His torpedo tickled with temptation

We gathered at a park in North Portland close to Tina Turnover’s house (because she’s lazy).  Half minds came out in droves last night, perhaps because they were once again eager to run and drink beer in the rain, or perhaps because they suddenly realized that if they went to the No Name Hash they would most certainly see some buns and balls (of which there was plenty).  Everyone was there—all of the best Portland hashers (you know who they are), in addition to our now second favorite Houston hasher, CSI, a hasher from D.C. called Pinocci-ho, and we even had a virgin who’s name doesn’t matter yet.

Our hares were Tina Turnover and Tap that Ass (who I’m pretty sure are sleeping together, because when a good-looking man and a good-looking woman get caught up in the heat of scouting and feel the adrenaline of finally setting a trail, they cannot resist falling into each other’s arms in a passionate, albeit quick, love making session on trail—because a good trail is not the only thing that gets laid).  The crafty hares set their first beer check (sorry, “T” check) nearly within sight of the start.  I’m certain they did this to give themselves a few more brief moments of love making by a dumpster in the hail (because that’s how they roll).

Our first beer check was teeming with tequila and Twinkies.  We talked behind the trash near the teeming traffic while Tardcore twiddled his twig.  Meanwhile, Tina showed Tap her twat until his torpedo tickled with temptation.

The half-gallon of tequila was only half gone, but we somehow knew it was in our best interest to start running.  As soon as we did–BAM! A bomb went off not twenty yards from where we were standing.  Let me repeat that for you–A loud fucking bomb went off right next to us.  I’m really not making this up.  I’m pretty sure there was a fair amount of shit on trail, Ditch Bitch and Two Buck Fuck both admitted to soiling themselves.  I’m not sure what happened after that, because we all ran away like hell, because a First Responder was already there, and let’s be honest, a large group of people suddenly running away right before an explosion, just after drinking some tequila behind a convenience store dumpster may seem a bit suspicious.  Aside from our pattering little hearts, our shitty panties, and a few now-soft dicks, no one was harmed in the making of this crazy-ass beer check.  In fact, I’m pretty sure Tina was behind it, because she seems like the type that would get off on that sort of thing.

We ran like hell for the next leg of the trail, glad for ever turn we took, hoping it would help us to evade the cops. The second beer check was a large lot under the highway with nice acoustics.  As we enjoyed our Tecate and Triscuits, Milkbone took the opportunity to audition some of our finest wankers and Ditch Bitch to be the narrator of my next erotic audiobook (projected production: 2016).  They each read an excerpt from what most of us bimbos learned everything we know, Cosmo.  First was Chubby Chaser, who while has a nice voice, doesn’t quite grasp sexy talk.  Then Plan B, who compensates for awkwardness with goofiness. Then Headless Horseman, who while trying really hard, gave us the Captain Kirk version of erotica.  Ditch Bitch, as expected, blew everyone out of the water.  I think Long Haired Weiner Dog was next, but I don’t really remember, which means, unlike the rest, that he did not make a fool of himself. Unfortunately, the best wanker was our visitor from D.C., Pinocci-ho.  The cost of flying him out here for production will certainly raise my overhead.  Ditch Bitch and Pinocci-ho won the leftover tequila from the last beer check!  After adequately embarrassing and laughing at these wankers and getting full view of their hairy asses, we carried on.

There was a third beer check that contained Coors.  In addition to being unnecessary and uneventful, it also broke the hare “T” pattern as in the other beer checks. I will omit this section of the trail from the trash because the trail, too, would have been better off without it.

After a trail that was a bit longer than we would have appreciated, we ended at some bar.

We had religion on the back patio, which was a bit crowded, so I sat myself on the picnic table directly beneath our lovely RAs, Cockjaw and Plan B, so I could get an awesome front row seat to religion. And then I couldn’t resist, as our hares, the virgin, our visitors, all the various criminals, stuck their asses in my face.  So I admit it, I may have fondled them a little, or tugged on their pants.  How was I to help myself? It was mostly disappointing, because for some reason in the Pacific Northwest in April, hashers tend to wear many layers, and my efforts were foiled–until I got a good tug at Plan B’s shorts.  With only the slightest tug, they fell to the ground, and Plan B wore nothing but the red in his cheeks (and his shirt).  It was fantastic.  By in large, this was one of the best religions I have been to in a long time for several reasons 1) we all got to see Plan B’s balls 2) because the No Name hash is such a lovely intimate group 3) I don’t know, I just fucking love you guys (I think this might be where the quantity of wine I’ve had begins to really shine through).  So I’ll quit while I’m only slightly behind…

Anyway, we swang low like Plan B’s balls.

Honor the the No Name Hash! Honor to our founders, Fuu Fuu and O, and our tyrant, Beefuck, for actually cumming! Honor to the hares, Tina and Tap, for your creative spelling of Tcoors.

Your Shiraz-filled Scribe,
Romancing the Bone

P.S. Grab My Handlebars, our fabulous new haberdasher, has made some awesome shirts for us.  They are a high-quality tech fabric and the No Name’s first ever haberdashery.  You must have one.  Contact Grab My Handlebars at msrmhammer@gmail.com to preorder, or flag her down at a hash.

P.P.S. Tina Turnover and Tap That Ass’s naming stories will be cumming next week.


Tonight- at this rate, you’ve missed the OH3 full moon hash
Tomorrow- Pool Tournament at my place, 5:00, be there or be [  ]
Sunday- ABQ invades Portland! Meet at 1:30 at Holman’s
Monday- Chubby blows the Kahuna
Tuesday- Clown sucks off the Beaver
Wednesday- Slut Machine and Hot Tub Slime Machine penetrate the Hump
Thursday- The Fucking Anal Matzoh Ball Hash!!


3 thoughts on “His torpedo tickled with temptation”

      1. Sherlock Ohms here. Am excited to be cmmiung to your hash on February 10th. I will be in Chiang Mai from the 9th until the 21st and drinking and running all the while, I may stop to drink in between. I see that the meeting point for the 10th is not posted yet but will keep checking, unless one of you half-minds has the lowdown.ON ONSherlock Ooooo(oh my it’s just so small)Ohms

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