Monday Pounds Me In The Butt - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

GREETINGS FROM TOUR BUCKAROOS i am writing to you from here in my minneapolis hotel room gettin ready to hop on a handsome airplane and fly across the whole country for tomorrows show in PORTLAND. WHAT A DREAM

not many folks get the chance in their lifetime to trot out on the road for a big ART TOUR. there are traveling theater companies, there are bands, there are comedians, there are AUTHORS ON BOOK TOURS, but despite all of these variations the concept is pretty dang rare for anyone to experience for themselves. somehow i have ended up in the privileged position to do this quite a bit, and yes it is a magical space, but it is also an EXHAUSTING WAY

the days kinda start melting together as it becomes one new hotel room after another. YES there is a romance to this, and an adventure, but old chuck is a bit of a homebody these days. i do LOVE to ride on a handsome airplane, but i also like my handsome sentient house.

however, at the end of the day, the best thing to do is STAY PRESENT and enjoy the ride. that is what i am doing as i sit here LOOKIN OUT AT THE MINNESOTA SUNRISE. i really do LOVE THESE SHOWS weve been having a blast and if any buckaroos reading this have not gotten tickets yet then DO NOT WAIT. we are proving love out here every night. so dang fun.

in an effort to keep the days from COMPLETELY blending together, i thought it might be nice to post a classic tingler about ONE DAY IN PARTICULAR. please enjoy MONDAY POUNDS ME IN THE BUTT

When Wimbs stumbles into work Monday morning, hungover and three hours late, he’s expecting nothing less than immediate termination. But thanks to a miscommunication with his boss, Wimbs suddenly finds himself caught in a lie about a homosexual relationship with Monday itself.

Luckily for Wimbs, Monday is ready and willing to play along with his lie, but soon the two of them are falling deeply in love. Eventually, their wild evening culminates in a hardcore pounding that could destroy the fabric of the universe itself.

This erotic tale is 4,800 words of sizzling human on gay day action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, facials and sentient Monday love.

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MONDAY POUNDS ME IN THE BUTT

By Chuck Tingle

If there’s one thing that I know how to do like a pro, it’s party. Honestly, it doesn’t matter where or when; whether we’re talking about a seductive dinner soiree or a wild warehouse party downtown, I go hard.

         So hard, in fact, that lately I’ve been having trouble pulling it together when Monday finally rolls around.

         I can deal with the hangovers, sure, because I’m used to them by now, but that hard earned experience seems like it’s just the thing that’s been dragging me down lately. I’m only human, and there is only so much alcohol that my body can take. After years of late nights and long weekends, I’ve finally started to feel it all catch up with me.

         While I was once able to force myself awake on Monday morning, pushing past the throbbing in my head and powering out the door, lately I haven’t even been given the chance as I simply sleep through it.

         I’m thinking all of this as a constant throbbing pulse pushes its way through the vast darkness of my sleepy brain. I’ve been dreaming, my thoughts a strange blanket of hazy unknown that is slowly taking shape.       What is that terrible tone that seems to drill itself over and over again through my body, a terrible, aching slam that stays relentless no matter how much I toss and turn.

         Finally, all of this abstraction begins to take shape as I recognize this constant whine as the familiar, piercing tone of my alarm clock. I slowly force myself to open my eyes, darting them back and forth across the room as I struggle to understand my surroundings.

         I know that this is my own room, but how I ended up here is something that eludes me. I certainly don’t remember going to bed last night.

         Today is Monday, I suddenly think.

         I glance over at the squealing alarm clock, trying to adjust my vision enough to make out the bright red digital letters before me. They float in the air like strange blurry clouds and then gradually come together, eventually creating the sign of a waking nightmare.

         The numbers read eleven thirty, meaning that I’m already three hours late for work.

         Immediately, I sit upright and turn off the blaring alarm, then grab my phone to find six missed calls from work.

         “Fuck,” I say aloud, trying my best to jump out of bed and then immediately tangling in the sheets. I slam hard onto my bedroom floor, a sharp pain in my face as I stagger to my feet and then throw open the door of my closet. I desperately begin to cobble together a suit and tie.

         Skipping my shower and breakfast, I run my hair under the faucet for a bit and then grab an energy bar while running out the door.

