Pepsi Challenge 2.0
reverendhornibastard
Depraved Deacon of Degeneracy
Remember the “Pepsi Challenge?” This was an advertising gimmick employed by Pepsi Cola in its battle for supremacy with Coca Cola. It involved people taste-testing Pepsi and Coke without knowing in advance which was which. Pepsi expected that their product would be preferred over Coke.
Long ago, when Mrs. Hornibastard III was still my live-in girlfriend, her budding exhibitionism and voyeuristic tendencies led her to: (1) invite some of her trusted girlfriends to join us in weekend, margarita-fueled skinny-dipping in our backyard pool; (2) having me canoodle her while her friends watched; and eventually (3) allowing her friends to get gooey with me while she watched.
Those were the days! My Golden Era!
Eventually, Mrs. Hornibastard III met and made friends with Dewi, a cosmetics counter sales girl. Dewi soon became one of Mrs. Hornibastard III’s regular invitees to our weekend poolside fuck fests. Before long, Dewi had moved in with us (ostensibly because our home was so much closer to where she worked than her apartment was). As a live-in, Dewi soon displaced Mrs. Hornibastard III’s other girlfriends in our weekend skinny-dipping/fuck-parties.
Unlike Mrs. Hornibastard III who was born and raised in a remote, rural setting, Dewi was born and raised in Jakarta. Compared to Mrs. Hornibastard III, Dewi was urbane and sophisticated. She taught some fashion sense to Mrs. Hornibastard III and introduced her to high end cosmetics.
The two of them became like sisters. Dewi traveled with us to Singapore, Hong Kong, Phuket and Bali. She shared our hotel rooms, our home, our pool, our jacuzzi, our huge, multi-faucet walk-in shower, and even our bed.
There was nothing Mrs. Hornibastard III wouldn’t share with Dewi.
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=11595
This odd arrangement kept me very busy and very happy.
One day, the two of them were messing with my head (even more than usual). They accused me of being an insensitive man unable to tell the difference between them, or more specifically, of being unable to distinguish between their vaginas.
Suddenly, the Pepsi Challenge 2.0 (the Pussy Version) was created.
The rules were simple. I would lie on my back, blindfolded, my hands behind my head. Dewi or Mrs. Hornibastard III would give me a brief preparatory blow job, then one or the other would lower herself onto me cowgirl style and ride for about 3 minutes. Then the other one would take her turn riding me for another 3 minutes.
My challenge was to guess which of them had given me the preparatory blow job and then guess who had mounted me first and who rode second.
Although I was really lousy about guessing who had given me the preparatory blow job, I was almost always right at guessing who had ridden me first and who had ridden me second.
Both were surprised that I could so reliably tell the difference between them.
It was actually pretty easy.
One time they got sneaky and Dewi was both my first and second rider. Not expecting that kind of deviousness, I incorrectly guessed that Mrs. Hornibastard III was the first and Dewi was the second rider.
The last time we played the Pepsi Challenge 2.0, they threw me another curve ball. Unbeknownst to me, Sri (another one of Mrs. Hornibastard III’s friends) had come over and was hiding in another room. After I was blindfolded and eagerly awaiting my Pepsi Challenge 2.0, Sri came out of hiding, gave me the preparatory blow job and then rode me twice.
I was really confused. The preparatory blow jobs were always difficult to distinguish, but Mrs. Hornibastard III’s and Dewi’s koochies were easy to tell apart. This one certainly seemed different. But I never considered the possibility of a third contestant.
The girls snickered as I was plainly bumfuzzled and having difficulty deciding who was doing what to me.
I even hazarded a guess that they were both trying to fool me by taking me anally.
Dewi suggested one more round and Mrs. Hornibastard said this time I could use my hands to feel of my mystery rider’s body while she was on me.
Upon running my hands over my mystery cowgirl, I immediately knew she was not Mrs. Hornibastard III or Dewi. This gal was much thinner and had a little bit of fuzz left. She was not shaved smooth as a billiard ball like Mrs. Hornibastard III and Dewi.
So I correctly guessed that it was neither of them but still could not identify who it was.
Mrs. Hornibastard removed my blindfold and I saw that Sri was my cowgirl.
Dewi moved to Surabaya not long afterward and then Mrs. Hornibastard III and I moved to Africa.
It seems like a lifetime since the last time I took the Pepsi 2.0 Challenge.
After my prostate cancer radiation therapy is over, I think I’d like to try the Nestea Plunge.
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4398
It sounds deliciously wet!
Long ago, when Mrs. Hornibastard III was still my live-in girlfriend, her budding exhibitionism and voyeuristic tendencies led her to: (1) invite some of her trusted girlfriends to join us in weekend, margarita-fueled skinny-dipping in our backyard pool; (2) having me canoodle her while her friends watched; and eventually (3) allowing her friends to get gooey with me while she watched.
