Gulliver's Journey to the Land of Petiquette

I have had the chance to visit countries whose customs and manners caused my bewilderment, bordering on disgust. For example, a country, whose name will mean nothing to you, surprised me with the following customs. Firstly, when meeting, men do not shake hands, but penises. I was very shocked when the guide assigned to me looked at my outstretched hand in astonishment, took it by the wrist, and led it to his crotch. He lifted his apron and placed my hand on his penis. At first, I thought he was inviting me to examine his genitals, because I always introduce myself with my earned title "doctor," but he placed

his hand on the same place on me. But I, as an experienced traveler, endured all these trials with honor worthy of better application, but what can you do — it's not for me to change established customs. So, it turns out, this "penis shake" is their traditional greeting. But not only men greet this way; women act similarly. I don't know the details, I was too embarrassed to ask my companion, but what I observed hinted unambiguously at light mutual caresses.

Naturally, I was burning with curiosity — how do people of the opposite sex greet each other? My guide told me, without any embarrassment, that in greetings, and not only between a man and a woman, but also between men and between women, everything depends heavily on social position, status, if you will. A person of lower status or age, according to their intricate etiquette, is obliged to kneel or go down on one knee and, lifting the specially provided apron on the clothing, kiss the other's genitals. All outfits in this country featured a kind of curtain over the genitals. A skirt or trousers consisted, as it were, of two separate legs with an empty space up to the waist. The penis itself or the vulva were covered with various types of veils, as were the anus and buttocks. Women's clothing differed from men's, as I understood, only in whether it was gathered into legs or flowed like a skirt. So, in the modern world, as a rule, the woman would kneel to the man's genitals, since they had a patriarchy. But, according to my all-knowing guide, there were periods of matriarchy when the man would kneel to greet the woman. Naturally, I became interested in the details, which I can now convey to you. My companion really doesn't eat his bread for nothing — without him, I would have gotten into stupid situations at every step. He told me the following:

"For men, if he does not wear a slave collar (yes, they have slaves, though more like exotic animals), it is enough to shake each other's penises. If a man or woman wears a slave collar, then he or she always kneels, on both knees, and lifting the apron, called 'ftrnh,' admirably smacks their lips and presses them to the genitals. It is not forbidden to look up at the face of the person being greeted. For a man who is simply of lower social status, it is enough to go down on one knee and take the glans into his mouth. A light kiss is equated with disrespect or even an insult. In former times, there were even duels. But the difference in statuses is not noticeable everywhere, so this form has remained more ceremonial and in government institutions. Among the military, such a form did not take root, why — I don't know.

That seems to be all with men, now with women. For women, everything is similar except that they caress the protruding mound with their hand or tongue, again depending on status. I don't know how it sounds in your language, in ours it's 'khftr'* (*he said this funny, puffing out his cheeks and with an exhale, it seems I will have difficulties with the language)."

"Clitoris," I said.

"Khliitoo r," he repeated after me.

We had to practice the Latin alphabet for a while. Finally, he continued and moved on to the most exciting moment for me:

"Let's continue. Woman and man — here too, first of all, everything depends on status. In the usual case, the woman squats, spreading her legs apart, and taking the man's penis in her hand, lightly slaps it against her forehead, after which she takes the penis into her mouth to the greatest possible depth. Some skilled women even swallow the sacs hanging under the penis. At the same time, the woman, depending on her own desire or the respect being shown, either caresses herself or, more often, caresses the man's sacs and buttocks with her other hand. It is not forbidden to lightly press a finger against the anus. The gaze should be directed either at the genitals or at the face.

In the case where the man kneels, which is rare in the modern world, then he, having knelt on one knee or both, scoops up the woman by the buttocks, passing his hand or two between her legs, and licking along the slit, kisses the woman on the 'Kh-li-tor.' It is not forbidden to caress the anus and to break from the kiss to immerse the tongue in the moisture of the genitals for the woman's comfort. The gaze should also be directed either at the genitals or at the face."

