HOTDOG - GHOST
Back in 1990, as a fresh faced fifteen year old I made the ultimate sacrifice for my then girlfriend, Gemma. I may just as well have got down on one knee and proposed, it was that fucking serious a commitment.

I agreed to take her to see this new film with Demi Moore and that bloke out of the uber-gay flick, Dirty Dancing, featuring the annoying black woman who was in the Muppets occasionally - I agreed to take Gemma to see Ghost.

Obviously, this was hard for me. Very hard. After half an hour or so of tedious hand holding banality, realizing that Patrick Sway-zeeee had died (horay! - short film), but then, unfortunately returned as a fucking ghost (bit of a Ronseal moment, really), I decided to go and stock up on snacks. Gemma was a great girl, but she was a good girl, no fondling or gropage for me that night - and the only way I was going to get through this utter bullshit was by eating my own bodyweight in processed snacks.

I excused myself, made my way out the dark auditorium, went to the kiosk. Stocked up on grab - big bag of maltesers, check, opal fruits (fuck starburst), check, nachos, check, hotdog, check - no mustard, no onions, just plain in the bun how mother nature meant it, fuck off huge bucket of coke, check.

Weighed down, I go back to see what delightful scatter-brained antics Whoopie-sodding-Goldberg's got lined up for me. I find the correct row, recognise Gemma's distinct high ponytail hairdo, and move along until I'm back safe and secure. I sit and eat. Gemma helps herself to the odd morsel. I start looking round, seeing how many maltesers I can fit in my gob in one go. After a few more minutes I decide to experiment - I removed the hotdog from the bun and use the bread to make an opal fruit sandwich. Hmmmm. Not fucking bad, not fucking bad at all.

After a while Gemma whispers in my ear: "Oooooh, that's soooo naughty! .......... What do you think?"

I whisper back: "It's really good..."

She returns her attention back to the dross onscreen. Then, a few moments later, Gemma says, sounding rather concerned: "Is that good?"

What??? Ermmm.... "Yes, that's excellent," I reply, not really understanding. The intense goo factor of the film must've warped her brain or something.

Then, a few seconds later, looking straight ahead, Gemma goes: "Am I doing it right?"

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"Errr, yes.... it's... ermmm.... lovely," I whisper back.

Silence, for a while. Then suddenly: "OH, MY GOD!!!" Gemma nearly jumps out of her seat, she screams, then develops the outburst further with: "I'VE BROKEN IT!!! GOD, I'VE BROKEN IT!!! SOMEBODY CALL AN AMBULANCE!!! OH, GOD!!!" And then she started crying.

Caused quite a commotion, I can tell you. Lots of angry shhhhhshhhhhhes, which is tantamount to receiving a series of repeated punches in the face in your average English cinema. Even had the dreaded torch flashed in our direction by one of the ushers, who gave us a look that said: 'Shut the fuck up, cuntbags.' I apologised for my girlfriend's weird outburst, wondering if she'd just developed tourettes or suddenly come on the blob (hey, I was fifteen). Then I realised something incredible. Something amazing. Something incredibly exciting.

Gemma was staring at my cock.

Well, not at my cock, but in that general area. I looked down at my crotch and I saw -

my poor hotdog sausage, broken and battered, mashed to a pulp.

I was a bit slow back then. I didn't twig until I returned home later... Then I repeatedly banged my head against the wall for being such a fucking retarded prick. Well and truly missed my chance, there. Well and fucking truly.

Turns out Gemma had been quietly watching Ghost, getting all sentimental and teary-eyed, sitting in the cinema with her first proper boyfriend, feeling strange feelings rage through her adolecent body for the first time must've made her feel, well, for want of a better word, horny, or to expand on that, horny as a horny fucking toad watching Swedish porn, drinking Spanish fly while sitting on a tumbledrier on super spin cycle, horny.

Gemma had been systematically wanking off the long, hot, meaty object I had nestled in my lap.

My fucking hotdog sausage.

I was absolutely gutted. I felt like killing myself on the spot. It was the closest I ever got to anything approaching sex with Gemma, put her off any form of cock-Olympics with me bigtime, that incident did. She now works at Barclaycard in Northampton; she's got about seven kids, well, I'm pleased that episode didn't put her off the cock for life, I suppose.

... bugger ...
( SpankyHanky, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 0:57, 7 replies)

"...drinking Spanish fly while sitting on a tumbledrier on spin cycle, horny."
What other cycles do tumbledriers have in your crazy country?
(St Sepulchre's Belle tolled for thee on, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 1:34, closed)

In our crazy country we have the stop cycle too
It saves electricity and makes it easier to take the clothes out.
(Vice Admiral Sir Charles Cockbrush KCB MBE DSO, who is finding it increasingly difficult to log into b3ta.com wants to duck your aunt and kick your puppy, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 9:14, closed)

Have a click
purely for "fuck starburst"! Great story though.
(Barry Chuckle's Moustache, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 10:00, closed)

BRING BACK OPAL FRUITS!!!
Great post, Mr Spanky. Had be giggling over my morning coffee - gonna have to go and have an opal fruit sarnie now. *clicky*
(Grrrrr Tigers, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 10:01, closed)

Click !
Like it lots, thanks for the laffs
(Stevie Jo 69, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 10:04, closed)

Spanky!
You utter bastard!

I'm supposed to be updating stock, and instead I'm sat at my desk laughing like a drain!

*click* though, fucking fantastic!
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 13:46, closed)

Ladies and Gentlemen
We have a winner
(MadBouncyDog Barking at the moon since, Fri 24 Jul 2009, 14:18, closed)