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Fundament Fundamentals

Ass is magic. The lush roundness, the curves . . . The Curve.

That most elegant and sensual of all geometric shapes — the

vertically split oval, the inverted catenary, the upside-down heart.

The ass. It releases nauseating, evil-smelling waste and emits

noxious gas . . . it’s the exit passage for lumps of shit and

rotten-smelling farts. It’s the symbol of all that is unclean. And

yet, by some strange alchemy, it becomes the most highly-charged

and sensual body part. It’s an obsession, a ruling passion, a

crystallization of purpose.

Remember how weird and disgusting even the plain vanilla sex act

seemed when you first learned about it at age 10? Well, anal sex was

even more disgusting when you found out about *that*. “Cornholing,

that’s what queers do when they have sex. One guy sticks his dick

into the other guy’s asshole and fucks him up his shit tube.” That

image haunted you for years. Even the word “corn” conjured up demons.

The very idea of fucking an ass is explosive. Forbidden fruit. It’s

perverted. It’s nauseating. It’s magnificent. Vaginal sex is, at best,

a pale imitation.

The higher the barrier, the more difficult the passage, the stronger

the resistance, the stickier the lock — the more explosive the

energy release when you break through.

The ass is the entrance to the Mysteries. Just insert yourself

into the keyhole and plunge. Open the door. Enter the chamber of

hidden delights. Welcome to a higher order of existence.

——————————————————————-

Val’s next girlfriend, happily, was into ass play. (He had made damn

certain of that before they got too deeply involved.) It didn’t take

much persuasion for her to try anal. Their first attempt was rather

pathetic in its clumsiness and not much fun for either of them. Too eager,

too impatient . . . he had pushed too hard trying to get into her back

passage. Too little lube. She was too dry and it hurt a bit. He came

while still stuck fast in her outer ring.

Marsha took him firmly in hand after that. She had done some reading

and judicious asking on the methods and techniques of ass fucking.

“Val, dear Val. Let me guide you through this. You’ll do it exactly as

I say, and you’ll be patient, too . . . or I’ll chop off your . . .

“First, we need a higher quality grade of lube. Not that cheap shit you

got at the corner drugstore. And we won’t skimp on it, either.

“Next, you’ll turn me on with pussy stroking and clit sucking before

I let you anywhere near my asshole. Make me come once or twice. Three

times is even better.

“Finally, listen. Listen to me. Me! The boss. When I’m ready to let you

stick anything into my ass, I’ll let you know loud and clear.

“Yes! That’s good. I’m going to lean forward and bend over those pillows

and stick my ass into the air. It’ll be totally open to you.

“All right. Prepare me with a finger inside, and plenty of lube on it,

don’t forget. Now two fingers. Twirl them around. Stretch me. Loosen me

up. Lube me up inside. Now lube yourself up. Slather it on. Get ready

to slide in now. Ready?”

Boy, was he ever. He positioned himself at the entrance to her ass and

pressed forward gently. The dick head slowly disappeared, and with a sort

of liquid pop, he was past the entrance. There was almost no resistance

now, and he slowly slid in deeper. Inch by inch, his shaft submerged

into her darkness. The front of his thighs bumped against the curve of

…End of the part1. To be continued..

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REASONS WHY GUITARS ARE BETTER THAN WOMEN

(please note, I have eliminated the obvious copies like, “you can have a
guitar all month long”, and “a guitar doesn’t care how many guitars you own”)

1. A guitar has a volume knob
2. If you break a guitar’s G-string, it only costs $0.79 for a new one
3. You can make a guitar scream as loud as you want it to
4. You can unplug a guitar
5. You can finger a guitar for hours without it complaining it wants more
6. Other people can play your guitar without it getting upset
7. You can finger a guitar in public and get applause, not arrested
8. You can have a guitar any color you want and noone will care
9. If your guitar gets loose, you can just tighten up the strings
10. If your guitar doesn’t make sounds you like, you can change pickups
11. You can use four fingers at a time on a guitar
12. If your guitar strings are too heavy, you can just get a lighter set
13. You can have a guitar professionally adjusted to *your* liking
14. If you scratch a guitar’s back, it’s unintentional, not required
15. You can go to a guitar shop and play all the guitars you want for free

Now, for the opposite:

