Penis Pump Posts Profits for Paul

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Paul’s plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump is a hit for men at Wal-Mart on Nude Day.


“Hey, Joe. What do you say? Do you want to do something wild and crazy?” Paul moved his body around, as if impersonating Steve Martin’s wild and crazy guy.

“Gawd, I hate it when you impersonate Steve Martin. It’s so juvenile,” he said looking at his friend with contempt for his forever good mood and sense of fun. “What do you have in mind?”

Joe yawned. Looking as if he was more ready for a nap than doing anything wild and crazy. The bags that Joe had under his eyes, along with his listless body posture revealed his energy level was dangerously low.

“Well, with it being Nude Day in just a few short weeks, I thought we’d march in the Nude Day parade naked. We can wear an abbreviated costume, of course, so we don’t get arrested. Maybe a mask of some kind for our faces and our cocks. I’m looking forward to getting in the spirit of things for Nude Day this year,” said Paul.

“Me march naked in the Nude Day parade? Are you crazy? Exposing a penis is for perverts and gay men. I’m no pervert and I’m not gay. I’d never strip off my clothes in front of the world. I’d be so embarrassed, if anyone recognized me. I’ll go to the Nude Day parade with you, but not to strip naked and march. I’d go with you just to ogle the naked women,” said Joe.

“Are you feeling alright, Joe? You seem a little tired and lethargic lately.”

“Me feeling alright? I’m fine, except that I’m tired, probably from depression. I’m always depressed. The question is, are you feeling alright?” Joe looked at his friend with concern.

“Feeling alright? I’ve never felt better. I feel swell,” said Paul smiling wildly at his friend. “Why do you ask?”

“You look almost giddy, as if you’re high on drugs,” said Joe. “It’s annoying.”

“There’s no drug that could make me feel better than I already feel. I couldn’t be happier. I’m so excited. I can’t wait for Nude Day,” said Paul. Happy as can be, as if he were a ventriloquist, Paul was one of the few people, who was able to talk, while still smiling. He looked at his friend with his big, permanently etched, smile plastered on his face. “Seriously, why do you ask?

“Because you’re always smiling,” said Joe raising his voice. “You’re always so frigging happy,” he said jabbing a stiff finger in his chest. “You’re always so fucking annoying with your positivity and positive attitude,” he said raising both his hands and closing them tightly, as if he was imagining choking his friend, “that I want to beat the happiness right out of you, so that you’ll walk around feeling as miserable, as the rest of us always are.”

“I can’t help it, if I’m happy and you’re not, Joe. Maybe, one day, my happiness will rub off on you, too. Come here, big guy and give me a hug,” said Paul, still smiling.

“Hug? Men don’t hug. Get away from me,” he said looking down at Paul’s obvious erection.

“I just wanted to give you a man hug, in the way athletes do, when they score a run or win a game. Give me a high five, then,” said Paul slapping the air, when Joe refused to high five him.

“I’ve known you now for five, long, insufferable years and never have I seen you down in the dumps, depressed, and as miserable, as the rest of us always are,” said Joe stepping out of hugging range. “Now you look even happier. Matter of fact, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you. What the Hell is your secret?”

“I don’t know. I’m just happy, I guess,” said Paul still wildly smiling. “Maybe I was just born that way,” said Paul still smiling, as if he had just won the lottery.

“Why, with all the shit dumped on us in life, are you so frigging happy? Why? I don’t understand. Unless you’re an Emcee on a game show, a judge at a Miss America contest, a photographer at a Playboy Bunny photo shoot, or a politician running for office, while collecting millions in donations to overflow his campaign war chest, no one goes around smiling all the time. Not even Cameron Diaz is as happy as you are and she’s always so frigging happy.”

“Different from you, one who is, obviously so burdened with stress and worry, I enjoy life my friend stress and worry free. I live my life to the fullest,” he said looking down at the big bulge that protruded his pants, before he looked up at his friend smiling, “if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” said Joe looking down at his friend. “Listen, Paul, we’ve known one another long enough. You can tell me,” said Joe taking a step back, before being impaled by Paul’s protruding penis bulge. “Are you taking something? Is that it? Are you on something?”

“Taking something? On something? What do you mean taking something or on something? I don’t take anything for my good mood, if you mean a mood and mind altering drug, such as Prozac or Zoloft.”

