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“Bullshit.” Michael growled, sitting back down in his recliner. “You
owe it all to yourself. I just gave you a kick in the ass that got it
started. No excuse for letting yourself go to hell like that. None at all.”
He paused for a moment. “Do you still want to do this?”

She looked Harold up and down appraisingly. “Sure. Might be
instructive all around.”

Harold suddenly felt very alone and outnumbered. And a little worried.
“Um, somebody want to let me in on this?”

“Well,” she said, walking over to Harold, “Mikey and I had a little
talk last night, and I had this idea to, you know, prove just how far along
you had come in conquering your little problem.” She placed a hand on
Harold’s shoulder and traced it, feather light, down his shirtfront to his
belt buckle, which she hooked a finger into and tugged gently.

Harold swallowed hard, wondering just how far he had gotten over his
head here. He looked over at Michael. Michael, who had winced visibly at
“Mikey,” simply looked back and said nothing. No help there.

So he turned back to Diane. “Um, you mean here? Right now?”

“Sure.” she said, tugging on his buckle again. “Why not?”

Then she was rubbing up against him, her arms around his neck. Their
mouths met in a long, breathtaking kiss. Harold’s cock was as stiff as a
railroad spike, and it didn’t help that Diane was grinding her hips against
his. She broke the kiss and ran her tongue slowly along Harold’s jawline.
Planting little kisses along his neck, she slowly slid down his front,
maintaining maximum contact with her hands a body all the way. When she was
on her knees, her face level with his crotch, she began to work at his belt
buckle.

Oh, jeez, Harold thought, as he looked around frantically. Michael was
still watching, only his expression was intent. Harold got the distinct
feeling he was being *studied*.

Diane got Harold’s belt unbuckled, undid the snap, and pulled the
zipper down. A white bulge immediately poked through, as his erection
strained to be free of his shorts. His pants fell to his ankles with a
jingle of change as Diane placed a hand on his covered bulge, massaging it
gently while she looked up into his eyes. Harold already felt waves of
massive pleasure surge up from his groin. She put her mouth over the tip of
the bulge and exhaled gently. Harold clearly felt the heat of her breath on
his cock, and moaned imperceptibly.

Then she grabbed the waistband of his briefs and began to slowly pull
them down, uncovering his erection inch by agonizing inch. The pounding in
his cock was matched by the pounding in his head as he felt the elastic
drag down along the length of his penis.

Then he was free, his cock standing stiffly erect for all the world to
see. He glanced over at Michael, but Michael didn’t seem to be as
interested in the action as he was in Harold’s face. Then Harold forgot all
about him as Diane extended her tongue and ran it up along his cock.

Then, without warning, she plunged it into her mouth. All the way in.
While Harold wasn’t exceptionally large, he had still never met a woman who
could deep throat him before. The feeling was nothing short of amazing, as
the warm, slick wetness of her mouth enveloped his entire cock. The feeling
was intensely erotic, and Harold closed his eyes with a moan and rolled his
hips as he prepared to explode into her mouth.

A sudden, hard slap rocked his face. Shocked, he opened his eyes to
stare at Michael, who had bounded off his chair and stood just behind
Diane. “Harold,” he said quietly, “if you ejaculate in her mouth, she will
bite your penis off.”

At that moment, he felt a brief, sharp pain at the base of his cock as
she dug her teeth in very slightly, just as a hint, before resuming her
sucking with double the intensity.

Cold horror gripped Harold’s heart. He had been a fraction of a second
away from coming before Michael slapped him, but the slap had brought him
well back from the edge. Still, Diane’s oral talents were nothing short of
extraordinary and it would not be very long before he was back again. She
slid his cock in and out of her mouth while lightly caressing his balls
with one hand. The other hand slid between his legs and began to tease his
asshole with a finger. Already the pressure was beginning to build as
Harold frantically thought of a way to stop it.

In the midst of panic came a voice of calm. Your training, you idiot!
it said. That’s it! Harold replied. He began to repeat the mantras Michael
had taught him over and over in his mind. Slowly, the real world began to
fade into the distance as he entered a trance. The sensations beneath his
belly eased to the point where he could contemplate them or dismiss them
altogether. His heart slowed and his pupils dialated as his mind entered an
alpha state. Within an amazingly short time he became pure ego, floating in
a sea of peace and serenity.

After what seemed a brief yet endless time his hindbrain became aware
that something changed and he resurfaced to conciousness, gazing at
Michael’s gently smiling face. Harold looked down and saw that Diane had
stopped, and was sitting at his feet, massaging her jaw.

“Jeez.” she said, “Thirty fucking minutes. Nobody’s ever outlasted me
before.” She looked up at him ruefully. “Mister, you are nothing short of
amazing.”

Laughing, Michael clapped Harold hard on the back, almost making him
trip over his pants. He quickly pulled them up and refastened them. “Well,
my boy,” Michael said, “I guess I’d pronounce you cured, at least by your
own standards.”

Harold stood there, amazed. “I.. guess I really did it. I never
thought I would.”

“I had no doubt.” Michael said. “You have found one solution to your
problem. Not the best one, in my opinion, but a solution all the same. With
practice you shall find others, I’m sure.”

Harold helped Diane to her feet. He looked her in the eye and asked,
“Would you really have…?”

She just smiled and said nothing.

Harold gulped and looked over at Michael. “Would she have?”

Michael just shrugged. “Beats me. And I suppose I should know if
anybody would. After all, she’s my wife.”

Harold’s jaw dropped open. It stayed that way for a moment, until
Diane reached up and gently closed it. “You look cute when you’re shocked.”
she admitted. Then she gently tugged him towards the door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, still flabberghasted.

“I think we can find a more suitable place to finish what we
started…”

“But… but…” he looked over at Michael helplessly.

Michael just shrugged again, palms up. “She does as she wishes. And I
wouldn’t have it any other way. You have passed an important hurdle today,
and a difficult one. You deserve a reward. Enjoy yourself. Both of you.”

Harold was silenced, at least long enough for Diane to drag him out of
there and to his well-earned reward.

And what a reward it was!

In order to prevent an armed revolt by the citizenry, the mayor did
the only thing he could. He promised to drop all charges against the
…End of the part5. To be continued..

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be able to trust another woman as long as I live. If I could get along

without sex I’d never even look at another one. Now the only contact I have

with any of them is for sex, pure and simple. I’ve been doing the swinging

thing for a few months and I’ve learned I’m up for anything so long as it

makes me feel good and has no strings attached.

“You know the whole time we were married I never once cheated on that

bitch. Not that I didn’t have the chance either. I had lots of chances to

cop a little trim on the side and never once did. I even had a few guys

proposition me, like you did back when you were a kid. I can’t tell you how

many times I’ve looked back on that and other offers I had and have kicked

myself for not taking advantage of them.”

I’d been listening sympathetically as Eric unburdened himself, but that

last line nearly took my breath away. There was no doubt that I still found

him incredibly sexually attractive; I’d been jacking off for years

fantasizing about this hunky man. Now it seemed that he was making himself

available to me. Still we’d just become reacquainted and we had a lot

riding on our business relationship. I didn’t, couldn’t do anything that

would jeopardize that. I didn’t know what to do so I didn’t do much of

anything. I made some inane remarks about how hard it must be for him; how

I felt his pain; how he’d meet someone, some day who would make him change

his mind about romance; bullshit like that. We ate a great lunch and

talked business, but it was really hard to keep my mind off what was

between Eric’s muscular legs. We went back to the office with no further

reference to sex.

The remainder of the week was so busy for both of us that we barely had

time to do anything other than the routine. There was still much to discuss

and plan. For this reason on Friday afternoon I asked Eric if he’d be

willing to work on a long range plan with me on Saturday. He looked a

little disappointed, but said, “sure not a problem. What time do you want

to meet?”

“Are you sure it’s alright, you didn’t have other plans made, did you?”

“As a matter of fact I did, but it’s nothing I can’t put off. The meeting

is more important.”

“If you’re sure, I’ll meet you here say 10:00 tomorrow morning?”

“That’s fine. See you tomorrow.”

“Great.”

I couldn’t help but stare at his bubble butt as he left my office. That

night I spent a long, slow session stroking myself to an immense orgasm

just thinking of swallowing him whole. It was somehow very satisfying,

because now I felt that I had a chance to turn it into reality. I just

didn’t know how soon that would be.

The next morning I arrived at the office at 9:30. I was dressed casually

in a polo shirt and a pair of dockers. Eric arrived at just before 10:00,

carrying a couple of containers of Dunkin’ Doughnut coffee and wearing a

pair of baggy sweat pants and an old sweat shirt. The fabric of the sweat

pants was so soft and worn that you didn’t have to look hard or stare to

see that there was a fat cock swinging loose just behind the material. I

began to think that his purpose in life was to sexually torment me.

“So,” I asked, “were you able to rearrange your plans?”

“No. I was going to entertain a couple from Connecticut, and I was hoping

they’d come down later in the evening and spend the night so that we ccould

party after I finished here, but they have a wedding to attend back home

tomorrow afternoon, so we left it for some other time. I gave up at least a

couple of great blow jobs for this meeting. You owe me big time.”

I wasn’t sure how to answer that, though I thought of a couple of ways, but

I just kept my mouth shut and we got down to work. At about 2:00 it dawned

on us that we were hungry so we call out for pizza delivery. It was about

6:00 when we both decided we’d had enough and it was clear we’d made

significant progress. We worked well together.

Eric stood, giving a man sized stretch. When he did, his shirt rode up

exposing his hard, flat stomach and the flaxen down that surrounded his

navel and then trailed downward toward his prize. As my eyes gazed lower I

stared right at the head of his dick. When he stretched backward it had

pushed forward and was now right in front of my face clearly outlined

beneath the soft material of his sweats. The head alone was the size of a

hen’s egg. I guess my mouth dropped open and I was staring.

The next thing I heard was a chuckle followed by, “see something you like?”

“Yes,” I barely whispered, “and I see something I’ve wanted for almost 16

years. Can I have it?”

“Seems only right. I should have let you have it back 16 years ago, so I

guess I owe it to you. And for sure you owe me a fantastic blow job

because that’s what I missed out on this afternoon.”

“Then,” I said grinning, “I think we can work out a deal. Do you want to

do it here or would you like to come back to my place?”

“Tell you what. I’m super horny, it’s been awhile since I’ve been with

anyone. That’s why I was disappointed at missing out on the Connecticut

couple, they both have very talented mouths. I’m good to go for at least

two or three rounds. If you don’t mind I’d like it quick, down and dirty

here and now. Then once the edge is off we can go back to your place and

do it again slow and easy. You up for that?”

“I am if you are,” I said. Was I ever? Eric sat down in his chair again

and then swung it around toward where I was sitting at the end of the

table. He stretched out, spread his legs and then grabbed the top of his

sweats with his thumbs and pulled it down and hooked it under his large

ball sac. His cock was plumping out and rising right before my eyes. By

the time I got out of my chair, came around the side of the table and

kneeled between his legs it was standing steely hard, a full 6 1/2 inches

of the thickest manmeat I’d ever seen. I was easily as big around as it

was long. In the flesh it was even more beautiful than I’d ever imagined.

I’d waited so long for this. I felt as though I were dreaming. I took hold

of it in my hand feeling its velvety soft warmth. I gently pulled it

toward my face and flicked my tongue out to capture the small clear bead of

man honey that had just formed at the slit. I tasted him for the first time

and went wild. I dove down on that meaty hog and didn’t come up for air

until he was moaning like a bitch in heat. I was determined that he was

going to get the best blow job of his life; I was certain I was going to

give the best blow job of my life.

He couldn’t stand it. He was too hot to just kick back and enjoy it. He

grabbed the back of my head with his strong opened hands and pumping into

my mouth. He began slowly, but as we both became more comfortable and sure

of each other’s rhythms the speed pick up. It was as though he’d been

suddenly unchained. He stood up so that he could drive himself deeper,

never letting go of my head. We bonded, mouth to cock, a virtual fucking

machine. All I wanted was to drink from the essence of his being, to feel

him gushing his pent up juices into my mouth and down my throat. I felt

his balls tighten up, his breathing become more labored and his body

tense. Then it happened. His cock swelled and pulsed and he shot. There

was almost not enough room for both cock and cum, but I took gulp after

gulp. There was no way I was giving up a single drop.

