thisisby.us – Hooray, TSA, by Perry

Since I don’t think he spoke English, the TSA guy directed me to the side and then made a motion to extend my arms out. I’ve heard that Italians make the best lovers, and in that case, they make the best security screeners as well. He smiled as he began to sexually assault me, rubbing my arms and torso like he was waxing a Ferrari. He grabbed my belt, gave it a firm tug, and then slid a finger behind it and went around my waistline. It tickled a bit, so I smiled and winked at my friend who was enjoying the show. Next came the slight foreplay of a little pat on the butt. Then, holding me in place by the belt with one hand, he stuck the other down my pants and shook hands with my penis.

Squirming with wild-eyes and mouth agape, I looked over at my friend and said with intermittent yelps, “HhhhOOOlllYYY SsshhhIIIItttT.” I didn’t know whether to turn and cough or put my hands on his head and seductively push him to his knees. As my friend laughed, the screener walked his fingers past my balls, paused to check me for drugs and three types of cancer, and then broke towards third. By this point I was on my tiptoes and making uncomfortable noises through my clenched teeth. He stopped, thank God, at my final frontier, where neither girl nor doctor has ever ventured. Thanks TSA, for protecting us from terrorists by looking for explosives hidden behind my balls. But for future reference, if you want to make it look more like a screening and less like a prison shower, search my shoes too.


%d bloggers like this: