A little story not for the faint of heart, the prudish or the exceptionally young...
Jarrod
awoke.
He
yawned as he stretched his bulky frame across the bed. He had a huge grin on
his face.
His
junk was firm.
Jarrod
loved mornings.
Jarrod
knew he had just come out of a dream. In the dream he had been tied- shirtless
to a tree, deep in a forest of tall palms. Strange creatures with long tongues
and bulging eyes surrounded him, taunting him with wooden sticks. The strangers
had poked tenderly at his chest and arms all the while keeping him strapped to the
tree.
“Cripes.
What a dream that was! Last time I eat chicken balls after nine.”- he thought, “However,
I did look real good tied to that tree.”
He
was proud of the musculature of his six foot body.
Jarrod
glanced at the clock on his bedside table.
8:15.
He
needed a coffee. Slipping into the track shorts he had thrown on the floor next
to his bed, Jarrod lumbered to his kitchen. He measured the Arabica coffee and
placed it into the filter of his coffee machine that sat on the kitchen counter
beneath the cupboards that held a vast assortment of coffee cups. The cups came
from many of the places where he had travelled to over the years.
Turning
towards the kitchen door, he opened it and let the warm morning air filter
through the screen. He would take his coffee out onto the deck as he usually
did and have a think about life.
Grabbing
a special cup he had bought two years ago in Tahiti, Jarrod poured in some
fresh, homogenized milk and filled the cup to the brim with hot coffee. Taking
a sip he spoke out loud
“Ahhh.
The first sip of the first cup is the best of the day. Damn that’s good!”
Jarrod
pushed through the screen door to the patio, flopping his lanky frame down onto
his favourite lounger.
The
morning sun stroked his buff skin. It felt warm and safe. His golden chest hair
glimmered in the lightness. He took another sip and looked out across the ocean
in front of him. He had always wanted a spot right on the ocean with a beach
literally a stone’s throw away. Winning the lottery a short year ago enabled
him to do just that.
Life
was indeed grand.
He
was comfortable both in his skin and in his world.
“Morning
Mr. J.”
It
was Pablo the gardener and all round handyman. Jarrod hired Pablo about a half
year ago when looking after the huge beachfront property himself became a daunting
job. Pablo was a great guy and Jarrod knew he was lucky to have him in his
employ.
“Morning
Pab. How’s it shakin’ today?”
“Oh,
real fine Mr. J. Beautiful morning, eh?”
“Sure
is. Hey, there’s coffee in the kitchen. Fresh just 5 minutes ago. Help yourself
as usual.”
“Thanks
Mr. J- I will.”
Pablo
crossed the patio and disappeared into the kitchen.
“Muffins
are on the table in the red tin! Come on back and sit with me. This is just too
nice a morning to waste!”
“I
see ‘em Mr. J. Thanks!”
Jarrod
settled back down to his warm morning thoughts and coffee.
He
could smell the ocean.
As
he lie there, eyes gently closed, he felt something tighten around his ankles
and across his broad chest. Opening his eyes he could see two shapes standing
at his feet, silhouetted against the sun. He also saw a rope had been lashed
across his chest as well as around both ankles.
A
third shape grabbed him from behind and threw him over broad shoulders. His coffee
cup flew across the yard landing next to a yucca plant in the far corner.
Jarrod
was transported by these three strange shapes across his property and down the
dirt road behind his house.
They
never spoke.
Suddenly
he felt a sharp zap to his right shoulder and he was out.
When
he awoke, Jarrod found himself tied to a tree in the midst of a tall forest of
tropical pines being poked by a dozen or more shapes with long tongues and bulging
eyes. Each held a wooden stick firmly in their grasp. The tree bark felt rough
against his skin. Ropes were tied securely around his upper body.
“Oh.
My God! Like in my dream! This can’t be! Who are you people? What are you?”
The
shapes did not speak, although they snorted- just a little.
He
was being poked.
Jarrod
looked around him. A dozen or so shapes
stood a few feet away from him, holding wooden sticks. Some long. Some, much
shorter.
A
few shapes poked sticks at his chest. One shoved and prodded a large stick at
his bare feet and legs. Another jabbed a wooden stick- gently, at his stomach. Still,
two others with longer, larger Y-shaped sticks, jabbed and poked at his
privates.
For
the most part, the shapes were silent- except for the occasional snort, as they
jabbed and prodded every inch of his firm, tanned body. Their tongues hung loosely
from the edges of their salivating mouths. Big eyes darted back and forth as
they poked and prodded Jarrod some more.
The
shapes seemed happy and content. They also seemed harmless.
Jarrod
tried to relax, yet the more he tried the more he stiffened.
“No!
Not now! Not here!”- he shouted out loud but it was too late.
Jarrod
had to admit all this prodding and poking felt rather good although he couldn’t
understand why the shapes were doing this to him.
What
seemed like an hour later, the poking still
continued.
Meanwhile
back at the house Pablo called out to Jarrod through the door screen-
“Be
there in just a second Mr. J, I’m warming my muffin in the microwave.”
The
morning sun sparkled on the ocean as the surf gently caressed the sandy shore.