When he’d regained his composure, breath and ability to speak he looked

down at me, my mouth still stuffed with his now softening piece. He was

grinning from ear to ear.

“Hot damn, bossman. That was the best head I’ve ever had, bar none. If

that’s what you can do on your knees with my britches still on I can’t wait

to be naked with you in a bed. I hope you liked it as much as I did, cause

if so it’s my guess neither one of us will ever bitch about working late

again.”

I slid his cock from my mouth, kissing the head as I did. I looked up at

him again and just smiled. But he was right. Naked and in bed made things

much more interesting…but that’s a whole other story.

a girl friend, but he came to me to blow him. Suddenly I realized that

woman were competitors when it came to pleasing men orally.

“Shit yes! She give great head, or at least she does when she’s not

pregnant. She hasn’t been able to do it in the past couple of months. You

know how women get when they’re expecting, they start throwing up for the

least little reason. But, other than that I get head whenever I want it

and that’s pretty often. There’s nothing I like better’n a good hum job.”

Within the space of a couple of seconds my hopes were dashed and then

renewed. His wife blew him; he loved getting sucked; and now his wife

couldn’t blow him. Never one to miss a window of opportunity I just came

out and asked.

“Would you like me to blow you since your wife can’t? I do a really good

job.”

He looked stunned and didn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. I, of

course was hoping he was trying to figure out a place to go, but instead he

finally said, “listen kid, I’m not too much into the idea of having sex

with a guy. If that’s your thing, that’s cool with me, but I’m really not

too into it.”

I took this not to be a flat refusal. Not too into it, to me said that

maybe he could be a little into to it. So I said, just in case he wasn’t

clear on the point, “you don’t have to do anything to me, I’ll just suck

you ’til you come.”

“Yeah kid, I got the general idea, but like I said I’m not really cool with

the idea. Besides I don’t think your old man would be too happy with the

idea either and I really dig him. I wouldn’t want to do anything that would

make him unhappy.”

“Don’t worry I’d never mention it to dad. It could be our secret.”

I guess he was just trying to get me to end the conversation so he said,

“Well not today, but I’ll think about it.”

That did the trick. I dropped the subject and hoped for another day. That

night I jacked off three loads just thinking about Eric fucking my

face. Over the next few days I was relentless in my pursuit of him. I tried

to persuade him using every reason and argument I could think of, but it

didn’t seem as though I was getting any closer to getting what I wanted.

For his part, he was very nice to me. Though he always said no, he never

gave me a hard time, nor did he make me feel bad or inferior. Finally he

admitted that I was wearing him down. It seems like his wife had turned off

to sex almost totally and he was entering the perpetually horny zone. At

first I thought my lucky day had arrived, but he went on to explain his

point.

“A guy can only take so much temptation. I’m a hurtin’ unit in the sex

department and here you are asking me day in and day out if I want head. Of

course I do. Right now sex of any kind is starting to sound pretty good.

But I made a vow to my wife to be true to her and she made the same vow

back to me. I want her to keep her vows, no matter what happens, no matter

how horny she might get. I can’t break my vows to her and expect her to

keep hers. So if you really like me you’ll help me keep my vows. Please

don’t keep putting temptation in my path.

“I like you. I think you’re a cool kid, even if you like sucking dicks, but

I’m going to end up hating you if you are responsible for me doing

something I’ll always regret.”

What could I say? I promised to stop and I did. After that, though I

worked part time at the plant until I went away to college, I stayed out of

his way and said little more than hello when I ran into him at work. I

never propositioned him again.

After leaving for Boston University, I didn’t see him again, though I never

forgot him. In the ensuing 17 years I’ll bet I pumped out enough cum to

fill an Olympic sized swimming pool just thinking about sucking his cock.

Then about six months ago, my dad died. It was totally unexpected, a

massive coronary, out on the golf course. It was just the way he’d always

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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reaction to sex.”

“Fuck you, you bastard. I love the motherfucker and you

can’t say otherwise.”

“Jeanine, give me the joint. No, go, go ahead, finish it.

You can’t possibly love him ’cause you don’t know the first thing about

him.”

“Like hell I don’t. I know how he treats me. I can tell how

strongly he feels about me from the way he touches me. Do you realize

how he makes me feel?”

“That’s what good sex is like. Don’t confuse your physiology

with your emotions.”

“They’re inseparable, dummy. Our emotions are rooted in our

physiology.”

“Our emotions are rooted in our spirits, which have nothing

to do with our bodies.”

“If you don’t tell me who the fuck he is, I’m going to tell

the dean you had him rape me, and then you’ll be screwed. You think

you’re going to be able to withhold his name from the cops when they’re

interrogating you?”

* * *

“Look, why don’t you want me to tell her it was you? She

loves you, for chrissake.”

Paul Banks sighed, shaking his head, then jerked off the metal

crank that triggered the sprinkler system. We were the a gigantic

greenhouse the agriculture students grew experimental crops in during

the winter. Abruptly the slender jets of water arching over the

beds of loam were reduced to weak trickles.

“She can’t possibly love me; she doesn’t know the first

thing about me.”

“Well, I know, but she insists that she does. Who are we

to argue? It’s her feelings.”

He began walking to a wall where rakes and other tools were

hung. I followed him.

“Look, she says it’s the way you touch her, the way you make

her feel.”

“It’s called orgasm, not love.”

“Well, I know, but…I’m in a total mess here, Paul.”

“Yeah, well, it was a weird idea.”

He grabbed some sort of peculiar tool, a wooden bar ending

with forking plastic tubes.

“You had fun with it, didn’t you? Come on, fess up. You

took advantage of the situation for your own delight, now you have

to pay the price. It’s like everything in life, right?”

“Goddamit, Bobby, listen to me: I can’t have her find out,

all right?”

His tone was venomous, but his face seemed cramped, his eyes

narrow.

“Bob, I’m married. I have a two-year old daughter, okay?

If my wife and my family find out about this, my marriage will end.

You understand?”

I groaned. Paul watched another student at the other end

of the greenhouse dump a bag of white pellets into a bed of soil. I

struggled to think of something to say, some way to resolve the

situation. Paul turned back to me.

“And if you tell her it’s me, I’ll just deny it. It’s your

word against mine, Bobby.”

* * *

“You goddam coward. How could you do this to me? You…you

not only deceived me, you not only humiliated me, you goddam fucking

well raped me. That’s right, you fucking worthless scumbag: You

raped me. I consented to sex with some guy of your choice, but I did

not consent to sex with you. And I know goddam well it was really

you. That’s why you won’t tell me who it was, you fucking bastard.

I can’t believe that a friend would do this to me; it fucking shocks

me. You’re not a friend of mine, you have never been a friend of mine.

You’ve taken advantage of me, exploited my problems with men simply

to…to goddam rape me. Nine times! I can’t fucking believe it! You

raped me nine goddam times, you…you…”

“Jeanine, no. Hold on. You’re absolutely wrong.”

“I am not goddam wrong. I could fucking smell you, you goddam

…End of the part5. To be continued..

open slightly and I knew that she wanted me as much as I did her. But

the sound of the approaching car was becoming more distinct and, try

as I might, I found it impossible to concentrate on what I was doing.

“Shit, I think you’re right,” I said, a little angry at the

interruption. “Who the hell could this be?”

There were three of them in the car as it pulled up in front of our

house. I didn’t recognise the men at all and guessed that they were

from our neighbouring town eight miles away. As two of them alighted

from the vehicle, the third stayed behind the wheel. All three men

looked drunk and my previous feeling of contentment quickly melted

away and was replaced by one of worried apprehension.

“Get in the house.” I told Corina as I waited for the two men to

approach me, “I don’t like the look of this.”

“Ah! Don’t send the whore away!” slurred the first, larger lad as he

sidled his way up to me, “she may be black but she gotta be better to

look at than this shit-hole of a house you live in! What’s wrong with

you? You too much of a faggot to get yourself a white woman?”

The anger welled up inside me like a great tidal wave of hate. I

looked around quickly for any type of a weapon I could find, but it

was too late. The baseball bat seemed to come out of nowhere. I saw it

coming and pulled back – a reflex action – but not back far enough.

The hard wood caught me on my side knocking the wind out of my lungs

and I saw the moon and stars swirl in a sickening kaleidoscope of

colour as my legs gave way and I hit the floor.

My eyes opened blearily. I could feel dirt sticking to the side of my

face. I tried to focus; figure out what had happened. Corina was

sitting on the sofa opposite me. She looked sad. I tried to move

towards her but quickly realised that I was tied, very securely, to a

chair and gagged with tape. There was no way I was going anywhere.

“Ah, so the faggot’s awake!”

I twisted my head and discovered that the voice belonged to the big

guy that had immobilized me with the bat. I tried to struggle again as

he smirked at me but it was useless. I contented myself by hurling a

long stream of verbal abuse at him that was completely muffled behind

the gag.

“Now, don’t be like that,” he replied, a sickening grin plastered over

his face, “we just want to find out what all the fuss is about. We

heard that some white guy had got himself a black bitch and we wanted

to see for ourselves. I gotta say, she looks a whole lot finer than

the other black whores you see round here!”

I twisted and turned, banging the chair up and down in my anger as the

man moved over to the sofa and gently stroked my wife’s hair.

“Oh yes, very fine indeed!” he continued.

Corina twisted her head in an effort to relieve herself of this man’s

unwanted touch but he quickly turned angry.

“If you don’t co-operate, honey, then my buddy over there is going to

crack your old man again, you understand?”

Corina nodded dumbly and allowed the big guy to replace his hand and

continue stroking her hair. But this time his hands were not content

to simply fondle her tresses and began to wander downwards to cover

her breasts through the outside of the dress. I could feel the tears

of anger sting my eyes as I looked on helplessly.

The big guy was now joined by his smaller companion as they both began

to grope and fondle my wife’s tits. I knew what was going to happen

and I just hoped that Corina would submit without argument – the mood

these guys were in, anything could happen.

I knew that the dress wouldn’t last for long and I was right. I heard

the material rip and saw the ruined garment appear from over the

…End of the part2. To be continued..

gasp as his left hand returned to sight and placed the crimson flower in her

captured hand. “I always said I’d felt bad about that ‘email rose’ being so

insubstantial, so…”

“Oh, Mikel – I LOVE you!” she cried out as she hugged him.

“Ow! Yep, should’ve taken those thorns out,” he exclaimed as his arms resumed

their comfortable embrace of her warm body.

“I love you too, Nadine – as much as it is humanly possible, and possibly even a

little more. I will happily be whatever you wish – a friend, a lover, a servant,

anything – I’ll be it. I AM YOURS FOR AS LONG AS YOU WANT…I can only hope that

it will be a long, long time,” he finished, tears welling up in his eyes. She

kissed his chest, and pulled his body into hers even more tightly, sniffing

slightly.

They lay like that for a time, naked as the dawn, and held each other as the

afterglow of their passion made them drowsy. He recognized it for what it was,

pulled her head back, and kissed a trail from her forehead, down her nose and

onto her lips. “Darling, as much as I would be the happiest man it the world

just to lie here and hold you for the rest of time, we have a lunch date and I

don’t think we’ll pass the dress code like this. Does your plumbing give you

enough hot water for two showers, or must we share…feel free to lie if you

can’t bear to be away from my body from that long.” His mouth curled up into an

immoral grin. He fully expected the slap when it came, but not where it was

aimed.

“Ooo – aren’t we prideful all-of-a-sudden; you make a girl come a few times an

already you’re puffed up like a peacock! But sadly, I’ve got plenty of hot water.

To make matters worse, the stall is a little small…”

“Oh, well – I guess my ego will have to take the separation,” he said, releasing

her and sitting up. “I gotta dash down to the car anyway and grab some proper

clothes – you go first. Can I at least wash your back for you?”