REASONS WHY WOMEN ARE BETTER THAN GUITARS

1. Women are more fun when the power goes out
2. You can’t get your guitar wet
3. Ever try to screw a guitar?
4. The input to a guitar is only 1/4″ (ouch!)
5. A guitar won’t beg to be played
6. It’s no fun to tie your guitar to a bed and spray whipped cream on it
7. When playing a guitar, you can use your teeth, but not your tongue
8. Guitars aren’t very aggressive
9. A guitar won’t play you back
10. You need two hands to make a guitar scream
11. A guitar won’t scratch *your* back
12. A guitar won’t drive you home if you’re too drunk
13. A guitar doesn’t care who plays it
14. You can’t play two guitars at once
15. You can’t fall in love with a guitar (awwwwwww, gee, how sweet
(well, maybe you can, but they can’t love you back)

These are my own. I get sick of regurgitated ones. I hope you like them.

–

A young girl asked her mother “Mommy, do you get into heaven feet first?”

“I don’t know, why do you ask?”

“Because the maid’s upstairs with her feet in the air, shouting `God, I’m
coming, God, I’m coming,’ but dad’s on top and won’t let her go.”

–

First Woman: “This is very embarrassing, but every time I sneeze, I
have an orgasm.”
Second Woman: “You poor dear! Are you taking anything for that?”
First Woman: “Snuff.”

————

What’s the definition of the perfect woman?
1) She’s three feet tall, has a round hole for a mouth
and her head is flat so you can put cocktails on it.
2) The sports model has pull-back ears and her teeth fold in.
3) The economy model – she fucks all night and at midnight
she turns into a roast beef sandwich and a six pack.

————

Three old ladies were sitting on a park bench when a flasher walked up
to them and displayed his endowments. The first old lady had a stroke,
the second old lady had a stroke, but the third old lady’s arms were too
short to reach.

————

This guy walks into a bar, walks up to the bartender and
says, “I’d like a scotch and soda and I’d like to buy that
douche bag at the end of the bar a drink.” The bartender
says, “Hey, she’s a regular and you can’t be talking about
her that way.” The guy says, “Okay, I’d like to buy that
nice, young lady at the end of the bar a drink.” The
bartender says, “That’s more like it,” and he walks up to
the girl and asks her what she wants to drink. She says,
“Vinegar and water.”

————

A man meets up with an old roomate whom he has not seen for many years.
The roomate has had a sex-change operation. “Was it painful?”, asks the former.
“No, not really” says the second. “How about when they cut off your dick?”
“No that really wasn’t the worst of it.” “Really?” says the first. “How
about when they had to create the new hole? That must have been painful.”
“No the worst part was when they stuck the straw in my ear and sucked out half
my brains.”

————–

Why did God give women nipples?
To make suckers out of men.

Why did the Detroit Lions hire two nuns and a prostiture for the new season?
Because they needed two tight ends and a wide receiver.

Why are clams like women?
When the red tide comes, you don’t eat them.

How does a man know when he’s eaten pussy well?
When he wakes up in the morning and his face looks like a
glazed doughnut.

Did you hear about the new video game for women only, called Dick-Man?
You put a quarter in and get fucked.

I’ve got a joke so funny it’ll make your breast fall off:
Oh…I see you’ve already heard it.

What do you call a virgin on a waterbed?
A cherry float.

What do you do when your Kotex catches fire?
Throw it on the floor and tampon it.

What’s 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1?
Bo Derek getting older.

Did you hear about the new douche powder made of alum, LSD, and Kentucky
Fried Chicken batter?
It’s uptight, outasight, and finger-lickin’ good.

What’s the difference between a light bulb and a pregnant woman?
You can unscrew a light bulb.

What do fat girls and mopeds have in common?
They’re both fun to ride until a friend see you.

Why are women giving up bowling for screwing?
The balls are lighter and you don’t have to change your shoes.

What’s the difference between a job and a wife?
After five years, the job still sucks.

How do you make paper dolls?
Screw an old bag.

What’s the white stuff you find in women’s panties?
Clitty litter.

Bumber sticker: Support E.R.A. – make him sleep on the wet spot.

What do you call a rehabilitation home for ex-prostitutes?
An all-the-way house.

Definition of a wife: “An attachment you screw on the bed to get the
housework done.”

How are an oven and a woman alike?
You have to get them both hot before you can stick the meat in.

Remember what’s worse than getting raped by Jack the Ripper? (Getting
fingered by Captain Hook.) Well, you know what’s worse than that?
Getting eaten out by Jaws.

What’s the purpose of a bellybutton?
To put your gum in on the way down.

Why was the stamp commemorating prostitution so unpopular?
You had to pay an extra ten cents to lick it.

