The Bad Boys' Soft Boys' Lonely Hearts Club - The Full Package

The Shitti Date ~ Part 3

"C'mon, baby, put it in your mouth," I say, caressing the top of Hayden's head.

"I don't know, bear," he says, staring at me hesitantly while grabbing the shaft, "it's bigger than I thought... and spongy. I don't think I can fit it in."

I grab his chin and give him a loving smile. "Just the tip, then."

Hayden squeezes it gently, making some of the translucent liquid seeps out of it. "And it's so moist, too."

The confidence in his eyes wavers as the pure girth of the mass between his hands taunts him. "Well, yeah. It's pretty hot. It's gonna leak for a while."

I can see him lick his lips in anticipation as he puts his face closer and closer. Just a few more inches. "It kinda smells funny," says Hayden.

He needs a little more prodding. I grab the back of his head and push him closer. "Babe, put it in your mouth before it gets soft. I thought you wanted this."

"No, no... I do!" he says with wavering in his voice. "But... I've never done this before."

"There's a first time for everything," I say. "I'm just glad to be here for your first time."

There's an audible gulp as Hayden closes his eyes in resolve. "Alright, here I come."

His meaty lips open with a line of dribble bridging the two. I pull his fair gently as I guide his open mouth to the tip of the brown stick. His tongue sticks out over his lower lips as he makes contact with the tip. He recoils while scrunching his face.

"It's super salty!" he says, wiping his tongue.

"Well, that's kinda the point," I say. "But, trust me, it's gonna be better when you put it in your mouth."

Hayden looks at me hesitantly, then back at my stick as I wave it playfully in front of him. "Okay, if you say so..." His soft lips part was as I once again gently led the tip toward his mouth. He maybe gets an inch deep before I feel him gag. Almost immediately he bites down, taking a chunk out of the tip, which he proceeds to spit on the floor.

"It's even worse!" yells Hayden between gags and hacks as I contain my laughter. Seeing the prissy "too good for fair food" Hayden bite down on a corn-dog for the first time is priceless. Well, he made me eat a marshmallow onion sandwich that one time, so, payback, bitch.

"Babe, it's just a corn dog. It ain't the end of the world."

"The fuck it is!" he yells. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't there supposed to be a fucking sausage inside the fried dough?"

"Of course! That's the point of a corn-dog. A dog in a corn, or something."

"Brother, my tongue didn't touch no sausage."

"Look, I know it isn't a Calabrian sausage, but..." I begin to say, but even a cursory glance at the "corn dog" reveals that what lies beyond the bread is...more bread. "Hey! There's no sausage in this bun!"

"No shit," says Hayden. "That's just a sponge full of oil. Hey, you!"

We are standing in the middle of the fairground, with food stands flanking us amidst mountains of garbage and radioactive barrels serving as in-impromptu chairs and tables. A thin man in a wife-beater—as yes, I know it's also called an undershirt, but this man literally looks like a wife-beater—thin mustache and gold chains around his neck squatting next to a food stand while drinking some murky brown liquid that I very much doubt it's sweet tea. And yes, of course he's wearing Adidas track pants. I don't know why you have to ask that when it's a given.

Of course, only someone as sketchy-looking as he could be the chef behind this horrible atrocity. And Hayden is about to rectify it as he makes a bee-line right towards him.