Run #425 A Handjob for Snakeless

No civilization as we know it did not cum to an end last Thursday. The only handjob Snakeless got was self-administered (as always). But Snakeless was all over Handjob For Humanity one of the hares. Der Chalk Fuhrer was incensed that no chalk appears to have been used on the trail. Apparently when combined with a bizarre North Carolina TrashH3 mark this caused his weary old legs to carry him some extra distance and his ire was raised. If only women gave him as much of a hard on as being lost he’d not be suffering from testosterone poisoning. It was just a matter of time before Shaggy Dog stopped fulfilling his needs. Master Snakeless chose the pixiesque Handjob as his victim rather than her cohare Scabass Faggot apparently fearing that SCAF might live up to his name. The pack that gathered in the parking lot at the old Letterman Army Hospital was treated to a spectacular example of speaking in tongues as the evening’s minister Barbie Boxx assumed the role of all three characters of the parable from the Sacred Missal, with appropriate voices. With so many women to cum home to is it any wonder that Roadkill bolted for the barn as soon as he was on-in. Trail took the pack through the Presidio and into the cemetery. No one is saying that he’s into necrophilia but Chickless Boner seemed awfully at home in the surroundings. Hung Juror swears he saw him rubbing up against tombstones. This is where T/BC and Fits In lost the pack. It took Fits In, Whippet In, and Whippet Out so long to haul T/BC’s enormous dead weight over the wall that by the time the Herculean task was completed the pack was long gone. Not that it mattered since this was apparently the point where Snakeless became perturbed and no sane person (not many crazies for that matter) wants to be around him when he’s feeling annoyed. The trail looped through the woods providing many chances to acquire or reacquire a dose of p o eventually returning to the cemetery. Were the hares trying to tell us something? Happily our return was greeted by a bottle of vodka and various flavors of Gatorade allowing the pack to be both fit and fucked. Just Bob, choosing to be fit, used the vodka to sterilize the wounds he’d acquired on trail. Bitch In Heat believing, choosing to be fucked, was busy catching the drips, giving a whole new meaning to Bloody Mary. By this point Comes Slowly had already abandoned trail and headed home to scourge herself and Sadie with Technu. The rest of the pack headed for home and the Sacred Bucket. Well, not Naked Hasher he still had to stay lost for awhile and get cold enough to justify leaving before the circle. The Sacred Bucket was filled with vodka, cognac, and lemonade guaranteed to go down easy then hit back hard. Snakeless took the time to get in Handjob’s face, which required him to be on his knees. D’anglin A’nglin allowed as how that position seemed so natural. It certainly seemed to make Soggy Biscuit nervous but then he’s a product of English public schools. That may explain why he and Just Jeff ended up doing their down-downs in a mechanical conveyance. Or perhaps the sight of another gent on his knees brought back such fond memories that Soggy couldn’t wait to get home. While Just Lois was busy turning blue from the cold Clothes Horse was encouraging her to enjoy what passes for beach weather in Scotland, his former home. More cups of antifreeze from the Bucket were all that Lois really needed although Nutless Sac did offer to jump into a sleeping bag with her for a quick rewarming. Lois thanked him but said she’d prefer Badger, making Drill Me a tad nervous. With Enter The Gerbil and the King both absent down-downs were ably administered by Bigfoot. The fears of having her unleash a sour belch in ones face gives her amazing control. Deep in the Bucket Dick Chick was lamenting her bare cupboard and empty bed. Before she could finish a line of hashers willing to fill the bed had formed on her left. Surveying the possibilities she sighed that she’d rather have a full cupboard. Likes To Lick just shook his head and mumbled that this bunch would be safe in the Castro. Just Lauren came close to being named but by then no one could even move their lips to agree. The parade moved to the Final Final where the hares provided pizza for the pack and tequila shooters were the order of the night. Morning always cums too early. Cheers.