I wiped the dirt off of it and stuffed it into my pocket as I found my way back to my car. Patti's mom had already driven away; there was no opportunity to negotiate a second chance -- it was her way or the highway, so to speak. So the dilemma is mine alone: Would I wear the plastic device this week to obtain a 2nd date with Patti? Or admit the defeat that I had failed, when all my buddies had apparently scored with Patti?
I weighed the pros and cons all the way home.
I had worn it uncomfortably this evening; I can't imagine wearing it for a week. But I'm not about to give up that easily and be the butt of my buddies' jokes.
"Hey guess who couldn't score with Patti Putout? Harold, you've gotta be the biggest loser ever. What's the matter, Harold? Couldn't she find your little pee-pee?"
No, it's not ending that easily. I can handle a little discomfort for now, in the interests of scoring with Little Miss FarmGirl on Saturday night.
Arriving home, I took the cage into the bathroom, washed it off with hot soapy water. Even used my toothbrush on it. I don't need any cornfield germs crawling up my penis!
Bam, bam, bam! My younger sister is beating down the bathroom door.
"Harold, c'mon, you've been in there for a half an hour. I need to get in there!"
"Hold on, Sis. I'll be out in a minute!"
I rushed to push my balls through the ring. Owww. And slip my penis under and cap it off with the tube. And now the moment of truth..."
"Hurry up, Harold! I've gotta pee! Stop playing with your ding-dong and let me in!"