Flywheel dates from 2013. He is certainly unaware of the legend that is the Wang-Ka.
Yes, Flywheel, why did you report this? Its entertaining and I’m pretty sure its all true. I used to know someone who worked in adult store and some of the stories he told me sounded much like this one. Master Wang-Ka tells it so much better, though.
Please Master Wang-Ka… Don’t leave us hanging here…!
And, Flywheel, simply… … … Why?
It’s pretty crappy that everyone is threatening Flywheel when it’s Master Wang-Ka who decided to stop the story all by himself. He’s been here longer than Flywheel; he’s a big boy who can realize that Flywheel didn’t know what this wall of text Penthouse Letter was all about.
He’s responding to Flywheels’s report and waiting for a mod ruling.
But Flywheel is not a mod. There is absolutely no reason to stop the story, especially when it’s likely that Flywheel didn’t even realize who the OP was.
I’m not accusing anyone of anything. Am I in violation of anything? I’m tryin’ to be considerate here, and I don’t wanna flirt with the banhammer…
- Because long time posters who understand board culture might take being reported seriously and take the high road until the situation gets resolved.
- Because on the surface, it could appear that the reporting poster is being a punk for reasons I could not speculate about, and am anxiously awaiting an explanation of.
- Because holding up a fun story pisses people off in a visceral way. MW-K is the defendant in a case brought by Flywheel. Why would we threaten a defendant if we don’t believe he was committing a transgression of any sort? Assuming he was threatened, which I don’t see anywhere.
- What, do you think of anything longer than the sound effect words in your comic books as walls of text, too?
- Penthouse would love to have a story as well written so far.
- The salacious details of the story are sort of beside the point, but necessary for an accurate picture. Most adults understand this, and just avoid subjects they find objectionable to their quaking, Lilly white, unprotected sensibilities.
- It doesn’t matter who the OP is in this scenario. Although MW-K is a righteous dude.
- I want the rest of the damn story. If someone snatched a book out of my hand I’d go on about that too.
I got a story in Penthouse, once!
It was pure fiction, tho, and not at all funny. Still got the issue!
Awright, I’ll finish as soon as the SO is off the computer…
Well, get the rest of the story written, and then when you get the all-clear, you can just post it right away. Because some of us are eagerly awaiting…
I WILL get banned if I post the story from Penthouse. Twin blondes, a fur-lined birdbath, a jar of peanut butter, and a live gopher? That’s illegal in four states!
…all right. Enjoy. If I get banned, at least I’ll have gone out with a bang.
So to speak.
Now wherethehell was I? Oh, yeah, two ladies…
…which brings us to the time the two drunk women showed up.
I pegged them as being in their late thirties. They staggered around oohing and ahhing and giggling at the various rubber obscenities and leather harnesses and costume sections and novelties. They were like bulls in a china shop to the regular clientele. I kind of got the impression that Juan and Ollie in particular did not approve of them. They were loud. They lacked* class.*
Naturally, they got interested in what was in the back room. They asked Winnie what the back room was all about. Winnie replied, “Well, you find an empty booth, and you can go in and lock the door and then you put tokens in the slot and it’ll show you dirty movies.”
The blonde woman did not seem approving of this… but was intrigued. The brunette, on the other hand, insisted that this experience HAD to be tested.
The blonde was unconvinced. “There’s other men in there, too,” she said uneasily. “What if someone … tries something?”
“We have security on duty,” smiled Winnie, glancing at me. “No one will bother you.”
The blonde looked at me. “Who’s gonna protect us from security, then?” she said, wide eyed. The brunette giggled and told her to lighten up. They bought a couple bucks worth of tokens and staggered, arm in arm, back into the darkness. Winnie looked at me sharply. Get back there and keep them out of trouble!
They stumbled past the two or three guys at the Big Board and entered #5 together. One of the guys at the Board glanced hopefully at #4. I walked over and stood at the door to #4, daring anyone to even TRY to enter.
No one did. In #5, I heard a token clink into the cashbox, and the sound came on. Someone had left Hot All-Male Police Traffic Stops with Cash Malone playing; there were plenty of moans of pleasure, but they were all male. This went on for quite some time, actually, before it apparently occurred to either woman to change the channel.
