Creamed In The Butt By My Handsome Living Corn - (Classic Tingler Revisited)

hello buckaroos and welcome to another CLASSIC TINGLER REVISITED. to call this particular tingler legendary would be an understatement, i would say this is one of the most talked about tinglers ever. i will also say that i am not entirely sure what it is about this one that resonates with the timeline so much (although i have ONE idea). YES there is a good pun in the title but there are plenty of good pun tingler titles.

honestly, part of me thinks that buckaroos just really like HANDSOME CORN

but really the thing that is MOST remembered about this tingler is the ending. i do not want to give away too much but i will say it is a rare twist and i think what i like about this is that it shows there are all kinds of emotions as we trot through life and twist our timelines together. that truth is part of our journey, both the ups and the downs, and so i think there is something really beautiful about this one as it resonates on an unexpected frequency at the end

anyway LETS TROT BUCKAROOS. please enjoy CREAMED IN THE BUTT BY MY HANDSOME LIVING CORN

When Matthew McConneymay sets off on his yearly trip to the California Farming Convention, he expects to have a typical weekend of wining and dining with an assortment of living crops. What he doesn’t expect, is that one of these handsome agricultural staples would capture his heart. Enter Liplon, the handsome living corn who sweeps Matthew off of his feet in a night of hardcore anal plowing he will never forget.

But are Liplon’s intentions business or pleasure? Could this muscular corn on the cob be playing Matthew for nothing more than a planting commitment?

This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling human on gay corn action, including anal, blowjobs, rough sex, cream pies and living food love.

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CREAMED IN THE BUTT BY MY HANDSOME LIVING CORN

By Chuck Tingle

It’s rare that you think of a down-home, Southern farmer in a suit and a tie, but I’m not your average farmer. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with working the fields in a dirty old T-shirt and a straw hat, wiping the sweat from your brow as you till the brown soil. I can honestly say that I’ve put in more than enough hours doing just that.

            But there are many different facets of agriculture, and as the work changes in this modern day and age, the men and women who make up our American farming industry are changing with it.

            When I was younger, all that I really needed to worry about was rotating the crops and following the weather patterns, but these days it seems like every political issue under the sun has worked its way into the process of growing food.

            The particular weekend’s activity; crop lobbying.

            While there was once a time that the veggies I planted were based on whatever I felt like growing, many large-scale farmers like me are currently being accosted by various companies who want their seeds sown.

            I’ll be the first to admit, getting wined and dined like this is quite the treat for a humble guy like me, and I’ve honestly started to really enjoy these conferences. It’s just hard to look back and recognize that this is what the life of a farmer has become. I don’t think I’ll ever truly feel comfortable with my shirt buttoned all the way to the top and this tie wrapped around me like a noose.

            “Excuse me,” comes a deep, soulful voice, suddenly breaking my concentration.

            I look up, my reminiscence of the good old days dissipating quickly as it’s replaced by the smiling face of a large cob of corn.

            “I think I’m over there,” the striking corn says, pointing to the airplane seat next to me.

            I should stand up and let him through, making the whole boarding process as quick and efficient as possible, but instead I just sit here and stare at him, completely taken aback by the vegetable’s shockingly good looks.

            “Are you alright?” the corn asks, snapping me out of it for a second time.

            ‘Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” I stammer, standing up from my seat and then stepping out into the aisle of our bustling jet as we prepare for take off. I wave my hand across the row of chairs, motioning the corn inward.

            Even now, I can’t take my eyes off of this muscular agricultural staple as he moves past me and then finally collapses into the window seat. He is perfectly toned from head to toe, a beautiful yellow glow shimmering off every kernel of his body.

            When I take my seat once again, the vegetable introduces himself. “I’m Liplon,” the corn tells me, shaking my hand.

            “Matthew McConneymay,” I reply, giving him a firm shake and trying my best to collect my sense. “I’m guessing you’re flying to the agriculture conference, too?”

            “What gave me away?” the cob of corn says with a wink.

            I laugh, instantly charmed by the handsome vegetable. I can see why this corn in particular would be sent in to convince farmers of using his species in their fields; he has an overwhelming amount of charisma to go with his dashing good looks.

            “You a corn man?” Matthew asks, cutting right to the chase.

            I chuckle, suddenly feeling quite uncomfortable. “No, I can’t say that I am.”

