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Started By
Message
A quarantine story
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:35 pm
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:35 pm
2/3 baking soda 1/3 water. Or was it 2/3 water 1/3 baking soda? I check the webpage again. Yes, I was right the first time. I mix the concoction in my child’s flimsy plastic bowl, creating a thick grainy paste. That looks about right.
I take the bowl with me to the toilet, pull down my pants, and slather the paste all over my poison ivy rashed penis. Ah. Instant cool relief after the incessant burning and itching. My mind and body drifted into ecstasy, a peaceful bliss. I just sat in that timeless moment where everything was right.
Eventually realizing I needed to get back to work, I stood back up, pulled up my gym shorts, and walked back to my work computer.
Hours passed. I had gotten up from my chair a few times and moved about, not realizing the dried baking soda paste on my penis was flaking off in clumps, spilling a trail of shame behind me. My wife noticed before I did.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to one of the trails. Did [our son] get into something?”
My mind raced to find an answer. I didn’t want her to know I had a poisoned penis. I didn’t want her to know I put gobs of homemade paste over it. I didn’t want her to know that the paste that had been dried on my rashy penis for hours had been scattered about the floors she cleaned last weekend. But nothing came to me. “Oh, oops, that’s the baking soda paste I put on my groin area for my poison ivy rash” I say in the most nonchalant way I can muster.
“You have poison ivy on your crotch?! Are you sure it’s poison ivy? Let me see!” shite, I knew there was no way she wasn’t going to get a look. Like taking off a bandaid, I just went for it and pulled down my pants. My sad, shrunken gooped up penis was there, like an eskimo that had just got dug out of an avalanche. “Gross! Get in the bathroom so you stop spreading that everywhere! Don’t come out until you wash that off!”
I’m in the bathroom now, a fresh coating of my homemade medication just applied. Quarantined in my house, now quarantined in my bathroom. I can’t go back to the burning itch. I just can’t. In this bathroom I will stay. 4% battery left on my phone. Soon I will be alone.
This is my story.
I take the bowl with me to the toilet, pull down my pants, and slather the paste all over my poison ivy rashed penis. Ah. Instant cool relief after the incessant burning and itching. My mind and body drifted into ecstasy, a peaceful bliss. I just sat in that timeless moment where everything was right.
Eventually realizing I needed to get back to work, I stood back up, pulled up my gym shorts, and walked back to my work computer.
Hours passed. I had gotten up from my chair a few times and moved about, not realizing the dried baking soda paste on my penis was flaking off in clumps, spilling a trail of shame behind me. My wife noticed before I did.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to one of the trails. Did [our son] get into something?”
My mind raced to find an answer. I didn’t want her to know I had a poisoned penis. I didn’t want her to know I put gobs of homemade paste over it. I didn’t want her to know that the paste that had been dried on my rashy penis for hours had been scattered about the floors she cleaned last weekend. But nothing came to me. “Oh, oops, that’s the baking soda paste I put on my groin area for my poison ivy rash” I say in the most nonchalant way I can muster.
“You have poison ivy on your crotch?! Are you sure it’s poison ivy? Let me see!” shite, I knew there was no way she wasn’t going to get a look. Like taking off a bandaid, I just went for it and pulled down my pants. My sad, shrunken gooped up penis was there, like an eskimo that had just got dug out of an avalanche. “Gross! Get in the bathroom so you stop spreading that everywhere! Don’t come out until you wash that off!”
I’m in the bathroom now, a fresh coating of my homemade medication just applied. Quarantined in my house, now quarantined in my bathroom. I can’t go back to the burning itch. I just can’t. In this bathroom I will stay. 4% battery left on my phone. Soon I will be alone.
This is my story.
21
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:36 pm to Jon Ham
TLDR
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:36 pm to Jon Ham
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:37 pm to Jon Ham
I can appreciate the vividness
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:38 pm to Jon Ham
God speed you glorious bastard.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:38 pm to Jon Ham
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:38 pm to Jon Ham
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:38 pm to BeerMoney
It was worth it.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:38 pm to Jon Ham
I didn’t read any of that shite
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:39 pm to Jon Ham
Liberally apply Icy Hot to the affected areas
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:39 pm to Jon Ham
Try octagon soap
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:41 pm to Jon Ham
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:42 pm to Jon Ham
Did you try to frick a tree or something?
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:42 pm to Jon Ham
Recycled copypasta.
quote:
Sunday was warm and sunny, just how I always fantasized it would be when I finally went through with it. I stared walking to the dumpster again, I think about 2pm, and I was really excited and nervous. I felt butterflies in my tummy, just anticipating what I was about to do.
The dumpster is in the alley behind a restaurant near my house. It gets emptied on Tuesdays, so by Sunday it's pretty stinky and there are flies buzzing around. Which means there are things rotting inside there and that's just perfect for me. A few times in the past I climbed into that dumpster and masturbated. Nothing too intense. Most I'd ever done was take off my pants and hump against the dirty garbage bags. And one time I laid there with my legs spread, watching the flies land on me.
So anyway, I walked down the alley to the dumpster, and as usual I made sure nobody was around, just to be extra careful. You have to go behind a tall wooden fence to even see the dumpster, and the restaurant is closed on Sunday anyway, so I knew I wouldn't be noticed. But this time there's no way I want to be disturbed. I climbed up and over the side and onto my hands and knees into the mass of plastic garbage bags and other miscellaneous rubbish. The bags felt warm from the sun. The smell in there was extremely foul, much worse than usual, and I knew it was because of my rotting meat. I sat and tried to get myself to relax for a few minutes. There was no reason to hurry. When I was ready, I calmly took off my sandals, my jeans, and my panties. Both pairs. I was wearing two pairs of tight panties with a bunch of my panty liners in the crotch, which keeps anything in my vagina from coming out when I move around. But I was going "all the way" this time, so I went ahead and got completely naked. That was a weird feeling, being totally nude inside the dumpster. It seemed very erotic to me. The sun felt warm on my skin, especially my boobs, which pretty much never see the sun.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:53 pm to Jdiggy
Ok. It was worth a read. He put a lot of work in to that story.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:56 pm to BeerMoney
quote:
Ok. It was worth a read. He put a lot of work in to that story.
Agreed. After initially scoffing at the length and upvoting the TLDR post, I returned and read in its entirety. Glad I did, minus the mental image of a cake crusted micro-penis.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 8:57 pm to Jon Ham
Made me laugh, have an upvote.
Posted on 4/8/20 at 9:12 pm to Jon Ham
LOL
Posted on 4/8/20 at 9:20 pm to Jon Ham
How'd you get poison ivy on the frank and beans? Does the wife have poison ivy on the crotchal area, too? If not, why isn't she more curious in your story.
Hey, everyone, I think he made that story up!
Hey, everyone, I think he made that story up!
Posted on 4/8/20 at 10:00 pm to Jon Ham
I stopped at "poison ivy rashed penis". Sorry, baw. Sorry on many levels.
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