“Done, and I’ll hold you to that.”

“Aw, I’d rather be held to your front,” he joked as he stood to pull the jumpsuit

over his naked form.

“Ugh, I hope you catch some hairs in the zipper!”

“Ooo, thanks for the reminder!” Mikel exclaimed as he shrugged his shoulders

into the coveralls. He moved one hand over his patch of brown hair at the

juncture of his legs before the other hand pulled the zipper up. He bent down to

kiss Nadine again and whisper “Better get up and get in there – if you’re not in

the shower when I return, I won’t be able to help you…”

“Mmmmmm, do I have to?”

“YES. Now, up!” He grasped her arms and tugged her to a sitting position. He

snaked his tongue over the side of her neck. She kissed his cheek and moved her

arms to encircle him. He removed himself from her embrace and said, “I’m sorry

for kissing-and-running, but it looks like I’ll have to tease you into the

shower. I promise that you’ll get more when I get back, if…” and grinned as he

stepped back. He was rewarded with his lover stretching and sliding off the bed.

When he turned to leave the bedroom, he stopped. “Um, Nadine darling? Something

just occurred to me – how will I get back into the apartment?”

Mikel heard her moving around behind him – and she slipped a key over his

shoulder, which he easily caught. She then pressed into his back and hugged him.

“Hurry back, my man.”

“I promise, and you’ve seen that I keep my word.” Nadine hands slipped away with

a sigh, and she stepped towards the bathroom.

He returned to the front door, and a shock jolted through his gut – the door was

ajar! He quickly scanned the room, and saw no one. He’d only been through here

once, though, and had been too distracted to take an inventory of the items here;

he had no way of knowing if someone had burglarized the place while Nadine and he

were ‘busy’…

He pulled the door open and heaved it shut behind him – breathing a sigh of

relief as he heard a click. He was about to start off for the outside and the

parking lot, but something on the floor attracted his attention.

The coil of wire and clipboard he’d used as props to complete his surprise were

sitting next to Nadine’s door, piled neatly. Mikel thought back, and remembered

dropping the clipboard and spilling the coil off his left shoulder when he hugged

and kissed his beloved, so the wire should be in a messy pile ON TOP of the

board. Someone must’ve been here, and cleaned up behind him! As he grabbed

these things to return them to the car, he noticed his benefactor had written

something on the blank sheet of paper he’d stuck under the clip – “Good luck

Pal!” Mikel carried his props out with a broad grin on his face – there’d be

nothing missing from Nadine’s apartment.

26 moms on camera movie gallery
Horny mom gets jizz on her asscheek after pussy drilling from behind
Very nice gallery

The stereo ground out an old Beatle’s tune, slowing now and then with the
power failures typical of poorly wired urban apartment buildings. It may have
been two high school girls dressing for their first dates, judging from the
excitement and expectations, matching lipstick and nail polish, changing
stockings and shoes.

“It all went well last night then?” asked Sandy, stroking the hair brush
through her long, thick locks.

“Perfect. Just perfect! In fact,” confessed Chris poking an earring
through her pierced ear, “he was a real doll. Very mature and dignified and he
didn’t even try to kiss me! God, maybe I have bad breath or something,” she
chuckled, never loosing sight of her profile in the dressing mirror.

“That could almost get to be a drag,” mused Sandy, with raised eyebrows.
“That has never happened to me, so I wouldn’t know. ”

Chris snapped the earring shut. “Tell me about it, Sandy.” she said
light-heartedly, but with a sting of sarcasm.

“Come on. I can’t help it if I like to make love. It’s the neatest
thing in the world. Can you think of anything that feels any better?”

Chris laughed. “Its been so long I couldn’t say…”

Sandy turned from her girlfriend and searched through her big leather bag
until she found the foil-wrapped packet she had stashed there for emergencies.
Actually, it was Roger’s idea, but she had to agree it was a good one. “Chris,
come on, this will get you in a party mood.”

Chris looked up, saw that Sandy was holding a lighted cigarette in her
hand. She held the lighted stick of marijuana in offering and Chris accepted
it, though reluctantly. Too many times she’d let herself loose control while
stoned; it was a vice she had grown wary of.

“I’m no sure…”

“Don’t be such a prude!” chided Sandy, taking a deep puff herself. “Here,
smoke a little. C’mon.” She held the hand-rolled cigarette to Chris’s lips;
first the blonde turned away, but then when it was obvious that Sandy would
persist, she reluctantly took one tiny puff. A tingle of warmth followed the
sweet-smelling smoke down her throat and along the nerve channels of her body;
just the one puff was enough to bring a wave of relaxation to her excited body.
She felt her mind loosen as if obeying some secret command; another, deeper
drag followed, then still another…

Soon, in minutes, or in hours, they had finished the joint and Sandy had
produced another from her tin foil packet. Chris didn’t hesitate this time;
the nerve-soothing drug seemed to answer a deep inner need, and the inbred
instinct to resist it had been destroyed.

“There, you feel more like partyin’ now without getting goose bumps?”
Sandy asked her shy friend.

Chris nodded. “Yes, thanks. I feel a lot… a lot better now.” Her
words were beginning to blur together, and she hesitated at places that needed
no pause.

“Now about tonight. We’re getting paid one hundred dollars each since
this is a private party that Roger is giving for some business friends. Is
that cool with you?” asked the brunette watching her friends eyes sparkle with
dollar signs.

“That sounds okay to me!” burst Sandy, stepping into her platform shoes.
She always waited ’til the last minute to put them on out of consideration for
the neighbors below who had to listen to the heavy clump, clump of her wooden
heels. Bending over to secure the straps and buckle the tiny metal fastener at
her slim ankle, Chris lost her balance and fell on her buttocks, with a groan.

Sandy looked down at her stoned friend. “For god’s sakes, Chris, get
your act together. We’re supposed to be calm and sophisticated debutantes,
remember? Not a couple of burned out hippies.”

“All right, all right,” snapped Chris defensively before bursting into
giggles.

Sandy headed toward the living room and called over her shoulder to
Chris, still in her bedroom. “Why don’t you make yourself a cup of coffee! I’m
going down to see if everything is cool with Roger.” The door slammed behind
her and Chris, kicking off her uncomfortable shoes, padded in her level bare
feet to the kitchen.

“Roger!” Sandy knocked on the door and was greeted on the second knock,
but she didn’t step in; there wasn’t time.

“Howdy, Sandy. Everything set?”

“Just like you said. A few pulls on the grass and she’s ready for
anything. Grass does that to her.” Sandy leaned against the door jam and
stared at a scrawled note that lay on the doormat. Stooping over, she picked
it up and handed it to Roger. “Looks like this is for you. Must have blown off
the door.”

“Thanks,” said the landlord, scanning the pencil-written note. His eyes
narrowed disconcertedly, a gesture Sandy did not fail to notice.

“What’s the matter? Somebody’s tub overflow?” she giggled.

“Naw. It’s from Margaret… she lives upstairs from me. Christ, I wish
she would stop nagging me. Goddamn women, can’t leave me alone,” he chuckled
egocentrically. “Ah,” he sneered. “She’s just a dumb immigrant from the old
country,” he said, mimicking Margaret’s Swedish accent.

“Anyway, I came down to see if everything’s okay. I’m sure I can handle
those friends of yours, but I’m not too sure about Chris. She’s pretty shy,
you know.”

“Just keep gettin’ her loaded. She’ll be okay.”

He kissed her on the forehead and she sauntered down the musty smelling
hallway, passing by door after door, hearing muffled sounds of the evening
news, mixed with low conversation and the heady smell of dinner wafting out
from under closed doors. Sandy had one hand on the railing when something
behind her made her jump.

Appearing from nowhere — she had to be hiding in the hall to go
unnoticed — Sandy spied a blonde haired woman, mature and buxom in her tight
fitting cotton dress. Smiling, Sandy turned to greet her, to say hello, but
the woman stiffened and brushed on by, her mouth turned down in a hateful
grimace at the sight of the young black haired girl who’d replaced her in
Roger’s life.

Margaret’s low-heeled shoes pounded rhythmically on the threadbare
carpeting of the steps, then silenced as she reached the hallway above and
charged for the quiet of her modest apartment. The tears she’s struggled to
hold within burst free and she collapsed on her bed.

She’d heard it all. So that’s what Roger thought of her? A stupid Swede
from the old country. Margaret took one loving glance at Sandor’s photograph
and plotted her revenge. And, she the goods on him, she mused with a sudden
taste for retaliation. In the last three days that she’d been following him,
she learned enough about him to make a complaint to somebody. Who, she wasn’t
certain of, but there had to be laws against pandering women and reading other
people’s mail as she’d seen him do through the window of his living room where
she’d stood on the fire escape.

anticipated that I would be a tall man, for my father, at 6′ 2″, was the runt

of his family. Couple that with my mom’s genes and it seemed reasonable

that I’d be tall. It was not to be. At eighteen, we were pretty much the

same height. I knew just where the tips of her breasts hit my chest.

I should mention that my mother had very attractive breasts, a C-

cup with prominent, up-tilted nipples that were often evident despite her

clothes. Sometime later I was to learn that she was one of those women

who were blessed with exceptionally firm, youthful breasts, that never lost

much of their firmness. She is one of those rare females that will have

youthful breasts into her later years. Like intelligence, beauty is given to us

as an accident of birth, no more than a fortuitous role of the genetic dice.

It’s comforting to be part of a line of good stock I was told, but I hadn’t

thought of it in this arena of sexual attractiveness.

While my mother’s figure was model-attractive, it was her facial

features that were eye catching. She had a straight, almost aristocratic

nose and a wide, full mouth. Her prominent cheek bones set off her

unusually attractive eyes. They were hard to describe, her eyes. She had

high, full, unaltered eye brows, that were dark in color in contrast to her

natural auburn hair. But it was the eyes themselves that caught your

attention, for they were a light green-blue with an exotic cast. At times I

thought she might have some Asian blood, but I never got a hint of it in the

rest of her family. In any case, they were striking, often dark and brooding

and at times almost electric. Without altering her facial expression, her

eyes could show humor or joy and, at times, anger. I often wondered what

she looked like when sexually aroused.

But I digress. Back to the awakening of my sexual awareness.

I didn’t set out to seduce my mother, despite the rich and lurid

fantasies I entertained. I held them as deeply secret and guarded as one

would any shameful, licentious desire. The thought was given no more

than masturbatory acknowledgment, as frequent as that was. Still, the gap

between our thoughts and our actions remains hidden from our conscious

awareness by the strength of our denial. So while I might have denied a

plan to seduce her, my actions would have argued differently. I set out to

be her friend and her confidant, to reduce if not break down the

conventional barriers between us. This was largely an unacknowledged

plan of mine. I don’t recall thinking anything more detailed than vague

objectives of getting closer to her.

Over time, I became more open with her about my self. I asked her

opinions of things, including girls and dating and later, sexual things. I

worked at being her emotional intimate. It wasn’t difficult, for she was at

heart an emotionally trusting and open women who, it turned out, was

largely unencumbered by repressive standards. To my surprise, we

gradually became good friends. That I would bond so closely with my

mother was not surprising, given my nature and that fact that my father

was largely an absent force in my life.

I slowly became less conventional in my own modesty. It was not

at all unusual for me to chat with my mother wearing no more than my

Calvin Kleins. I was aware that she studiously avoided looking at my body

when I was so briefly dressed, but she never reprimanded me for

inappropriate attire.

———————————————————————

I became aware that when my dad was away, she usually left her

bedroom door open. I took that as an invitation and often walked in on her

to “chat.” Not infrequently, I’d catch her in her bra and panties. She’d

say, “Whoops,” and slip on a robe, loosely tied. Once, as I walked into her

room, she was walking out of her large closet wearing only an unbelted

robe that swung open as she moved. From a moment only, I saw her nude

body. It was no more than a flash that left nothing more than an after-

image. It was that after-image that I examined so repeatedly. I saw firm,

upthrust breasts, and a flash of dense pubic hair at the base of a flat

abdomen . . . and then she pulled the robe closed without comment.

