Tale the second: A brief encounter with Mr Benson

I first met Mr Benson in the Devonshire countryside. I asked what brought him here, and he said “a bus”.

He was looking wistfully at a pigeon. “How can I understand this simple bird?” he asked.

“You can’t” I said. “It only speaks pigeon English.”

We spent a little time laughing and beating about the bush, then eventually the bush started looking rather withered and we left it alone.

He told me he lived on a nearby farm. I said “Ooh.” and tried to look impressed.

His chest was heaving like a busy shopping centre. “You smell of the summer rain” he cooed. “Yes” I said, “It’s a free sample I got from Debenhams.” We gazed at each other for a while. Then he took me to his farm to look at his cock. 

I looked at his cock for a while, transfixed by its bright colours and rotating head.

After I had looked at it for quite some time, he took me inside. Which I rather enjoyed.

He was manly and strong, with rippling love handles that resembled my grandmother’s teapot. Something about him reminded me of my time in Africa. Perhaps it was his zebra skin thong. Or his Lynx Africa.

He asked me if I would care for a coffee. I answered yes. He asked, “How do you take it?”

I said, “Sometimes I take it with both hands, but mostly I just use one.”

We chuckled together for a while, like little children with tasty buns. I asked him if he had ever been in love.

“Once” he said. “With a woman. But she stole my heart. And then she sold it at a car boot sale for 50p.”

“Goodness.” I said, “She sounds awful”

“Yes.” he said. “She has laryngitis.”

I began to grow tired of conversation, so he took me outside and showed me his ass.

“A lot of important people have ridden my ass” he told me.

“It’s a nice ass.” I said. He took my hand.

“Give me back my hand” I said.

“But I need it for my collection” he said.

Then we took a stroll around his garden, which was small, like his head.

He pointed to a small hut near a tree. “This is where the great tits live.”

“That’s not a nice thing to say about your neighbours.” I said.

“Jennifer” he said. “Look me in eye.”

I looked him in the eye.

“It’s a shame you only have one eye” I said.

“Yes” he said. "As you have cleverly noticed, I have no heart, I have love handles, a zebra skin thong, a collection of other people’s hands, and I'm a Cyclops”.

"Ok then" I said, and went on my way.