            “What are you growing?” the corn continues. “If you don’t mind me asking, of course.”

            “Oh no, it’s fine,” I gush, waving his cares away as I try my best to remain as endearing as possible to the veggie. “Beets.”

            “Hmm,” is all that Matthew says, smiling to himself, and then immediately turns to look out the window in silence.

            I have to admit, this was not the response that I was expecting from a smooth talker such as this. I had been bracing myself for the hard sell, and when it doesn’t happen I immediately find myself strangely disappointed.

            At first I’m not sure if I should say anything, well aware that any more conversation on the matter could spark a heated debate and a sales pitch that I would, unfortunately, be forced to decline. My curiosity has gotten the best of me, though, and regardless of whether or not the corn is currently playing me like a fiddle, I need to know more.

            “What?” I finally ask.

            Liplon glances back at me. “I’m sorry?”

            “What does hmm mean? Why should I be growing corn?”

            Liplon smiles. “I mean, when’s the last time you sat down and bit into a nice, juicy piece of corn? Like, really enjoyed it in a situation where your focus was entirely on the cob itself. Maybe with some salt and butter? I don’t know, whatever floats your boat.”

            I shrug, suddenly realizing that I truly don’t remember the last time this had occurred. Lately, it’s been all beets at the house and, although they can certainly hit the spot of you know what you’re doing, the thought of a piping hot corn on the cob really does sound fantastic at the moment.

            Liplon can see the expression on my face and just laughs knowingly to himself. “See?”
            “I just don’t know if it makes business sense,” I tell him.

            The corn nods. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably right.”

            Once more the handsome, muscular cob turns away and leaves me to simmer in my own thoughts.

            The rest of the plane ride we don’t say another word, each of us prepping for the long weekend of meetings and fancy business dinners ahead. Despite being the representative of such a massive food staple, the living corn next to me seems incredibly calm, as if he knows something that the rest of the world doesn’t.

            When we finally touch down in California and begin collecting our bags from the overhead compartment, the corn steps towards me and hands me his business card in one cool, calculated motion.

            I take his card and read it aloud. “Corn.”

            “If you change your mind about your crops, give me a call,” Liplon explains. “We’ll do dinner.”

            “Sounds good,” I confirm with a nod, but before I can look up to face him again, the vegetable is gone.

            The first day of the conference is quite productive, a slew of meetings with several very persuasive foods who are glad to pay for my drinks regardless of the fact that I’m clearly not interested in switching crops any time soon. My main source of income is beets, however, and they always do a great job of showing my why this is a good relationship to maintain, taking me out for an incredible steak dinner in one of the fanciest restaurants I’ve ever had the good fortune to dine in. As a country boy, this is more than enough to keep me satisfied with the way things are going back home.

            Still, there is something that continues to gnaw away in the back of my mind, a strange ache that throbs deep down in the darkest, gayest parts of my subconscious. What if I had a relationship with corn? My life is wonderful now, and I respect the hell out of beets, but could it be even better?

            When we finish up our dinner my purple companions offer to pay for a taxi back to the hotel, but I decline, opting instead to clear my head with a nice long walk in the warm night air. The beets insist, but I’m steadfast in my decision and finally we part ways with a smile and a handshake.

            It’s not a far walk between our restaurant and the convention center, which is directly across from the hotel that I’ve been generously put up in. I’m taking my time, though, strolling leisurely as my thoughts drift this way and that.

            No matter what I do, I can’t stop thinking about the way the light had glistened off of the corn’s beautiful rounded kernels, or even the succulent yet subtle taste that his body would create in my mouth. Suddenly, I find myself with the beginnings of a completely unexpected erection, my hardened member pushing gently against the fabric of my pants.

            A farmer my entire life, this is the first time I’ve ever developed feelings for a food of any kind, let alone a vegetable. While the concept is a bit intimidating at first, it’s actually quite comforting the longer I think about it. What would be so wrong for a farmer and his vegetable to take their relationship to the next level?

            Nothing, I suddenly realize.

            I reach into my pocket and pull out the card that Liplon gave me, flipping it over in my hand as my eyes scan the elegantly designed surface. There is a phone number on the back and, seized by a moment of erotic compulsion, I call it.