“Prozac free spin and Zoloft are not what I mean, Paul. Do you take something, you know,” said Joe, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation that suddenly turned sexual, “that will give you a little help and an extra boost, when you need it the most?”

“A little help? An extra boost? You mean a protein bar? Other than drinking my two morning cups of coffee, Starbucks, French Roast, black, I grind my own beans, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Joe.” He looked at his friend in the way that a father would look at his troubled son. “I’ve never needed an extra boost. I’m always up,” he said looking down again at his penis bump that pushed hard against his pants.

“I didn’t want to be so sexually explicit by having to graphically explain my meaning,” said Joe. “I didn’t want to be so pryingly personal, Paul, but, at a loss how else to explain, you leave me no choice. Are you taking testosterone supplements or Chinese herbs? Are you eating bull’s balls or live oysters? Are you overdosing on Viagra or Cialis? No matter when or where, you always seem so willing, able, and ready for action,” he said looking down at Paul’s big bulge, “if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, that,” he said pulling his pants up higher to make his bulge loom larger. “No, I don’t take any testosterone supplements or Chinese herbs. I don’t eat bull’s balls or live oysters. Although I do watch their commercials and laugh at those people sitting in two separate bathtubs, while wondering how they’ll have sex like that, I’ve never taken Viagra or Cialis. I’ve never needed any help. I’m lucky in that regard,” he said looking down at himself, before looking up to smile proudly up at his friend.

“Then, I don’t understand,” said Joe shaking his head, while scratching it. “Why do you always have an erection,” said Joe making eye contact with his friend, instead of looking down at him.

“Everything I have is natural and God given,” said Paul sticking out his pelvis in his best Captain Morgan pose to make his erection appear even more annoyingly noticeable. “All that I can say is that I’ve been blessed, Joe, really blessed. I’m a very lucky man in that regard, is you know what I mean. If I overdose on anything, I admit to watching too much of Joel and Victoria Olsteen. I’m over dosing on our Lord and Savior, the Almighty, Jesus Christ,” said Paul signing himself.

“Gees, Paul, no offense, but I really hate that broad, especially after she showed her true colors by slapping that airline stewardess,” said Joe.

“Oh, that. We all have our bad days,” said Paul. “Even Victoria Olsteen has a right to be angry, when she’s overly tired from traveling too much.”

“Yet, you’re never angry, Paul. You’re always happy, happy, happy,” said Joe raising his voice with every happy word.

“Well, maybe, Victoria Olsteen is why I’m as happy, as a pig in shit. To be honest, Joe, just between you and me, and if you say this to my wife, I’d deny I ever said this to you,” said Paul with a sinister laugh. “I’d love to bone that Victoria Olsteen up the ass, after she dropped to her knees, not to pray, but to suck my cock,” said Paul with a wink and a smile. “Man, she’s one hot, holy woman.”

“I dare say that having the hots for Victoria Olsteen has little to do with your constant erections. The way that I see things, Paul,” said Joe looking down at his friend’s bulge again. “If you ask me, you’re just a lucky bastard, Paul, you lucky bastard. Do you know that? You’re a lucky bastard, that’s what you are, a very lucky bastard, you lucky son of a bitch. My wife–“

“Speaking of your wife, Joe, why haven’t you introduced me to your wife and, now that I think of it, your daughter, yet? In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never invited me to your house to meet your family. Never invited to your house for Christmas, birthdays, even a barbeque, I wasn’t even invited to your daughter’s college graduation party. I thought we were friends, Joe.”

“Why haven’t I allowed you to meet my family? For obvious reasons,” said Joe unable to stop himself from looking down at Paul’s big bulge. “Let’s just say the reason why I haven’t introduced you to my wife and daughter, Paul, is because they may be just a little too excited to meet you, if you know what I mean,” he said looking down at his friend’s bulge again.

“I see,” said Paul.

“Now, don’t get me wrong, Paul. Most women would love to meet a man as well endowed in the way that you obviously are, but not when the women are my wife and daughter. Do you understand?”

“I do, Joe. I understand loud and clear. Thank you for explaining, I think,” said Paul scratching his head. “Admittedly, I do have a lot of women coming on to me. I don’t know why that is. I’ve always been lucky with the ladies, I guess. Maybe because I still have all of my hair and have nice, white teeth. Maybe my positive attitude is contagious and they enjoy being around me. Maybe bonus veren siteler it’s my–“

“I doubt that your hair, teeth, and positive attitude have anything to do with your success with women, Paul,” said Joe with a laugh of sarcasm. “Getting back to what I wanted to ask you,” said Joe.

