Chuck Tingle
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This Bisexual Snowman's Carrot Wiener Is In My Butthole - (Classic Tingler Revisited)
🕑 Added 2024-12-09 23:12:33 +0000 UTCwhat a time of year to be a buckaroo. in a creative sense, i like the holidays (and i am including the lead up to halloween in this) because as far as tinglers go it is very hard for me to get writers block during this time of year. if you trot out some earlier month with nothing going on in the world i sometimes think 'dang what to write? what am i thinking about? what is unique about this moment?'
the answer of course is that every moment is unique and beautiful BUT THATS BESIDES THE POINT. in a very practical sense, when ive got halloween or thanksgiving or chirstmas or new years hangin around it is pretty easy to come up with a good tingler.
anyway wanted to talk on this CLASSIC TROT because i have been tagged so many dang times in HOT FROSTY DISCOURSE. lots of buckaroos talkin about this new movie where the love interest is, in fact, a snowman brought to life. DONT THINK I HAVENT NOTICED THE SIMILARITIES NETFLIX
it seemed like the perfect time to revisit this classic tingler. ENJOY BUCKAROOS
Jack is a workaholic who suddenly finds himself snowed in and fresh out of productive things to do. His wife, Amanda, eventually suggests using this time to relax and focus on the present, and while this is difficult for Jack, he manages to put the philosophy into practice by building a snowman in the yard. After all, a snowman will only last so long.
When the snowman asks to come inside, however, Jack and his wife find themselves crossing paths with the meta reality of The Tingleverse, forced to confront their own temporary nature as characters in an erotic short.
Soon enough, they decide the best use of their limited time is a hardcore bisexual threesome with their snowy creation!
This erotic tale is 4,200 words of sizzling bisexual human on handsome snowman threesome action.
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THIS BISEXUAL SNOWMAN’S CARROT WIENER IS IN MY BUTTHOLE
By Chuck Tingle
Getting snowed in is a huge pain in the ass.
I’m the type of guy who’s always working, putting in way more time at the
office than I need to and thriving on approval with a steadfast professional drive. It can be all consuming, and sometimes the pressure that comes with this attitude can be a little much.
If it wasn’t for these enormous snow drifts blocking the road, I’d be right there at the downtown office holding meetings and making calls, but at the moment it’s just not possible. I’ve asked my boss if she wants me to work remotely, and this question actually caused her to laugh.
“You know, a lot of people actually enjoy these snow days,” she informs me over the phone. “I could try holding a meeting if you want, but everyone else is taking it easy for the time being. You’ll be all by yourself.”
It takes a while, but eventually I accept the fact that the next few days are going to be work free. Still, the aimless fog that hangs over my head is hard to shake.
I start my morning with a fresh cup of chocolate milk as I gaze out across the new fallen snow that covers my front yard, appreciating the silence as a voice lingers in the back of my mind, demanding that I find some way of being productive.
“You okay?” my wife, Amanda, suddenly questions from behind me.
I turn around and smile when I see her, nodding with as much reassurance as I can muster. “Yeah, why?”
“I know you,” she replies with a slight smirk. “You can’t sit still for ten minutes, let alone a whole week. I’m sure you’re already trying to think of your next project.”
I laugh. “I’m probably one of the first people on this planet whose boss told them to not work so much.”
“Why not listen?” Amanda continues. “Just chill out for the next few days; enjoy the view, be present. You could read a book.”
“I guess I could,” I nod along, considering her words. There are a few things I’ve been meaning to sit down and enjoy from cover to cover, and reading is typically impossible when I’m being distracted by other projects.
Amanda strolls over to the nearby bookshelf and briefly searches, eventually finding what she’s looking for and carrying it over to me. She hands me the volume. “Helicopter Man Pounds Dinosaur Billionaire Ass,” I read aloud, “by Chuck Tingle.”
“You’ve been meaning to start that one for a while, right?” Amanda questions.
I nod and laugh. “It’s been in the queue for about five years now.”
My wife gives me a quick kiss then leaves me to it, continuing about her morning.
I take the book and my chocolate milk and carry them into the living room, sitting down on the couch and gazing out across a yard of glistening white snow that sparkles before me. It’s a truly beautiful sight, completely untouched in the morning light.