Those were the days! My Golden Era!
Eventually, Mrs. Hornibastard III met and made friends with Dewi, a cosmetics counter sales girl. Dewi soon became one of Mrs. Hornibastard III’s regular invitees to our weekend poolside fuck fests. Before long, Dewi had moved in with us (ostensibly because our home was so much closer to where she worked than her apartment was). As a live-in, Dewi soon displaced Mrs. Hornibastard III’s other girlfriends in our weekend skinny-dipping/fuck-parties.
Unlike Mrs. Hornibastard III who was born and raised in a remote, rural setting, Dewi was born and raised in Jakarta. Compared to Mrs. Hornibastard III, Dewi was urbane and sophisticated. She taught some fashion sense to Mrs. Hornibastard III and introduced her to high end cosmetics.
The two of them became like sisters. Dewi traveled with us to Singapore, Hong Kong, Phuket and Bali. She shared our hotel rooms, our home, our pool, our jacuzzi, our huge, multi-faucet walk-in shower, and even our bed.
There was nothing Mrs. Hornibastard III wouldn’t share with Dewi.
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=11595
This odd arrangement kept me very busy and very happy.
One day, the two of them were messing with my head (even more than usual). They accused me of being an insensitive man unable to tell the difference between them, or more specifically, of being unable to distinguish between their vaginas.
Suddenly, the Pepsi Challenge 2.0 (the Pussy Version) was created.
The rules were simple. I would lie on my back, blindfolded, my hands behind my head. Dewi or Mrs. Hornibastard III would give me a brief preparatory blow job, then one or the other would lower herself onto me cowgirl style and ride for about 3 minutes. Then the other one would take her turn riding me for another 3 minutes.
My challenge was to guess which of them had given me the preparatory blow job and then guess who had mounted me first and who rode second.
Although I was really lousy about guessing who had given me the preparatory blow job, I was almost always right at guessing who had ridden me first and who had ridden me second.
Both were surprised that I could so reliably tell the difference between them.
It was actually pretty easy.
One time they got sneaky and Dewi was both my first and second rider. Not expecting that kind of deviousness, I incorrectly guessed that Mrs. Hornibastard III was the first and Dewi was the second rider.
The last time we played the Pepsi Challenge 2.0, they threw me another curve ball. Unbeknownst to me, Sri (another one of Mrs. Hornibastard III’s friends) had come over and was hiding in another room. After I was blindfolded and eagerly awaiting my Pepsi Challenge 2.0, Sri came out of hiding, gave me the preparatory blow job and then rode me twice.
I was really confused. The preparatory blow jobs were always difficult to distinguish, but Mrs. Hornibastard III’s and Dewi’s koochies were easy to tell apart. This one certainly seemed different. But I never considered the possibility of a third contestant.
The girls snickered as I was plainly bumfuzzled and having difficulty deciding who was doing what to me.
I even hazarded a guess that they were both trying to fool me by taking me anally.
Dewi suggested one more round and Mrs. Hornibastard said this time I could use my hands to feel of my mystery rider’s body while she was on me.
Upon running my hands over my mystery cowgirl, I immediately knew she was not Mrs. Hornibastard III or Dewi. This gal was much thinner and had a little bit of fuzz left. She was not shaved smooth as a billiard ball like Mrs. Hornibastard III and Dewi.
So I correctly guessed that it was neither of them but still could not identify who it was.
Mrs. Hornibastard removed my blindfold and I saw that Sri was my cowgirl.
Dewi moved to Surabaya not long afterward and then Mrs. Hornibastard III and I moved to Africa.
It seems like a lifetime since the last time I took the Pepsi 2.0 Challenge.
After my prostate cancer radiation therapy is over, I think I’d like to try the Nestea Plunge.
https://tuscl.net/photo.php?id=4398
It sounds deliciously wet!
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4 comments
As for being peed upon, yes I got peed on a few times, mostly by my own kids, but there were no video recordings made.
I am back to needing an occasional desploogination and, I’m pleased to say, they are becoming enjoyable.
The main difference now is output quantity.
Most of a healthy guy’s ejaculate is NOT sperm. Most of the volume of ejaculate is made of other secretions including those produced by the prostate gland. These juices provide the fluid medium the sperm swim in, contain nutrients that keep the sperm active and contain chemistry that neutralizes the acids in the vagina that would harm the sperm.
Only a tiny fraction of the ejaculate is sperm. This is why when a man gets a vasectomy, the volume of his ejaculate is not noticeably reduced.
So, for a guy whose prostate has been thoroughly fried by radiation therapy, all I put out now when I cum is sperm. So, although it’s still a very pleasant experience for me, in terms of volume, I have a lot less to show for it now.
Or, putting it another way, the waitresses at my favorite high mileage clubs no longer need to give me as any “extra napkins” as they used to.