         Once in my car, I consider calling in to tell them that I’m on my way in but then realize, in an office as ruthless as mine, this is not the best idea. Like I said, my hard partying ways have been catching up with me and my boss has just about had enough of it. I would not be surprised if this particular fuck up is the one that finally gets me sacked, and I figure I have a much better chance of talking myself out of this unfortunate outcome if I’m actually there in person.

         Thankfully, I’ve already missed the morning traffic so I make it to the office incredibly quickly, screeching into the parking lot and throwing open the door just seconds before the vehicle has stopped moving. I’m straightening my tie as I march up to the front door and throw it open, passing through the lobby before our receptionist can even acknowledge my presence.

         I continue down the hallway past a series of rooms, rounding the corner and then literally slamming into my boss, Mr. Perper.

         Fortunately, it’s not hard enough to seriously injure either of us, but the look on Mr. Perper’s face is enough to nearly stop my heart cold. He is utterly furious, absolutely red in the face with so much anger that he can hardly get out the words when he tells me to step into his office.

         I follow Mr. Perper like a dog en route to punishment, head down and tail between his legs. While we walk I can see my friends peering out from their desks, appropriately worried for me and the impending doom that awaits.

         Finally, we reach Mr. Perper’s lair and step inside, the man slamming his door loudly and then taking a seat at his desk. I begin to head for the chair across from him but my boss stops me.

         “No,” Mr. Perper shouts, “don’t sit, you’re not going to be here long.”

         “Please let me explain,” I stammer, trying my best to hold myself at some level of dignity, despite the fact that I probably still reek of booze from the night before, “there was an accident on the freeway, you should have seen it, traffic backed up for miles.”

         “Jesus Christ!” Perper exclaims. “You’re really going to just lie about it? Be a man, Wimbs.”

         “I’m telling the truth,” I counter.

         “Did you know that we take the same freeway to get there in the morning?” asks Perper with a sigh.
         I freeze. “No, I didn’t know that.”

         “There was no wreck,” Mr. Perper says, shaking his head. “You know that you had a very important client meeting this morning with Starbutts. That’s a massive account, Wimbs, one of the biggest that we have.”
         “I know,” I assure him, “I’m sorry.”

         “Well, you should be,” Mr. Perper says, “because they left us, they’re taking their advertising budget elsewhere.”

         My heart skips a beat. “What?”

         “That’s a twenty million dollar account,” Mr. Perper informs me.

         “You’re kidding,” I stammer, “they left?”

         “Well, their project manager missed his meeting for the third time,” Mr. Perper offers.

         “Holy shit,” I exclaim, “I’m so sorry.”

         Mr. Perper just stares at me, a seething anger in his expression unlike anything I have ever seen.

         Suddenly, though, it breaks. A smile carefully begins to spread across my boss’s face until finally he is beaming with a wide, goofy grin.

         “No, I’m just fucking with you, they didn’t leave,” Mr. Perper reveals.

         “They didn’t?” I gasp. “So I’m not fired?”

         “Oh you’re still fired,” my boss explains, “I just wanted to mess with you before you go. You know that feeling of horror you just experienced? That’s what it was like for me explaining to our largest client that their project manager was a complete and utter fuck up. Fortunately, they understand that you are not a representative for our entire company, and they have decided not to leave... yet.”

         I am equal parts relieved and disappointed, sad that I’ve been thrust into the harsh world of unemployment but ultimately glad that I didn’t take the whole ship down with me.

         “I’m sorry,” I apologize, hanging my head and accepting my fate, “Monday really fucks me up the ass.”

         “What was that?” my boss questions, his eyebrows raised.

         I said “Monday really fucks me up the ass.”

         “You’re dating Monday?” Mr. Perper questions.

         I suddenly realize the mistake that has been made. My boss thinks I’m referring to a personification of the first day in our workweek, where I had simply been using a common expression.

         In the split second that I have to react, however, I recognize how much this changes his attitude and suddenly instinct takes over.

         “Oh yeah,” I lie, “I’m with Monday, we were really going at it this morning and that’s actually why I’m late.”

         Mr. Perper seems confused. “I had no idea you were gay.”

         I’m not, but he doesn’t need to know this. “I sure am,” I profess.