            I hold the phone to my ear, listening as it rings once, twice, three times. Finally, someone on the other end picks up.

            “Hello?” comes the deep voice of the handsome veggie.

            “Is this Liplon? The corn?” I question.

            “Speaking.”

            It suddenly occurs to me that I have no idea what to say, no real reason for calling other than the fact that my own sexual attraction compelled me to. The silence between us is deafening, my heart kicking into double time as my brain frantically searches for something to say.

            “I met you on the plane,” I finally stammer.

            Liplon takes his time with this information, completely chilled as he gives this space in our conversation weight.

            “Matthew, right?” the corn asks.

            “Yeah, that’s me,” I tell him, sweet relief washing over my body as Liplon remembers my name. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t incredibly flattered.

            “You thinking about switching to corn?” the golden food asks.

            “I don’t know,” I sigh.

            “Let’s meet up for a drink and talk about it,” Liplon offers, “where are you at?”

            I glance around, finding the nearest cross street and then describing my whereabouts to the living food.

            “I’ll be there in two minutes,” Liplon tells me, then hangs up without another word.

            I’m trembling with anticipation now, fully realizing that the consequences of breaking my current beet contracts could be utterly devastating. Depending on how angry the beets got, I could lose my farm.

            Of course, that’s only if I break the contract, and I suddenly realize that I’ve done nothing so far that could get me in trouble. For the rest of the night, I’ll just keep things civil. A casual drink is nothing out of the ordinary at a conference like this.

            Suddenly, a beautiful yellow convertible pulls up next to me, the top down and Liplon sitting proudly in the driver’s seat. He flashes a brilliant smile.

            “Get in,” the handsome corn on the cob commands.

            I do as I’m told and before I know it the two of us have taken off into the night, the wind whipping across my face as the city lights pass us by. Without a word between us I’ve found myself completely swept away by Liplon’s presence, the handsome corn completely in control while I’m just along for the ride.

            Soon we leave the congestion of the city behind and start cruising up the nearby hillside, winding back and forth as trees and shrubs begin to sprout up across the landscape. Our only light now is the glowing headlamps ahead and the soft wash of the brilliant full moon that hangs above.

            The car begins to slow as we reach the top of a large crest, pulling off onto the side of the road in what I soon realize is a wide open lookout. The view is absolutely breathtaking, sweeping out over the entire city below, a blanket of twinkling lights.

            Lipton throws the convertible into park but keeps the radio going, a soft, soothing wave of jazz pouring out from the speakers.

            “Is this where you take all of your meetings?” I ask, skeptically.

            Liplon shrugs. “Just the important ones.”

            “And what’s so important about me?” I question.

            Liplon thinks about this for a moment but doesn’t answer, instead pushing the conversation off towards a different path entirely. “Do you see all of those lights out there across the city? Those lights are homes, and in each of those homes there is an average of four people living. Do you know how many meals that is?”

            “Four people, eating three meals a day,” I say, thinking out loud.

            “Twelve meals a day total,” the corn tells me. “Do you know how many of those meals include beets?”

            “I don’t know,” I admit, “I never really thought about it.”

            “None,” Liplon says bluntly. “The average person eats three beets a year, do you realize that?”
            I shake my head. “Where are you getting this information from?”

            Immediately, the corn reaches over and pushes a button to unlock the glove compartment in front of me. There is a quick snap as the latch comes undone and falls open, spilling a cascade of paperwork everywhere.

            As my eyes pass over the swarm of text-covered pages, I begin to pick out an assortment of information; names and addresses, charts and graphs.

            “What is all of this?” I question.

            “After meeting you on the plane I took the liberty of doing some research on your crop selection,” explains Liplon. “Your whole setup in screwed.”

            While I appreciate the effort that this corn has put in, I can’t help but feel greatly disappointed by the way that this has gone. It was the calm and casual nature of the vegetable that had been so attractive to me, the fact that he didn’t actually push to sell me on anything. Now, the trap has been sprung, and it’s becoming achingly clearly that this whole thing is much more about business than pleasure.

            “I think you should take me home,” I finally sigh, gazing straight forward through the windshield.

            Liplon is silent, and I can’t help glancing over to see the look of disappointment and heartbreak sweep across his face.

            “I’m sorry,” I tell him, “this was a bad idea.”