I’d gone in to ask her if she’d like to play some tennis and for a

moment was tongue tied, standing there, staring at her.

…End of the part4. To be continued..

God, I want to – there’s no turning back. There’s no pretending it never

happened. Our relationship will never be the same. Billy, this is a HUGE

step. Are you sure?”

“As sure as I know how to be, Mom . . . uh, Susan. If you’re

worried I’ll suddenly become some arrogant, impossible-to-control jerk

after this . . . relax. I’ll be the same person I’ve always been. I don’t want

to change our relationship. Well, except this way. Do you believe me?”

With the same look of concern, she stared at me and then slowly

nodded her head. Then, her eyes softened and she smiled and whispered,

“Yes.”

Leaning forward, I gently moved her hand away from her crotch. I

knee-walked to her up-thrust pelvis and bent my cock down to her cunt,

running the head through her wet trough and then, welding it like a stick, I

used it to thump on her clit. I started softly but rapidly increased her clit

flogging until she was gasping and twitching.

“God damn you, Billy. Quit teasing me. You’re hauling coals to

Newcastle. I’m ready, dammit.” She smiled, taking the sting out of the

words and then added, “Fuck me, you shit.”

Shit? I was seeing a side of my mother I didn’t know existed.

Again, bending my impossibly hard cock, I forced the head into her

pussy, asking, “Want more?”

She answered by thrusting her pelvis at me, effectively burying my

cock deep in her vagina, ending any thought I had of feeding it to her

slowly. Who was I kidding? As if I could have waited!

I fell forward on her, mashing her breasts under my chest. Her

arms were above her head and I grabbed each wrist with crossed hands and

imprisoning her arms. I supported much of my weight with my elbows, but

allowed my mass to hold her down as I thrust into the female depth.

“Feel my cock, Mom . . . Susan. Feel the head of my cock slip into

you . . . into your cunt.” I emphasized the T sound. “Feel it push open the

walls of your pussy. Feel me open you up. There! Can you feel the head

of my cock touch your womb?”

Her only answer was to grunt and thrust back at me. Then we

proceeded to rut. Short rapid strokes followed by slow, longer strokes,

occasionally pulling all the way out and then slamming in again.

“I’m inside you. Feel me inside your woman spot.”

She struggled and thrashed about, seeming to fight me, but never so

much they she actually got away. We both supported the sham of me

forcing her, almost raping her. Of course, the bucking and rolling of her

hips gave evidence to the lie of her struggles to extricate herself.

I spoke into her ear constantly, but I can’t tell you exactly what I

said. I simply gave mindless utterance to the train of imagery marching

through my head. I remember only that it was very vivid and very lewd,

just like my dirty talk.

Mother is multi orgasmic and she bucked her way through her first

come minutes after we started fucking. Thereafter, I controlled her

orgasms, or so it seemed to me. I would slowly build up the pace of our

copulation and concomitantly, edge into increasingly lascivious imagery,

describing in lurid detail what I was thinking and what I wanted to do with

her.

“Feel my hardness. Feel my shaft . . . inside your pussy.”

She’d throw her head back, tendon straining in her neck, eyes

closed and mouth gasping. Then, face contorted, almost as if in pain, she’d

begin whipping her head back and forth, a wail building in her throat and

she’d come again.

We rested a few moments, my cock hard in her pussy, still

…End of the part15. To be continued..

“No, I can’t” she stammered.

“Take them off right now you little bitch!”

Now she looked really flustered. She looked around first as if to
check and see that no one was watching her then undid the top button
on her jeans. She put her fingers on the zipper then hesitated. I
scowled at her. She continued on, pulling down the zipper then pealing
the jeans off of her tight little ass. She was now standing about five
feet in front of me in only a pair of flower print cotton panties. I
could see the little curls of pubic hair peeking out around the edges
and over the top. By now my evil twin had completely taken over and
Mr. Nice Guy was just along for the ride.

“Great, now the panties. I want to see your hot little pussy.”

“I …”

“DO IT!”

Now she looked a little pale and her hands were shaking. This was
great, I should have thought of this months ago. She hooked her thumbs
in the waistband and bent over as she pulled them down over her
ankles. Now she stood before me stark naked. Her pussy was covered by
mound of soft curly brown hair and I could see the soft puffy lips
just beneath it. Her nipples were very erect and I was curious to see
if it was because this whole scene was arousing her or if it was just
the fact that it was chilly in the living room. I reached up to the
thermostat above the couch to take care of the latter possibility. I
was certainly getting aroused, my dick was now so hard it could have
driven nails into a two by four.

I stood up and walked over to where she was standing. I reached up and
cupped her face in my hands and bent over to give her a long lingering
kiss, letting my hands run through her hair and down along her back
to her tight little ass. She responded to the kiss with an amazing
passion. Her tongue seemed to go almost halfway down my throat and her
hands clutched at my ass pulling me in tighter. I had finally found
the right buttons to push, she was really enjoying being my little
slave. This was an opportunity that would not go unwasted. I broke the
kiss,

“Undress me. Start with the shirt, shoes and socks, then my
pants.”

She just stood there looking at me like she didn’t know what to do
next. But I did. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her over my knee as I
sat back down. I held her wrists behind her and bent her over my knees
so her ass was high up in the air. SMACK! She gasped as my hand made
contact with her bare ass. SMACK! Now she cried out with a little
yelp,

“Stop it! Ouch! Shit, don’t do that goddammit!”

I hit her harder. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Her ass was turning a dull
cherry red. With each blow she cried out as she squirmed around on my
knees. Finally I had decided she had enough (in other words my hand
was starting to hurt). I wanted to see if this was having the desired
effect on her so I slid my hand down the crack of her ass and between
her legs to her pussy. Her juice was leaking from her and her outer
lips were covered with a thick slippery film. I slid my middle finger
up along the crack between her lips until my fingertip brushed up
against her clit. She cried out even louder than when I was spanking
her. She tried to raise her ass up higher as I started to probe the
inside of her pussy.

“Don’t stop, it feels so good.”

“Don’t stop what?”

I stopped.

“What you were doing to me”

“What was that?”

“You know, what you were doing with your fingers.”

“I was playing with your pussy. Say it.”

Silence. SMACK!

“If you want me to play with your pussy some more you have to ask
for it. In graphic detail.”

“Please …”

“Say it!”

“Please …, please play with my pussy”

“Say more.”

“Put your fingers in my pussy.”

“In your cunt. Say ‘Stick your fingers up my hot cunt’.”

“Stick your fingers up my hot cunt. Please, play with my little
pussy.”

“Not yet, first you have to undress me.”

She gave me a look of disappointment as I let go of her arms and
pulled her off my lap. I stood up in front of her and this time she
immediately went to work removing my clothes. She took off my shirt
then knelt at my feet to remove my shoes and socks. When she was done
with those she reached up to take off my jeans. I ran my fingers
through her soft brown hair as she fumbled with the top button. She
unzipped me and slowly pulled down my jeans and briefs at the same
time. My dick, which was now rock hard sprung out and almost hit her
in the face. I doubt that she had ever seen a hard cock before because
she backed off a little and stared at it, her mouth agape. Now Kim has
a very pretty face with a set of those nice full, pouty lips that you
see on some fashion models and there had been many a night where I had
gone back to my apartment in frustration after one of our dates and
whacked off thinking about having those lips wrapped around the head
of my cock. As she stared at my dick I knew exactly what was going to
happen next. I walked back to the couch and sat down and motioned for
her to come over. She got up and stood in front of me waiting for me
to say something. I reached over and slid one finger up into her still
sopping pussy. She closed her eyes as I gently probed her lips and
slid the finger in and out.

“Do you like it when I do this to you Kim?”

“Yes”, she replied in almost a whisper.

“Do you want me to play with your pussy some more?”

She groaned a reply.

“Good. If you want me to play with your cunt some more you’ll have
to do one little thing for me.”

“What?”

“Get on your knees and suck my cock.”

Her eyes snapped open and she took a step back.

“You want me to do what?”

“Suck me. Get on your knees and put my cock in your mouth.”

“You want me to put it in my mouth? That’s gross!”

…End of the part2. To be continued..

Her body was stirring now and it felt drawn to this

stranger’s strength, in a way that few men called her. Moistness

began to spread itself on her thighs. It made her acutely aware

of just how fascinating he really was.

The man readied to shave. Cold water in a small pan, razor

and shaving cream laid out on the table. He hung a small mirror

from his kit on the side pole of the tent.

Jessie was mesmerized.

He began with long strokes on the sides of his face. Each

was perfectly executed. They were strokes of a master painter

working on a canvas. Each pass of the blade was strong, and each

had their own symmetry as uniquely apropos as the verbal passages

of Shakespeare.

He finished, wiped his face with a towel and raised his head

to catch Jessie still intent upon his face.

“I have never had such an attentive audience before,” he

laughed, “nor such a pretty one,” and he surveyed her face. “Are

you making sure I have done the job properly?” he offered with a

twinkle to his voice.

Jessie gently laughed out loud. “And what would you do if I

tested your handiwork with a kiss?” she countered.

Hal was tempted to say, “I’m old enough to be your father,

sweet lady,” but he was both intrigued and attracted by her youth

and her sublime grace. Instead he said, “Be my guest beautiful

lady.” It surprised him even as the words left his mouth.

Jessie rose from the bench where she had been surveying the

proceedings and walked over to Hal’s campsite. Smiling, she took

a finger and traced a path across his upper lip. Then she

stroked the side of his face softly with the back of her hand.

It was as smooth as a satin shirt. Flawless. He smelled of lime

and soap and maleness. It was as heady a perfume as the pine

trees, and she wondered what it would be like to love a man like

that and have his scent on her pillow to drink in, every morning,

along with his body. She gently kissed his cheek.

Hal cleared his throat. “I suppose this means that I ought to

introduce myself, as I’m not in the habit of having people I’m

not acquainted with pass judgment on my handiwork. Especially

when I have not had my coffee nor caught their name,” he teased,

“If you find me suitably proficient, you may call me Hal.”

Jessie barely suppressed the urge she was feeling to bring

her body close to his, and run her fingers through the grey at

his temples. She said, “My friends call me Jessie. I wouldn’t

know what is usual in this sort of situation, but my compliments

to the artiste for his deft touch.” She smiled and quipped, “It

passes muster in my book, Michelangelo,” and she touched Hal’s

cheek again with her lips, very softly, lingering just a bit at

the last.

Jessie had the feeling that Hal was about to draw her deeply

to him and engulf her with his arms and soul, but his reserve

held fast and the moment passed. She turned and went to her camp

spot, returning in a moment with the thermos and a spare cup. “I

understand that you also start your day with an infusion of dark

caffeine. Would you care to share some of mine?”

Hal extended an arm for the cup and Jessie poured the hot

brown liquid till it reached the rim. His eyes teased her over

the top of the coffee and he said, “My thanks to the chef. I

never was able to wait very well while I brewed up my first batch

of the day. You seem to be a very handy camper to have nearby.”

Jessie raised her eyes to his and said, “You’d be surprised

as just how handy I am and all the things this camper knows how

to do. Or just maybe…you wouldn’t,” and she flashed the big-

gest, brightest look that was such a mixture of gentle, friendly,

wickedness and pure exuberance, that Hal was momentarily caught

off guard. He lost himself happily in enjoying it, until his

sanity returned.

“You ought to be spanked, young lady,” he retorted, “And I

might be tempted to do it myself if you don’t get dressed and

stop endangering an old man’s heart like that,” he threatened

semi-seriously.

Jessie shot back a gleeful smile and countered, “Looks to me

as if your heart is strong enough to take it,” and she headed

back to her site in a hasty but reluctant retreat, before she

could get her rear end swatted.

She called over her shoulder as she passed, “You wouldn’t

…End of the part2. To be continued..

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.

–

“Unh-uh. Not so fast babe. Remember those contracts you signed? You want me
to sue your ass off? Looks to me like you don’t even have enough money for
a lawyer.”