What’s the difference between a hormone and an enzyme?
You can’t hear an enzyme.

How do you make a hormone?
Put sand in the Vaseline.

What’s a cunt that talks back?
An answering cervix.

What do you give an eighty-year-old woman for her birthday?
Mikey … He’ll eat anything.

What do you call a woman who uses too much contraceptive cream?
A spermicidal maniac.

Why do women have legs?
So they don’t leave snail tracks on linoleum floors.

What do you call a hooker with no legs?
A nightcrawler.

What do you call a girl who’s just been run over by a car?
Patty.

Why do female parachutists always wear pantyhose?
So they won’t whistle.

How do you tell when a woman is wearing pantyhose?
If she farts, her ankles will swell.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

We were attired as typical tourists: they were in swim wear; I was
wearing a flat Bahamian straw hat, aloha shirt and walking shorts, and Ellen
was attired in a white sundress with a broad yellow ribbon tied into a
headband around her black hair. Now, as Ellen laughed at a joke, the ribbon’s
long ends were flapping about in the warm breeze. It was difficult making
conversation above the pounding surf and whistling wind.

Jeff, a brawny six-foot-plus with a booming voice, leaned across the
table and asked, “You here in a boat?” His reddish hair was tousled by the
breeze. His stunning blond wife, Virginia, was leaning back in a sun-chair,
which squeaked as she fidgeted and appraised us.

“We flew over,” I told him. Two years before, we’d been here in our
twenty-foot boat. A troublesome storm convinced me I’d never take anyone
else in a small craft, so this time we’d flown commercial, as we have each
time since. “We’re checked in at the hotel.”

Jeff gulped his drink, gestured toward the distant docks, and murmured,
“We’re staying at the marina. They charge an arm and a leg to hook up to
electricity over there. We’re down here from Texas. Where you from?” When I
told him, he responded, “Yeah, well your state’s doing a lot better than mine.
You have Disney World and a state lottery. We have these closed down oil
wells and one hell of a lot of empty offices. We’re thinking of moving to
Florida.”

I grinned, “Doesn’t make Floridians too happy to hear that. Too many
people coming in now. I tell people who’re thinking of moving there that
alligators come out of the lakes at night and drag away little babies.” He and
Virginia chuckled.

Ellen’s a natural conversationalist, but now she was particularly
animated; she’d won them over. Jeff invited us for a tour on their sloop to an
out-island. We declined, explaining that we’d made reservations for an early
dinner at a local calypso club, so Jeff offered, “O-kay, what if we make it an
evening trip, around 7, 7:30? Think you could make that, ol’ buddy?”

I was considering it when Ellen grabbed my arm and blurted, “Come ON,
Bill, let’s DO it!” Turning to Jeff and Virginia, she smiled, “Takes him
forever to make changes in plans!”

I grinned, “Sounds like a great idea.”

That evening, over dinner, Ellen admitted her excitement. I’d noticed her
observing Jeff’s handsome, muscular features at the cabana. She remarked, “I
think they have MORE than just a tour in mind. We’ll see.” We skipped the
floorshow, donned our swim suits in the hotel room, and walked down to the
harbor where Jeff’s 38-foot sloop bobbed amid a line of boats at the unpainted
docks.

Virginia was tossing crumbs at a flock of seagulls swooping and
squawking around her. Jeff looked up from his blue canvas deck chair and
acknowledged,”You’re right on time.” He cast off as soon as we climbed aboard.
The Atlantic was now red beneath the setting sun. I noticed Ellen and Bill
stealing glances at the other now and then, until finally, they were openly
staring. When she turned away, Jeff gazed at her long legs and full,
half-exposed breasts thrusting out beneath the one-piece black suit, completely
bare on the sides except for four thin black ribbons on each side securing the
front and back.

By the time Jeff cut the engines, a half mile from the island, stars were
blinking like diamonds on black velvet. This close to the island, the five-
foot waves we’d plowed through most of the way had calmed. The waters’
crests, silver beneath the moonlight, softly slapped against the hull. The sloop
rocked gently as Virginia and Ellen clambered up the galley stairs to the
deck. Jeff anchored as we stared at the scene off the bow. Beneath the puffs
of gleaming clouds, the island seemed to float on the midnight-blue waters.

