3:AM Magazine

Two mates are sitting in a pub drinking and smoking fags and having a right laugh.

One of them, John, takes a mouthful of his Guinness and begins talking: Have I told you that one about the jar?

The Jar?

Yeah, the one about the jar?

Nah, I haven’t heard the one about the jar…

John nods his head and smiles: You’re gonna like this one, it’s a right ‘ol horror show.

Yeah?

Yeah…

All right then, go on..

Alright…

John takes another mouthful of Guinness and begins: Kate, a friend of mine, was telling me about an old boyfriend she had who lived in Soho next to this brothel. So one day Kate is waiting outside for her fella to come down and the Madam of the house is standing outside the front door smoking a fag. So the two of ‘em strike up small talk about the weather and stuff like that, boring shit really, but as they’re chatting Kate is curious about something and so she goes and asks the Madam what the weirdest thing a punter has ever asked for.

The Madam fucking smiles and then tells Kate about this fella who calls up once in a blue moon and simply says: “It’s me.”

He then hangs up and for the rest of the week all of the Madam’s girls are fucking, as they do, you know, fucking at work and getting paid for it. But this week they’re all keeping the condoms that the punters have used and after they’ve paid up and fucked off then the girls take these cum filled condoms to the fridge where there’s this jar in there. Yeah, a fucking jar.

Anyway, so they open up this jar and pour the cum in and then screw the lid back on and bung it back in the fridge before they go back to their rooms for the next punter to come in and give ‘em one.

This goes on all week, regular like it always is, except that they’ve got this raising jar of cum keeping nice and fresh in the fridge.

Exactly one week, after the call has been made, that fella comes into the brothel.

The Madam is there to greet him and give him the jar. The fella unscrews the lid where he looks at the contents held up in the light. He then swirls it round as if it’s a fucking fine wine or something before taking a whiff of it.

He’s doing all this and he’s not even aware that there’s anyone else in the room with him, though it don’t matter as no one is watching him anyway as all the girls have turned their backs on this gross cunt. Even the fucking Madam has gone off to smoke a cigarette leaving this fella alone, by the fridge.

After he’s inspected the cum gunk inside he lifts the lip of the jar up to his lips and tilts the contents down the back of his throat…

Yeah, he swallows the whole fucking lot in one go, I’m fucking serious, it’s all gone in one fucking go down the back of his throat.

After that, like nothing’s happened, he counts out his money nice and slow and fucks off…