Still, deep down inside of me an aching desire hums, the need to work simply refusing to tamp out completely. I take a deep breath and focus my attention, trying my best to relax and let the world pass by for a moment. Not everything needs to be a step toward some future goal.
I crack open my book and start to read. It’s not long before I’m completely consumed by the prose before me, moving feverishly along as my eyes dance from page to page. The text is well written and to the point, immediately causing me to take note of just how fast I can get through this volume.
I start tracking my pace myself, cataloging just how many pages I’ve consumed and comparing this number to how much time has passed. I realize that if I pick up the pace just a little more I can knock this whole book out within the next two hours, and the prospect of this accomplishment excites me to no end.
When I finally reach the exciting conclusion of this story, I immediately feel that rush of accomplishment I was looking for. Without wasting any time, I pop up from my seat on the couch and rush over to the bookshelf, selecting another Chuck Tingle paperback from the collection and then returning to my seat.
I crack this one open and begin to read, now picking up the pace even more. Maybe if I really push myself I can knock this novel out even quicker.
My eyes are flying across the pages now, barely able to retain the information I’m receiving but gathering just enough to make the story coherent. The minutes turn into hours as I sit here reading, and soon enough the morning has transitioned into late afternoon.
“Oh, whoa,” my wife blurts, strolling into the living room to find me surrounded by a collection of recently completed Chuck Tingle books. “Did you read all those just now?”
I nod, very proud of my accomplishment.
Amanda’s expression gradually turns to one of reserved skepticism. “Did you retain any of them?” she questions. “Better yet, did you enjoy them?”
I glance over at the pile and then shrug. “Sure.”
My wife strolls over and picks up one of the paperbacks randomly, turning it over in her hands. “What’s this one about?”
I gaze at the cover, struggling to remember. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure I even read that one, but it does appear my wife has pulled it from the completed pile. I scan the cover, looking for clues.
“That’s the one where he gets pounded by his own butt,” I offer.
My wife narrows her eyes. “This is about a lesbian jet ski,” she replies. “Oh,” I blurt. “I guess I wasn’t really paying attention.”
Amanda just sighs and shakes her head. “You may have scanned these, but
you certainly didn’t read them.”
“But look at how much I got done!” I protest.
My wife laughs. “Hey, it’s your time, spend it how you want. I just think
you might enjoy actually taking it easy for once.”
She’s right, and I know it. I have a habit of focusing on the destination more
than the journey, and while this has helped me accomplish a great deal of things in my life, those accomplishments can sometimes feel admittedly hollow.
Amanda leaves and I end up sitting in silence, gazing out the window as I struggle to push down the feelings that are bubbling up within me. The insatiable drive to accomplish something, anything, is still there, but I’m beginning to realize that these accomplishments are worth very little without balance. I glance down at the books lying next to me, recognizing that I haven’t truly understood a single one of them.
Maybe Amanda is right, maybe it is about the journey, not the destination.
It’s not long before a new thought begins to creep its way into my mind, a plan to break out of this rut that I’ve found myself in. In any other situation I wouldn’t have the time for something like this, but now that I’m trapped here for the foreseeable future, I might as well give something new a try.
At some point this snow is going to melt, meaning the landscape before me is anything but permanent. Therefore, building a snowman is a very literal exercise in enjoying the present. This creation will be temporary no matter how much time and effort I put into it, and there’s something powerful about that.
Determined to defy my own bad habits, I stand up and walk to the door, pulling on my biggest winter coat and then heading out into the snow. I tromp out into the middle of the yard and get to work packing some of the cold fluffy substance together, building myself a small ball and then starting by rolling it around on the ground. Slowly, the ball begins to grow in size, picking up mass as it goes until finally it’s so large that I’m having trouble moving it from one side of the yard to the next.
At this point I begin working on the next segment, packing up some snow and rolling around a second ball until it’s just the right size. I stack this new creation on top of the previous sphere, then move onto the final piece.
Once I’m finished with these three stacked balls I step back and admire my work. Who cares if this beautiful creation won’t last forever, I’m having fun.
Of course, the snowman isn’t finished just yet. To bring my project to a close, I head back inside and return with a carrot for a nose and some coal for eyes and a mouth.
It’s dark by the time I’m finished, but I couldn’t be happier with how I spent the day. I finally feel the slightest bit of relaxation course through my body, a brief moment to just enjoy.