Virginia stood on her toes, stretching her arms, as she said, “This
breeze is wonderful!” She casually reached to unhook the top to her red and
white striped bikini; that isn’t unusual for boaters when the sun’s up, but
this was night. Ellen smiled as if to say, “I told you so.” I stared at
Virginia’s breasts, firmed by exercize. Her legs were as long and well-formed
as Ellen’s. She stretched again, her blond hair blowing in the soft warm
gusts. Outlined by the Bahamian moon, she looked like a goddess.

So Ellen slipped out of her suit. She stood nude alongside Virginia, who
turned to evaluate the similarity of their figures; “You’re beautiful,” she
told Ellen, staring down at Ellen’s shaved mound. The contrast between
Virginia, the half-nude blond, and Ellen, the nude brunette, was stunning.

Jeff’s engorged manhood had been evident even before then. But now,
appraising them, he smiled, turning to me as he whispered, “Are you two
swingers? You see, Virginia isn’t, but she’s a ‘watcher,’ and if you are,
we’re interested.” Then, he added, as if I might misunderstand, “I mean I’m
straight, not gay.”

I grinned, almost laughing. I could hardly wait for his reaction when I
told him, “Actually, Jeff, I’m a watcher too. Think Virginia would be jealous
if she saw you with Ellen, while your wife and I watched?”

When we told Ellen and Virginia, the coincidence seemed neither as
humorous nor as surprising to them as I thought it was. I learned later that
Jeff and Virginia had met many other agreeable couples during their travels.

We made small talk as if no one had mentioned “watching.” Ellen stared
at Jeff’s face and body, occasionally looking down at Jeff’s penis bulging
beneath his red biniki trunks. Under a pretense that we going down the stairs
to turn on the stereo, we made our way down to the dimness of the sleeping
quarters where moonlight streamed through a line of portholes. Virginia and I
stood in the doorway. Jeff and Ellen sat on the bunk, looking through compact
disks, selected one, and inserted it into the overhead stereo as Virginia poured
wine. When Ellen passed a wine glass to Jeff, their hands brushed. I could
almost feel the electricity as their eyes locked. Ellen’s soft breasts heaved.
Setting aside the glass on a bunkside table, Jeff leaned to kiss her neck,
moving down to her breasts. She moaned lowly, her lips trembling.

Virginia nuzzled her breasts against my side as I put my arm around her.
Leaning into the doorjam, we gaped, breathing heavily. Jeff and Ellen melded
in a deep kiss, their arms entertwined. Ellen’s hips rotated softly in desire as
she lay alongside Jeff. Virginia looked up at me, her lips trembling, her blue
eyes wild with passion, as she muttered, “God, aren’t they beautiful?” I
agreed, my shaft swelling beneath my trunks. Ellen, her nipples taut,
disengaged to slide to floor on her knees. Her lips grazed his thighs. Gulping,
as if in fear, she took Jeff’s long, raging cock in her mouth. He closed his
eyes, groaning, as her full, pale lips slid over his glistening member. Tears of
passion welled in Ellen’s eyes as she moaned. Her tongue and slender fingers
glided along his dark rubbery shaft.

Now, as Virginia peeled off her bottoms, her hand was massaging her
clitoris. I slipped out of my trunks as I stroked my hardness. Virginia pressed
against me. I slithered an arm around her, cupping a breast, her nipple
standing out like a spike through my fingers. Ellen’s eyes were now wide with
passion as he thrust into her greedy mouth. The intensity of their tempo
increased. Ellen moaned in rapture. His cock had ballooned to massive
proportions, straining her lips as she whimpered.

Withdrawing from her mouth, Jeff lifted her to the bunk beneath a line
of portholes. He kneeled on the floor between her long legs, kissing her
shaved mound. Ellen wailed in desire! Her hips gyrated beneath his tongue’s
manipulations. Her body quaking, she locked her thighs about his head, lost in
their own distant universe of adulterous passion. The smell of their lust
permeated the warm night air.

Virginia placed her arms around my waist, her hips grinding her clitoris
against my leg. “They’re so beautiful,” she breathed ecstatically. She looked
down, her lips trembling as I pumped my shaft.

Jeff’s strong arms enveloped Ellen’s quivering body. He hovered above her
splayed legs, his shaft swaying above her pussy which was quivering up to
touch it. Her lips were parted, her eyes wild and fearful of his large
instrument pushing apart her vaginal folds. She wrapped her legs around his
hips, drawing him deeply within, and yelled out in painful pleasure. Her
vagina was stretching to accommodate his large tool. They shared a sigh as he
buried his full length.