Damn! He tricked you. It’s not fair! But you don’t know what to do. He’s
right, you can’t afford lunch, much less a lawyer. So you decide there’s
nothing you really can do. You don’t want to go to jail.

“Ok. What do I have to do to get them back?”

“Just come here and let me be nice to you,” he says, grinning.

You walk over to him, and he again puts his arms around your waist. Only
this time, his hands fall on your ass, giving it a squeeze. You just stand
there. He tells you if you aren’t going to be happy about it, it’s not
worth doing, and he’ll just go call the lawyers. So you decide that as long
as you are going to have to do it, you might as well enjoy it.

He holds you tight, and starts kissing you on the mouth, putting his tongue
in between your teeth. You push back, and swirl yours against him. You feel
him pressing his hardening cock against your skirt, rubbing up and down
against your pubic bone.

He takes your hand and puts it on his cock, through his pants. It feels
big, but you don’t let him know you think so. You’ll play along, but you
aren’t going to give him the idea he’s the best. You figure the best way to
get back at him is to pretend you are the greatest lover in the world, and
he is merely a little boy trying to live in a man’s body. You’ll show him
he’s just a kid.

He puts his hands on your shoulders and pushes you to the floor. After
pushing his jacket out of the way, you unzip his fly, reach in, and pull
out his cock. No underwear, you notice. It’s not huge, but it’s not too
small either. He tells you to be nice to it, and kiss it. Instead, you open
your mouth and shove it way inside. It’s still only partially hard, so it
slides all the way in with no problem. You don’t even gag a little. You
feel the head hitting where your tonsils used to be, and it feels pretty
good. You start to suck on him, flexing your throat muscles around his
shaft, squeezing the length of him. He moans, and pushes his hips against
your face.

After sucking him to his full length, you slip his cock from your mouth,
taking a long time to get it all the way out. He picks you up and drops you
unceremoniously on the couch, making your skirt rise up above your pussy.

He comes over and peels your underwear off (you are wearing no stockings.
Too hot), and unzips the skirt. He takes it off, and throws it behind him.
Then he drops his head between your legs, and starts nibbling on your inner
thighs. Your clit starts to tingle, but you show no sign. He licks up and
down the inside of both thighs before kissing your pussy lips ever so
gently. You feel your clit growing. Oh fuck, you decide. Might as well
enjoy it. So your open your legs wide, and reach down to hold your cunt
open. He takes the the opportunity and delves his tongue deep into your
pussy, licking at the sweet, semi-sticky juices already forming there. Your
start to rub your clit as he mouth fucks your cunt. It has grown to it’s
3/4 inch full length by now, and he moves your hands to suck it. He licks
around it, across it, and rubs his teeth against it. Ooh, it feels good.
It’s been a LONG time since anyone ate you. You squeeze your thighs against
his head, and pull him in tighter. He goes back to licking your slit, and
then pushes a finger into you. You feel it squirming around inside you, and
you start pressing your hips against it. He turns around and gets on top of
you, putting his cock back into your mouth. So THIS is a 69, you think.
Never having done it before, you decide you need to explore more. You start
taking long strokes on his cock, sucking it all the way in, drawing it out
to the head, and then shoving it in again. He is still licking your clit.

He moves and take his hand out of your pussy and replaces it with his
tongue. Then you feel a pressure against your ass. Oh no! He’s not going to
do that, is he? You squeeze your ass, so he can’t get in. He pushes harder
and tells you to relax. Eventually you do, and you feel his finger slip
into your ass. At the same time he pushes his tongue into you as far as he
can get it, and you can feel his finger against his tongue, barely
separated by your pussy walls. You suck him harder, start moving his hips
up and down faster, and feel his balls tighten. You start bucking your hips
against his mouth and hands, and he moans.

He starts shooting his cum into you, and that sets you off, making you come
all over his tongue. You drink him down, swallowing the sweetness of his
cum. Drinking it all in, you don’t miss a drop. You relax as your a orgasm
subsides and brings you back to Earth.

After getting off of you, he asks if you still want your contract back. You
decide “No. I think I’ll try this line of work for awhile. When’s my first
job?”

“Dee, who flaps last, flaps left”

[Father Goose #29]

Once there was a great (or almost great) pitcher by name of Melvin
Famie. Like so many others, though, Melvin got old and lost his touch.
He was such a boost to the spirit of the team, however, that the manage-
ment could justify keeping him on the bench just to offer “Hooray!”s.
Melvin, not having to work terribly hard at his new job, took to sipping
a wee bit o’ the malt punch at games to keep HIS spirits up, so he could
keep his teammates’ spirits up.

Well, they were hard at work in a long, drawn-out battle with their
cross-state rivals when the manager realized that they were out of
relief pitchers, out of pinch-hitters, and the poor fool on the mound
was looking for a pounding. He called our hero off the bench to pitch
the top of the ninth, and Mel, on his way up the steps from the dugout,
groped back for not only his glove, but five or six cans of brew, which
he stuffed into his shirt on his way to the mound. Needless to say, Mel
had a very hard time locating the catcher from the heights of the mound,
and did all the damage required for a loss of the game by the time the
manager swapped him with the right-fielder. When the inning was finally
over, Mel collapsed against the fence next to the home-team bullpen,
and snored his way happily through the uneventful bottom of the ninth.

A youngster on the opposing team, totally amazed to have seen such in
“The Majors”, inquired of one of his fellows about the hulk up against
the fence. “That’s the great Melvin Famie”, said his elder. “What’s the
bulge in his shirt?” asked the tyro. The reply?

“That’s the beer that made Mel Famie walk us.”

[Father Goose #30]

Once there was a King who was loved by all of his subjects, especially
because of the hunting excursions he shared with them. As will happen,
one day he died and his eldest son took the throne. Now this new king
was an animal-lover to the core, and immediately outlawed all forms of
hunting and fishing. His subjects accepted this for only a short time
before they ousted him. This is a truly significant event, because it’s
the first time a reign was called on account of the game.

[Father Goose #31]

Late in the previous century, the well-known folklorist
Vivian McNabb was collecting ballads and tales in the
Scottish Highlands, and found a previously unknown musical instrument,
something in the lyre-lute-dulcimer range. It was sitting unused
as a family heirloom, and the family who owned it no longer
knew exactly how it should be tuned or played, nor did anyone
else in the region. McNabb purchased it, and showed it
in every village he passed through. Nobody could give him completely
accurate information, and nobody could tune it or play it, but some
clues began to fall in place. Several people mentioned Seamus
O’Pernokkety, who lived in Ireland, as a great authority on stringed
instruments. McNabb determined to go over and consult Seamus.

(Insert shaggy description of McNabb’s difficult travels, and the
frustrating search for Seamus O’Pernokkety.)

Finally, weak and confused, McNabb stumbled up to the door of the
cabin at the top of the steep hill. Success at last! Seamus recognized
the instrument, and agreed to tune it and teach McNabb how to play, but
only if McNabb would serve as his apprentice for a full year.

(Insert description of McNabb’s arduous year of servitude at the feet
of his musical guru.)

When the year was up, Seamus took the instrument out of the cupboard,
spent the rest of the day tuning it up, and played all night and all
the next day. It was the most remarkable, beautiful tone McNabb had
ever heard. He stayed on another month, until he too had some proficiency
at playing. At last they parted.

McNabb skipped and jumped down the hill, exulting in his newfound
skill in playing the instrument, and in the precious object itself.
So unbridled was he in his joyous carriage, that he tripped and fell,
and went tumbling arse-over-teacup down into a ravine. A large boulder
finally broke his fall, and also his leg. The instrument, however,
did not seem to be damaged. But when he tried to play it, it proved
to be badly out of tune, and he could wring from it nothing but harsh
discords. There was no help for it: he painfully crawled all the
way back up the terrible hill, arriving at Seamus’s cottage late that
evening.

“Oh, Seamus, the most terrible thing has happened!” he gasped out, and
explained about his accident. “Please, maestro, help me in my despair.
Retune the instrument! And perhaps do something about my leg, if you
can.”
“Certainly, McNabb, I can set your leg, and you’re welcome to
food and lodging while it mends. But I hope you realize I can’t work
on that instrument again.”
“But why not? Please, you must.”
“No, I cannot. I thought it was well known:
O’Pernokkety tunes but once.”

[Father Goose #32]

In the 23rd century the solar system was wracked by constant
warring between the fragmented states of the Asteroid Belt.
Particularly successful in these wars was one tribe (I’ll call
them Joes) which managed to total up a surprising war record
despite its amazingly primitive weaponry through sheer ferocity.
After having dispatched a fleet from a rival nation (call them
Jacks), the Joe general went over to his adversary’s flagship to
sign a treaty of peace. After the diplomatic niceties were
taken care of, the Jack general (who had been wounded in the
previous day’s fighting) took a moment of his time to talk shop
and mention his injury. Their exchange follows:

Said the Jack general, “What was that laser you sawed me with
last night?”

Came the reply, “That was no laser–that was my knife!”

[Father Goose #33]

It seems there were three monks who enjoyed raising plants
and were trying to keep a flower shop running, selling unique
and exotic plant life.
One day, some children where playing behind the shop and
were eaten whole by an extremely rare man-eating plant.
The parents, needless to say, were outraged, and demanded that
the friars get rid of the dangerous plant. The friars refused.
So the parents and the people of the town tried several ways to get
the friars to consent, but finally they asked Hugh, the town blacksmith,
(undoubtably the strongest man around), to run the friars out of town.

Your waiting for the moral… Can you guess?

“Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars!”

[Father Goose #34]

…End of the part5. To be continued..

[Father Goose #1]

There were three Medieval kingdoms on the shores of a lake.
There was an island in the middle of the lake, which the kingdoms had
been fighting over for years. Finally, the three kings decided that
they would send their knights out to do battle, and the winner would
take the island.
The night before the battle, the knights and their
squires pitched camp and redied themselves for the fight. The first
kingdom had 12 knights, and each knight had 5 squires, all of whom were
busily polishing armor, brushing horses, and cooking food. The second
kingdom had 20 knights, and each knight had 10 squires. Everyone at
that camp was also busy preparing for battle. At the camp of the third
kingdom, there was only one knight, with his one squire. This squire
took a large pot and hung it from a looped rope in a tall tree. He
busied himself preparing the meal, while the knight polished his own
armor. When the hour of battle came, the three kingdoms sent their
squires out to fight ( this was too trivial a matter for the knights to
join in ). The battle raged, and when the dust cleared, the only person
left was the lone squire from the third kingdom, having defeated the
squires from the other kingdoms.

I guess this just proves that the squire of the high pot and noose is
equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

[Alternate version:]

It seems that there were these 3 pregnant Indian Squaws, all due to give
birth at about the same time. The first squaw gave birth to a boy, and the
birthing was done on a deer hide. The 2nd also gave birth to a boy, but this
was done on a bear hide. And, the third had twins, two boys, and
she did this on a hippopotamus hide.

I guess *THIS* shows us that the sons of the squaw on the hippopotamus hide
is equal to the sum of the squaws on the other two hides.

[Father Goose #2]

There was a new driver for the bus on Sesame Street. His first
day on the job, he awoke bright and early, went to the garage, got
the bus, and set off on his route.

At the first stop there was a chubby little girl waiting for
the bus. She climbed the step and got on, and said,
“Hi. My name is Patty.”
The driver replied,
“Hi, Patty. Please take a seat.”

At the second stop there was a second little girl, even chubbier
than the first. She got on and said,
“Good morning! My name’s Patty.”
The driver answered,
“Good morning. Please sit down.”

At the third stop there was a little boy waiting. He was dressed
in a white shirt and tie, and a suit with a vest, and he had a
calculator holster on his belt. He said,
“Hi. My name is Ross, and I’m special!”
The driver wasn’t impressed, but he managed a smile and said,
“Please sit down, Ross.”

The fourth stop rewarded the driver with a grubby little boy
with dirty jeans and torn sneakers. He got on the bus and said,
“My name is Lester Cheese.”
The driver replied,
“Please take a seat, Lester.”