         My boss leans back into his chair, clearly thinking hard about something.

         Finally he speaks. “Listen, maybe I was being a little harsh earlier,” Mr. Perper says, a tense caution in his voice. “I honestly had no idea that you were so close with such an important day of the week.”

         I nod, trying to figure out where he is going with this but not exactly sure. I’m just thankful that my lie appears to have worked, for now.

         “Have you ever thought about how much business we could do if we were to implement your boyfriend within this company?” Mr. Perper asks. “I’m sorry to be so blunt about it but, come on, Monday is a huge deal. I mean he’s been coming around every seven days for as long as I can remember.”
         “I’ve thought about it,” I offer, lying through my teeth, “but you know, it just seems kind of weird to ask my boyfriend to do something for my work like that.”

         “What if your job depended on it?” Mr. Perper questions flatly.

         I suddenly understand where he is going with this and I desperately want to agree, if not for the fact that I have no personal connection to Monday whatsoever.

         Finally, I’m forced to answer. “I’m sure I could figure something out, what did you have in mind?”

         “The launch party for our new Starbutts campaign is this weekend,” explains my boss. “I want you to be there with your boyfriend, Monday. Just show him off a bit, let everyone at Starbutts know that we have an entire day of the week in our back pocket.”
         “I don’t know,” I start, but Mr. Perper is having none of it.

         “Alright, I’ll see you then,” my boss says, standing up from his desk.

         Not knowing what else to do, I turn to leave, then stop and look back at my boss. “Does this mean I get my job back?” I question.

         “Job? If you deliver on this, you’ll become a partner,” Perper gushes.

         Thankfully, getting in touch with Monday is not as difficult as one might imagine for being an eternal, physically manifested day-of-the-week. His assistant is very nice and shockingly receptive when I explain my situation to her. She runs the whole plan by Monday and, somehow, he agrees to go along with it for the sum of thirty thousand dollars.

         It sounds like a lot, I know, but it pales in comparison to losing my salary at the office. I need this job, and if spending a little bit of cash is going to help me keep it, then so be it.

         As luck may have it, Monday lives in Los Angeles just like I do, and I have no problem driving to his place for a pick up in Griffith Park before the party.

         The day is out front waiting for me when I pull up, manifesting himself as a radiating ball of quantified time with a cute smile and incredibly thick biceps.

         As I said before, I don’t have a gay bone in my body, but I have to admit there is something about this particular day that I can’t help bet get a little turned on by.

         Maybe it’s the fact that he seems to rugged and dominating, someone who is not afraid to show up at the top of every workweek, kick open the door and shout, “here I am.”

         “Hey,” I say, reaching out and shaking the day’s warm glowing hand as he climbs into the passenger seat, “it’s great to meet you.”

         Monday smiles. “We’ve met before, you don’t remember?”

         It suddenly occurs to me that I’ve known this handsome day of the week my entire life, our paths crossing like clockwork between Sunday and Tuesday ever since I was born.

         “Oh yeah,” I stammer, I guess you’re right.

         “It’s good to see you again, though,” Monday says and then glances at his phone, “I few days earlier than normal this time. Feels weird, right?”

         “I suppose it is,” I say, then throw the car into drive, pulling out into the street and making my way towards the luxury hotel ballroom where our business shindig is already well under way.

         “You want to listen to anything?” I ask the day, flipping on the radio.

         “I’m cool with just talking,” Monday shrugs, “it’s not that often that I get someone taking me out like this. It’s really nice, actually.”

         A smile slowly creeps out across my face, realizing now just how much this whole thing actually means to the handsome day.

         “I figured you’d have people all over you,” I offer, “I mean, you’re a fucking day-of-the-week. That is so far beyond and kind of normal celebrity.”

         “Yeah, but I’m the day-of-the-week that everyone hates,” Monday says, chuckling to himself despite the deep, aching pain I can sense in his voice.

         I want to console him, but in this moment I realize that the day is actually right.

         “I’m sorry,” I finally offer.

         Monday shrugs. “It’s all good, been that way forever, you know?”

         Eventually, we pull up to the hotel and climb out.

         The valet takes my car and, the next thing I know, Monday and me are walking into the building side by side, heads turning as they see me coming with this notorious selection of time.

