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ATR
On a flight to Chicago, a gentleman had made several attempts to get into the men's restroom,
but it had always been occupied. The flight attendant noticed his predicament.
Sir, she said, "You may use the ladies room if you promise not to touch
any of the buttons on the wall." He did what he needed to,
and as he sat there he noticed the buttons he had promised not to touch.
Each button was identified by letters: WW, WA, PP, and a red one
labelled ATR. Who would know if he touched them? He couldn't resist. He pushed WW.
Warm water was sprayed gently upon his bottom. What a nice feeling, he thought.
Men's restrooms don't have nice things like this.
Anticipating greater pleasure, he pushed the WA button. Warm air replaced the warm water,
gently drying his underside.
When this stopped, he pushed the PP button.
A large powder puff caressed his bottom adding a fragile scent
of spring flowers to this unbelievable pleasure.
The ladies restroom was more than a restroom, it is tender loving pleasure!
When the powder puff completed its pleasure, he couldn't wait to push the ATR button
which he just knew must be the supreme ecstasy.
Next thing he knew he was in a hospital. A nurse was standing next to him,
staring down at him with a smirk on her face. "What happened?" he exclaimed.
"You pushed one too many buttons," replied the nurse.
"The last button marked ATR was an Automatic Tampon Remover.
Your penis is under your pillow."
Men Never Listen . . .
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