Another one of my... stories...
2003-10-25 21:58:09 ET

Harry and the Ham

Harry was just your average Erotic Vacuum Cleaner salesman. Ringing doorbells and greeting potential customers with the company slogan of "The Erotic Vacuum Cleaner, it fucks as it sucks!", it was how he earned his living. It was an average job with average pay. And that was good enough for Harry.

And every day Harry came home to his average apartment in his average city of Fuckaduck, Arkansas. He had an average life and average interests. He liked average sports and average foods. There was only one thing that was unusual about Harry and that was his ham fetish.

One night, after working late, Harry finally arrived at his average flat. He was tired but proud. He had just sold a plethora of Erotic Vacuum Cleaners to a very wealthy Hungarian sausage factory owner and had recieved quite a lot of money from the commision fee. That same night he stopped at the local butcher store and bought himself the largest ham he could find. Tonight was going to be the night, Harry thought. Tonight was going to be the night.

He took the ham out of the bag and placed it on a small wooden table. He made way for his closet which contained all of his ham fetish paraphernalia. Leather, whips, chains, ropes, whip cream, and a copy of "Ham Fucking For Dummies". He was going to need it all for tonight.

He stripped naked and put on his leather mailman outfit. He tied up the ham in leather webbing and using thick cotton ropes suspended it from the ceiling. Then he reached for the whip cream and completely covered the ham in the white creamy substance. He took out a cassete tape marked "Whip It - Devo", placed it into his stereo and set it to full volume.He pressed play and the shouts of WHIP IT! along with
synthesizer music filled the air.

And then he began whipping the ham. Lashing away, whipping it with full strength, each strike sending a flurry of whip cream flying. Striking it with the raw passion of a man who lusts for ham. And Harry did lust for his ham. He didn't just want it. Oh no. He needed it. He needed it as badly as a drowning man needs air. He needed ham to live. Which is why he was standing there, naked except for a black leather mailman's outfit, "Whip It" playing on the stereo full blast, lashing away at the suspended ham with a massive bull whip. He was doing it out of lust, out of desire, out of need, out of love. He was whipping the ham.

Finally he stopped. Exhausted. It was time, he thought. Time to fuck the ham.

He walked up to a kitchen drawer and took out a razor sharp kitchen knife. After which he approached the ham and softly, quietly, with expert precision began carving out an orifice. It didn't take long before he finished creating an opening. He put away the knife and got out a tube of lubricant which he began to gently apply to the ham's orifice.

Finally he was done. He reached down and undid the zipper of his black leather mailman's outfit and whipped out his tool.

He entered the ham quickly and abruptly and began fucking it rhythmically to the beat of the music emanating from the stereo. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

He kissed the ham and licked it with his tongue. It tasted raw. With a bit of seasoning. He began fucking it faster. More rapidly now. He was reaching that point. And with every thrust he was closer. Closer. Closer. Closer.

"Not yet" he said and pulled out.

Harry walked over to his pet hamster's cage. Below the cage was a pile of plumbing equipment. He reached down and grabbed a lengthy PVC pipe. Then he reached into the cage and pulled out his pet hamster, Jimmy Hoffa.

Using the kitchen knife he made another orifice near the top of the suspended ham. He shoved the PVC down this newly created opening. Then he threw in little bits of cheese followed by Jimmy Hoffa. Withing seconds Harry could hear him scraping away. Harry smiled and then turned his attention back to fucking the ham.

"Now where were we?" he asked himself. In reply he penetrated the ham once again and began to fuck it. Soon he felt himself reaching that point once more. Closer. Closer. Closer. This time he didnt stop. Closer. Closer. Closer.

He came into the ham. Millions of tiny sperm traversing through the orifice inside the massive bulk of meat that was the ham.

Harry pulled away, all spent. He walked up to his refrigirator and pulled out an ice cold bottle of Jack Daniels. It was a good day, he thought as he drank himself into unconsciousness.


2003-10-26 01:00:23 ET

Daammmnnn... That's some jacked up shit right there... lol.. Very well written jacked up shit, but still. Images I never, ever in my whole life could have used, or needed or even wanted are now burned into my brain. ==Shutter== Way to make an impression!

2003-10-26 02:00:12 ET

*dies laughing* Ham! HAHAH.

2003-10-26 02:15:30 ET

oh my eyes!!!!

this is almost as fucked up as that piece of ham LOL

2003-10-26 02:50:38 ET

all that nice soft slippery ham....gotta be such a turnon...

2003-10-26 06:21:02 ET

*died after reading*

2003-10-26 06:24:27 ET

What's next? An open-faced roast beef sandwich?

There's this article I've read about on one time. It talked about freaks with bizarre fetishes. And how the internet unites these bizarre weirdos. And how the internet will make them feel they are normal by uniting the freaks. But let's face it, these people NEED the attention given to them by normal people so they will realize what they are thinking, or DOING (I don't know about your sex life), is WRONG.

And DON'T touch my chicken avatar.

2003-10-26 20:27:19 ET

that was so full of disturbing images

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