         According to the plan, Monday and me only need to spend our time here in close proximity to sell the image of our relationship, but the day takes things a step further by slipping his arm around my waist.

         I jump slightly as his ethereal yellow skin touches me, not expecting the warm embrace but immediately drawn deeper into his presence. There is a very real energy between us that I did not expect, mostly because we are both male and completely straight, as far as I can tell.

         Still, there is no denying that this energy is erotic in nature, a deep sexual craving that defies the boundaries of everyday classifications like gay or straight.

         We head through the lobby and immediately emerge into a large, well decorated ballroom full of people. Businessmen mill about in their suits, chatting casually with horderves in their hands while thundering music blares all around us.

         The second that we enter, Mr. Perper appears out of nowhere with the Starbutts executives in tow.

         “Oh Wimbs, great to see you!” my boss says, shaking my hand.

         I greet him and the other executives, who are clearly still upset about the meeting that I missed until they notice the beautiful man I’m standing next to.

         Suddenly, everything changes. The men from Starbutts begin falling all over themselves as they make introductions to Monday, stammering like belligerent fanboys as they bask in his presence.

         Eventually, one of the executives turns to me. “We had no idea that you and Monday were an item,” the man exclaims. “How come you never mentioned him before?”

         “He’s my boyfriend, you know, its not something that I think about all the time,” I struggle to explain. “When you’re in love you aren’t really thinking about how famous your partner is.”

         The executive nods and then slowly cracks a grin. “I hope that doesn’t mean you’d be adverse to calling in a few favors.”

         I lean in towards the executive and lower my voice. “Whatever you need, sir. If we can count on your business, then you can count on the best that Monday has to offer.”
         The executive nods and we quietly shake hands, happy to have come to a mutual understanding. Of course, it’s going to be quite awkward when my company can’t always deliver on our Monday promise, but for now everything seems to have been pleasantly smoothed over.

         The rest of the night goes off without a hitch, and as the hours draw later and later I find myself being drawn closer and closer to this incredible day of the week. There is something about him that is absolutely intoxicating, a homosexual attraction that builds and builds within me until it is absolutely overflowing.

         As we leave the party, Monday and I find ourselves holding hands, not because it is expected of us, but simply because we want to.

         We stop in front of my car for a moment, neither of us wanting this night to end but too nervous to say a word. Instead, we stare deeply into one another’s eyes, the tension just waiting for an opportunity to break.

         “Can I be honest with you?” I finally ask.

         “Of course,” Monday confirms.

         “I had a really good time tonight, and I…” my voice trails off, unable to fully express the taboo desires that swirl and simmer within me.

         “What is it?” Monday urges.

         “I really want you to pound me hard,” I tell him.

         The day grins knowingly, placing his warm yellow hand on my shoulder. “Oh Wimbs,” he sighs, “don’t know see? I’ve been pounding you for years, every morning when you wake up and dread going to work, every time your head aches when the alarm sounds. I’ve always been with you, pounding your heart’s butt.”

         This revelation hits me hard, nearly buckling my knees and dropping me right then and there in the parking lot. I can’t believe that I have been in the presence of such an incredible man and never even noticed, never even given it a second thought.

         “I don’t think I can wait until next Monday,” I finally admit, “I want you to pound me now.”

         Without another word, the muscular day sweeps me up into his arms and begins to carry me across the parking lot, away from the cars and the curious gaze of other revealers. We quickly reach the edge of the cement and then continue off into the nearby woods, the forest growing ever thicker around us.

         My heart is pounding out of my chest now, fully consumed by this moment of gay lust and still aching for more.

         Eventually, Monday lowers me down onto a patch of beautiful green grass, illuminated by a shaft of moonlight that shimmers across the soft surface of the blades. I look up at the handsome day of the week, rampant arousal filling my eyes as I scramble to undo the fly of his pants.

         Eventually, I throw the fabric open and pull out the day’s massive cock, the hardening member springing forth in brilliant glowing yellow as it extends outward towards my face.

         “Oh fuck,” the day groans as I slowly begin to pump my hand across the length of his rod.

