scheherazade_79
Steamy
- Joined
- Aug 5, 2003
- Posts
- 9,677
When I was twenty-two, I lived with two women. This probably sounds really cool, but it wasn’t because they were both straight. 
One of them was a volatile foul-tempered Greek alcoholic in her mid-thirties, by the name of Katerina. The other was a woman called Jo, who was in her late twenties, and was the pickiest eater I’d ever come across.
Actually, ‘picky’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Jo basically ate meat, potatoes and friend onions… and nothing else.
Jo had a boyfriend called David, who stayed over every weekend. It was all very predictable. He’d arrive on Saturday morning with carrier bags full of ready-prepared meat, potatoes and onions, they’d vanish into her room, fuck each other senseless until the early hours, and then before he left on Sunday afternoon they always took a bath together.
I didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t as though I used the bath tub myself, except when I was standing up taking a shower. And for a communal bathroom it was usually in a fairly clean state. There were no pubes, overflowing bins, and it was very rare that tide-marks around the tub, or abandoned towels and items of clothing.
In fact the worst habit Jo had was spilling shampoo and conditioner in the tub and then leaving it there, so that I sometimes slipped in it when I was making my way to the shower end. But again, this wasn’t much of a problem. What the shower head wouldn’t rinse off, I usually did a pretty good job of scrubbing away with my bare toes – and even drawing patterns in when I was bored.
One Monday, though, I woke up to a blazing row going on between Jo and Katerina. It had turned nasty to the point of kitchen items being thrown and glasses getting smashed. So I decided to stay in my room, finish last night’s spliff and eavesdrop from a safe distance.
I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Katerina was banging on about hygiene, while Jo kept repeating that what Katerina objected to was just a harmless organic substance.
I waited until Jo flounced out, then decided to go and ask Katerina what had happened.
It turned out that Jo was a lot pickier than I’d realised and was a spitter rather than a swallower… and the stuff that I’d spent many a Sunday evening swirling my toes around in, wasn’t actually a hair product
I spent the next ten minutes with my feet soaking in disinfectant
One of them was a volatile foul-tempered Greek alcoholic in her mid-thirties, by the name of Katerina. The other was a woman called Jo, who was in her late twenties, and was the pickiest eater I’d ever come across.
Actually, ‘picky’ doesn’t even begin to describe it. Jo basically ate meat, potatoes and friend onions… and nothing else.
Jo had a boyfriend called David, who stayed over every weekend. It was all very predictable. He’d arrive on Saturday morning with carrier bags full of ready-prepared meat, potatoes and onions, they’d vanish into her room, fuck each other senseless until the early hours, and then before he left on Sunday afternoon they always took a bath together.
I didn’t have a problem with it. It wasn’t as though I used the bath tub myself, except when I was standing up taking a shower. And for a communal bathroom it was usually in a fairly clean state. There were no pubes, overflowing bins, and it was very rare that tide-marks around the tub, or abandoned towels and items of clothing.
In fact the worst habit Jo had was spilling shampoo and conditioner in the tub and then leaving it there, so that I sometimes slipped in it when I was making my way to the shower end. But again, this wasn’t much of a problem. What the shower head wouldn’t rinse off, I usually did a pretty good job of scrubbing away with my bare toes – and even drawing patterns in when I was bored.
One Monday, though, I woke up to a blazing row going on between Jo and Katerina. It had turned nasty to the point of kitchen items being thrown and glasses getting smashed. So I decided to stay in my room, finish last night’s spliff and eavesdrop from a safe distance.
I couldn’t make head nor tail of it. Katerina was banging on about hygiene, while Jo kept repeating that what Katerina objected to was just a harmless organic substance.
I waited until Jo flounced out, then decided to go and ask Katerina what had happened.
It turned out that Jo was a lot pickier than I’d realised and was a spitter rather than a swallower… and the stuff that I’d spent many a Sunday evening swirling my toes around in, wasn’t actually a hair product
I spent the next ten minutes with my feet soaking in disinfectant
hahahahaha! 
