The Line Up
“All right, line ‘em up!” A woman in drag shouted, carrying a clipboard and a stopwatch.
“You all want to be certified bulls? You have just initiated bull boot camp. Everyone of you has passed through a rigorous screening of candidates, but don’t even think you can just go out and serve our clients. This is just the first step.”
“Pants down and harden them up. NOW!!!”
About twenty men dropped their pants and started rubbing off their cocks, desperately trying to harden them up. The woman in black drag glanced at her stop watch, and at all the hardening cocks, critically watching the men.
After about 60 seconds – “HANDS OFF!”.
She started strolling down the line. One by one she looked at the men straight in the eye. As they nervously met her eye, they flinched as she reached over and touched their cocks.
“Gleason, what the hell is this? You’re limp! I gave you 60 seconds to get an erection, and this is the best you can do? You may be six feet tall and rippling with muscle, but you are useless to our clients. Pull your pants up and get out of here.”
She continued down the line. One guy was hard as a rock straight up. She gently stroked him nodding with approval. After a few more one guy was turning purple he was so hard. She looked at him straight in the eye.
“So this is good, but I’m warning you – if you ejaculate prematurely I’ll kick your ass out of here in a second.”
“Precum so soon?” She smiled at one of the guys, softly caressing his cheek. “You may be one of our best.”
“Gentlemen!” She announced coming to the head of the room. “When you are in action, some of our clients are professional women who have limited time for foreplay. They want to be fucked. That’s it. It may be a lunch break, a quick one before the evening commute, coffee break. You have got to be ready FAST!
“And now, a moment of truth that I know from experience that many of you are dreading.” She pulled out a tape measure.
“Keep stroking until I get to you.” She started down the line again. At each guy she stretched the tape measure along his erect cock, taking measurements, and then flipping through some sheet of papers on the clip board, compared the measurement with the sheet.
“James, your numbers don’t match! You wrote seven inches on your application, I’m getting six. Show me how you got your measurement.”
James nervously fumbled with the tape, then pulled back his balls and stretched the tape measure along the underside out to the tip. It read 7".
“You jerk! Can’t you read instructions, or maybe you didn’t think we would check? The measurement is to be made along the top of the cock to the tip – NOT the bottom! Any dork can pull back their balls and get an inch or two. Oldest trick in the business. GET OUT!!!”
“Honestly Gentlemen, I really don’t care how big your cock is, provided it meets standards. We try to match cock size with women. Every woman wants a nice tight fit, but they don’t want to be injured or it to hurt. We rely on these measurements. We can’t abide lying!”
“Now strip the rest of the way and lube up! File into the next room.”
