During my junior year of high school, about five weeks into the fall semester, a new girl, Anna, transferred to our school from another state. She was drop dead gorgeous and I decided right then and there that I was going to make Anna mine.
My task was ambitious. I wasn’t a jock. I wasn’t a member of the in-crowd. But I was smart and witty and, well, all modesty aside, quite charming. I introduced myself to Anna on her first day and offered to be her mentor, to show her the ropes, so to speak. It didn’t take me long to insinuate myself into her life.
At first we were just friends, but by the time Thanksgiving rolled around, our friendship had evolved into something more, shall we say, romantic. We spent most of our free time together and by Christmas break, we were going steady.
I recall that in late December and into January, we were doing a lot of heavy petting, or making out, or whatever you want to call it. But by early February I had still not managed to get passed second base. You know what I’m talking about, right?
I was getting kind of frustrated with the situation, so one night at our favorite place to park, I explained to Anna how physically painful it was for a guy to be in a certain state of arousal for a long period of time with no release. Then I asked Anna if she would help me out and, you know, give me a hand.
It was dark inside the car that night, but I remember being able to see the look on Anna’s face. She was smiling a sort of enticing, come hither smile — or at least that’s what it looked like to me. So when she told me I should pound dough, I proceeded to unzip my pants, whip out my Johnson, and start masturbating.
“What are you doing?” she screamed, her smile having turned into a look of pure horror.
“You told me to pound dough,” I said. “Didn’t you mean for me to ….”
“Eww, no!” she exclaimed. “I was suggesting that you should go home and take out your sexual frustrations by pounding on some raw cookie dough.”
“D’oh!” I said. I stuffed myself back into my pants and drove Anna home to her parents’ house.
This little trip down memory lane was written for this week’s Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt from Linda G. Hill. Our challenge this week was to write a post using the words “dough” and/or “d’oh.” We were instructed to “use one, use both, use ’em any way you like.” Photo credit: Pexels on Pixabay.com.