            The corn starts his car and throws it in reverse, but before he can pull out I reach over and put my hand on his as it rests over the gear shift. The two of us freeze, not quite sure what to do with ourselves.

            “Wait,” I finally say, causing the vegetable to turn off the car once again.

            Without another word I open the door and climb out, beckoning the corn to follow as I make my way down to the edge of the nearby cliff.

            The view is incredible.

            I take a seat and stare out across the beautiful moonlight vista, breathing in deeply from the fresh night air. Moment’s later, Liplon sits down next to me.

            “I have to be honest,” I finally tell him, “I thought there might have been something else going on between us.”

            “What do you mean?” the corn asks.

            “I don’t know,” I laugh, shaking my head, “it was stupid.”

            “No, what was it,” Liplon insists, placing his yellow hand on my leg.

            I glance over at him, suddenly feeling that same electricity that had been present before. “I guess maybe I had a crush on you,” I finally admit. “When you were taking me up here, I didn’t know you were just trying to get me to switch my crops. It was ridiculous of me to think that this was anything other than a business transaction.”

            “Oh god, it’s so much more than that,” Liplon suddenly blurts, leaning in and kissing me passionately on the mouth.

            All of the pent up desire that has been waiting so patiently within me suddenly explodes across my body, consumed by a frantic desire to become one with this handsome corn. Even though I am completely straight and Liplon is a male, there is no denying the energy that exchanges between us any longer.

            “Whoa,” I gush as we pull back from one another.

            “The business can wait,” Lipton tells me with a smile.

            “How about some corn holing?” I offer mischievously.

            Without hesitation, I turn and push the giant corn back onto the grass behind us, noticing now that an absolutely massive yellow erection has started to sprout out from his ripped body. It grows larger and larger as I begin to passionately kiss my way down his kernelled chest, drifting lower with every touch of my lips until finally my mouth is hovering directly above his swollen member.

            Liplon lets out a long, powerful moan as I wrap my lips tightly around his cock. I immediately get to work moving my head up and down his length, slowly and sensually at first and then building speed. Soon enough I am bobbing my head across his length at a steady pace, allowing the corn to place his hands against the back of my skull and guide me.

            “Oh fuck that feels so good, Matthew McConneymay,” Liplon groans, pumping his hips back against my face.

            I reach down and begin to play with his hanging yellow balls, which cases the vegetable to extenuate his pumps even more.

            Finally, when I feel like things have reached an erotic peak between us, I push down as far as I can to consume his rod entirely in a expertly performed deep throat.

            At least, that’s what the plan was. However, things don’t exactly work out that way that I expected. Greatly underestimating Liplon’s size, I immediately begin to choke when his dick pushes against my gag reflex. The next thing I know I’m pulling back, releasing his shaft from my depths and retching loudly.

            “You’re so fucking big,” I admit, struggling to regain my composure. “One more try.”

            I gather myself as much as possible and then attempt once more, taking the corn’s dick between my lips and then slowly, confidently, lowering my head onto him. This time I am much more relaxed, and when the head of his cock reaches my gag reflex I somehow allow it to pass by without any hesitation.

            Suddenly, I find myself with Liplon’s giant corn dick fully inserted within my throat, his balls pressed hard against my chin.

            The massive food clearly enjoys being fully consumed like this, and lets me know by throwing his head back and letting out a loud, passionate sigh of pleasure.

            Within the warm confines my mouth I run my tongue across his length, up and down the shaft as I slowly begin to run out of air. This continues until, finally, I just can’t take it any longer and come up sputtering and choking. A long strand of saliva hangs between the corn’s dick and my hungry mouth.

            “I want you to pound me,” I tell him, climbing up onto the vegetable as he lies sprawled out in the grass.

            I’m facing Liplon as I grab ahold of his wet, slobbery dick, placing it at the entrance of my tight asshole and then carefully lowering myself onto his giant rod.

            “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I begin to murmer, struggling to allow my body acceptance of his enormous size. For now, the corn is simply teasing my rim, pressing playfully against the edge of my sphincter until finally it opens up in one quick movement and I drop down onto him.

            “Cornholed at last!” Liplon shouts gleefully as his dick impales me.

            I lean forward and grip tight onto the food’s shoulders, my body still desperately trying to adjust to his girth. Every ounce of my being feels stretched tight, ready to snap at any moment under the pressure of his substantial thickness.