“Yes? What would you like to ask me, Joe?”

“We’re the same age, Paul, and I’m as sorry as I’m embarrassed to say that I’m no longer eager to please the beaver. I can’t hump hard and long enough to pump the pussy. I’ve been down because I no longer have the erection to pound the mound. Feeling so much like a sexual heel, I can’t seal the sexual deal. Feeling so lackluster, in the way that I am, I can’t slam the clam in the way that I used to do, when you, obviously, still can.”

“I hear you, Joe, and I’m sorry,” said Paul.

“I don’t get it,” said Joe, while looking down at his friend’s bulge again. “To be totally honest, Paul, I wish I had a cock as big and as hard as you obviously have,” said Joe with sadness. “I can’t remember, when I’ve had a boner, as big as the one you have now and as big as the boners you parade around with all the time,” said Joe with envy. “How can you always have an erection? No one continually has an erection, not even smiling Bob from the male enhancement commercial. Matter of fact, now that I think of it, you remind me a lot of him.”

“Well, my friend,” said Paul smiling ear to ear, as if he was imitating smiling Bob, while putting a fatherly hand on Joe’s broad shoulder. “I think I can help you. You, too, can have a continual and constant erection with my new patented process, my new invention.”

“Patented process? New invention? What the Hell are you talking about new invention? What new invention? You invented something? What did you invent? And how can whatever it is you invented help me with my personal penis problem.”

“Calm down, Joe, and I’ll tell you,” he said lowering his voice. “I don’t want anyone to know just, yet. Presently, to be imported from the far east, the orient to this great county, I’m manufacturing my invention in a factory in China to be released to the world on Nude Day. The first shipments just arrived from Hong Kong yesterday.”

“Yeah, so? What is it? What did you invent?”

“After years of research and market testing, with me as the guinea pig, I invented Paul’s plastic, perfect, penis pump,” said Paul standing with his hands on his hips, as if he was a super penis version of Superman. “Appropriately, I plan on releasing the first batch of penis pumps in July, precisely July 14th, on Nude Day, which is why I wanted to march naked in the Nude Day parade. My way of marketing, while personally advertising my product, I had planned on holding up a big sign advertising my penis pump, while giving out some discount coupons to potential customers to purchase one.”

“Tell me you’re not going to march in the Nude Day parade with nothing but your smile and an erection,” said Joe looking down at Paul’s bulge again.

“Yes, I am, going to march in the Nude Day parade, but covered up enough, so that I won’t be arrested. After Wal-Mart agreed to buy one hundred thousand of my plastic, perfect, penis pumps to exclusively sell in their ten thousand stores and, if they sell, which they will, of course, without doubt, they’ve contracted to order one million more plastic, perfect, penis pumps. With my erect penis leading the way and with the exposure, no pun intended, I’ll be receiving from the press, after my naked parade on Nude Day, I’m on my way to being rich and famous.”

“Plastic, perfect, penis pump? That’s your secret? A pump? A penis pump? A masturbation toy?” Wanting no part of a penis pump, Joe made a sour face, while waving his hands, as if he was a black diva named Kaneasha, wanting no part of a threesome with her dirty dog of a husband, LeRoy and her identical twin sister, Laticia.

“I don’t understand your aversion. Why don’t you like penis pumps, Joe?”

“They’re so embarrassing. Everyone knows you have one. They make that whooshing sound, as if you’re blowing up a balloon, when you’re trying to pump up your penis. I knew a guy who had one back in the ’80’s. They don’t work. Nah, sorry, but I don’t want anything like that attached to my cock,” said Joe.

Joe took a step back and waved both his hands, as if they were red, flashing, warning lights at a railroad crossing. As if he was the driver of a car stuck on the tracks with his drunken mother-in-law and unconscious wife still in the car, he acted as if he didn’t want to be suspected, arrested, accused, tried, and convicted of a double homicide. Sadly and prophetically, years later, after relying on Paul’s Plastic, Perfect, Penis Pump to make him popular with the women, that’s exactly what happened to his mother-in-law, his wife, and to him later in life.

“I’m telling you, Joe, these penis pumps are great. More natural than Viagra and without the side effects and without deneme bonusu veren siteler those terribly backaches, headaches, and blurred vision. A penis pump is the answer to your prayers.”