At this moment, he was demonstrating all possible greeting methods to me, from which, I'm ashamed to say, I began to get aroused. But my guide, holding my penis in his mouth at that moment, mumbled something:

"Pfdauyekhrtsy fltsa zhnkm fufashshéénma!"

Then, breaking away from his task, he repeated in English I could understand:

"Such a reaction is a sign of respect for a person and shows your favor towards them!"

I was embarrassed by my own reaction to just the greetings of a barely acquainted man and decided to change the subject:

"You are so well-versed in etiquette questions, were you specially trained for this? And what does your name mean in English? What did you say your name was? Kkhmýrs?"

"Kzhtflchmýrs — which means 'penis raised by the kisses of many women.' I was born after my parents' wedding — can you imagine how many guests there were that dad couldn't restrain himself and dragged mom to the marriage bed ahead of schedule. Don't worry," he remarked, seeing my embarrassment, "our language is difficult for foreigners. So you can call me whatever is more convenient for you."

"If possible, I will call you Morris."

"Agreed. As for etiquette, it is taught in school according to the school curriculum, in those grades when schoolchildren can comprehend and correctly apply the lessons. Usually, this happens in the upper grades."

"What about ordinary kisses?" I asked the question that had long been troubling me.

"Such things are allowed only between very close people in intimate relationships and, as a rule, are not shown in public — too intimate a process. In principle, one can determine the degree of closeness between people by their kisses. So, for example, friends can allow themselves to kiss the chest or, if friends are close and long-standing, the hand. Cheek kisses are usually for former lovers, but this manifestation is not welcomed by society."

My guide, before the consultation, changed me into appropriate clothing, in his opinion, and decided that I could go out among people. Naturally, accompanied by the guide.

We went out. The guide, before exiting, attached a gilded strap with a chain to my arm, just above the bicep, which he took in his hand, saying:

"This is so you are not mistaken for a local — if you commit some indecency, you will be forgiven. Moreover, if you suddenly get lost, by the chain they will immediately understand that they need to look for your guide and take you to a law enforcement officer. I had to agree that I would be led around like a heifer on a rope. Later, I more than once appreciated the wisdom of this decision."

And we, having gone out into the city, decided at my suggestion to walk along the central streets. I wanted to look at the townspeople. How they behave, what they do, what they eat... It's a good thing I didn't ask that on the street. The guide — a steadfast, hardened man, accustomed to the whims of visitors — even blushed, what would have happened on the street!

"Don't ask such questions," the guide forced out, "the process is intimate for us and is not discussed with strangers, especially publicly. To say I was shocked is an understatement."

"But

how then..." — I had no words to replace it.

"Usually, they indulge in this at home, but we, of course, have establishments for this. As well as shops selling goods for 'uuda.' Usually, they are not put on display, and you can find them by signs." He showed a sign consisting of two triangles joined at the vertices, yellow and brown, resembling an hourglass. "This image symbolizes the transformation of uuda, over time, into an unattractive mass expelled from the body. This sign was adopted relatively recently — a little less than a hundred years ago. Before that, every seller who decided on this difficult work had to invent their own way to identify themselves."

"For the second part of this process, suitable places can be found by this sign," he added and showed a brown diamond. "Also a symbol adopted at the same time as the first. But there are very few of both types of establishments, as I said — the process is very intimate and mostly done at home. There are, of course, some... 'eccentric individuals' who go out into nature, but they are also few."

On the streets and squares, people were no different from ordinary residents in the center of London. Of course, if ladies and gentlemen agreed to wear such provocative clothing. There really were no places for eating around (forgive me, my guide, but I'm writing not for you, but for 'wild' foreigners), but there was plenty of everything else: shops (or whatever they are) with clothing, jewelry, shoes, little stores with furniture and souvenirs. In general, everything as in any country.

I was initially shocked by the sudden squatting of women before men and diving under the 'curtain,' and in some cases, men right in the middle of the street would lift the 'curtain' and watch the greeting ritual with a smile. And men, instead of handshakes, would put their hands into each other's crotches. But gradually I got used to such things.

