Shhh… Victoria’s Secret

victoria’s secret holiday catalog 2011

Last night, I woke up with a raging hardon. I couldn’t understand why. I wasn’t having any erotic thoughts at all.

I did browse the Victoria’s secret catalog before I went to bed. It features the most beautiful women on the planet in skimpy cotton underwear. I don’t think that could be enough to cause me this misery. But then it could be my subconscious playing tricks here.

I went to the bathroom and pulled down down my pj. It sprang up like a raging snake, its head with the familiar shape of my thumb.

I tried to douse it with cold water. No luck.

Gripping it with my right hand in front of the mirror, I asked myself, should I or should I not? I started stroking, but I wasn’t in the mood for self-love.

I pulled my pj up and went back to sleep.

Two hours later the clock radio sounded. Time to get up. My hardon was still on.

What should I do? I had to pee so bad.

Then I heard something over the radio that caused it to shrink like a balloon losing its air. Within five minutes, I was able to get relief.

It was the news about Victoria’s Secret’s use of cotton from farms in Africa that exploit children for labor. Darn, it revealed a stain in the company’s intimate offerings that it could no longer hide.

I tossed the catalog in the trash can in disgust. At that point, that was where it rightly belonged.