Mr. Clean and the Jar of Pickles
Here is the filthy story I wrote. It isn't the best, but the best I could muster. I am not sure if I am fully satisfied with the ending. Sorry if there are major spelling and grammar problems.
After years of eating crunchy yet delicious dill pickles Mr. Clean had quite the collection of pickle jars sitting underneath his kitchen sink. One day Mr. Clean was bent on sprucing up his home. In a whirlwind of cleaning (with Mr. Clean products naturally) and organizing he came across his large array of pickle jars. Without thinking, he pulled a gallon sized jar out and placed it on the glass tabletop of his new Parisian inspired bistro set from Pier One Imports.
Well, days passed and that pickle jar sat unused on Mr. Clean’s sparkling tabletop. The gallon sized jar was a constant, sour-smelling reminder of his pickle eating habit. Suddenly, Mr. Clean had the unexplained urge to fill his pickle jar. Mr. Clean, being a logical man, decided that he would fill his jar with spare change.
Everyday after work Mr. Clean would grope into the depths of his deep pant pockets for change. He enjoyed this activity. He enjoyed the added structure to his afternoon routine that emptying out his pockets provided. Although he was never exactly sure what he wanted to do with his change, his frugal nature compelled him to save for the future. Slowly but surely, Mr. Clean’s wealth grew.
One day Mr. Clean noticed that his pickle jar was filled to the brim with the dingy metallic faces of presidents past. He stood proudly over his jar brimming with coins. He had never felt this way before and he liked it. Mr. Clean gazed down into his jar like a power hungry police officer looking into the eyes of a depraved crystal-meth addict. He felt a strange mixture of power and pity.
He wanted more of this sensation so he placed his face near the wide opening of the jar. He breathed in deeply and inhaled the scent of the jar. The faint smell of acidic pickles mixed the dirty metallic smell of pennies was intoxicating. Overwhelmed, Mr. Clean found himself burying his large and surprising soft hands into the pickle jar of coins. The sensation of cool coins pressing against the palms of his hands mixed with the strange aroma coming from the jar reminded him of something that happened long ago.
Mr. Clean tried to recall what this smell and sensation reminded him of and finally settled on one name, Claus. Claus, that sturdy, robust, immigrant with a low center of gravity from years ago, was a man that could only be described as coarse.
Claus had a reputation for being a womanizer and a drunkard at the shipping dock. Mr. Clean had been warned to stay away from Claus when he took his first summer position as a shipping hand. But, like most young adults, Mr. Clean had the urge to delve into the world that was forbidden to him. Mr. Clean found himself strangely interested in Claus and watched him from afar.
Mr. Clean’s first interaction with Claus was odd, but sexually rewarding. On a particularly hot afternoon at the shipping dock, Mr. Clean sat on a splintered old dock and ate his sacked lunch. Mr. Clean reached into his lunch bag hoping to find a sandwich with the crusts cut off or maybe even a little Debbie, but only found a bruised plum, a bag full of saltines and some sweaty looking slices of cheese, and a large pickle carelessly wrapped in saran wrap. Slightly disappointed, Mr. Clean made the most of his lunch and tried to eat his crackers and cheese in a luncheable-type of fashion. Mr. Clean managed to eat all of his food items except the pickle. He could not seem to make himself ingest a warm pickle that smelled strongly of vinegar on such a hot day.
So, Mr. Clean trotted over to the trash can to throw the remainder of his lunch away when he saw Claus out of the corner of his eye approaching him. Claus seemed to be in a foul mood, so Mr. Clean thought it would be best to try to focus on his task. As Mr. Clean was turning away from the trash can he accidentally bumped into Claus’s well-muscled and compact body. Claus smelled strongly of scotch and was visibly drunk. Claus, who was hungry after a long night of drinking, snatched the pickle out of the trash can. He ate the pickle like a greedy beast, letting its tart juices run down his face.
Mr. Clean watched Claus eat the pickle in a state of shock. He had never witnessed such a profound hunger. Claus saw the young Mr. Clean staring at him and blurted out how much he loved pickles in the slurred and loud manner only a true drunkard can muster.
Claus had always had a taste for pickles, especially the particularly small ones such as, cornichon, and the particularly large ones, like the jumbo kosher dill.
After consuming the hot discarded pickle Claus stumbled towards Mr. Clean and caressed his smooth head in a clumsy manner. The way Claus stroked his head made Mr. Clean think of the silky smooth head that lay beneath the cloth of Claus’s jeans. Mr. Clean pursed his lips in the crude manner of an inexperienced youngster and thrusted them towards Claus’s lips. Claus accepted and soon Mr. Clean was enjoying the taste of Claus’s mouth. As one might guess, Claus tasted of tart pickle, scotch, and cigarettes.
Without warning Claus pushed away from Mr. Clean. Claus had no time to waste with kisses or cuddles and exposed his cock to Mr. Clean. Clean gave it a good look over and decided that he liked it, that he liked it a lot. Claus’s penis was not anything spectacular, but that rude hunk of pink uncircumcised flesh meant the world to a young Mr. Clean. Mr. Clean nervously wrapped his lips around Claus’s thick-bodied penis. It tasted how the pickle smelled and Mr. Clean could only determine that Claus had poor hygiene.
Mr. Clean wanted to run away and wash his mouth out with his own home-made line of cleaning products, but the desire of sexual gratification kept his lips around Claus’s cock.
Claus pulled Mr. Clean off of his cock and muttered something harshly in a foreign tongue. He then withdrew a small rusted pocket knife from the pocket of his woolen shirt and placed it near Mr. Clean’s neck and told him to take off his pants, even his knickers! At this point, Mr. Clean did not even care if he got stabbed; he just wanted Claus’s filthy cock in him. Claus wasted no time. He spat on his cock to add some lubrication and plunged it into Mr. Clean’s hungry ass. Claus thrusted with great strength several times into Clean’s behind. Claus finished after several more thrusts leaving his slimy ejaculate clinging to Mr. Clean’s formerly pristine anal region.
Before Mr. Clean could fully come to terms with what just happened Claus was already walking towards a rusted old tug boat. Mr. Clean was left on that dock pant-less with the scent of Claus still lingering in his nose. Mr. Clean then pulled up his trousers and turned around to see the tugboat pulling away from the dock. He thankfully waved goodbye to his foul sea-fearing lover with his eyes slightly watering due to the state of his damaged anus.
Mr. Clean suddenly snapped out of his day dream only to realize that he was balls deep in the jar of coins. Mr. Clean laughed out loud because that is the only thing you can do after making sweet, sweet love to a jar of coins. Mr. Clean decided that it was time to cash in and took his jar of coins to the local supermarket Coinstar. As Mr. Clean dumped his semen covered coins into the Coinstar machine he grinned with satisfaction.