to him)

...

...


He finally spoke: "Erm....riiiiiiiiiight...(I could almost hear the cogs going round in his head)...but why is it called a 'Blow Job' then?" Liam pondered further.

"Ah, there's two reasons for that." I immediately and confidently respond. "Firstly, because when the girl can't hold her breath any more, she exhales and 'blows' all the surplus air down the back of the man's neck, which again is a pleasurable experience..."

At this point Liam slowly nods, hanging on my every word. This was making perfect sense to him and I could see him visualising the sordid scenario in his (now warped beyond recognition) impressionable young mind...

I continued: "The second reason is a bit...well...'kinky'. Are you sure you want to hear this?"

Liam's beady peepers nearly pop out of his head, as if he was about to be told the secret of eternal life: "Y-y-y-y-y-yeeeeeAAAAH!" he implored.

"Well then", I shamelessly enthused: "Whilst you're in the throes of the 'job', the girlie gives you a 'blow' by punching you stoutly on the back of the head with her right hand, and the jolting sensation makes you spurt your splooge extra hard!"

"NO.FUCKING.WAY!" exclaimed little Liam, his face aglow with titilation.

"Yep - and that's all there is to it. It's brilliant - I've had loads of 'blowjobs' you know..." I concluded with a knowing smirk, mentally congratulating myself on the 'job well done' of ruining someone's fledgling educational career.

The youthful pre-teen felt empowered by this mature tutelage and couldn't wait to bound energetically off the bus to share his wisdom with his fellow classmates.

Unfortunately for him, he had decided to ‘fluff up’ his story somewhat by breaktime, and claimed to his friends that he had actually received a blow job the previous evening…before proceeding to ‘act out’ the situation 'as it really happened’…

When it came to the ‘highlight’ of his tale, amongst his spirited, graphic display of amateur dramatics, he of course did not opt for the universally acknowledged ‘move your fist towards your mouth and poke your tongue into your cheek’ signage for the beloved blowie. Instead, he used his newly acquired information to demonstrate the ‘sex-act’ which had allegedly been partaken on him.

I still remember chuckling to myself when I spotted him on the playground with an audience of about a dozen (increasingly confused) younglings, proudly displaying how he was a 'man-of-the-world', with his knees slightly bent, whilst thrusting his hips, winking at the girls, making a gesture with one outstretched hand that resembled a dying spider, swinging wildly into mid-air with the other hand, all the time with his cheeks puffed out like Louis Armstrong doing a particularly strenuous trumpet solo, and a rampant look of ‘fierce eroticism’ in his eyes.

It was like a demonically deranged, solo porno version of 'the hokey-cokey'

I crept out of sight as the collective pointing and laughter of his peers rang out to uncontrollable levels…before all sound was metaphorically drowned out by the monumental 'clanging' sound of 'the penny dropping’ in Liam’s head, as he finally realised...that in the very midst of the 'kids can be cruel' years, he had lined himself up to have the veritable living piss ripped out of him for the rest of his natural school existence.

And thus it was so…(although to be honest, me telling everyone in school about it didn’t help him much either).

I'd like to think that I gave him an important lesson in life that day...and that lesson is:


'Never, EVER pay any attention whatsoever to anything Pooflake says (or does)...EVER'.


You could all do well by heeding that advice.
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 26 Sep 2008, 11:52, 8 replies)

But....
but....



but.....


How do you come up with this stuff!?
(Bazongaloid, Fri 26 Sep 2008, 12:15, closed)

@Al...

This one is true!!! - Granted, I am a regular raconteur of utter bollocks on this site, and there are a few obvious touches of 'artistic licence' in the post...

But this one really happened I'm not very proud to admit...
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 26 Sep 2008, 12:23, closed)

I wasn't actually
doubting that it happened, I know some of your stories are true. But if anything, the fact that it's true makes it worse!
(Bazongaloid, Fri 26 Sep 2008, 12:33, closed)

I'm just sad to say...

That my true stories usually get fewer clicks than the made up ones...

*starts thinking of bullshit post*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 26 Sep 2008, 12:43, closed)

I got really confused
I read, and then re-read this and then the penny dropped - it's not a pun!!
( rofl harris, Fri 26 Sep 2008, 12:52, closed)

I'm afraid...

That all the puns seem to have been done...

I'll try and come up with something properly shit by Wednesday

Set your phasers to 'spang'

:)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Fri 26 Sep 2008, 13:00, closed)

Did you ever know that you're my hero?
And everything I would like to beeeeeeeee
(guyver Only Misanthropy Man can save us now!, Sun 28 Sep 2008, 21:41, closed)

Nothing wrong in setting your standards really low I suppose...

It beats being disappointed in the long run :)
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Wed 1 Oct 2008, 9:41, closed)