         Monday eventually begins to rock his hips along with my strokes, pumping faster and faster until eventually I am beating him off with a furious enthusiasm. In this moment, giving him pleasure means everything to me, and soon I can’t help but open my mouth wide and swallowing the day’s giant rod.

         I pulse my lips across the length of his shaft, savoring the unusually sweet taste of Monday’s dick as it moves across my tongue. I pull him out and lick him from balls to tip, and then take his shaft once again, this time pushing down as far as I can. The day’s cock slips deeper and deeper down my through until eventually it hits my gag reflex and I retch slightly, not entirely prepared for this enormous unit.

         I come back up sputtering and gasping for air, a long strand of saliva hanging between my lips and Monday’s member.

         “I’m sorry,” I stammer, bravely trying to collect my senses. “One more try.”

         Monday places his hands on my head and guides it back down across his shaft, lower and lower until he meets my gag reflex once again. This time, however, I’m ready, relaxed enough to let his enormity slip down past my previous limits.

         Soon enough, the day’s shaft is fully consumed within me, my lips pressed hard against his chiseled abs and his balls hanging tight across my chin. I gaze up at Monday with a look of cock drunk lust, giving him a playful wink and fighting the urge to come up for air until finally I just can’t take it anymore and pull back with a gasp.

         “You’re so fucking big,” I profess.

         “A whole twenty four hours is a lot to take,” Monday says with a smile, and then pushes me back onto the grass.

         The day climbs down onto his knees in front of me, holding back my legs with his powerful arms and aligning the head of his massive cock with my puckered asshole. I can feel him teasing my rim, playing with the edge as he inches slowly past its elastic border and then pulls back. Monday continues like this for a while, toying with me until I finally just can’t take it anymore.

         “Shove that fat cock inside of me right now!” I demand. “I need that fucking day-of-the-week dick!”

         Monday smiles and lets out a hearty chuckle. “Oh yeah? You want it?”

         “Badly,” I moan. “Please fuck my ass!”

         Without a second thought, Monday thrusts forward and plunges deep into my tight asshole, causing me to throw my head back and let out a wild howl of pain and pleasure.

         The beginning of the work we slowly begins fucking my ass, just like he’s fucked it a million times before. The sensation is fantastic and so strangely familiar.

         “God dammit! I love the way that you fuck me, Monday!” I scream.

         My words give the day a surge of encouragement and soon enough he is picking up speed, slamming my asshole harder and harder until eventually he is throttling me with everything that he’s got, hammering away at my tight sphincter with reckless abandon. My eyes roll back into my head and I grip my legs even tighter, spreading myself out for Monday so that he can plow me in a perfectly angled swoop. Every thump of his hips against my asscheeks cause my rock hard dick to bounce and bob, playfully dancing in the air and aching to be pleasured.

         Without another thought, I reach down and grab ahold of my rod, beating myself off in time with the slams that ream my butthole.

         As a straight man, the sensation is almost indiscernible, the nerves within my anus treating me to something wholly unique. I had no idea that tickling the prostate could be so strange, so sensitive, so sensual.

         I can feel that pulsing waves of orgasm beginning to build within me, coming in short, staccato bursts and then growing as they move across my body. Soon every muscle is clenched tight, ready to explode as I push closer and closer to the edge of a powerful orgasmic cliff.

         I’m almost there when suddenly Monday pulls out of my ass, abruptly breaking my concentration.

         “What the fuck?” I cry out, yearning to blow my load.

         “Not yet,” says the handsome day. “You’re going to have to work for it.”

         “Work for it?” I question.

         “Monday is a day of work,” he says to me, confidently. “That’s the point.”

         I watch as the glowing yellow manifestation lies down onto the grass next to me, his massive cock extending out from his body in a proud tower of shimmering gold. He looks incredible stretched out like this, the absolute pinnacle of fitness thanks to years of all that hard work he’s so fond of.

         “Get on,” Monday commands.

         I crawl over to him and then climb aboard, squatting down over the muscular being and aligning his massive shaft with my butthole. This time there is no teasing the rim as I roughly impale myself onto his rod, my entire body skewered as I sink deeper and deeper.

         “Work for it,” Monday commands again.

         I start to pump my entire body up and down across his length, groaning as I accept his thickness within my stretched out asshole.