Whimpering, Ellen turned to watch us. Virginia had grasped my cock and
was stroking it as I squeezed the fullness of her breasts. The sight drove Ellen
into ecstasy as her arms enveloped Jeff. She bucked against him, meeting every
thrust into her steaming cave. Virginia’s nostrils flared, her breath huffing,
her mouth open in wild desire. I felt a kinship with Virginia as we watched
our respective mates, united in sin, her husband’s cock plunging into my wife’s
vagina; she mewed, “Oh, god, Bill, don’t you FEEL it happening BETWEEN
them, between US?”

And, yes, I did. Virginia’s soft fist pumped my shaft as she grinded her
blond mound against my leg. Her lips brushed my neck and ears.

Ellen’s head thrashed from side to side, her wide eyes rolling as Jeff’s
thickness filled her. She wailed as her tremoring arms encircled his neck, her
hips lifting to meet her lover’s. Her groin swirled beneath his fervid fucking
as she threw back her head, pleading for him not to stop. His jaw slackened
as he stared down at her, his eyes glazed with lust. Then, Ellen screamed, “Oh
GOD Jeff, I’m going to COME! Please come WITH me!” She mewed helplessly,
her body shivering with the building climax.

Virginia’s hand pumped furiously as she looked up to me, parting her lips.
We kissed deeply. Everyone was moaning, sharing the climactic thunder that
was engulfing us in an emotional hurricane.

At the last moment, Virginia spread her long, taut legs, guiding my cock
into her creaming depths. She screamed in pleasure. Then it happened, the
sexual energy crackling throughout the cabin! I exploded as everyone was
wailing; Ellen and Virginia were crying and writhing madly. Virginia fell to her
knees, taking my length deeply into her mouth. Ellen and Jeff now turned on
their stomachs to watch as Virgina brought me again to hardness, her hair
tossing as her lips slid along my full length. I’d lost track of time until my
semen burst into Virginia’s throat. Ellen and Jeff were applauding. Virginia
bumped to the floor, her arms around my knees, as we turned to look at our
spouses on the bunk. They were laughing.

That was the only time that either Virginia or I had experienced even
that slight an adultery with anyone. Neither of us were sure our spouses truly
understood, but what we had was just perfect.