Well, he’s driving along and he looks in his rear-view mirror
and sees that Lester Cheese has taken off his sneakers and is
scratching at his foot. The driver pulls the bus over to the
side of the rode, stops it, and says,

“I can’t take this any longer! I’ve got

two obese Patties,
special Ross,
Lester Cheese picking bunions
on a Sesame Street bus!

[Father Goose #3]

A while back, there were two kingdoms situated close by each other.
One kindgom had a powerful king, and the other had a relatively weak
king. The difference (or so everybody said) was that the powerful
king had a magic throne, which had the property of making people
powerful.
Well, the weak king wanted this throne, so he had a trusted
count get up an army (you know, knights, pages, reporters, that kind
of thing) to fetch it.
The army trudged along for a day or two (only the reporters
would know for sure) and came upon the powerful king’s castle.
The castle entrance was guarded by a huge yellow monster
with huge yellow hands. The army (being an army and all) attacked!
The huge Yellow Monster ate them all, except for two pages
who did not engage in the fight. The pages, being very frightened,
hid until nightfall.
When night came along, the pages peeked from their hiding
place and saw that the monster was asleep. The only thing guarding
the entrance now was the monsters huge hands draped in front of the
opening. The pages, being only 8 years old and all, were able to
squeeze through the yellow fingers and gain entrance into the
castle.

Moral: let your pages do the walking through the yellow fingers.

[Father Goose #4]
Once inside the castle, the pages had no trouble finding the
throne. Combined, they were just strong enough to lift it, and were
able to carry it out of the castle. (The monster gave them no
further trouble, since they had the throne and everything.)
After having walked half the night with the heavy throne
between them, they were very tired and stopped at a grass house
to rest. The farmer who lived there, wanting to steal the throne for himself,
let them spend the night in the barn. The throne was “hid” in the
farmer’s attic.
Some hours later, the farmer stole into his barn and killed
the pages.
The farmer went back to bed. A few minutes later, the
throne crashed through the ceiling, crushing and killing the farmer
and his wife.

Moral: people who live in grass houses shouldn’t stow thrones.

[Father Goose #5]
When the powerful king found his throne missing the next
day, he ordered HIS army to kidnap the other king’s count and force
him to tell where the throne was being hid. The session went as
follows:

king: Where is the throne?
count: I cannot tell you.
king: Then I will have you killed! Executioner, cut off his
head!
count: (as the axe is swinging down…)
Ok! I will tell you!
THWACK!!!

Moral: don’t hatchet your counts before they chicken.

[Father Goose #6]

A wild life photographer goes on an expedition to South America to photograph
the legendary and hitherto unseen foo bird. On the way he attempts to hire
porters from a tribe of Pygmys. They warn him of the dreaded curse on all
who look upon the bird and refuse to join. Undaunted the intrepid photographer
…End of the part1. To be continued..

wench (wench) n. [ME. wenche, contr. < wenchel, child, boy, girl,
young woman < OE. wencel, a child, akin to wancol, unsteady (? in
reference to to an infant's gait): for IE. base see WINCH {1}]
1. a girl or young woman: now a somewhat derogatory or jocular term
2. [Archaic] a) a country girl b) a female servant c) a prostitute or
loose woman —
vi. to be sexually promiscuous with prostitutes or
loose women — wench’er n.

Say: , Wench!

69; I’m not ready; I’m ready; I’m the best fuck you’ll ever get;
I’m too good for you; I’ve got your pistol right here;
I don’t care if it hurts; I don’t know you; I know; I want more; S&M;
abort; again; beat it; because; beer; bend over; between the lips;
be useful; bite; blow harder; bondage; bow; bring out the soap; can it;
clean up; control; doesn’t fit; does it hurt yet; doggie style;
don’t be frigid; don’t drool; don’t fight it; don’t fuck with me;
don’t fumble; don’t get mouthy; don’t start with me; don’t whine; down;
do it right; drink; drive; eat my wrench; enjoy; enough; flex; food;
fuck me; funnel; get IN the tub; get lost; get off my bed; get on it;
get on the pill; get out; get out the chains; get peeled;
get the fuck out; get the gear shift; get the whip;
get your ass over here; give it a rest; give it to me; give skull;
groan; hand action; heartless; here, now; here I come; incompetent;
inhale; in the bucket; in the hole; it’s not mine; it’s now or never;
just do it; just put it on; kneel; know your place; learn it;
jump my train; let’s get it on; lick; lick it up; like it;
more lubricant; move over; next; no; now; oh no; on all fours;
on the bench; on the counter; on the floor; on top; on your back; open;
park it; pay the price; pay up; pour; pull over; pump; push harder;
put it on; quickie; roll over; rub harder; scream; see if I care;
service; shave it off; shut up; sink my pink torpedo; slush;
spit it out; spread ‘em; stop bitching; stop it; stop squirming; strip;
stupid; submit; suck; swallow; take it off; thrust my pork sword;
tie me up; tighten; tongue action; too bad; tough; troubled; vaseline;
where’s the hole; wider; wipe it up; work with me; you’re in the book;
you’re on the list; you sit in the wet spot

Say: , Wench?

NEVER USE: please; how are you; did you enjoy it;
do you want more; I love you;

CAN USE: so; PMS; on the rag;

—————————————–

Seen on a foxy lady’s tee-shirt:

As the Hurricane said to the Palm Tree,
“Hold on to your nuts, cause this ain’t no ordinary blow job!”

—————–

Q: What do you call a woman who just lost 185 pounds of useless fat?
A: A divorcee.

Q: Why don’t women have brains?
A: Because they don’t have a penis to put them in.

*************************************************************************

THE RULES

1) The Female Always Makes the Rules.

2) The Rules are subject to change at any time without prior notification.

3) No Male can possibly know all the Rules.

4) If the Female suspects the Male knows all the rules, she must immediatley
change some or all of the rules.

5) The Female is NEVER wrong.

6) If the Female is wrong, it is because of a flagrant Misunderstanding
which was a direct result of something the Male did or said wrong.

7) If Rule 6 applies, the Male must apologize IMMEDIATELY for causing the
Misunderstanding.

The Female can change her mind at any given point in time.

9) The Male must never change his mind without EXPRESS WRITTEN CONSENT from
the Female.

10) The Female has every right to be Angry or Upset at any time.

11) The Male must remain Calm at ALL TIMES, unless the Female wants him
to be Angry or Upset.

12) The Female must UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES let the Male know whether or not
she wants him to be Angry or Upset.

13) Any attempt to document these Rules could result in Bodily Harm.

14) If the Female has PMS, All Rules are NULL and VOID.

**************************************************************************

The 9 Types of Boyfriends

Joe Sensitive – “After I wash the dishes, let’s cuddle, OK?”
Also known as: Mr. Nice Guy, Family man, Honey, Darling, Soft-boiled Egg,
Snugglepup
Advantages: Well-behaved; irons own shirts
Disadvantages: Irritatingly compassionate, wimpy

Old Man Grumpus – “People are stupid. The world can go to hell. Let’s
stay home and watch TV.”
Also known as: Grumbles, Sour puss, Stick-in-the-mud, Old Fogey, Slow
Mover, Jerk
Advantages: Stays put; predictable
Disadvantages: Royal pain in the ass

Flinchy – “I–I’m sorry for whatever it was I did.”
Also known as: Trembly, Creampuff, Hey you
Advantages: Jumps entertainingly when startled
Disadvantages: Easily spooked; surrenders without a struggle

Bigfoot – “Shut yer trap, I’m thinkin’.”
Also known as: Chunk-style, Lummox, Ignoramus, Galoot, the Hulk, Big ‘n’
Dumb
Advantages: Can tote bales; is easily fooled
Disadvantages: Can break you in half, sweats like a pig

Lazybones – “Zzzzzz”
Also known as: Lucky Dog, Parasite, Bum, Sponge, Snoozebucket, Drug Addict
Advantages: Well rested; easy target
Disadvantages: Unlikely to fulfull your dreams

The Sneak – “Who, me?”
Also known as: Love Pirate, Snake, Rat, Slime, G-D Son of a Bitch
Advantages: May feel pangs of guilt
Disadvantages: May be having time of his life

Ace of Hearts – “After I wash the dishes let’s make love like crazed
…End of the part4. To be continued..

Chapter 19. Barbara

Chapter 20. Lisa

Chapter 21. Secret Codes

…End of the part10. To be continued..

Completely dead pan and serious, Quill read the remainder of
the letter. Needless to say, it became much more graphic including
the candidates reference to handcuffs, chocolate sauce and whip
cream. When Quill finished, she placed her copy of the letter down
and turned to me. “Are you or are you not the author of said
letter?”

“She was my girlfriend and it was a private correspondence,”
I defended.

“So! You admit it,” Quill replied slapping her palm on the
table. “You admit to proposing a variety of sexual acts with a
woman in a foreign country and you completely ignored the
international implications of your sexual harassment.”

“International?” I asked. “She was an American and my
girlfriend. We were intimate at the time.”

“So, you admit to having a sexual relationship with her, a
member of the opposite sex. A man making love to a woman!
No! Further! Questions!”

Anna Richards, distinguished senator from Texas, was next. I
fended off several thousand more questions relating to my
“permanent record”, including a spit ball incident during the
third grade. Then she brought out the big guns and asked, “In your
parent’s home, what type of VCR do they own?”

Here it was, the buy American tirade. “It’s a Toshiba.”

“And what type of VCR did they have at the William Adam S.
Preston Junior High where you attended the seventh grade.”

“Shit,” I thought to myself, having learned my lesson about
muttering under my breath. “It was a Toshiba.”

Senator Richards knew my back was against the wall on this
one. “And would you like to elaborate what happened when your
seventh grade health class watched the film on sexual education.”

“The VCR malfunctioned,” I said with solemn sincerity. Hey,
if politicians could gloss over the truth, I could.

The senator from Texas was not nearly satiated. “And what
caused this supposed malfunction?”

“My guess would be a series of encoded infrared pulses.”

“This is a congressional hearing,” she said coolly. “We
don’t guess here. And what caused those `infrared pulses.’”

“Most likely some type of oscillator, a crystal, driven
by a power source.”

“Enough of this tomfoolery!” She whipped out a folder
emblazoned with large black letters, “Clark Thomas’s Permanent
Record.” She selected a page from the rather thick dossier and
began to read: “During the documentary “Your Growing Body,” Clark
[Thomas] used a remote control brought from home to freeze the
picture whenever a part of the female anatomy was shown and to
fast forward through shots of the male anatomy…” Richards put
the paper down and asked, “Should I go on. Should I humiliate by
announcing your sentence?” She paused and added snidely, “One
week’s detention.”

To fully appreciate what I’d done, you had to picture the
scene. The frantic teacher trying to figure out the VCR’s
controls as the tv was filled with a pair of breasts in an
advanced stage of development. The girls turning red and the boys
laughing. I didn’t bother to elaborate about how the vice principal
kept bursting out in laughter when he tried to lecture me. I didn’t
tell her about the giggles that came from the conference the vice
principal had with my parents about the incident. I didn’t tell her how
I was elected president of my class next year, selected as captain of my
soccer team and the numerous other junior high type honors that were
rained on me. I simply said, “I am humbled by your revelations.”

She smiled smugly believe she had humiliated me beyond all
words. “No further questions.”

Senator Stan Nunn, an expert on the military and foreign
affairs, was next. At least he was a male interviewer. After
taking a sip of water, clearing his throat, wiping his brow with a
handkerchief, loosening his tie, tightening his tie and strumming
his fingers on the desk nervously while loosening his tie, he
asked, “December 7, 1941 where were you?”

That was a simply one to answer. “I wasn’t born yet.”

“So you had no fore-knowledge of Japan’s impending attack on
Pearl Harbor?” he ventured but not without some hesitation.

“Obviously not,” I responded.

He quickly terminated his portion of the interview. “No
further questions.” He and old “pants around the ankles”
celebrated their victory by giving each other a nervous half
smile.

