The Secret Life of Sheldon Petitoolbyuseraeo©
With apologies to Mr. Thurber
"I'm going in!" The bartender's voice resonated in the newly emptied bar. Only the bouncer/barback was on hand to witness the ravaging of the drunken lesbian.
"You can't do it, Petitool. The bitch is a lesbian. She don't want dick. She's cute, but she's not drunk enough."
"The hell you say! She's had four vodka and cranberries, all of them doubles, and a couple of Tequila shots. She's plenty drunk, and just itching for a real fuck for a change." Petitool removed his jeans and pulled at his boxers.
"Put her on the pool table, and unbutton her shirt."
He moved on in, removed the shirt in one motion, reached behind her and in one flick of his wrist unhooked all four bra closures. Petitool removed the bra and freed an eager pair of breasts with nipples hardened like beach pebbles.
Deftly unfastening the jeans, he had her naked on the pool table. Her thighs spread almost on command and wrapped around his neck enthusiastically.
"My girls do that," she moaned. "You're no better than any other sex partner."
He removed his head from its playground.
"Your girls can't do this."
Petitool moved her across the table until hear head was hanging off the edge near the side pocket. In that position, her throat opened wide.
"I said I was going in. Let's start here."
He thrusted the entire length of his formidable erection down her throat. She sucked on it with an excited willingness. Her hands moved down to her vagina, and found her clit.
Petitool moved around to the other side of the table, stroking his steely rod a few times, he was ready to plunge in.
"Sheldon Petitool, put your dick back in your pants, and stop that. You're going to shoot your load all over the salad bar." Sheldon's wife Betsy was livid. The slap across the face left red finger welts that were obvious to the parking valet at the front door. The sedan was brought up. Sheldon slipped behind the wheel, his wife still chattering.
'I'm getting damn fed up with leaving dinners early because you go off someplace else in that wacko head of yours. You're embarrassing both of us with your stupid fantasies. I'm calling Dr. Stein tomorrow and you're going to go back on the couch".
"Dr. Stein? Dr. Petitool. Talk to me about the patient. I have read only your assistant's e-mail in which she asked for my help."
Dr. Petitool is a world famous neuro-surgeon. Amazingly adept at using manual controls on laser surgical computer assisted probes, he can remove and destroy damaged portions of the brain. Depending upon the details, he can isolate the problem down to, on at least one occasion, a single mal-functioning cell.
"Dr. Petitool, the patient is an exceptionally good looking woman, aged 28. She has had numerous cosmetic surgeries to enhance her appearance, the most recent being a third breast enhancement. Our mission is to diagnose the cause of her insatiable sexual appetite, and to recommend a course of treatment for consideration."
"May I see the brain scans, please"?
"Look, the ventral tegmental area is double the size as the average person. This women is releasing dopamine for no reason. Lasar out half of her VTA. "
"Her insurance won't cover that, Doctor."
"The only other option is to overcome the output of the VTA with external stimulation. She must be fucked to the point of exhaustion. I will begin the process. Gather up and schedule all our male doctors, nurses, and staff. Schedule a time for each."
Dr. Petitool reached inside his scrubs, preparing for the procedure.
"Sheldon!" The voice was sharp.
"You can't shift with that. Put your pecker away and shift with the gear shifter. The light is green, you pervert! Get us home! Can't you remember what you're doing for a few minutes?" Betty nearly screamed.
Sheepishly, Seldon removed his hands from his trousers and turned his attention to the road. Maybe, he thought, if I had a normal sex life, I wouldn't keep imagining a grand one.
"Can't you remember what you were doing? Let me refresh your memory."
Aimee Poitrine lifted her satin tank top, revealing an identical pair of perky tits. She cupped one in each of her hands and moved them to Sheldon's outreaching tongue.
"So, Mr. Petitool, can you now tell the court just what you were doing on the night of September ninth?"
Mr. Petitool gazed at the now hidden mounds of the prosecutor. "I thnk I may need another memory jogger."
How about this: "The people call Ms. Wanda Pechosgrandes."
A woman of no more than 25 picked her way to the front on the courtroom, barely stable on her platform shoes with six heels. She wore a short, tightly stretched bright red skirt with no panty lines; and a latex top, straining to the limits of its capacity, completed the outfit.
"What can you tell us about September ninth, Ms Pechosgrandes?"
"I was at Body Jewels getting these piercings." She pulled down her top, exposing a huge pair of tits with equally impressive nipples. Running through each of the nipples was a stainless steel dumbbell shaped adornment. One perfectly horizontal, parallel to the floor. One on about a forty-five degree angle.
"Look at the lousy workmanship. I usually only wear one at a time. I wore both today so the court could see the lousy job! I have to wait a little while more, then I'm gonna have this one redone". She pointed to the angled one. "They're going to make them even, and they'd better not charge me. I already paid two hundred bucks each."
"Who is they?" Ms. Poitrine wanted to know.
"They is him". She pointed to Sheldon.
"Damnit, Sheldon, stop twisting at your cuff links. Keep your hands and mind on the road!" Betsy was seething. I swear if this fantasy shit doesn't stop with Dr. Stein's therapies, I'll put a stop to it myself. You'd better learn to sleep with one open; as of this moment, you're a walking dead man."
Sheldon Petitool did not miss the sincerity.
With his back against the wall, Sheldon took one last drag of his cigarette, flicked away the butt, and stood tall.
"The hell with the blindfold. I'll go out with both eyes open." Sheldon facing his executioner like a man. A dead man.