“Gees, I don’t know, Paul, bordering on sexual toys for men, penis pumps are just too gay for me. Truthfully, I’d rather suffer my sexual life with my flaccid cock than to have a phony erection created by a plastic, perfect penis pump. I don’t want to have to depend upon a plastic pump to pump myself up, before having sex with Mary. That’s so gross.”

“There’s nothing phony about my erections, Joe, not the way that I do it,” said Paul looking down at his erection with Joe. “Purely for demonstration purposes, go ahead and feel my cock, Joe. Feel how big and how hard my prick is,” said Paul sticking out his hips for his friend to feel his erection.

“No, that’s okay, Paul. I’ll take your word for it. Thanks anyway for the invitation to feel your big, hard cock, but I’ll pass,” said Joe taking a step away from his friend.

“The hardware is all hidden in my clothes,” said Paul. “Look at me. Other than the bulge that my cock makes in my pants, do you see any lumps, bumps, or wires?”

“No, except for that external, eternal, and infernal smile you always have plastered on your face and the constant and continual erection you have in your pants, you look normal to me.”

“Without anyone knowing it, Joe, I’m standing here pumping up my penis. How about that? As if it’s magic, my plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump is silently making my cock bigger and harder.”

“That’s so gross, Paul. I just threw up in my mouth. I just hope you’re not pumping up your penis over the thought of me touching and feeling you.”

“Don’t be silly. I love women and not men. With normal every day men taking Viagra and Cialis, in the way that women pump up their breasts with padded bras and silicon, you don’t have to be a gay or a perverted man to want to pump up your penis, Joe. Actually, instead of spending money on pills, all you need to do is to stick one hand in your pocket and push a button. Viola! That’s it! The unit operates by one AAA battery.”

“Actually, that is amazing, Paul, and I’m happy for your future success.”

“Hidden away in my pants much like a tiny hearing aid concealed in your ear, no one will ever know that you have a plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump inside your pant pocket. Here, I’ll show you. Stick your hand in my pant pocket and feel the mechanism,” said Paul holding open his pant pocket to accept his friend’s hand.

“Nah, that’s okay, Paul. I’ll take your word for it, if you don’t mind,” said Joe raising his hand up to his shoulder and taking another step back, while looking cautiously at his smiling friend. “I really don’t want to stick my hand in your pant pocket to feel your mechanism, if you don’t mind. It would be very awkward, should anyone see me with my hand in your pant pocket.”

“Never mind then. I’ll show you myself,” said Paul reaching his hand in his pocket and turning it inside out. “See? The pump is hidden in my clothes.”

“Wow, I see that,” said Joe, still looking a little skeptical.

“Much in the way of a padded bra, the device has a small silicone encasement that fits over my cock and inflates, by grabbing my cock and squeezing it, while vibrating, in the way of an Anti-lock Braking System on a car. As if it’s a tiny, computerized hand squeezing me and stroking me 10,000 beats a minute, the mechanical mechanism is thin, tiny, and lightweight. Made of light weight and very comfortable silicone, the encasement stretches with my cock. The entire mechanism that inflates the encasement to inflate my cock is as small as a 24 jeweled watch movement. It’s so small that I can even hide my plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump in my bathing trunks without anyone ever suspecting that I have a plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump and am pumping up my penis, while standing before them talking or while walking the beach.”

“No shit. Wow! That’s amazing, Paul,” he said watching Paul pump up his cock bigger and harder. “I always wanted to have an erection that impressed the ladies, while walking the beach. Now that I think about it, I’d love to stand before some of my wife’s girlfriends with a cock that big and hard, while watching them looking down at my erection. As matter of fact, I’d love to stand in front of my mother-in-law with my cock so big and so hard that she’d be so distracted that she couldn’t stop looking at it and would be too unhinged to interrupt me with her stupid talk.”

“I must admit that all the ladies, even my mother and sister stare at my cock. You should see the homemade stuff women bring over my house, perhaps hoping that I’ll give them a more up close look at my penis,” said Paul with a laugh.

“Do you think that I can buy one from you?” Joe looked at his friend with a look of hopeful desperation. “I’m attending a Nude Day party with my wife that evening and I’d love to have this plastic, perfect, personal, penis pump on hand to use at a moment’s notice. I can only imagine the looks on the women’s faces.”

“Buy one? Don’t be silly, Joe. You’re my friend. You don’t have to buy one. I’ll give you one for free,” said Paul smiling wildly.

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