One night in Minneapolis I went to the Brass Rail (a real cruisey hookup bar) and struck up a conversation with a cute group of guys in the corner by the play room. I told them I was from out of town and was a first timer there.
“NEW MEAT, NEW MEAT, GRAB THE RAIL!” they began chanting over and over.
I grabbed the rail rakishly and the largest man in the group, Brutus, bent me over the rail and pulled my winter pants down (it was -15° out be I had checked my parka and galoshes in at the door).
I looked back to see him lubing up a very bulbous 8″ wrist thick c***. I reached for a pocket in my vest for my trusty Pig Sweat Poppers and began to take a huff but just then Brutus pushed my head down violently and I dropped my bottle of poppers over the rail. I would need to do this without my super powers.
Brutus nearly broke my O-Ring gasket as he slid that meaty hog in but I did as I was told. As Brutus began to shudder and unleash his macho mudslide I looked back politely but what I saw shocked me: a line of 15-25 Minneapolisonians ready to welcome the newcomer penally, me, Corvallus Bronson Winslow III.
After I walked the 3 miles back to my hotel I got inside and decided I’d carried all those men’s loads long enough, I sat on the toilet and instead of liquid their loads came out frozen like one of those Vanilla jello pudding pops that N***** Bill Cosby used to eat.
Just an old story I wanted to share.
CBW3
