About 15 years ago I met a man that lived in Pennsylvania, I’m in Virginia.  He was rather nice looking and a real charmer.  We started communicating via phone and talked daily for months.  Finally we decided it was time that we spent some quality time together.  So I took a trip to see him.  We got along great, I had a wonderful weekend and he pampered me and treated me like a queen (which I deserve by the way)  For months I would make the 3 hour trip to see him every few weeks.  It was just nice to go away and have someone wait on me hand and foot.  It was always worth the drive.  He had a nice home and a good job and made really good money.  He spared no expense in all areas of his life.  The one thing that always baffled me about him was why he would spend good money on everything else and bought the cheapest toliet paper available.  You know, the kind that was like 4 rolls for 69¢, one ply, the kind that if you aren’t careful your finger will push through just at the wrong time. I hate that shit, no pun intended.  Now I realise what it’s used for and that it is just going to be flushed  but my ass is worth the good stuff.  One weekend when I was there, we spent the afternoon in the boudoir.  After several hours of talking (believe what you want) I got up to make a long overdue trip to the bathroom,  with him promising me a nice back massage when I returned.  I excused myself, made a quick trip and hurried back to get the massage that awaited me, anticipating where this was going to lead.  I hopped back into bed and he told me to roll over on my tummy…mmm…this was going to be heavenly.  As he started to massage my back working downward he stopped.  “Baby”, he said, with a bit of apprehension in his voice, “you have toliet paper hanging out of your ass.”  Shocked and not quite sure if he was joking or not, I reached around and sure as shit, no pun intended, there it was, this 6″ piece of cheap ass toliet paper stuck in the crack of my ass.  Well what was I suppose to do? There is was and there was no graceful or sexy way to get out of this.  It was his fault, I didn’t buy that cheap shit, so I started to laugh.  What else could I do?  It was funny, really funny. He didn’t find it quite as humorous as I did.  I laughed until I cried and laughed some more.  That kind of ruined the moment and I didn’t get a massage that day but honestly, I know I enjoyed that good ole laugh more than I would have enjoyed the massage.  Oh by the way, that ended our afternoon delight that day but he did take me out for a hell of a dinner.  Since then I laugh everytime I think about it.  I haven’t seen him for years but I hope that he finally decided to buy the good stuff.