To say I’d gotten annoyed at the entire proceedings was an
understatement. Congresswoman Bethanne Dole was next. “Is it
true that you had intercourse with a woman named Sherry Hewson
after you’d offered her temporary lodging in your apartment?”

I could feel the wisps of steam coming from my ears as I
glared Ms. Dole. I could really care about my first kiss in the
eighth grade or spitballs in the third grade. Sherry was a taboo
subject. In my best imitation of a “send chills down your spine”
militant lesbian reaction, I responded, “She and I were lovers.”

Dole shuffled her notes trying to thwart off my “if looks
could kill” glare. “After engaging in sexual relations with Ms.
Hewson, did you not then assault her only sibling while she and her
mother watched?”

“That’s it!” I shouted standing up. “Sherry and I had been
on two or three dates. No big deal. Then she calls me one night
in tears and says her brother has beaten her up, again. So I let
her stay and yes, we made love. But if your courts had kicked her
brother out of the house, the first or fifth time he’d beaten her
up, Sherry wouldn’t have been at my place having consenting sex.
No, he was a minor and the courts refused remove him from the home.”

All ten of them were silent. The clicking of the stenographer
had stopped and only myself and the hum of the camera continued
unabated. “After she found a place of her own, I went to her
house to help her move. Her brother picked a fight and I finished
it. Christ, Sherry’s mom even took me out to dinner to say thank
you.”

Meanwhile, in the boiler room in the basement, the most recent
Supreme Court nominee, also named Clark Thomas, sat talking with an
old coot wearing a shirt with the name “Dutch” sewn on it. “Do
you know how to use a mop ringer?” choked Dutch as lit up another
unfiltered Marlborough.

Nominee Clark Thomas solemnly replied, “Although I’d like to
answer that at this time, I cannot venture an opinion on the
matter.”

Meanwhile over in the White House, the President sat back and
smiled, knowing that all along his nominee, Clark Thomas, was
currently being interviewed by Dutch, a man who’d inhaled pure
ammonia on a daily basis for the last fifty years. This was
destine to be the easiest confirmation hearing in the history of
the Supreme Court. The President was not completely oblivious to the
plight of Clark Thomas, twenty year old college student in search of a
summer job. After being grilled by the congressional committee, the
President planned on rewarding young Clark by having him appointed
as a congressional intern.

–

I wrote this because of the last story I posted,
“In HOT Pursuit of Safe Sex” which brought me over 20
letters saying to keep up the good work. Again, the story
posted has no sex in it but the word sexual is used 6 times,
the word sex twice, intercouse once, “making love” twice,
kiss twice, breast once and lesbian twice.

In all Fairness, J. David Narkiewicz

Every other college student in the greater D.C. area was
trying to get an internship with a member of Congress. There were
three ways to get such a position: have a well connected family,
pick up the soap in the congressman’s shower or stick your nose in
a place I found olfactorily repulsive. Besides, interning paid
crap compared to other government jobs. I’d set my sights on
Custodial Assistant at the Capitol Building, search number
A8042299625.

I’d decided a suit was not in order for my interview, but I
did go with a shirt and tie. As I’d been instructed when informed
of my interview, I walked through the gardens at the back of the
Capital Building until I reached the East door. It was opened
before I could ring the bell. I was greeted by three rather large
men in suits complete with little microphones in their ears and
conspicuous bulges under their arm pits.

“Clark Thomas?” asked the tall black man who, amongst the
three, seemed to be in charge.

“Yes,” I stammered, feeling just a tad intimidated by the
not-so-Secret Service.

“Identification,” he demanded and I provided in triplicate.
I was photographed, finger printed, metal detected and thankfully
not cavity searched — no job was worth that. With a visitor’s
pass clipped to my shirt pocket, I was personally guided to my
destination by two football types also draped in suits and wearing
sun glasses even though they were indoors. They grunted for me to
proceed through a set of huge double doors.

My fantasy of being interviewed in a decrepit boiler room by
an old codger with the name “Bubba” sewn on his shirt were
quickly dispelled. There were no less than ten people sitting at
a large wooden table, all ready to interview me. Counting the
camera man and the stenographer, complete with mysterious
stenographer type machine, I felt like Christ at the last supper.
The difference here — aside from the fact that I didn’t have a
sixties lack-of-a-haircut and wasn’t wearing a toga — was that eight
of the disciples were female. They all sat at the table and had that
“send chills down your spine” look I commonly attribute solely to
militant lesbians.

I stood there until the blue-rinse woman sitting in the middle
of the table spoke into her mike, “Good Morning, Mr. Thomas.
Please, have a seat and make yourself comfortable.”

I caught myself looking around behind me in search of my
father, Mr. Thomas. Left with no one else to blame, I sat down at
a table of my own. For comfort they’d provided a pitcher of water
and two glasses — I was feeling more comfortable already.

With camera rolling and stenographer typing away, the blue-rinsed
woman, Congress woman Katrina “Kat” Schroeder, started with
my birth and asked me every conceivable question about my life. It
got weird when she reached the part about the eighth grade dance.
“Did you take one Kimberly Campbell to your eighth grade dance
when you were thirteen?”

“Yes, I did, ma’am.” I had no idea how any of this would
make me a better broom pusher, but bureaucracy was not to be
trifled with, especially at the federal level.

“During the course of the evening, did you say, and I quote
`I guess it was a date. That means we’re supposed to kiss good
night.’”

I just stared at her completely bewildered. Schroeder didn’t take
that as a response. “Answer the questions, please,” she said.

“I guess I did,” I stumbled. That was seven years ago, as
if I’d remember exactly what I’d said.

“Ha!” she screeched causing one of my glasses to
shatter. “So you confess to making sexual advances towards a
thirteen year old girl.” The other women at the table all nodded
in agreement and murmured like an impassioned lynch mob. Out of
desperation, I turned to one of the men at the table hoping for a
glimmer of support. It was only then that I recognized him as Ned
“pants-around-the-ankles” Kennedy. Since this had nothing to do
with a Congressional pay raise, he was staring at the ceiling doing
his best to ignore me.

Kat Schroeder had finished and promptly introduced, the right
honorable Anita Quill, Congresswoman and legal scholar from
Oklahoma. She was one of those fat, intimidate you with her
breath, black women. At the snap of her sweaty black fingers an
intern-type entered the room carrying a sheet of paper. It was deposited
on my desk. From the way the intern walked, I could tell he was a
type 2 intern.

Congresswoman Quill said, “Please, read the following letter.
It shall be entered into the record as Piece of Evidence 94.”
Pieces of Evidence 1 through 93 were such epic and incriminating
documents as my kindergarten report card which stated I worked and
played well with others and a detention I’d received in tenth grade
for not having my Spanish book covered –Muchas gracias para nada,
Meastro Stewart.

As I read Piece of Evidence 94, I could feel my face turning
red. This document dated back to when I worked as a volunteer
during the last presidential campaign. “Did you read the
letter?” demanded Congresswoman Quill.

“Yes, I did, Congresswoman.”

“That’s Congressperson,” she corrected.

Under my breath, I said, “If your ass were any tighter, you could
use it to turn a piece of coal into a diamond?” Of course, since there
was a microphone in front of me, the whisper became a shout and echoed
from every corner of the room. “diamond, diamond, diamond…”

The congressperson just glared and asked, “Were you the
author of this letter?”

I’d long since given up on getting the job, but still,
this was a question I’d gladly dodge. “Well, the signature
isn’t mine.” It certainly wasn’t. The letter was written on
stationary liberated from the presidential candidate I’d worked for.
It was a form letter of sorts, blank save for the pre-printed
closing at the bottom complete with “God Bless,” and the candidate’s
signature.
“You didn’t answer my question,” Ms. Quill retorted.
“Maybe I should refresh your memory.” She put her librarian
glasses on, picked up the letter and began reading:

Dear Ms. Travis,

Knowing that I surely enjoy your support in the upcoming
election, I’d like to bring your attention to another issue of dire
importance. A campaign worker of mine, one Mr. Clark Thomas, has
been without your romantic companionship since you began your
…End of the part1. To be continued..

I wanted to thank you for that nice exercise video you sent me. I was
really surprised to find it in my stocking…I mean…at 36 24 35…I didn’t
feel chubby! But the phone lines were down this morning, and I was bored
so I tried it out for a lark….it WAS a LARK!!!!

I got into my leotards and leg warmers and started the tape. Good
old warm-ups…yuck!!…but this tape has some damn good looking dudes
doing the exercises…and I got….”warmed up” as I watched. I even felt
a little kinky doing the pelvic rocks as I watched their pelvises tilt
provacatively towards my own. My gaze remained riveted on their pelvises
as Jane began the arerobics. Through their stretchie suits I could barely
make the outline of a certain muscle that I thought could use some exercise.
…damn…better get back to work! 1-2-3-4 arms front…arms back…arch
out that chest…push it out! …well Jane…I’m thrusting my chest out
as arched as I can…can’t you see those taut nipples pointing at those
hairy chests beside you?!!!?? I’ld like to lick their nipples each
time they arch them towards me!

But its a little warm in all this…I’m sliding off the leg warmers
and unbuttoning my leotard. The background music is nice…reminds me of
this time I was with this guy in his car…well, never mind.
1-2-3-4 better follow the steps turn right 3-4…oh…lordy…look at HIM!
There is this gorgeous hunk of man working on my phone lines…well…
actually it seems he’s more interested in playing peeping Tom! And
he didn’t catch me looking…I think I’ll have a little fun with him!!
Besides…these dudes on the tape have been totally ingnoring me!
Instead of moving my arms around in circles..I’ll let my hands circle
my breasts as I rock my chest back and forth in time to the music…
oh, yes…he’s still watching! I wonder if he’ll notice me licking my
lips…mmmmmmm….

Ah…back to the pelvic rock again…guess I’ll point mine towards the
window as I pretend to keep watching the screen. My hands start on my
hips but move toward my thighs with each rock…my hands are just reaching
under the leotard as Jane swithches to floor exercises. I’m really putting
on a show now as I unbutton all my buttons and caress my breasts thru my
bra…yeah…this’ll make him HOT!!! Now my hands are roaming up and
down my thighs and I too have gotten very HOT…my breathing has changed
and I no longer want to tease…I want that man…NO ..I NEED HIM…NOW!!
I look at him and our eyes lock this time and he smiles wolfishly.
I beckon with my finger but he just smiles at me…and rakes his eyes
over my wanton body. Now HE pretends he’s working…but he’s still
peeking!!!

Two can play this game! I closed the curtains and waited…hoping.
The door bell rang! “can I have a drink of water” “Please do cum in”
I gave him his water then turned to open the door to let him out. HE
grabbed me then and said he wanted to do a few exercises with me. He
had the strongest tannest arms and I wanted him…so I took him into
the exercise room and started on warm-ups. I exercised my tongue on
his lips and his salty, musky neck. He quickly joined me in these
routines..as we deviated quickly from Jane’s routines. His strong
and gentle hands began to explore my hungry body…my nipples arched
longinly for his touch…I moaned when he found them. He caressed
them with his hands…then explored them with his tongue, sending
shivers throughout my body…when he took each nipple in his mouth
and sucked it was too much. I became so hot and so dizzy, I begged
him to stop. Instead he continued to suck while his fingers drifted
down and under my leotard. He felt around for my clit as I greedily
guided my clit to his lovin fingers. I needed it then. Sucking
and stroking he took me higher and higher..no chance for a breath
my clit hot and swollen soon exploded its passion climaxing for
what seemed forever!! Damn it was good! Thank You Mister!!!

I asked if there was anything I could do to repay him…and of
course he was ready with an answer. He took off his jeans and stood
over me. He was ready! Through the bottoms of his red Boxers I
saw his gleaming hardness. I got up on my knees for a better look
and pulled the boxers down to expose his want. I quickly gave him
a “blow job” breathing lightly over the lenghth of his shaft. He
responded by moving his dick closer to my mouth…”suck me…please”
I kissed the tip then wrapped my tongue aroungd his head…as he
began to moan. I continued feathering his shaft with my tongue
as I felt his need increase. He begged me to take it all in and
I relented. He was so hot he began to thrust into my mouth… I put
an end to that. I held his hips steady as I slowly sucked his weapon
deep into my throat, sliding it out, sucking it deep. When I was ready
I increased the tempo. He soon spurted with joy.

