The Safe Word Is- JESUS!

November 16, 2010 at 4:20 am (Cussed Dumbers, Drunk and disorderly, Sweet sticky things)

The spirit of Christ compels you...

“Oh, Jesus!…”

HUMP 2010 was everything we expected. We laughed, we cried, Dr T about did a monkey-flip during one scene, and I almost found religion in the form of a very naughty nun.

Several months back as I exited the bus at the end of the Hawthorne Bridge, I looked down and saw a silvery crucifix on the sidewalk. It was also a dog whistle, and since I have a dog I can justify my non-religious ass having a symbol of Christianity next to the evil-looking trinkets on my keychain. I thought it looked cool. I wondered how and why it ended up where it did. Was it a sign?

It was probably a coincidence, and in no way related to that crucifix…

The second annual Portland HUMPfest was a hoot. My original date, the hottie dominatrix, backed out at the last minute, so I had an extra ticket. Since it’s not something one would do on a traditional first date, I was leery (pun) of inviting one of the “nice” girls I know. When I told Meg what I was doing Friday night, she said, “That sounds like fun!”

Spontaneity ruled the day. “Ya wanna go? It’s not as creepy as it sounds, and Dr T would be chaperoning. However, you *would* be going to a porno movie with two dirty old men.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

Gotta love a girl with a sense of adventure.

The plan was to meet up with Dr T at the bar after retrieving paychecks, but he was nowhere to be found. I left messages with everyone to have him call me, and went to Meg’s. On the way I stopped at the liquor store. Since it was Dr T’s birthday party, I bought a pint of Jameson. Meg is partial to Captain Morgan, but will drink pretty much anything. She was nursing a can of Four Loko when I arrived. That’ll get the party started.

Having two capable designated drinkers, I took a couple deep breaths in the skunk patch and popped a small handful of the Porno Queen’s Percocets. I’d been having a ball running all over downtown, and dragged Meg with me to get paid. She met most of the gang, and we ditched them to go to the bank. Still no word from Dr T. We checked the bar; nothing. I stashed his bottle of whiskey in the back room at work, along with my backpack, camera, etc… Traveling light tonight.

On the way back to Meg’s, we stopped again at the liquor store. She wanted a couple airline bottles for the movie. The clerk gave me a wide-eyed smile and a sniff. I’d just been there for a pint about an hour ago. I gave her no grief, and spent the last two dollars of that Hamilton on a Megabucks with a kicker.

Meg sidled up for a look. “You gonna win?”

“Look, it’s got the birthdays of my daughter, Mizelle, and my Japanese foreign exchange student,” I said. “And 46 on both lines. You’re forty-six, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’ve already won. That’s a lot of coincidences.”

We went back to Meg’s hotel room to wait. Time was a-fleeting, and still no word from Dr T. I called the Transit Tracker. A bus was due in nine minutes. It was time to go to the movies, Doctor or no.

My cell phone rang. Guess who? “Well, THERE the hell you are!” I answered.

“Yeah, I’m at the store. How soon you wanna go?”

“There’s a bus in nine minutes, er, seven minutes now. There’s a pint of whiskey hidden in my work shirt in the back room. Fetch it and get your ass on the bus, pronto!”

Neither of us was accustomed to me barking orders, but he was compliant. Maybe the earlier threat of a dominatrix-administered spanking and boot-licking had him in a subservient mood. “Yes sir!”

Meg and I stumbled to the bus stop. Her fuck-me boots had been replaced with sneakers, and the happy pills were keeping me slightly off-kilter. We certainly looked like we’d been drinking. We boarded and joined Dr T in the middle of the bus. “Let the meeting of the Dirty Old Men’s Club commence!” I proclaimed to a bus full of weary commuters.

The whiskey remained hidden at work. Giggles had popped out of nowhere and followed Dr T like a hungry puppy the whole time he was at the store. “It won’t go to waste,” he reassured. “And it’s not like it’s gonna spoil…”

The theater was hopping, two lines formed. Will Call (us) and the ones hoping to get in because of no-shows. (Them.) We entered quickly, but the theater was already almost full. There was still a half-hour until showtime.

We watched the crowd swell. This year’s crowd seemed more attuned than last year’s. Last year’s reminded me of middle-class America out looking for a thrill; this year’s crowd looked like sex industry workers. It was not a bad thing.

Wm. Steven Humphrey took the stage at Cinema 21 to a rousing ovation. He went through the rules, pointing to the goons who would be smashing any phones or cameras to tiny bits if found in use. He warned us about the upcoming films, with the following reassurances: No poop, kids or animals, “because they smell!”

He went on, “Was anyone here last year?”

A smattering of applause and a few cat calls. “You’ll be happy to know there are no meat hooks this year.”

The collective groan told me that word of the meat hook had got around.

The lights went down. It was showtime.

I will spare recounting the details of most of the films, but give the artists credit for the fine, funny, hot-as-hell films. The ones that struck me most featured tattooed dykey types. A spiked plumber (female) with a tool-belt full of sex toys was a fave, as was the two lesbians doing “A Fistful of Love.” I saw fire-play, electric shock play, and a LOT of gay sex. Meg took it in stride. I resisted the urge to play with her leg.

Toward the end of the show came the one I’d heard about, “The Nun and The Bum.” A super-sexy Sister in a habit (and not much) else was masturbating to a picture of Jesus in a scene almost too sacrilegious even for me. After squirting on the Bible, she decided she needed to do the Lord’s work and help the less fortunate. She went down to the Hawthorne Bridge and found a homeless guy to give a BJ to. What did the nun do that turned Dr T into a gymnast?

Mr Bum seemed to appreciate her particular form of ministry. He felt the spirit move him. She gave him head, and fucked him in broad daylight in a corner near the public bathrooms. Though he paid attention to her, she felt he should get to know the Lord even more personally, more intimately. She took his fully erect penis in her hand, pulled out her rosary with the shiny metal crucifix, and jammed the crucifix into his peehole.

Dr T’s back straightened and he turned sideways with an “AAAAAHH!” The folks in the theater jumped in a way I hadn’t seen since the hand came out of the ground in Carrie. Any thoughts of horny sucked up inside me like a turtle on meth. On screen? The nun was roto-rootering his urethra, and Mr Bum still managed to ejaculate all over her face. Yikes.

The Nun and The Bum got my vote for best kink. I forget which others I voted for; my brain was a bit scrambled after seeing that poor man get corn-dogged. It’s been several days, and I still cringe when I think about it.

The rest of the night went smoothly. After fetching his Jameson, Dr T, Meg and I walked around downtown. We contemplated Voodoo Doughnuts, but the line was stupid.

An unconventional yet successful first date.

I walked Meg home, went upstairs long enough to wish her a good night, and promptly walked another two miles taking the long way home. It’s probably a good thing I don’t have constant access to happy pills. I can walk forever, but I’m going to be sore tomorrow.

Not as sore as Mr Bum. Note to self: NEVER leave keyring in close proximity to junk. That Jesus is a scary fella…

1 Comment

  1. friedeggsandwich said,

    *intercourse* lol

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