the blasts, the fallout, the sickness and the diar[y]hoea

It Wasn’t Sweetcorn

OK. I think I’ve got over it now. I think.

We had the house to ourselves, Littleboy and Trinity out robbing the unsuspecting public or getting knocked up. Again. But more of that later. Anyway me and Enola Gay decided to have a nice tea – chips and a steak and onion pukka pie for me, plaice and chips with mushy peas for her. And because theres always time for a little bit of romance we lit a couple of candles. Well one thing led to another and we ended up in bed getting our legs over. All good to be sure, I even drank from the furry cup if you get my drift. She loved it. She returned the favour. We had sex. All over. Very nice too.


There I was in my post wick dipping stupor and I realise I have something stuck in my teeth, and no matter how i try it’s not coming out. So i go to the bathroom to rinse my mouth. Now if you’re like me you’re expecting a pube. But no. It’s sweetcorn. No big deal. I rinse and spit. As I rinse though a small part of my mind is wondering. Sweetcorn? it muses. Sweetcorn? But I never had sweetcorn. WTF?

So what is it I wonder. I run through my night. TV, pie n chips, oral, shag. TV, pie n chips, oral, shag… oral, shag….oral. ORAL! Oh. My. God. Now I did notice a distinct aroma as I went underground but I put it down to a certain eagerness on the part of Enola Gay and yes there was in retrospect a slightly odd flavour. At the time I couldn’t place it but as I stared into the bathroom mirror, suddenly looking VERY pale it came to me. Cheddar?

I said hello and goodbye to the pukka pie, went through a tube of aquafresh and scalded my mouth clean with hot water and listerine and yet somehow I still felt sick. Enola Gay knocked on the door and asksed if she can come in; she wanted to bath apparently. Too fucking late I think. Too fucking late by far!!

I let her in, and I want to say “You could’ve done that before I ended up at a buffet”, but I dont. No, I just leave.

She seems confused. I’m quiet and we just had a night of passion but I really can’t say anything. I don’t want to embarrass her. Besides my armpits smell, I don’t trim my nostril hair and my feet are…oddly scented. But I don’t expect her to lick my armpits, I’m not into nasal sex and even I wouldn’t suck my toes. It’s not the same thing methinks. But if I said anything she’d just end up crying in the bathroom.

But. And here’s the thing. What if I don’t say anything? We have a good sex life. It’s regular. What if this is now going to happen again? How do I refuse the oral? It is, if you’ll pardon the pun, a sticky situation.

The thing that bothers me is can you really so busy you cant find the time to wash the undercarriage? Isn’t it the thing women are always telling men? Make sure you are clean! Am I wrong?

Any advice??

Now I’m off to buy more mouthwash! Thank God for 24 hour shopping!


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