CANONICAL LIST OF ‘HOW THEY DO IT’s

A king does it with his official seal.
AI hackers do it with rules.
AI hackers do it breast first.
AI hackers make a big production out of it.
AI hackers do it with robots.
AI hackers do it robotically.
AI hackers do it artificially.
AI hackers do it depth first.
AI hackers do it with robots
APL programmers do it with stile
APL programmers are functional.
APL programmers do it backwards.
APL programmers do it backwards.
Accountants do it with double entry.
Accountants do it with balance.
Accountants are good with figures.
Acrophobes get down.
Actors do it on stage.
Actors do it on cue.
Actors play around
Ada programmers do it by committee.
Ada programmers do it in packages.
Advertisers use the “new, improved” method.
Advertising majors do it with style.
Aerobics instructors do it until it hurts.
Aerospace Engineers do it with lift and trust.
Agents do it undercover.
Air Traffic Controllers do it in the dark.
Air Traffic Controllers tell pilots how to do it.
Air traffic controllers do it by radar.
Airlifters penetrate further, linger longer, and drop a bigger load
Alpinists do it higher.
Ambulance drivers come quicker.
Analog hackers do it continuously.
Anglers do it with worms.
Animators do it 24 times a second
Ansi does it in the standard way.
Archeologists like it old.
Architects have great plans.
Arsonist do it with fire.
Artillerymen do it with a burst.
Artists do it by design.
Artists are exhibitionists.
Artists do it with emotion
Artists do it with creativity.
Assassins do it from behind.
Assembler programmers do it one-to-one.
Assembly line workers do it over and over.
Astronauts do it in orbit.
Astronomers do it while gazing at Uranus.
Astronomers can’t do it with the lights on
Astronomers do it with Uranus.
Astronomers (astrophysicists) do it with a Big Bang.
Astronomers do it under the stars.
Astronomers do it with thier Telescopes (Refraction periods?)
Astronomers do it in the dark.
Astronomers do it with stars.
Astronomers only do it at Night
Attorneys make better motions.
Auditors like to examine figures.
Authors do it by rote.
Auto makers do it with standard equipment (or optional equipment).
B&Ders do it with their hands tied behind their backs!
BASIC programmers GOTO it.
Babysitters charge by the hour.
Backstrokers do it face up
Bailiffs always come to order.
Bakers knead it daily.
Bankers do it with interest. (However, there is a penalty for early withdrawal)
Banker – Past performance is no guarantee of future potential…
Bananas do it in bunches.
Band members do it in front of 100,000 people.
Band members do it in a parade.
Band members do it in sectionals.
Band members do it all night.
Band members do it on the football field.
Band members do it in public.
Barbarians do it with anything. (As do orcs.)
Barbers do it with shear pleasure.
Bartenders do it on the rocks.
Baseball Players (Sports people) Do it for alot of Money
Baseball players make it to first base.
Baseball players hit more home runs.
Baseball players have leather-covered balls.
Basic programmers do it all over the place.
Basic programmers do it all over the place.
Basketball players have big rubber balls.
Basketball players dribble before they shoot
Basketball players score more often.
Beekeepers like to eat their honey.
Beer brewers do it with more hops.
Beer drinkers get more head.
Beta Testers do it looking for mistakes.
Bicyclists do it in 10 speeds.
Biochemists make better lovers…want us to make *you* one?
Bio – Does that mean your offering to make a better lover than the one I alrea
dy have, or to improve ME?!??
Biologists do it with clones.
Bo Jackson knows doing it.
Boardheads do it with stiff masts.
Body-builders do it with muscle
Bookkeepers do it with double entry
Bosses delegate the task to others.
Bowlers have bigger balls.
Breaststrokers touch with both hands
Bricklayers lay all day.
Bridge players try to get a rubber.
Bridge players do it with finesse.
Broadcast/Cable Majors do it on film.
Broadcast/Cable Majors do it to epic proportions
Building inspectors do it under the table.
Bus drivers come early and pull out on time.
Butchers have better meat.
Butchers do it with dead meat.
C programmers continue it.
C programmers do it with lint.
C programmers SWITCH often.
C programmers SWITCH and then BREAK it.
C programmers SWITCH and then BREAK it.
C programmers continue it.
C’Bers do it on the air.
C++ programmers do it with their friends, in private.
CIA operatives do it with a security blanket.
COBOL hackers do it by committee.
COBOL programmers do it very slow.
COBOL programmers do it very slow.
CS111 students do it with interspersed comments.
CS111 students do it in binary.
CS111 students do it with ORGs.
Californians do it laid back.
Campers do it in a tent.
Cardiologists do it lightheartedly.
Cardiologists do it halfheartedly.
Carpenters hammer it harder.
Carpet layers do it on the floor.
Cartoonists do it with just a few good strokes.
Cavaliers do it mounted.
Cheerleaders do it with more enthusiasm.
Cheerleaders do it enthusiastically.
Chefs do it in the kitchen.
Chefs do it for dessert.
Chemical engineers do it in packed beds.
Chemists do it reactively.
…End of the part1. To be continued..

I am a 29 year old male and work for a medium size corporation in
Long Beach. I am single but have a 27 year old girlfriend that
would knock the socks off any man. Mandy is five seven, blonde hair
and blue eyes with the most fantastic body ever. She worships me
and we get along great. Best of all, when I want it, she never says
no. That is why I can’t figure out why what happened, happened.

In our office, there are a few young attractive women and a lot of
women in the 35 to 45 age range. All or most of them are married
and have families. This one lady, Peggy, is about 40, oriental,
very attractive for her age and her figure is still dynamite. She
has nice medium-size breasts and shapely legs. She has a few lines
in her face but her hips have a motion to them when she walks on
her high heels that attract any man’s eyes. Peggy is a real
sweetheart. She is always kind and considerate. She always dresses
very professional and is the last woman I would suspect of having
an office affair.

So, we were working on a project together one week and spending a
lot of time working in the file room. The file room is in the
basement and is pretty secluded and there is almost never any one
in there. This is a large room with row after row of four drawer
file cabinets. There is really too much stuff in there for the size
of the room because the aisles are rather narrow. On our second day
down there, Peggy was wearing a long, conservative white dress and
white high heels. I had seen her in this dress before. She was made
up as usual and actually looked quite attractive. We were both
working in the end aisle which had only one way in and out. It was
so narrow that we could not squeeze past each other without making
body contact. That morning as I squeezed past Peggy a couple of
times, I noticed two things. First, she was wearing some kind of
perfume that drove me nuts. Second, her dress was a wrap around
type that was tied at the waist and I don’t know if it was the
tight quarters or what, but as I squeezed past her and looked down
over her shoulder, I could see part of her very sexy white lace and
satin bra and, of course, what was in it. The next time I had to
squeeze past her, I got an even better view of her cleavage and it
was starting to arouse me.
A little while later, Peggy asked me a question and as I turned to
answer her, I noticed that the edge of her dress was caught on a
file drawer and as she had turned away from the drawer, it had
pulled the bottom of her dress open enough to expose her right leg
to me. I was stunned for just an instant by the sight of her very
sexy leg and the fact that she appeared to be wearing stockings
instead of pantyhose. All I could see was just a hint of what
appeared to be the top of a stocking.