Suddenly, next to us (I was indeed being led by the chain), a pretty girl appeared, squatted before the guide, dived under the veil-curtain, from there she snorted something in that strange language, after which the guide turned to me:

"You don't mind — this lady wants to greet a guest of our city? She saw your chain and, having heard about the surprise of foreigners, decided to warn you."

"Very kind of her. And, yes, I agree to greet her according to all the rules accepted in your society."

The girl, seeing my agreement, moved to my feet. O-oh! THIS requires a detailed description:

Looking into my eyes (I watched her actions with interest), she slipped her hand under my veil-curtain, ran her hand from my testicles to the foreskin, lifting the penis and simultaneously pulling it out from under the curtain. Forming her lips into a ring, she literally sucked my penis into her mouth like water from her palm, while playing with my testicles. She sat there squatting, widely spreading her legs and stroking her clitoris, while moving her curtain aside with her thumb, presumably for a better view, and inserting her middle finger into the vestibule of her vagina.

With her tongue, she made circular movements inside her mouth around my foreskin. It was very unusual to receive such caresses from a girl right in broad daylight, in the central square of the capital. When I saw two men not far from us greeting each other in the local way unusual for me, and a couple approaching a policeman, taking turns pressing themselves to the lawman's groin, I finally calmed down and my penis began to increase in size. The lady reacted by moving her hand from her crotch to my groin and stroking my buttocks, feeling for the anus, and upon finding it, pressed her finger, wet from her juices, to the entrance of the rectum. (Porno stories) At the same time, she took me even deeper into her mouth, already of considerable size, and with a swallowing motion, plunged my foreskin into her tight throat.

"Don't you dare release your seed — you'll have to marry her." I heard the guide's whisper.

How much effort it cost me to calm the urge to ejaculate! But I managed. And how difficult it turns out to be to tear a persistent lady away from one's genitals. Good thing she didn't scratch anything. The girl, with embarrassment, croaked something to the guide.

"The lady apologizes — she got carried away."

"Apology accepted," I nodded, "especially since I quite liked it."

"Yes, she also thanks you for appreciating her efforts." The guide nodded at my curtain, raised by my erect penis. "Now you understand why my daddy dragged his young wife — my mother — to the marriage bed so hastily? And immortalized this event in my name? You can say you were lucky: the lady studied at the Higher School, where they teach etiquette and rules of behavior in high society."

"Yes, that's noticeable."

"I apologize. I forgot to warn you about the possible consequences of our customs." He said when the girl had left. "Some girls deliberately act so improperly with a foreigner to get married and leave with him. A foreigner is always a tempting option."

"Poor thing, she didn't know that from me she could only get a headache, the clothes on me — even those are from someone else's shoulder."

"But in this case," my guide continued, "the girl really did get carried away."

We walked in silence for a while. I looked at the whimsically winding pattern of the pavement, suddenly a thought struck me and I literally exclaimed:

"But wait! How? How about the sick? How do you feed them?"

The guide shuddered and pulled me by the chain, scolding me:

"I asked you not to discuss such things in public!"

But, unfortunately, we were heard and a policeman was hurrying towards us. Stand still and don't be surprised by anything and don't jerk. The guide dived under the policeman's curtain — I saw his cheeks literally puff out. Would I really have to repeat it? I couldn't and an international scandal would ensue. But no, it was okay. The guide rose from his knees and croaked-snorted, explaining something to the policeman. He droned-croaked something in response, shaking his head negatively. My guide turned to me and repeated:

"Obey, don't jerk, don't be surprised." He deftly pulled me by the chain and my head ended up clamped in his armpit. The guide flipped back the piece of cloth covering my buttocks and I felt a thick finger pushing inside me. I instinctively jerked, but the guide hissed at me again and pressed my head harder. Remembering his instructions, I froze. The thick police finger penetrated me, twisted around there, and disappeared, and the guide's pressure disappeared too. I straightened up and saw the back of the policeman leisurely walking away.

"What was that?" I asked indignantly.

"You violated public order — spoke indecently in public. I convinced him to soften your punishment — usually he inserts his organ, they specifically recruit men of powerful build so the punishment is a punishment for everyone."