Heeeyho Readers! It's always great to laugh, isn' tit?
This is going to be a titonic story. If you are under 18 I'll need to see your identittie, please.
I'll fast-forward this story to the point of interest, but if you want to check the whole insanity consider checking my book, Tales of a Patagonian Journey. From all the weird situations I've put myself into, this one is always fresh in my mammary. After much tweaking it, I hope this nipple story isn't inappropriate. It goes like this:
Photo by Hello I'm Nik on Unsplash
After weeks of hitchhiking without money in Patagonia, I get to the ‘Camping Municipal de Perito Moreno’. A plump man laughed behind an old computer screen in the office, his paunch escaping under the shirt after each new quasi heart attack.
“Buenas tardes,” I announced while swinging the backpack off the shoulders and banging it on the ground. The fat man stopped laughing; I noticed he was watching videos on the internet. “I’m traveling without money, hum, I wonder if...”
“Without money? I don’t believe, hombre.” he mocked.
“For real… heh… I wonder if you exchange work for the night…”
“Work? For a night?” he laughed. I kind of liked his ironic humor and affable face, but something told me the offer wasn’t unique.
“I can help cleaning or something” I insisted.
Just as I was about to convince the fat man, two more tramps entered the office and didn't even bother to offer shit in exchange for the night.
“We don’t mean to bother, boss. We are broke and wondering if you can’t help us out for a night,” announced the guy in a cornrow hairstyle. The fat guy busted in laughter.
“And now you two as well? What more? Incredible. See, this guy here,” he pointed to me, “no money too.” I shrugged. “Hombres, we’ll have to wait for… Ah! Here he is.” An unshaved forty-something year old man stumped inside the wooden room drinking his maté. He looked at the scene.
“Boss,” continued the fat man, “we have here three broke men, they need a night. At least this one here offered to work, but these two…”
“Broke? Hah! What should we do, Juarez? What work can you do, chico?”
“Me? Maintenance, cleaning, gardening…” I said.
“Should we put them to clean the toilets, Juarez?” the boss asked the fat man; fat man reserved to another laugh. The boss finished drinking his maté, then taped me on the shoulder.
“You all been on the road. Get inside, have a shower, no worries. We can’t give you jobs, but won’t let you out there. Come on.” he finished.
The campsite expanded over a vivid grass area with shades below some eucalyptus planted around a central building, where the kitchen was located. The showers steamed the bathroom, and the pressure was enough to rip out the stickiness of my carcass. I must have lost, without exaggeration, a few kilos on the cleaning process. What's more, for the first time I managed to trim the little bush considered as beard, and that rejuvenated me twenty years. Thinner, younger, and clean, the ultimate gift from God came as a grotesque plate of pasta with tuna followed by a full night's sleep. What a joy!
Calm your tits! We'll get to the boobies.
I jumped as soon as the birds sang. Life outside suggested a new round of epicness was ‘bout to start. And indeed, so listen to this. Whenever I speak about that morning on the 28th, people titter and jerk their heads, but it is true, believe it or not. Life on the road is wild sometimes.
Since the next cleaning opportunity was unknown, I grabbed a towel, hygiene kit, and lastly, slid into the slippers in anticipation to delight on a meditative shower. The cabins were side-by-side with a plastic curtain covering the front, like any ordinary gym locker room. I picked the last one, for the sake of privacy, and set about my own business. What's new about this, you may say. However, at that moment, the locker room filled with women voices speaking at the speed of light. What the fuck. A shuffling sound of slippers headed my way as voices grew louder and echoed on the ceramic walls. This is the men’s room. Why are there women in the men’s room? Is this the men’s room? A gelid sensation of doubt struck me. Nah, they might have mistaken the room. As the ladies approached the cabins exactly next to mine, I no longer believed they had mistaken the goddamn room.
“Sorry. We won’t take long,” a middle-aged feminine voice shouted after perceiving my presence.
I rinsed the shampoo and pulled the towel out of the bench on the corridor like a ninja. From the space between the curtain and the wall, I detected one of the younger ladies peeking in search of my nudity. Fuck this. I don’t care... we are all naked strangers anyway. From that moment on naturalism vibes captured me. I opened the curtain dressed in my underwear and proudly picked the rest of my clothing, ignoring the opposite sex. The corridor was filled with women gossiping, waiting for their turn, and not giving a flying duck about my presence. Breasts wobbled as free as they came to life. Out of respect I tried not looking at them naked ladies, but how not to, when female breasts are dangling right on your face.
“You finished using here?” the fortyish-year-old lady asked; her two teardrop, dark-nippled breasts looking at me.
“Amm, y-eees,” I flinched.
I felt lost on that madness of orgiastic proportions. I pulled my trousers up and dashed out of view; the ladies continued their business.
After revising this story I come to the realization that without nipples this story would be pointless. The experience that day, with all those boobs, felt like drinking Whiskey: two is ok, a dozen is way too much. {laughs}
I hope you've enjoyed.
Peace.
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Access Link: https://www.amazon.com/dp/6500272773?
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~Love ya all,
Disclaimer: The author of this post is a convict broke backpacker, who has travelled more than 10.000 km hitchhiking and more than 5.000 km cycling. Following him may cause severe problems of wanderlust and inquietud. You've been warned.