The guys at the Big Board went back to the usual routine. I stood at the door to #4. If a couple of society matrons got startled or upset while at a porn shop, they’d surely call the cops. Therefore, I would see to it that they were not startled or upset, except possibly by the dirty movies, no more.
Until I saw Winnie backlit at the doorway, frantically waving at me. She’d left the till untended? Uh-oh. I headed for the front.
Trio of drunk frat boys. Usually not too troublesome, but these guys were seriously staggering drunk, enough so that I wondered how they’d driven a vehicle from the bar to the porn shop without damaging the landscape and its inhabitants. I sighed, and put on my best “Sonny Corleone Joins The Hells Angels” impression, and moved in.
They were good fellows, and not anxious to make trouble, and moved on quickly. But it was a good three or four minutes before I was able to get back into the back room. And sure enough, when I got back there, the door to #4 was closed and locked.
The sound in #5 had stopped. The soundtrack to All Male Police was coming from #4. Were those women still inside #5? Well, someone was; the OCCUPIED light was on.
I glanced up at the Big Board; Ollie was up there. I strolled up and whispered, “Who’s in number five?”
Ollie thought about it, and whispered back, “Hassan, I think.”
Wuh-oh. Hassan. The exhibitionist. He was what we’d call an omnisexual; he’d sleep with anything if it was pretty enough and he was eager enough, and he was not noted for his good judgment. I went back to the aisle between #4 and #5, fully expecting to hear a scream, any minute now…
Instead, there was silence.
Well, not quite silence. Straining my ears in the quietude, I could hear whispers. Female. From #5. I leaned in and listened closer.
“What’s he doing?”
"Nothing, yet… no, he’s running his hand up and down the front of his pants. "
Eh? How would she know that? Unless SHE was the one staring through the glory hole… well, at least Hassan hadn’t done anything weird yet…
“Oh-my-god, Helen, he’s opening his fly.”
“Gasp!”
“Oh, this is… oh, my.”
“Oh, my god. What if he can see us back, through the hole?”
“He’s not looking at us. He’s watching the movie.”
“Which one is he watching?”
“A gay movie. I think we’re safe.”
Apparently, it did not occur to the ladies that if I could hear them, Hassan practically had them in stereo. He switched the channel, through Big Butt Babes, Romancing The Bone, and The Best Of Bubbles LaRue… to… what was that?
Memory shifted and clicked. It was Marvelous Red-Hot MILFs.
Ohhhh, crap.
“Ohmigod! I can see his TINKUS!”
“His WHAT? Let me see! MOVE!”
Scuffle sounds.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“What’s wrong with what?”
“His TINKUS! It LOOKS wrong!”
Scuffle sounds.
“How many tin-- eh, penises have you ever SEEN, Delores?” whispered Helen, scornfully. “He’s uncircumcised, that’s all.”
Brief silence.
“I’ve seen plenty of penises, I’ll have you know,” said Delores. “I’ve just… never seen one… like that, is all.” Pause. “Is he – what’s he – IS HE–?”
“Oh, my ghod. I think he is. He’s … getting bigger.”
At this point, I clearly heard Hassan moan. Sigh, I thought. Goddamn drama queen…
“Oh-my-ghod, I am watching a strange man touch himself. This is just sick.”
“I don’t see you getting off your knees and out the door yet.”
“This is sick. You’re sick. I’m sick.”
“But ain’t it fun? Ohmighod, he’s taking his PANTS off!”
I began to get irritated that* I * couldn’t see anything. This kind of running commentary must be driving Hassan crazy; he loved being watched, but how often would anyone provide a blow-by-blow and color commentary? So to speak, I mean…
“Oh, my lord. He’s … excited.”
“Where did he get that oil?” said Delores, suddenly. “Did he bring that oil in WITH him?”
“I think it’s likely,” said Helen. “I bet he knew he was going to be doing this before he came here.”
“Was he expecting an audience?”
“I bet he was! Why else would this hole be here?”