I’m still buzzing by the time Amanda and I sit down at our kitchen table to enjoy our dinner. My wife is watching me with a knowing smile.
“You have a good snow day?” she questions.
“I had a great snow day,” I reply.
Amanda smiles and leans back in her chair, eyeing me with a quiet glee. She
can tell something has changed within me.
“Did you think of a name for your snowman?” she questions.
I shrug. “I didn’t really consider it. Who does he look like to you? A Peter?
A Gorb?”
My wife stands up and strolls over to the window, gazing out into the
darkening yard. Suddenly, she gasps, then starts laughing. “Very funny,” Amanda offers.
“What?” I question, not quite understanding.
I join Amanda at the window, gazing out at my creation. At first I’m not sure what it is that’s drawn her attention, but eventually my gaze drifts down to the lower half of the snowman’s body. Here, a carrot is protruding from his largest snowy ball, the vegetable creating an enormous orange cock.
“Oh whoa,” I blurt. “I didn’t do that.”
Amanda raises her eyebrow and turns toward me, skeptical. “Really?” she questions, clearly not buying it.
I shake my head. “Maybe someone in the neighborhood is pulling a prank,” I suggest.
My wife and I turn our attention back to the snowman when suddenly we stop in our tracks, gazing out at what is now an empty front yard. The two of us are equally confused, wondering if our eyes are playing tricks on us.
The snowman has disappeared.
Suddenly, our doorbell rings.
My wife and I make our way into the living room, approaching the door
slowly and then pulling it open to reveal the cold figure standing in all of his icy glory.
“Hey there,” the sentient creation offers. “Mind if I come in?”
“Oh, sure,” I blurt, not sure what else to say.
The sentient creation shuffles inside.
“I didn’t realize you were alive,” I offer. “I would’ve invited you in sooner.”
“I wasn’t sentient then,” the snowman informs me. “I didn’t become a living object until those pranksters came by and gave me a carrot for a cock.”
My wife and I can’t help but glance down at the snowman’s impressive rod, the vegetable still jutting out of his rounded lower third.
“How did that bring you to life?” my wife stammers.
The snowman smiles. “When the snow that makes up my physical form was eroticized, I became self-aware,” he explains. “We’re characters in a Chuck Tingle book, and because Chuck Tingle writes erotica about living objects, that was the turning point.”
“Oh,” I stammer, utterly confused by trying my best to follow along. “So you’re a... character in a book?”
“We all are,” the snowman informs me, prompting my wife and I to burst out in a fit of laughter.
The snowman doesn’t react, and eventually our smiles begin to fade into expressions of deep concern.
“Wait are you serious?” I continue.
“Let’s sit down,” the snowman offers.
We invite the snowman to take a seat on our living room couch, where he
plops down.
“Do you want us to turn down the heat or something?” my wife asks our
guest.
The snowman shakes his head and waves away her concern. “We’ve got
time before the melting starts. I was built well thanks to your husband Jack over here.”
I smile, appreciating his compliment.
“I’m Fondo,” the snowman offers, finally introducing himself.
It’s only now that I notice just how breathtakingly handsome this icy figure
really is. I’m not trying to compliment my own handwork, either, just appreciating the beautiful frozen body that sits before me. From the corner of my eye I notice my wife doing the same, unable to hide her attraction to this perfectly sculpted living object.
“So... what’s up?” I question.
“I’m just here to talk about some themes,” the snowman explains.
“I still don’t follow,” I counter.
The snowman laughs. “My bad. I keep forgetting you’re not meta-aware like
I am.”
“Still have no idea what you’re talking about,” I continue.
“It’s easy to write an erotic short story,” Fondo explains, “but the craft
comes from adding layers of subtext, or at least providing a real message. This
story is about appreciating the present, and finding joy in doing something just to do it.”
“That’s exactly what I was thinking when I built you this afternoon!” I explain. “I used to have trouble with tasks that didn’t have a concrete outcome.” “Character development,” Fondo explains. “I mean, it was a little fast, but
this isn’t a novel so we don’t have many pages to work with.”
“Why are you telling us all this?” my wife questions.
A heavy, emotional weight suddenly overwhelming the snowman. “Because
it’s not just snowmen who have a limited amount of time... it’s also the two of you.”
A scoff. “I’m in very good health,” I counter. “I’ve still got plenty of life to live.”
