Lost some youth, but found some manhood….(and then some)…

I was 16, and after flying through my minimum-wage G.C.S.E results, I had a sense of unbridled joy when I was accepted into Art College in London. Unfortunately, there were a few minor stumbling blocks preventing me from living this particular teen-dream…

I lived in the Midlands…and was quite spectacularly skint.

My parents were very poor also and unable to help, but I was determined. I applied for a grant and after contacting the local student accommodation board, I managed to wrangle a small (and more importantly, cheap) flat in the big city.

I was on my way.

It may be hard to imagine now, but in my youth I was quite a strapping, handsome boy – a little naive in the ways of women perhaps, but always very willing to please.

When the day finally arrived I bid my parents farewell, flung my bag over my shoulder and didn’t look back as I took my first tentative steps towards becoming a man.

On arrival in London, I was taken aback by the bright lights and vibrant atmosphere…I couldn’t wait to become a part of it. The locals were very friendly and someone kindly took my bags for me so I didn’t have to carry them. They even promised to deliver them to my new address for just 10 pounds!

It was a little difficult finding my flat but eventually I stumbled across it in the back streets and with my heart racing I excitedly tapped upon the slightly mouldy front door.

It was eventually answered by Randy, my landlord-to-be. There was something a bit different about him that I could not quite put my finger on…6’ 7”, impeccably dressed, wearing a pink neckerchief, whistling showtunes and demonstrating a stunning sense of interior design…’I’ve never seen anyone like this before’, I pondered happily to myself – ‘that’s life in the big city!’

‘G-G-Good M-Morning, sir’ I stammered nervously, handing him a piece of paper with the address scrawled on it. ‘H-H-Have I come to the right place?’

‘Oooooooooh Ducky, I should coco’ exclaimed Randy, flapping his wrist about enthusiastically with one arm on his hip. ‘Step this way Daahhhling’. He beckoned me inside with his finger before turning and mincing meaningfully up the passageway.

My room was small and gloomy, but the step towards independence was incredibly empowering. I made myself at home and thanked Randy for his hospitality.

‘Oooh don’t worry about it my love,’ said Randy. ‘I’ll see you at breakfast…and if you ever need anything….and I mean ANYTHING…you just let me know sweetie…ok?’ Randy winked at me and trotted off to his room next door.

Despite my bags not arriving (surely due to some postal error), I soon received my other worldly goods from home delivered from my parents, the place was soon filled with everything I owned and I settled in nicely.

The days turned into weeks, my course was going well and I found myself fascinated and inspired by the incredible diversity of culture in this truly great city. Randy was always very helpful (he made a delicious, if slightly salty, porridge for breakfast every morning) and he was always on hand to ask me if I was properly satisfied.

(I never found out what Randy did for a living…I suspect it was an amateur Impressionist or something, because as I was studying I regularly heard different male voices from his room in various states of merriment, interspersed with strange ‘grunting’ noises…I put it down to just another part of his wonderfully outgoing, colourful personality.)

So everything was going great, until one fateful day when I arrived at my room, opened the door…and saw that everything I owned…had gone.

Randy was stood in the middle of the room surrounded by boxes, and he assertively informed me that I had to leave immediately; as he had plans to convert my room into a miniature exhibition hall.

When I meekly enquired what he planned to exhibit, he proudly proclaimed ’It’s a celebration…entitled ‘Spunk Of The World!’

As I approached Randy, beseeching him to reconsider, I noticed that every box near him contained thousands of jars of all different sizes… each one containing a carefully measured lump of purest cock-custard…from tiny pipettes to 10 gallon tanks – everywhere I looked there was oodles and oodles of man fat. He had carefully arranged every jar into the different continents and oceans – from his prized ‘African Collection’ (Gazelle / Mosquito / Elephant etc) to the ‘Pacific Rim’ (Mollusc to Blue Whale), he certainly seemed to have a bewildering array of jitler-juice.

One of the larger boxes was simply labelled ‘Man’ and Randy said that it was in this container that he stored the filthy yogurt of his many frequent gentlemen callers. He explained that he had an initial problem with the Man-muck going stale as he had run out of refrigerator space; so he had introduced a ‘rotation policy’ which meant that every time he obtained a new batch of jizz, he threw the oldest stuff into my daily porridge.

I couldn’t believe what was happening…I dropped to my knees in an effort to appeal to his generous nature and begged: ‘I’ve got nowhere else to go…please… just let me stay here…I’ll do anything…’

Randy considered this for a minute, then raised one eyebrow: ‘Oh go on then’, he said to my immense relief, ‘I’ll set the exhibition up in the kitchen. Here, help me move these boxes will you?’

I puffed and struggled as I helped Randy lug his multitude of sex-peptides into the kitchen. Before long, the sweat was dripping off me as I was made to carry the heavier boxes on my own (you’d be amazed at the sheer density of White Rhino cum I tell you – it’s like mercury!)

In my drenched state I removed my shirt...as the sweat dripped down my bare chest it seemed to ignite a spark in Randy’s eyes and he scuttled off…but as I went to my room to retrieve the last box I found him…

He had stripped totally bollock naked except for his ‘Fred from Scooby Doo’ neckerchief and stood there with a raging foot long boner that resembled an extra thick and spicy Pepperami with a veiny pink Satsuma nailed to the end of it.

Respecting his privacy, I turned my head and enquired where all my belongings were so I could retrieve them…

He replied: ‘Everything is locked away sweetcheeks…and THIS is the key to getting it back!’, pointing towards his throbbing mutton musket.