THAT one took me by surprise, and I had to gag back a laugh.
For several minutes, the commentary continued. Periodically, Hassan would provoke a new round of chatter by moaning or whimpering. Judging from the commentary, Hassan apparently also lost his T-shirt at some point, and Delores apparently simply could not believe she was on her knees in a public place watching a beautiful nude man *[redacted. I ain’t THAT anxious to get banned.]
*
And then, suddenly, there was silence. And then, a rather sharp gasp from one of the women.
“What?” Silence. “Helen, what is it?”
Pause.
“Helen, WHAT IS IT?”
“He’s … he’s looking at me. He’s looking right at me……”
“What?”
“He’s staring right at me, right through the hole….”
“And he’s still … touching himself?”
"Ah… ah… " whimpered Helen, apparently hypnotized by whatever it was she was seeing.
*“UuhhhAAAANuhhhh!” *moaned Hassan.
There was a sudden, rapid scuffling sound, and someone began fumbling with the latch to #5. I stepped back to avoid getting hit by the door… and backed into a wall that hadn’t been there a minute ago. I glanced back. What the hell?
There were eight guys piled up behind me.
Arthur, Juan, Curtis, Ollie, Mad Charlie, Jailbait Brian, the Tattoo Guy, even Francis, who had abandoned his beloved Coke machine. Everyone in the building except Winnie had scrunched in behind me, desperate to hear the show.
The door banged open, and the blonde staggered out…
…and stopped cold, seeing all of us standing there gawking with our mouths hanging open. Hers fell open, too, and we all stood there for a moment. By now, I had figured out that this was Delores. I felt fortunate that she likely didn’t know that an open unspeaking mouth is pornstore signal for “I want to blow someone.”
Past her, in Booth #5, Helen remained on her knees, hypnotized by the glory of the hole. From my vantage point, all I could see was white light pouring from the hole, illuminating and backlighting her as she knelt, haloed by pornfire, as if kneeling in some twisted confessional, paralyzed by the spectacle of it all.
Delores stood there, mouth hanging open. “Helen…” she breathed.
“AAAAAAAH!” howled Hassan.
Helen shook her head, and tried to stand up, and failed miserably, collapsing onto the little seat. She was gasping. And then she noticed Hairy Security Biker Man and the Gay Narnia Tabernacle Choir, standing outside the door. Her hand flew to her mouth. Meanwhile, Delores staggered backwards and accidentally sat on Helen.
At this point, the Choir and I instantly dispersed and vanished into the shadows, other booths, the store proper, and for all I know, Gay Narnia.
A moment later, the two women regained their composure and left the store. Quickly. Juan noted that they still had a buck’s worth of tokens stacked up on the seat in #5.
A while later, Hassan emerged from #4, once again nattily attired, and grinning like the cat that ate the thousand dollar canary. From over near the big board, I heard Arthur say, snarkily, “Well, I bet Pancho’s never gonna forgive himself for missing this.”
Turns out, he didn’t. Because shortly before the end of Winnie’s shift, Helen came back, alone, wearing different clothes… a dress, this time, rather than the slacks she’d had on earlier. She made eye contact with no one, but quietly bought five bucks worth of tokens from Winnie, and casually strode back into the back room… and began perusing the Big Board.
At three, Winnie and I left. I still regret not hanging around to see what happened after that, because I heard SO many conflicting reports afterwards…
Sigh. And my tale is done.
Remember me fondly, Dopers…
Seriously? That’s how it ends? Somebody write an ending.
And as Adama lay there dying…he realized that this was the Cylon’s plan all along…
“Gay Narnia” made my day. Thanks, man.
And I think the ending is find. It came just after the climax of the story, as is appropriate.
Bravo! Encore?
Sigh. Everybody’s a critic.
Truth is, I left at the end of Winnie’s shift. I have NO idea what happened after that.
Well, that’s not true. I do. Regrettably, the actual ending of the story is sorta multiple choice, depending on whose version you take as canon…
Bravo! Bravo! (stamps, whistles, claps wildly)
Who, in your experience, is the most credible? Tell their version.