Red Leeroy : The Struggle for Power

I have been a bit slack on the blog of late. Apologies. I have been relaxing. Re-charging. Re-something. I went to a destination Spa in Dublin. Nice place. Nice vibes. Hanging around with middle aged alcoholics drying out and having massages. Or is that messages. Or messages about massages? Anyhow it was quite a day.

My favourite part was the mud chamber. A large steel bowl of Canadian mud (filled with magical and mystical properties). So myself and my better half followed the girl into the room and she gave us the run through. “Cover your entire body below the neck in the mud”. She pointed to some paper underwear. “You may wear the disposable underwear if you wish”. She held aloft a thong. “‘ll pass” I said, but immediately cursed myself for missing my chance to don ladies pants in public.

“Then when you are fully covered press this button and enter the chamber” she confidently continued. “But don’t get the mud on your face”. She smiled and left the room. There were loads of other details but I couldn’t remember them as I was thinking about womens paper thongs, and mud in places it wasn’t meant to go. We slapped on the cold brown substance. And as my body became a brown muddy mess I could hear the girls voice in my head. Don’t get it on your face. I paused, logically if the mud was not supposed to go anywhere near my face, and I had passed on the thong. What about the penis? I stood, motionless, a last handful of brown gloop in my palm. Avoid the johnson at all costs I thought to myself, its for the best. So I heaped the rest of the mud on my arms and legs.

My girlfriend turned to press the start button and immediately burst into a fit of laughter. I stood completely blackened except for my pristinely unmuddied cock. She stood amused for a second, “I wish I had a disposable camera”. She chuckled, I looked down at myself, “yeah I wish I had worn ladies underwear”