Then, she must of felt a draft or something and I told her she was
caught at the same moment. She quickly turned away, embarrassed and
apologizing. Over the next couple of hours and through lunch, all
I could think about was what I had seen and how excited it made me.

After lunch, things went on as normal until about three o’clock. I
had been working at the end of the same aisle as Peggy. She was
about half way down from me working with a drawer in front of her
open, one behind her open, and one behind and just a little past
her open. I had an arm full of files I was carrying out and alerted
her that I was coming down the aisle. She tried to hurry and make
way for me but just as I got to her she pushed the drawer in front
of her closed and quickly turned and closed the one behind her in
one fluid motion. At the same moment, I reached her position and
slipped on a pen on the floor. The result was amazing.

The tie from her dress had gotten caught in the drawer in front of
her when she closed it and as she turned to close the drawer behind
her, it pulled loose. Feeling something was wrong as she was
closing the drawer behind her, she turned quickly back toward the
first drawer and in so doing, got the edge of her dress caught on
the drawer behind her. As it slid closed, it pulled her dress
apart. A fraction of a second later, I step on the pen, slip, drop
files everywhere so I can catch hold of something to keep from
falling. I end up pressed against Peggy with her back against the
file cabinet. Her dress was open and her sexy white lace and satin
covered body was before me. Our faces were a few inches apart and
I was suddenly seized by the impulse to kiss her sexy red lips. I
did it. I kissed her on the mouth for just an instant. She didn’t
do anything but just look at me. I moved my lips forward and kissed
her again. This time, it was longer and she started to respond. As
she responded her mouth opened slightly and her lips became softer
and wet and warm. My hands moved up to her sides and gently took
hold of her. “NO! Neal, I can’t. We can’t.” she said and turned her
back to me.

I was so hot for her and I had a huge hard-on. I started to kiss
her neck as I whispered that it was alright and that no one need
ever know that we enjoyed each other one afternoon. As I kissed her
neck, my hands slid up the front of her torso and found her soft,
full breasts in her bra. She was moaning softly as I started to
caress her. Then she said, “No Neal, please. We can’t. I am
married.” as she said it she pushed my hands from her breasts. I
was too fired up to quit so easily. I whispered to her, “Yes we
can. Just this once. No one will ever know.” and as I said it, I
started to kiss her neck again and my hands found her breasts
again. She moved my hands away again but they were quickly back.
This time she didn’t move them away and as I caressed her through
her bra, I could feel her nipples harden. I felt her gently push
her body back against mine and when she felt my stiff cock against
her ass, she moaned.

My right hand slid down to the string tie that was holding part of
the left side of her dress across the front of her body and untied
it. She kept whispering, “No. No. No.” but her body was saying yes,
yes, yes. My hands now reached up and slid her dress from her
shoulders, down her arms and off. I quickly tossed it onto the file
cabinet. Her back was still to me but I didn’t care. What she was
wearing excited me like never before. She wore a white lace
garterbelt that matched her bra. Her panties were high cut and
white silk with only thin straps across her hips. My hands had
returned to her breasts and I was now rubbing my erection against
her silky panties. My fingers slipped into the cups of her bra and
found her erect nipples, but it was so tight and confining that I
couldn’t do anything. Her breasts needed to be freed. My fingers
found the clasp of her bra between the cups and popped it loose.
Then I slowly peeled the cups back to release her breasts. As I did
so, she moaned slowly and deeply. She whispered, “I haven’t been
touched like this in six years. OH GOD! it feels so good.” Her
posture had changed as I now pinched her nipples. She was bent
slightly forward with her ass pushed hard against me. Finally I
slid my right hand down to the crotch of her panties and found them
to be hot and wet. It excited me so much that I almost came. I
started to rub her through her panties and her moans grew louder
and more intense. I couldn’t stop now, I had to have her.

She had finally given in and had reached her hand back and was
stroking me through my pants. I moved my left hand down and opened
my belt and fly. My slacks slid down my legs to the floor. She
grabbed hold of me through my underpants but wasn’t satisfied. She
started to push them down my leg and I helped her. My cock was free
and harder than ever before. She stroked it like an expert.

