© 2006 sam

Fanny Wong: When “F” means Freaky (2)

All characters and events in this story — even those based on real people — are entirely fictional. All voices are impersonated… poorly in your head. The following story may contain disgusting or explicit ideas and due to its content it should not be read by anyone.

Despite wild imaginative comments in the previous chapter, I’ve decided to continue the story my way.

I swear we never had anything special until I was 12. When I started to pee blood occasionally. My mum told me that I was going through puberty. And the next thing she told me was sex. I couldn’t understand much. She was talking about inserting a banana into a croissant. To be safe, she asked to put a plastic bag on the banana so that when the banana is squashed, I would still have a clean croissant.

Ken was going through puberty too. One day when we were playing in my room. He suddenly touched my boo boo. Mum never said anything about the boo boo, so it should be okay. He told me that he loves me. I said, “what has love got to do with my boo boo?” He assured me that I would understand what he said soon.

Ken wanted to ‘blow’ me. I was puzzled. He then went on to demonstrate. It felt like heaven… Suddenly I recalled what my mum told me earlier. “Croissant croissant! Plastic bag!” I shouted continuously. I panicked but Ken was calm. “No need plastic bag,” he said. He did not plan to use his banana.

Next thing I knew, I felt even more heavenly. Ken was totally inside me. Without the plastic bag. At that juncture my mother came into my room with my laundry. She was shocked and furious. My mother was strong. She pulled Ken out and threw him to a corner. Ken got a broken leg.

Mum then threw Ken out of the house. He never returned to our house since. My mother gave me a good scold. She said no more Ken for me. It was a good thing for me. I believed her, she is my mother after all. So I went back to singing without my Ken.


Chapter 3

One Comment

  1. Capt. Jack Separuh
    Posted September 25, 2006 at 6:56 pm | #

    But all this singing without my Ken made me long for him again… Soon i was beginning to think about him. The more I thought of him, the more I missed him.
    “Ken.. oh.. Ken.., where art thou?”
    “All this time without you has made life miserable for me..”
    “How I long for your heavenly touch and the aroma of your french croissant..” (by the way, it was believed that the humble croissant was came from the Turks, not the French)

    The more I thought of him the more my longing grew. I recalled the time when we used to play in our little doll house. The many games of ‘husband and wifey’ games we played.. as well as the ‘doctor and nurse’ games. I remember how I used to show you mine and you showed me yours in many of those games. Oh what fun we had. I wish mom didn’t discover what we did during one of our games. I hope she didnt hurt you when she threw you out of the window.

    I also recall the escapade we took when you wanted to think about your relationship with Barbie. The romantic candlelight dinner we had on a beach at Phuket and where we talk and love like there was no tomorow.. Oh I also remember the Star beer I took and how it lead to me playing nurse to you… and the amount of lotion we used.. Oh it was heavenly..

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