The Meat Between the Buns; A Story About Pure Ecstasy

I have finally settled in back to my normal routine after engorging my sexual deviance over two weeks ago with a little something I like to call the ‘meat between the buns’. If you are faint at heart or thought, like me, that the movie was actually called Puss in Boobs and locked your doors when you heard a million children saw it opening night you might want to turn off your computer, this is about to get nasty. Please note that the names of many involved have been changed to protect the innocent and deter the sexually inexperienced.
When I informed a close friend of mine, we will call her Limberly, of my intentions there were some immediate and unpleasant reactions. Our relationship had been through a lot, but it seemed what I was suggesting we do was simply more than we could handle. Take into account the number of absolute strangers that needed to be involved and the risk of catching something weighed heavy on both of us. What I needed was someway of showing Limberly that what I wanted to do was not only safe, but something that millions of Americans enjoyed at isolated times during the year and we were quickly coming upon the ‘season’. I reached for my computer and to the internet and based on what we found her fears were not unwarranted. The videos we graphic. What if I couldn’t go back to the way it was ‘before the meat’? What if I had a bad reaction and needed to spend hours on the toilet? What if I became addicted? As much as I love Limberly I was willing to take many of these risks in hopes of obtaining that moment of pure bliss. Sure I pictured my addicted body cowering in an alley with everything lost, all alone covered in sweat longing for one last hit. I had to be strong.
So on that fateful day Limberly gently let me slide to the dark side giving me a personal moment to enjoy the journey that lay ahead. It was everything I could have expected and more. A sweet aroma punctured the air driving out the surrounding noise as a succulent and salty taste danced across my tongue. It was ecstasy.
Today, days later the moment is as fresh in my mind as the day my lips embraced the sinful delight that can only be know to two people that have experienced this much together. Would I do it again? In a heart beat. What would I change? I say the more the merrier. Do I feel like a gallant warrior returning from the battlefield soaked in victory? No doubt. Would I recommend this to my friends? I think the simplest response…Try the McRibb for yourself and tell me you don’t feel the same way.

One Line, Two Registers

My McRibb orgasm will have to take a back seat as I relay my encounter just minutes before I even ordered the famed sandwich. At the crux of this divergence is the system commonly known as ‘one line, two registers’.
The system is complex, one that has undoubtedly caused strife throughout human history. As archeologist still struggle to translate ancient texts and hieroglyphs one thing is clear, even the Egyptians understand the importance of order and lines. Important enough to dedicate the burial walls of their most famed figures with stories of men standing front to back patiently waiting for their turn. My, how we have regressed.

It was clear from the moment I entered McDonalds the ordering and receiving process was in pure chaos. The gentlemen in front of me made the right call and opted to apply the ‘one line, two register’ system which was quickly executed by myself and the man behind me. Moments later a large woman appeared and quickly rebuked our orderly system jumping right behind a family near the register and right in front of me. I tapped her on the shoulder and informed her ‘ma’am we are all waiting in line here for the next register’. Big mistake. She turned quickly (well quick for someone her size) swinging her big bear arm in my direction screaming, ‘no you idiots are in that line, I am in this line’. Oh it’s on. ‘I know this may be hard for your pea brain to understand but we are all waiting patiently for the next register. Clearly you skipped a couple of grades, 4 through 12, and have a better system than me or this Doctor behind me (he was in scrubs), but I can tell from the sight of you, you need this a lot more than we do so please go ahead.’ This did not go over well…with her. She was irate. I smiled and the doctor behind was laughing hysterically as the employees watched in blissful terror. Bitch just got Hamburglared.
She ordered, got her food and left before I got up to the next register to an amused manager. The doctor behind me offered to let me take the next register but I thought it better to keep my distance from the banshee and quipped it was probably safer for fear of losing a finger if they are out of icecream”. His response ‘you made my day’.