         “I’ve got a case of the Mondays in my ass,” I murmer, repeating the words over and over again until I am shouting them out at the top of my lungs. “I’ve got a case of the Mondays in my ass! I’ve got a case of the Mondays in my ass!”

         My cock is hard as ever, bouncing along with my frantic slams until I grab it tight and begin to beat off once more, picking up right where I last left off.

         I’m quickly hit with the same looming sense of orgasm, trembling wildly as I jackhammer down onto Monday and then finally letting out a loud, satisfied roar when I explode all over him with my massive jizz load.

         My spunk flies everywhere, splattering in a thick white mess across Monday’s hard chest in a beautiful display of gay passion.

         “Fuck!” I yell, falling backwards onto the grass.

         I look up to see Monday climbing over the top of me, furiously beating his member will I lay sprawled on the grass below.

         The day cries out and then buckles forward, his eyes shut tight and his teeth barred as hot ropes of spunk eject from the head of his shaft.

         I open my mouth and catch as much as I can, the rest of his cum painting my lips and running down either side of my face.

         Finally, the day falls back onto the grass next to me, completely spent after the hardcore, day-of-the-week fuckfest.

         “That was amazing,” I tell him, licking my lips.

         I slide over to the muscular day.

         Monday puts his arm around me and holds me close, filling my soul with a comforting warmth. When I first hatched this plan, I would have never guessed that it could lead me somewhere so unexpected, but now that I’m here I wouldn’t have it any other way. I understand now that, as harsh as Monday can be, his intentions are pure.

         Every workweek has a beginning and an end, and Monday is strong enough to pound ass when it needs to be pounded the most. Without Monday we would all hate Tuesday instead, a never-ending cycle of hungover wakeups that simply cannot be avoided.

         No longer will I shoot the messenger, I think to myself. From this day forward I will see Monday for what he really is: A necessary day of the week, and a truly phenomenal lover.

         “I think I love you,” I finally say, the words spilling out of my mouth without warning.

         The day looks at me with a deep intensity in his eyes, a single tear cresting over the edge and running down his glowing yellow face in a slippery wet streak. “I love you, too,” says Monday.

         “I don’t ever want to leave your side,” I confess.

         Monday’s smile fades slightly. “I’m sorry, Wimbs, I can’t stay with you forever. Eventually Sunday’s going to roll back around, and then I’ll need to get back to work.”

         “But can’t you just stop?” I question.

         “And let Tuesday handle it?” the day attempts to clarify.

         I nod.

         “I can’t,” he says, shaking his golden head, “everything would fall apart.”

         “Without you I will fall apart!” I shout in protest.

         My words hit the day hard, like an arrow to the heart. He is thinking now, a solemn look on his face. “You’re right,” Monday finally says, “our love is more important than any of that. I’m not going in to work this week.”

         I gaze out across Los Angeles, trembling with anxiety in the late night darkness. Monday sees me shaking and puts his hand in mine, offering a sliver of comfort in this otherwise terrifying situation.

         After an eternity of coming directly after Sunday, my new gay lover and I have no idea what will happen when he decides not to show up.

         I check my watch.

         “How much time?” Monday asks.

         “One minute,” I tell him.

         I squeeze his hand tighter, looking out over the city lights and wondering what the future holds. Will we automatically jump to Tuesday as if nothing even happened? Or will the very fabric of time and space collapse around us?

         Suddenly, I can feel a strange rush of wind from behind, though something about it feels completely distinct and new.

         “This is it,” I say.

         The wind behind us continues to pick up, howling in my ears as a bright red glow appears along the distant horizon line. It’s only then that I realize the wind is not wind at all, but the sensation of time and space being ripped apart.

         “Oh my god!” I cry out, but the words immediately dissolve into nothingness.

         I look over and see that Monday’s face has begun to melt, drifting away from him in a strange swirling line that eventually consumes his entire body. Soon enough the two of us are merging together in a sickening mutation of random matter, consumed by our own place in space and time.

         I should be terrified right now, but I’m not. Regardless of our impending metamorphosis within the space-time continuum, I am just glad to be here with Monday, the love of my life.

         Moments later, we are ripped into a billion tiny pieces, melding with the universe as it collapses around us.