Cock Number Three
I'm so glad it's the weekend. I thought this past week would never end.
Last week I got a phone call from my uncle in Southampton. My uncle hasn't been well for some time. He's 84 and he has been a smoker and a drinker all his life so I suppose you could say he's had a good innings, but last time I saw him at Christmas he really did look old and ravaged by time.
So I got a call from him last week saying that Mickey Rooney, his little old cock, was looking like he was on his last legs.
Of course, I dropped everything. I'm of the opinion that however ill my uncle is, it's all his own doing, but when it comes to his poor, innocent little cock, who has breathed in years of cigarette smoke, listened to my uncle's drunken rants and raves, occasionally been kicked and slapped after one of my uncle's mindless benders...
I got there at midnight last Saturday. My uncle looked in a bad way. His cough was so bronchial I thought he would hack up his internal organs.
Uncle Frank led me to the bedroom. I wasn't prepared for the sight I saw.
Uncle's cock was lifeless. So old and wrinkled and lying as limp as an old rag doll. The smell in the room was putrid.
"You could at least have opened a window," I said to Uncle Frank, but I could see there was a deadness in his eyes. He knew his cock was on the way out.
I then realised I was only there to witness the end of a life, not even to nurse the poor thing through its last few miserable days but to merely watch, watch, watch as the light slowly dimmed from what once was a proud, shining cock.
I put one hand on my uncle's shoulder and stroked his cock with the other. There was no response from either, just a low wheeze from Uncle Frank's chest. Mickey Rooney was barely breathing.
He lasted another three days. I left my uncle bereft and drunk. I couldn't do any more for him. I don't think he'll make it to Christmas.
*******
But life goes on, and on returning from Southampton I found some lovely messages from my readers in my inbox. Tom has promised me a picture of his cock which I am looking forward to with anticipation. And Ziggi has correctly guessed the location of this week's cock. Yes, it's Manchester, the cock capital of the North West.
Today's cock belongs to my old school chum, Jeremy Larkson. Jeremy's a vicar! You would never have guessed it if you'd have seen him fifty years ago, but Jeremy got into the religion lark in his mid-thirties and he is now extremely popular with the little old ladies of his flock. They love it when he parades his cock, Sir Cliff, in front of them each Sunday. The highlight of the service is always when Jeremy's cock's head peeps over the pulpit as he rouses the congregation to sing All Things Bright And Beautiful.
"My cock is a gift from God," as Jeremy says.
And I think you'll all agree.
Sir Cliff and his "congregation"
Last week I got a phone call from my uncle in Southampton. My uncle hasn't been well for some time. He's 84 and he has been a smoker and a drinker all his life so I suppose you could say he's had a good innings, but last time I saw him at Christmas he really did look old and ravaged by time.
So I got a call from him last week saying that Mickey Rooney, his little old cock, was looking like he was on his last legs.
Of course, I dropped everything. I'm of the opinion that however ill my uncle is, it's all his own doing, but when it comes to his poor, innocent little cock, who has breathed in years of cigarette smoke, listened to my uncle's drunken rants and raves, occasionally been kicked and slapped after one of my uncle's mindless benders...
I got there at midnight last Saturday. My uncle looked in a bad way. His cough was so bronchial I thought he would hack up his internal organs.
Uncle Frank led me to the bedroom. I wasn't prepared for the sight I saw.
Uncle's cock was lifeless. So old and wrinkled and lying as limp as an old rag doll. The smell in the room was putrid.
"You could at least have opened a window," I said to Uncle Frank, but I could see there was a deadness in his eyes. He knew his cock was on the way out.
I then realised I was only there to witness the end of a life, not even to nurse the poor thing through its last few miserable days but to merely watch, watch, watch as the light slowly dimmed from what once was a proud, shining cock.
I put one hand on my uncle's shoulder and stroked his cock with the other. There was no response from either, just a low wheeze from Uncle Frank's chest. Mickey Rooney was barely breathing.
He lasted another three days. I left my uncle bereft and drunk. I couldn't do any more for him. I don't think he'll make it to Christmas.
*******
But life goes on, and on returning from Southampton I found some lovely messages from my readers in my inbox. Tom has promised me a picture of his cock which I am looking forward to with anticipation. And Ziggi has correctly guessed the location of this week's cock. Yes, it's Manchester, the cock capital of the North West.
Today's cock belongs to my old school chum, Jeremy Larkson. Jeremy's a vicar! You would never have guessed it if you'd have seen him fifty years ago, but Jeremy got into the religion lark in his mid-thirties and he is now extremely popular with the little old ladies of his flock. They love it when he parades his cock, Sir Cliff, in front of them each Sunday. The highlight of the service is always when Jeremy's cock's head peeps over the pulpit as he rouses the congregation to sing All Things Bright And Beautiful.
"My cock is a gift from God," as Jeremy says.
And I think you'll all agree.
Sir Cliff and his "congregation"
posted by Geoff at 11:24 AM
6 Comments:
Oooh, what a harrowing tale. Fancy your uncle losing his cock like that! I feel really grateful that the same thing didn't happen to the late Mr Slocombe!
Mind you, I have had an awful time with my pussy in the past. Once, it had a horrible infection, was always itching and smelt awful for days. Worse still, all the fur was falling out in clumps! However, I bought some antisceptic cream which I applied to it twice daily, and before long it was right as rain! The fur grew back and is more soft, thick and shiny than ever now. It's a really lovely pussy again!
Hallelujah! I've seen the vicar's cock!
Mrs S - I see you're a woman who knows how to look after her pussy. I've had to rub cream into my cock in the past, too.
MJ - God works in mysterious ways.
Wow - I guessed right! My god I'm so happy and to see the vicar's fabulous cock has made my evening. Sorry about Sir Cliff though :(
Sir Cliff's fine, Ziggi. He's a bit of a devil with the hens if truth be told. They can't get enough of him.
Poor Mickey Rooney, though. It would have been his birthday yesterday, you know.
I'm still waiting for Tom's cock.
Post a Comment
<< Home