A big yawn ended the day for Johnston Jones (nicknamed Constant Jones by females during a college groupie). He began drifting off to sleep in bed alone and thought there was no comfort in being left alone at nights.
In recent years as a successful young business executive, Johnston had escorted numerous great looking women to social events but once those young women got what they wanted – another nick on the back band of their favorite bra – they dumped him. That notch was Johnston's creative theory why the mainly blondes with big boobies were gone in the morning never to return his calls and if he met them again they couldn't remember who he was. He was a 'one fuck and he's history' guy.
He struggled to break out of that mould.
Four years after college graduation he came across a redhead who actually had memory recall. He met her on a street corner and asked why had she dropped him like a dick, er brick.
She took thirty seconds to explain before walking off.
"You have a beautiful dick of approved length and thickness that allows a woman to recall she's been fucked next morning without any legacy from over-sized pounding. But from the opening moment of our date, you talked passionately about screwing and then after screwing there was no conversation because you had fallen asleep."
She scowled. "You collected me for the date driving a 15-year old dented and rusting Ford that I felt ashamed to be seen in. We drove off in that jalopy after dinner to park in the unromantic setting of a lit and empty cark park that you said allowed us to see anyone approaching. You had me to pay half the food and wine bill and to make a contribution to gas and had the audacity to ask had I brought condoms. Although keen to be fucked, I'd never felt so humiliated and misused and at the end of that evening I decided I never wished to see you again. So please fuck off."
"Oh Floralina."
"Yes?"
"Any complaints about the fucking?"
"No you were more than adequate."
She hurried off, crossing against a no crossing light, but because she had great tits only the female drivers hooted their horns and shouted abuse.
Johnston felt depressed and thought perhaps he required better finishing techniques. He returned to the office and went to the personnel department to resign. He figured if he was out of work that would give him such a shake-up that he would lift his act by two or three notches and in the process be more appealing to women.
He waited twenty minutes before he was directed to the assistant manager of Personnel who scowled at him and said, "Oh it's you."
Obviously she was one of those people who couldn't remember a name but never forgot a face. He thought without a memory for names to put to faces she was misplaced to be working in Personnel. He recalled upsetting her when her joined the company and she signed him in. He asked for a date and she said what for? He'd told her and her face turned purple and she said get out of her office or she'd call the cops.
"Yes," Mrs Oliphant snapped.
"I wish to resign."
"Oh excellent. Reason?"
"I'm a failure; I fail to appeal to women."
The mother of three fell into motherly mode, unable to resist.
"Oh you poor man. Facing a life limited to masturbation at your young age must seem like a death sentence?"
Eh?
Johnston had no idea what she was on about but sensed it could mean more termination money and said yes and he had contemplated jumping off a bridge but when he got there the riverbed was bone dry.
"Oh that type of thinking is one of the first signs of stress. This is what I suggest. Either we pay you a $5000 stress payment as part of your severance from our employment or we admit you for two weeks at the Sunnyside Rejuvenation Farm and undergo its Stress Recovery Program at our expense, a cost of approximately $10,000. You then may reapply here for a position and when reemployed pick up your current fringe benefits without penalty."
"I choose to go to the funny farm."
"Johnston it would be appreciated if you think positively about the Sunnyside restoration center."
Johnston arrived at the funny farm and the gates clanged shut behind him after the cab driver had accepted payment plus a big tip. The cabbie took off his cap and gave a short farewell speech as if he were at a graveside, making Johnston feeling quite morbid. Johnston received an immediate medical assessment and the major conclusion was he was morbid and sexually unfulfilled, having answered the question what was his most recent profound sexual experience. He'd replied, "Watching Floralina walking off with a swaying ass against a red no crossing light."
The assessment team decided he had a fixation on women's asses and thought a small box of Florentine chocolates could get him whatever he wished in a Red Light district.
He was assigned a single room and a portly porter accompanied Johnston to his room and left a pint of milk and a gross of condoms that Johnston thought was a bit gross. He would have preferred chocolates.
Fifteen minutes later a nude woman entered his room wearing only a nurse's cap and she asked him which would he prefer, her ass or a box of chocolates? He answered and she flounced out angrily but left a box of chocolates with the delighted funny farm inmate.
The two weeks went rapidly and soon most of the nurses at the institution had identified Johnston as their favorite patient. All he required was fifteen minutes of anal sex in return for a box of chocolates. Those nurses took turns and got fat on chocolates while Johnston believed one fuck (anal) a day keeps the doctor away because after the admittance medial check, no doctor came near him unless a female doctor wearing only a nurse's cap was one of those women who bent over for fifteen minutes daily to earn a box of chocolates.
There was no discharge procedure. A portly porter arrived and told Johnston his cab was waiting outside the main gates and escorted Johnston to the gates where he alleged he would have bent over for a box of chocolates. Johnston couldn't get into the cab quick enough. He knew he was cured because he felt cured. Cured from what he had no idea. Stress perhaps?
Two hours after he arrived home, one of those nurses from the funny farm, er the Sunnyside Rejuvenation Farm, visited him.
"Are you on outpatient's patrol?" he asked, answering her tentative door knock and vaguely recognizing her face but her hips seemed very familiar.
"Um no silly. I'm looking for romantic attachment. I'm from Sunnyside, Nurse Caroline Dickey, and I have unforgettable memories of your dick sliding silkily up my butt."
"Er what?"
"Sliding silkily up my butt."
God never in his adult life had a female who was not a hooker had spoken so sexually open and exhilaratingly as this to Johnston. He immediately visualized his torpedo-like dick roaring 50 miles an hour into Caroline's cunt.
"Johnston, speak to me," Nurse Dickey said, plunging into professional mode. "Your face has turned puce and your mouth has turned as slack as a whore's pussy after a night as the only woman at a football team's party."
"I need air," he said weakly.
She passed wind accidentally and he murmured thanks, in the process endearing himself to Nurse Dickey.
"You're not remarkably good looking," he said, a tad snootily. "How are your tits?"
"All right I think," she said confidently, and unbuttoning her shirt and pulling down her bra released a pair of boobies that Johnston immediately thought would look prime specimens mounted on the wall of any trophy hunter's mansion.
"Th-that's prime meat," he gurgled, forcing Caroline to look at her toes modestly and dribble.
"I have cunt meat equally as good," she whispered. "You'll want evidence of my claim?"
"To be sure baby," he said, sucking his thumb to avoid overheating into meltdown. "But first let's get a drink into you and a couple of beers into me."