“Sure,” Fondo agrees, “but this book is going to end in two thousand words. You’ve been working so hard on the future that, by the end of this story, you’ll be wondering what even happened here. Just like those tinglers you read but couldn’t retain.”
A lot of what he’s saying doesn’t make a lick of sense to me, but the overall message is crystal clear. I’d been reading those books way too fast to get much out of them, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to my life.
“What can I do?” I finally question.
“Make moments,” the snowman explains. “Do something unexpected! Say yes to adventure!”
A smile works its way across my face. I’ve got no problem with that.
“So what kind of adventures happen in erotica stories?” my wife questions mischievously.
Amanda glances over at me and we lock eyes, saying more with this quiet glance than mere words ever could. I give her a nod and suddenly she’s standing up, making her way over to the handsome snowman. The next thing I know the two of them are kissing passionately, her warm body pressing against his frozen exterior.
I look on in awe, then move closer. Soon enough, the two of them are pulling me into the mass of roaming hands and kissing lips. It’s not long before my clothes are torn away and tossed to the side, revealing my nude form in the flicker of our nearby fire place.
The handsome snowman begins to work me with his muscular stick arms, starting at my shoulders and then making his away across my chest and abs. He teases along my waistline, toying with my limits before finally continuing onward.
“Oh my god,” I gasp as the frozen figure wraps his hand tight around my swollen cock.
Fondo begins to pump his wooden fingers across my length, starting slowly at first and then gradually gaining speed as I fall into rhythm with him. I begin to rock my hips along with his movements, a pleasure building within the pit of my stomach.
Meanwhile, the touch of another much warmer participant enters this equation. My wife reaches down and begins to cradle my hanging balls, this new sensation mixing with the one that came before it in a swirling cocktail of pleasure.
My two lovers gradually drop to their knees before me, gazing up with cock hungry eyes as they continue to service my cock with their hands. My wife and snowman make out for a moment and then somehow find my swollen rod between their lips, licking up and down the sides of my shaft.
Eventually, my wife opens wide, taking my rod into her mouth and then bobbing her head up and down my length enthusiastically. She knows exactly how I like it, and the snowman watches in amazement as the two of us fall into our routine together. Amanda sucks me off faster and faster, until eventually she’s forced to pull away with an exhausted gasp, spit dangling from her lips to the head of my shaft in a semitranslucent thread.
Now it’s the snowman’s turn. Fondo quickly takes over, opening wide and consuming my dick with just as much enthusiasm as my wife. The snowman’s approach is much different however. Instead of pumping himself across my length, Fondo just slips my rod lower and lower, driving my cock into his oral depths.
The sensation is incredible, my dick easily slipping past the expected limits of his gag reflex and ending up swallowed to the hilt. Fondo The Snowman’s face is pressed up hard against my abs now, my rod fully consumed in a perfectly performed deep throat.
The sentient arrangement of frozen water stays like this for as long as he can muster, then finally pulls back with a frantic gasp of his own. There’s an erotic fire in his eyes now, and his craving is something I’m more than willing to satisfy.
Feeling inspired, I turn around and fall to the floor, popping my ass out towards the handsome snowman and wiggling it from side to side. I begin to crawl away from him, swinging my hips as I go and then reaching back to give one ass cheek a playful slap.
“Get over here and fuck me,” I demand.
Fondo The Snowman doesn’t need to be asked twice, immediately climbing down into position behind me and aligning his enormous carrot rod with my tightly puckered back door. He teases the rim of my ass for a moment, pushing forward and then pulling back for a while before finally taking the plunge.
Eventally, the muscular snowman pushes into me with a deep and powerful swoop, filling me up with his member as a startled groan escapes my lips.
“Oh fuck,” I moan, my eyes rolling back into my head. “That carrot dick is so fucking thick in my tight asshole.”
Along with his assertiveness, Fondo is also a kind and patient lover. The living object stays deep inside me, refusing to move as my body adjusts to the mighty size of his vegetable member.
Eventually, any discomfort begins to slip away, replaced by a sense of potent warmth that spills out across my veins.
Soon enough, the two of us fall into a gentle rhythm together, rocking back and forth as the pleasure at the pit of my stomach begins to build. I’m so lost in these wonderful feelings of ecstasy that I barely notice my wife climbing down into position before me.