After a moment’s consideration into what sort of locksmith would invent a keyhole that requires a massively erect tallywaggle to gain entry, I asked him to clarify what he meant…

‘I mean…suck this, BITCH!’ He cried, as he stepped forward, grabbed the back of my head and forced it down onto his bulging schlong

As soon as I made initial contact, his hips started thrunging and plunging at nineteen-to-the-dozen...as if my mouth was a clogged up sink and he was trying to unblock it with his bell-end alone.

I must admit, I didn’t appreciate him forcing my head back and forth quite so vigorously…it wasn’t just that my gag reflex was suffering quite badly, but I also knew that I’d be picking pubes out of my teeth for the next fortnight at least.

After a while of rampant tonsil-nudging I glance down and see his toes begin to curl upwards like a jester’s shoes. At this point I ask if he would like a jar to deposit his own fast approaching willy-wallpaper-paste. He replies: ‘Naah…swallow it right down, you little Man-ho’, and I am rapidly reminded of the taste of that morning’s breakfast when he coughed his hot clotted cock-cream down my throat...and dribbled some down my chin.

The very next morning…as I opened my bedroom door after college I discovered everything had been put back perfectly…just as it was…and there was crisp fiver on my pillow, next to a note thanking me for a ‘job’ well done.

So the truth is, Gentle reader, I didn’t actually lose anything because I had all my possessions returned…but I still think the story applies to this QOTW because it was very much a case of...

…

drumroll…


Blowin' a gay: the spluff I’ve lugged and noshed.



He certainly didn’t apologise for length, so I don’t see why I should.


Disclaimer: I would like to take this opportunity to humbly, grovellingly and sincerely apologise for the use of overtly homophobic ‘Carry on’ style gay stereotyping simply for crap comedy purposes
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:19, 19 replies)

"Massively erect tallywaggle"
Genuine lol at that. Have one of the few clicks of this QotW.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:24, closed)

It's only Tuesday you know...
but still, you had me choking on my ham and cheese savoury roll, you git!
( Davros' Granddad a voice of calm reason in a world of spastics., Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:24, closed)

@DG
Could be worse. You could be choking on something else.
( Enzyme is powered by sunlight, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:37, closed)

*that's a hell of a length to go to for a pun
I salute you

*salutes*
( Vipros. clever got me this far, then tricky got me in, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:44, closed)

I do wonder
How on earth you manage to come up with stuff like this...
There must be a grain of truth.

So, come on, out with it, you once sucked a gay man to climax for a fiver?
( Cawl, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:44, closed)

Well Kaol...

Of all people I thought YOU would remember...

*blushes*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:45, closed)

*shrugs*
You weren't very good.

You need more practice. I'm free Saturday, meet me in the toilets of The Cardinal, Victoria, at 10pm.
( Cawl, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:47, closed)

I have absolutely nothing to say !
Because the look on my face says it all.
( girlinthehole, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 12:53, closed)

How the hell do you do it, Mr Flake?
"willy-wallpaper-paste" fnar, fnar...
(Bicycle Repairman "you're also a bit of a wanker", Tue 19 Aug 2008, 13:04, closed)

*chortle*
*giggle*
*guffaw*
*groan*
*click*

Nice one mate
(Greencloud Wanted to go fishing on, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 13:35, closed)

A+ for effort
but I still had a "scrubs" moment in which I visualised battering you around the head with your own keyboard so hard that every single key comes flying out with a satisfying clatter. ;-)

you truly have a special gift...
(keyboardman, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 13:48, closed)

Sweet spluffing Jesus....
I am in sheer awe of you Mr Flakey :o)

Beautiful imagery...

*clicks furiously causing wrist to blur*
( Tourette's ( . )( . ) has a monkey hair in her fried egg, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 13:58, closed)

"Hot clotted cock-cream"
ftw.
(JohabMorelli is spenging merrily away, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 14:01, closed)

Dear Pooflake
I am but a humble newbie here and have spent the last fortnight or so catching up on the 'best' pages of the QOTW.

Currently I am ailing with a terrible sore throat and yesterday I was reading your tale of dumb things you've done, and as I can't reply to it directly, I shall here instead.

The lines "“Pooflake, you little twunt,” she said, “You are allowed to go home early”

“Fucking get in there!” I exclaimed, my face lighting up with a combination of glee and total surprise." had me laughing and subsequently coughing manically for a good 15 minutes.

You, sir, are a threat to my current health.

I hereby proclaim you a genius of the highest order. As a prize, have my first ever *click*. Use it wisely.
(Sahara Desert http://www.twitter.com/thesaharadesert for swears, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 14:27, closed)

Darling Poo,
I know that many of your stories tend to take place in your head as opposed to the real tangible world. However, you always manage to entertain and delight us.

This story is clearly different...this story I can see quite plainly has all the hallmarks of truth about it.

You poor, poor boy. Perhaps I should be the one to break it to you....

the bags that were to be delivered for £10?

Stolen, my love, stolen.

Be more careful with your belongings on Saturday.

x
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 14:37, closed)

@ Chickenlady...

Ha! - Well that's where I fooled you!...the story wasn't ALL true...

I didn't go to art college...it was a YTS course in home economics

*waits by the door for bags for arrive*
( Pooflake braces for an onslaught..., Tue 19 Aug 2008, 14:48, closed)

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH
Poo, if you stick your head out the window, you should be able to hear me groaning all the way from Middle America.

God, you suck!
(TDub Nunc id vides, nunc ne vides on, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 15:56, closed)

bravo, that man!
one hell of a good yarn AND an addition to my vocabulary!
mutton musket, indeed!

*clicks*
( Smash Monkey lowering the tone of the whole internet, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 21:22, closed)

Brilliant!!















But you're still a bell-end.
(Captain Placid 24/7 ball gags, brownie mix and clown porn, Tue 19 Aug 2008, 22:48, closed)