            Instead, however, the pain and discomfort that surges through me begins to subside, replaced with a strange, aching pleasure that builds and builds with every slow grind of my hips. Eventually, my movements start to speed up, turning into full on swoops of passion against the muscular corn. By now the tightness of my ass has given way completely in a wave of utter bliss, the mystical power of an impending prostate orgasm blossoming within me to replace it.

            The sensation starts low and deeps, somewhere within my belly before expanding out in a series of beautiful surges. With each pump of my body across his giant rod the feeling grows, moving down my arms and legs as I tremble excitedly.

            I reach down and grab ahold of my dick, pumping my hand across my length in time with my movements of the corn’s meaty cock up my rump.

            “I’m so close,” I yell. “Oh god, I’m gonna fucking blow my load!”

            Suddenly, Liplon lifts me up off of him with his muscular arms, cutting short the waves of orgasm that had been building up within.

            “What was that?” I groan. “I was gonna come.”

            “Not yet you aren’t,” laughs Liplon. “The key to every business transaction is making sure that both sides are happy, we’re cumming together.”

            “Alright,” I say with a playful grin, “you’re on.”
            Suddenly, Liplon is flipping me over on the grass so that I’m now on my hands and knees, facing out towards the seemingly endless lights of the city below. The sight may be breathtaking, but it’s not until the giant corn pushes his cock deep into my asshole from behind that I literally gasp out loud.

            “Fucking hell!” I cry, my fingers gripping the grass before me as Liplon gets to work from behind.

            The next thing I know, the handsome corn is pounding my butthole with everything that he’s got, railing me with a ferocity unlike anything that I have ever seen. It feels incredible to be dominated by him, to know that he is much stronger and more powerful than me as he uses my ass for his burning vegetable pleasure.

            It’s not long before the familiar orgasmic sensations begin to bubble up within me once again, spilling out through my veins like simmering erotic venom. I’m quaking hard, every muscle in my body pulled tight and then breaking like waves.

            “Harder!” I scream. “Pound my ass harder, corn!”

            The vegetable does as he’s told, never letting up for a second as he reams my depths with a sexual prowess that makes my toes curl.

            I’m just about ready to cum when the food behind me slams forward with a powerful, final thrust, crying out with a howl that echoes around us for miles. The sound is immediately joined by a spastic crackle, a series of loud pops that rattle off in rapid succession.

            I look back over my shoulder in shock to discover that Liplon is erupting in a fit of passion, the kernels across his body exploding into puffs of popcorn and then shooting off in every direction.

            “I’m cumming!” I corn shouts.

            Within me, I can feel the strangely pleasant snap of his cock popping as well, his orgasm displaying itself in a carnal preparation of snack food. He’s filling me up with his seed, pumping load after load within me until finally there’s just not enough room in my ass and the popcorn comes spilling out over the edges of my sphincter, scattering across the ground below like an overfilled popcorn machine at the local movie theatre.

            “There’s so much corn in my asshole!” I shriek, beating myself off with an untamed fury.

            Suddenly, I’m cumming as well, my eyes rolling back into my head as a massive load of jizz erupts from the end of my swollen shaft. It splatters across the ground below me, mixing with the popcorn to form a warm pearly seasoning of gayness.

            When I glance back over my shoulder once more I find myself alone on the cliff side, heaps of popcorn strewn everywhere but my handsome companion nowhere to be found. A strong wind blows and scatters the food, some of it whipping off into the air and swirling away into the distance.

            In this moment, I realize that Liplon is truly gone.

            I look up at the crowd before me, watching as the tears stream down their faces. I realize now that I too am crying, reminiscing of my night long ago with this agricultural lover.

            “That’s how I met Liplon,” I say, reading the final words of his eulogy aloud, “when I met him at that conference I had no idea that this breathtaking living corn would change my heart, and my butthole, forever. He will be greatly missed.”

            I finish and then step back from the podium as a bugle begins to play, its bittersweet song soaring out across the grass of the cemetery. To my left, the coffin full of popcorn begins to lower slowly into the ground.

            “I love you,” I say under my breath, unable to take my eyes off of the oblong box until it is completely below the dirt. “I’ll see you on the other side, and I’m ready for some corn hole.”