cum rag

The mere name sends chills down my spine. When I happened to stumble upon this jewel of a node, the chills happened. I read the above writeup, and before I attempt to explain to you in words the sheer horror and the magnitude of which I was disgusted, let me tell you the background story leading up to this tragedy.

I was 15 at the time, and I was at a LAN. Being a seasoned veteran of the local LAN scene, I was often turned to for advice. I cheerfully gave the requested information, and in turn, I was often looked favorably upon by the lower level guests at the LAN, the hosts, and omnipotent LANers in levels above mine. I was often treated to favorable sleeping conditions, prime food and drink, and prime seating when I attended the LANs.

This particular LAN was hosted by my good friend at the time; Brandon. Brandon's house was always the most favored of any of the 10 or so various locations around Green Bay that we held LANs at. This was due to the sheer size of his house (a three story mansion in a new sub-division), the sheer amount of food that his mother would buy for us (including fried chicken, hand made pizza, chicken wings, vegatable platters, chips, dip, gallons of Mt. Dew and Dr. Pepper). However, the one thing that seperated this LAN from the others, was the ISDN connection that Brandon enjoyed. We rejoiced when he announced that he was holding the LAN party, and we usually kept this LAN party semi-31337 for one or two of the days.

The games of choice for this LAN were the newly released Starcraft, Quake 2 (namely Q-Pong and Headhunters), and the old standby Diablo, which was reserved only for late night players who were small in numbers. After a 6 hour 8 way Starcraft free for all, and a Quake 2 Q-Pong clusterfuck on top of that, I was mentally exhausted and retired to my preferred sleeping quarters of the evening, Brandon's little brother's room.

Brandon's little brother's room

I should have known better. I should have had the foresight to realize not to wander anywhere near that kid's room. Brandon's little brother was named Benjamin. Ben, as we will call him, was a horribly addicted pr0n freak. The kid loved the computer not for its gaming abilities or other great features, but for the immense amounts of porn the kid could have at his fingertips at any given time. Brandon told me that the kid constantly whacked off to porn, day and night. In fact, he told me about the time he stayed home from school just to masturbate all day. He kept on masturbating until he passed out and his mom walked in with him on the floor with penis in hand.

I wandered into the kid's room, which was darkened, and found his bed. I still wonder where exactly he was this weekend, but where ever he was, he wasn't here. I layed down on top of the covers, on my back. I found the pillow and pulled it to my head, and promptly fell asleep.

Five hours later I awaken to the screams of several of my friends. They have defeated the other team in a 4 hour 2 vs 2 Starcraft game. As the hooting and hollaring continued, I realized that my nose was plugged. Looking around the still darkened room, I spotted the shadow of a kleenex box, or so I thought. I pulled it closer to me, and attempted to find the source of kleenex. I couldn't find one, so I put it over my head, and started to shake the box violently...

At this time, the box, which was now known to be a shoebox, opened and a large amount of wadded up kleenex fell on my face. I flinched and batted them away, not knowing what they were in the dark. I then felt something cold and wet against my left eye, and then roll down my left cheek. I arose and located the light switch. I flipped the lights on, and went to the bathroom and took a leak. I then looked in the mirror, and much to my dismay and complete disbelief and horror, there was a gob of fresh, still-wet ejaculate on my eye-lid and cheek! The kid's entire cum rag depository had saturated my face!

I was stupified! I hadn't a clue what to do, or how to react. I fumbled at the faucets and splashed ice cold water onto my face, saturated my shirt in the process. I gagged, and made coughing sounds, which prompted the attention of the LANers downstairs. They approached me in the bathroom, and I told them I woke up with a spider in my mouth. They laughed it off and I returned to the site of my assault.

I quickly used a sock (although thinking back on it, given the condition of this kid's addiction, a sock may not have been the choice tool) to corral the cum rags into the box and restore it to it's original position.

I have seen a lot of gore in my life, a lot of just sick shit, but I have never, I repeat never, been so utterly horrified and completely afraid in my entire life.

cum rag

Helpful Suggestions For Moms Around The World On This Topic From Your Sons

  • If you discover one of these items, please do not hold it aloft in the same room as your son and all his friends and screech "What the hell is THIS?" You'll know what it is by the time the second syllable has left your mouth ... or by the raucous laughter directed at your son.

  • If you discover that all your washrags have gone missing (or your Kleenex budget has gone orbital), please don't invade the privacy of your son's bedroom. If you know enough to look there for the things, then you know what he's using them for. Chances are you'll not only find your rags, but also your son's porno collection, or perhaps even underclothes you know aren't his. You have been warned. If you don't want to know these things, don't go looking for them.

  • If this topic requires a discussion about religion, perhaps it would be best if your priest or rabbi or deacon or whatever were there, especially if you're convinced your son will burn in hell for succumbing to pleasures of the flesh. A religious leader present at such a discussion can help make sure cooler heads will prevail.

  • If you've never found one of these items, nor desire to, why not suggest to your son that he begin to do his own laundry, and casually drop a hint that you understand that by making this suggestion, he'll have his privacy, and you'll have clean towels.

  • Single mothers: Boys are usually embarrassed talking about things like this ... especially to females. Especially to you. This is not meant to imply that you are a bad parent, nor is it meant to say that your son's keeping secrets from you. It does mean that maybe you should speak with a male friend or relative about the topic, uh, at hand before you confront your son. They'll probably have an amusing (and embarrassing, possibly even damaging) story to tell you. Let their experiences help you in deciding how best to deal with this thorny subject.

  • And remember, collective Moms. You'll always be number one in our collective hearts ... and we don't mean that in a kinky way, either.
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