She was wearing her panties outside the straps of her garter belt.
I grabbed her panties and slid them down to her ankles where she
kicked them off. Then she parted her legs and I slid my hand right
down and a finger right into her. She was almost coming instantly
and I decided it was time. She bent forward more and pushed her ass
up and back. I bent my knees a little and positioned myself
directly behind her. I guided my cock to her waiting pussy lips and
then with one thrust, buried it into her. She was now screaming at
me to fuck her hard. I was pushing into her hard and she was
meeting my thrusts. She felt so good. Her pussy was actually
massaging and sucking on me. No woman had ever felt like this
…End of the part1. To be continued..

Section One – The Early Years
Chapter I – Baby Bimbo

Everyone in Larchmont knew that Chance was a tramp the day she came home
from the the hospital. At that point in her life it wasn’t the rubber pants
that gave her away, or even the fact that when someone picked her up for
burping, she blew in his ear. Let me put it this way: She did things with her
pacifier that most women still haven’t done with their husbands. Is that a
tramp, or what?
It was almost unthinkable that we would ever become friends, especially
to my mother. She considered anyone who wore open-toed shoes an exhibitionist.
Chance and I were SO unalike. I mean, when I had diaper rash, she had
herpes. I’d fuss about going to bed; she’d hit the mattress the minute
someone unzipped her bunting. I slept with stuffed animals; she slept with
real ones. You get the picture.
Chance stayed different from the rest of us. She never went through a NO
phase (her first words were “Sure, sailor!”), never sucked her thumb if she
could suck someone else’s, and when she waved “bye-bye,” it was with her
panties.
Even before she was toilet-trained, that tramp’s name was on bathroom
walls!

Chapter II – Toddler Tramp

Before we even entered kindergarten, Chance was raising eyebrows as often
as her skirt. Think I’m exaggerating?? Well, how many four-year-olds do
you know who’ve had their birthday parties raided by the police? I’m serious!
She jumped out of her own birthday cake!
My mother never let me go to any of Chance’s parties after I told her
about the one where we played Simon Says with a whip. (Simon says, “DO THIS!
DO THAT!”) She’d probably never have let me see Chance again if I’d told where
that preschooler poptart had hidden the marshmallows for the treasure hunt!
Like men in later years, Chance’s toys said a lot about her; all of it
unprintable. Her dollhouse had a red light on it! Her coloring books had dirty
pictures! She was the only kid in the neighborhood who had an anatomically
correct G.I. Joe doll – and it was battery operated!!
She also had an advanced Erector set. What she did with that is better
left unmentioned.

–

Each of these sets of lyrics are to be sung to the infamous Barney tune that
we’ve all seen on the Barney TV commercials starting with the words:

“I love you, you love me, we’re a happy family…”

While showing a little girl running up to hug a man sized purple felt dinosaur
with a sappy voice over of the little girl saying: “I love you Barney.” (I get
emotional each time I think of that scene…. )

– John

– – – – – – – – – – -

Alternate Barney Song Lyrics

“I love you, you love me, toddler beastiality
If you touch me right, I’ll give you a big bone.
Just you wait till we’re alone.”
(Matthew Reinker)

“How about incest, don’t you see? Fun for you and fun for me.
Let’s go find Baby Dot, turn her over and see what she’s got.
We’ll take her out to the back lot.”
(John W. “Jay” Elmore Jr.)

“I love you, you love me, if I’m not on you’ll cry incessently
Tell your parents to buy only Barney
‘Cause tapes and dolls mean money for me.”
(Dale J. Miller)

“I love you, you love me. We’re a happy fam-i-ly…
You don’t need that other family anymore boys and girls.
We have each other now. That’s why we can touch each other like this…”
(Brad Bishop?)

“I hate you, you hate me, we’re the Manson family
With a nick-nack-paddy-wack,stab you in the back
Barney smokes and peddles crack.”
(Chris Krolczylk)

“I’ll squick you, you squick me, let’s squick our whole families!
With a rip, slash, whip it out, stick it in the wound,
Barney loves you, please stay tuned!”
(L.S.V.)

“I love you…you love me, cause you are…so tasty”
(sound of the purple one devouring one of the kids)
Kid1: “Barney, where did Cindy go?”
Barney: “She went on a little trip…to learn about nutrition!”
(Kevin J. Barth)

–

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