I look up to see Amanda, the beautiful goddess lying back with her legs spread wide open. She looks absolutely gorgeous, I and don’t hesitate to dive in, hungrily lapping away at her waiting pussy. I start with long, slow licks, warming her up a bit, then eventually focus on my technique. Soon enough, I’m moving my tongue in small but rapid movements across her clit, matching the way that her body pulses against me.
I won’t lie, the position I’m in certainly doesn’t make things easy. By now the handsome snowman is hammering away at my asshole with all of his strength, plowing into me at just the right angle to hit my aching prostate. I’m trying to focus on pleasuring my wife, but the movements from behind don’t make it easy.
Fortunately, the three of us gradually evolve into one coherent rhythm, the subtle pump of body against body transforming our chaotic lovemaking into a singular groove. I gaze up to see that Amanda is already starting to tremble and quake above me, her stomach clenching tight as I push her closer and closer to an inevitable orgasm.
“Oh fuck, just like that,” Amanda begins to mumble, the worlds spilling out of her lips in a crazed carnal mantra. She repeats the phrase over and over again, reaching down and placing her hand on the back of my head as she pulls me closer. With every round her voice grows louder and louder, filling the room with her frantic cries. “Oh fuck, just like that!”
As she approaches the edge of orgasm I slip two fingers deep within her pussy, filling her up and causing her to finally erupt in a powerful climax. Amanda throws her head back and howls with absolute pleasure, losing herself in the moment as her body clenches tight and heaves in spasms of climax.
Meanwhile, the snowman continues to hammer me up the ass with his enormous carrot rod. I’m on a similar timeline as my wife, pushing closer and closer to the edge but not quite ready to tip over it. This changes, however, when Fondo reaches around and grabs ahold of my cock, beating me off in time with the slams up my ass.
“Holy fuck!” I scream, but the words are cut short as my wife kisses me deeply on the lips.
Suddenly, an orgasm is ripping through my frame, filling me up with pleasure and consuming my senses. Hot white jizz erupts from the head of my shaft, splattering out across the living room floor below me in a beautiful pattern of pearly white. The sensation is so wonderful that it feels as though I’m leaving my body, floating high above the scene and gazing down at my own physical form.
I slam back down into myself just in time to receive Fondo The Snowman’s milky payload. The living object hammers into me faster and faster until he pushes deep and holds tight, expelling his jizz in pump after glorious pump. The seed fills me to the brim and eventually squirts out from the corners of my tightly packed ass when there’s not enough room left. When he finally pulls out of me it runs down the back of my legs in warm streaks.
Finally finished, the group collapses into a pile right there in the middle of the living room floor, panting with exhaustion.
“That was incredible,” I gush, the handsome snowman lying on one side of me while my beautiful wife lies on the other.
From here I can notice that Fondo’s body is slightly smaller than before, his muscular frame melting away in the heat of the house and the friction of our carnal lovemaking.
I sit up, concerned.
“Are you okay?” I question.
“I’m melting,” the snowman reminds me. “This encounter was about the
present, not the future.”
“Let’s get out outside then!” my wife chimes in.
Fondo shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, this story is coming to an end. If
you look down you can see the vast blank whiteness below.”
I glance at my feet, unsure of what he’s talking about. “I don’t understand,” I
admit.
“It’s okay,” the snowman offers, a knowing warmth in his tone. “You’ve
done a great job. At the end of the day, this isn’t really about me, but it also isn’t about you or Amanda. It’s about the reader.”
“The reader?” I question.
“Just a little reminder to appreciate every moment as it comes, to seize the day when you get the chance, to use the time you’ve got for a little loving, whatever that may be,” Fondo explains. “To have fun, because every book has a beginning, and every book has an end.”
“That seems... kinda sad,” I offer in return.
The snowman shrugs. “Maybe, but It’s not like the story ends when we do,” he explains. “This book will still be out there for folks to reread, and there’s bound
to be a few more variations on a snowman coming to life. We always leave our mark on the timelines we move through, like echoes on a quiet, snowy night.”
I nod, understanding.
“I’ll be back again, someday,” Fondo The Snowman offers, “and so will you. We might just be echoes, but even the faintest echo can cause an avalanche.” I smile with the acceptance of this newfound power, satisfied that I’ve used
my time to put a little more love out there in the world. Who knows where my echo will end up, but at least I sent it off bouncing in the right direction.
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Splendid Geryon
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