AS he rested himself I finished undressing and demanded equal
time! He laughed and said we should be even already but that as he
was in a very generous mood I should prepare myself. But I wasn’t
prepared for such an onslought! He started with my lips and ears
and my neck…teased my nipples and then totally mastered me with
his attentions to my clit. He used his fingers, his toes, his teeth
and his tongue…and what a tongue…he had me so high I never knew
if I was cuming or going…I know I did a lot of cuming…Then he
gave me a very wet sloppy kiss and entered me with his hard cock.
I wouldn’t have thought that I had any energy left to respond.
But after a few deep thrust, an answering need grew in me. My walls
responded trying to capture his higness as he drew back after each
new thrust. He positioned himself so that the thrust was greatest
near my clit. Each time he thrust a surge of shivers raked my body…
I was climbing higher and higher again nearing the places he had
already driven me. He had total control and held himself back till
he felt me climax…then he spent himself with 3 great deep strokes
and we lay spent in each others arms.

I must admit, it WAS a GREAT workout!!! Eat your heart out, Jane!!!

Love,
Sadie.

wench (wench) n. [ME. wenche, contr. < wenchel, child, boy, girl,
young woman < OE. wencel, a child, akin to wancol, unsteady (? in
reference to to an infant's gait): for IE. base see WINCH {1}]
1. a girl or young woman: now a somewhat derogatory or jocular term
2. [Archaic] a) a country girl b) a female servant c) a prostitute or
loose woman —
vi. to be sexually promiscuous with prostitutes or
loose women — wench’er n.

Say: , Wench!

69; I’m not ready; I’m ready; I’m the best fuck you’ll ever get;
I’m too good for you; I’ve got your pistol right here;
I don’t care if it hurts; I don’t know you; I know; I want more; S&M;
abort; again; beat it; because; beer; bend over; between the lips;
be useful; bite; blow harder; bondage; bow; bring out the soap; can it;
clean up; control; doesn’t fit; does it hurt yet; doggie style;
don’t be frigid; don’t drool; don’t fight it; don’t fuck with me;
don’t fumble; don’t get mouthy; don’t start with me; don’t whine; down;
do it right; drink; drive; eat my wrench; enjoy; enough; flex; food;
fuck me; funnel; get IN the tub; get lost; get off my bed; get on it;
get on the pill; get out; get out the chains; get peeled;
get the fuck out; get the gear shift; get the whip;
get your ass over here; give it a rest; give it to me; give skull;
groan; hand action; heartless; here, now; here I come; incompetent;
inhale; in the bucket; in the hole; it’s not mine; it’s now or never;
just do it; just put it on; kneel; know your place; learn it;
jump my train; let’s get it on; lick; lick it up; like it;
more lubricant; move over; next; no; now; oh no; on all fours;
on the bench; on the counter; on the floor; on top; on your back; open;
park it; pay the price; pay up; pour; pull over; pump; push harder;
put it on; quickie; roll over; rub harder; scream; see if I care;
service; shave it off; shut up; sink my pink torpedo; slush;
spit it out; spread ‘em; stop bitching; stop it; stop squirming; strip;
stupid; submit; suck; swallow; take it off; thrust my pork sword;
tie me up; tighten; tongue action; too bad; tough; troubled; vaseline;
where’s the hole; wider; wipe it up; work with me; you’re in the book;
you’re on the list; you sit in the wet spot

Say: , Wench?

NEVER USE: please; how are you; did you enjoy it;
do you want more; I love you;

CAN USE: so; PMS; on the rag;

—————————————–

Seen on a foxy lady’s tee-shirt:

As the Hurricane said to the Palm Tree,
“Hold on to your nuts, cause this ain’t no ordinary blow job!”

—————–

Q: What do you call a woman who just lost 185 pounds of useless fat?
A: A divorcee.

Q: Why don’t women have brains?
A: Because they don’t have a penis to put them in.

*************************************************************************

THE RULES

1) The Female Always Makes the Rules.

2) The Rules are subject to change at any time without prior notification.

3) No Male can possibly know all the Rules.

4) If the Female suspects the Male knows all the rules, she must immediatley
change some or all of the rules.

5) The Female is NEVER wrong.

6) If the Female is wrong, it is because of a flagrant Misunderstanding
which was a direct result of something the Male did or said wrong.

7) If Rule 6 applies, the Male must apologize IMMEDIATELY for causing the
Misunderstanding.

The Female can change her mind at any given point in time.

9) The Male must never change his mind without EXPRESS WRITTEN CONSENT from
the Female.

10) The Female has every right to be Angry or Upset at any time.

11) The Male must remain Calm at ALL TIMES, unless the Female wants him
to be Angry or Upset.

12) The Female must UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES let the Male know whether or not
she wants him to be Angry or Upset.

13) Any attempt to document these Rules could result in Bodily Harm.

14) If the Female has PMS, All Rules are NULL and VOID.

**************************************************************************

The 9 Types of Boyfriends

Joe Sensitive – “After I wash the dishes, let’s cuddle, OK?”
Also known as: Mr. Nice Guy, Family man, Honey, Darling, Soft-boiled Egg,
Snugglepup
Advantages: Well-behaved; irons own shirts
Disadvantages: Irritatingly compassionate, wimpy

Old Man Grumpus – “People are stupid. The world can go to hell. Let’s
stay home and watch TV.”
Also known as: Grumbles, Sour puss, Stick-in-the-mud, Old Fogey, Slow
Mover, Jerk
Advantages: Stays put; predictable
Disadvantages: Royal pain in the ass

Flinchy – “I–I’m sorry for whatever it was I did.”
Also known as: Trembly, Creampuff, Hey you
Advantages: Jumps entertainingly when startled
Disadvantages: Easily spooked; surrenders without a struggle

Bigfoot – “Shut yer trap, I’m thinkin’.”
Also known as: Chunk-style, Lummox, Ignoramus, Galoot, the Hulk, Big ‘n’
Dumb
Advantages: Can tote bales; is easily fooled
Disadvantages: Can break you in half, sweats like a pig

Lazybones – “Zzzzzz”
Also known as: Lucky Dog, Parasite, Bum, Sponge, Snoozebucket, Drug Addict
Advantages: Well rested; easy target
Disadvantages: Unlikely to fulfull your dreams

The Sneak – “Who, me?”
Also known as: Love Pirate, Snake, Rat, Slime, G-D Son of a Bitch
Advantages: May feel pangs of guilt
Disadvantages: May be having time of his life

Ace of Hearts – “After I wash the dishes let’s make love like crazed
…End of the part4. To be continued..

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..

1. You can always turn on a car.
2. You are always in the driver’s seat.
3. You can drive a car anywhere.
4. You can share a car with your friends.
5. The car will always do what you make it do.
6. You can always buy a new one if you want to.
7. A car doesn’t complain about lack of attention.
8. If a car breaks down, you can always fix it up right.
9. A car doesn’t mind if you drive around in other cars.
10. There’s enough room in a car for 4 to 6 people.
11. You can swear at a car, up and down, and it won’t get offended.
12. If you kick a car, it will still run strong.
13. You can toot a car’s horn anytime and it won’t get upset.
14. You can feed a car and it will go as far as it can for you.
15. A car won’t give you any suprises no matter how many times
you get in and out of it.

Remember:
Man’s equivalent of a woman’s diamond ring is a car.

–

The girl was covered with a light sheen of sweat,
(perspiration, you asshole… Ladies don’t sweat), as he watched
her do exaggerated pelvic thrusts, supported by her feet and
shoulders, in a position that reminded him of a wrestler’s
bridge.

“Oh baby….could you and I do great things together, was
the last thought that flashed through his mind before Bodo’s
Lincoln pulled to the curb outside his apartment….

Bodo had him back to his apartment in less than an hour.
Just a few minutes of light work had netted him $150. He’d
walked right up to the man’s front door carrying a can of Blatz,
and confronted the deadbeat while his family watched tv in the
living room.

“OK, asshole. We can do this easy…. or we can do it hard.
Your choice.” His voice always surprised people, they thought it
sounded funny, kind of a raspy whiskey tenor that seemed out of
place emanating from his massive body.

“Who are you? What do you want?” that night’s victim
stammered.

“Guido sent me…., he said you’d understand.”

“Ahhh… I’m two days late…., and he sends a collector?”

“All I know is I’m supposed to bring back $300, and that’s
all I’m gonna do. Either that or a piece of your ass. Your
choice. I see Dead President’s in one minute, or I start taking
you apart…. Right here where mom and the two kids can have a
front row seat to watch the mud and blood and the beer.” He
emphasized his statement by dumping the dregs of the Blatz on the
man’s burnished cordovan wingtips.

“Jesus, I don’t have $300 in cash on me…”

“Like I said. Your choice….and you’re down to thirty
seconds.” Leon rose to the balls of his feet, and began pulling
on thin black leather gloves.

“Hold it…, come on…, hold it…. I’ve got maybe $150.”

“I’ll take it,” Leon rasped. “You still get a beating and
you’ll still owe this week’s $300. We’ll consider the $150
interest. And next week’s $300 and this week’s $300 are both due
on Monday. Or I’ll be back.”

“Jeez…I’ve got the money in the bank. I just don’t have
it here….”

“So….?”

“So follow me over to the bank machine…. I’ll get you the
whole $300,” came the whining reply.

“No fucking around?”

“Just let me get my wallet,” the man begged.

“You’re not gettin’ outa my sight. Just holler at your
wife, and have her bring it to you.”

The guy was practically groveling, begging Leon not to get
his family involved….., but, he did as he was told. The lady
of the house, (not a bad looking piece of beef either) looked at
Leon questioningly until the guy went into a song and dance about
a water leak at his office, and how he had to go look and would
be right back.

Leon rode with the welcher while Bodo trailed them in the
Lincoln. The trip and the rest of the transaction were
uneventful, almost anti-climatic. He got the $300 and made a
strong suggestion to the man that he keep his account current.

As Bodo drove him home, Leon peeled off $150 and stuffed it
into his pocket, handing Bodo the other half.

“Wanna drink?” Bodo asked.

“Nahh…I’m too wound up right now. I really was looking
forward to pounding some lumps on that whuss…”, Leon remarked
as he started to crawl out of Bodo’s car.

“Maybe next time,” Bodo laughed, as he began to drive off.

Leon watched the Lincoln turn the corner and was about to
start up the walk to his building when movement in the window
across the street caught his eye. It was ‘her’ apartment.

Leon crossed the street, and drifted closer to the building,
changing his angle to the window, until he had a clear view into
her bedroom. He’d caught part of this kind of action an earlier
night, but from across the street (even with binoculars) he could
not see too well.

This was a different story. He had a clear, close-up view
of ‘her’ as she lay naked on her bed. He watched her hands
glide over her torso and cupped her breasts. Her fingers busily
teasing her coral pink nipples, and he watched carefully as they
became firm and erect before his eyes.

She shifted slightly and reached to a bedside table, and
then while one hand continued to torment her tits, the other used
a bumpy pink dildo to get herself off, over and over again.

Leon watched the drama unfold, captured by its sheer
eroticism, and didn’t notice the black and white cruiser as it
turned onto his street, and accelerated toward where he was
standing, close to her window.

“Freeze, motherfucker,” a voice barked, jerking Leon back to
reality.

The two cops had spread-eagled him across the hood of the
cruiser, patted him down, and cuffed him. Leon had been through
the drill a time or two, so he cooperated…., as much as they’d
let him. The $150 jammed into his pocket had raised their
eyebrows, as had the $200 and change in his wallet.

They’d called in on the radio, using his driver’s license as
an ID, and glared at him, while they waited for an NCIC report.
Then it finally was radioed back, it was lights and sirens all
the way to the Cop Shop.

He stayed cuffed during the booking, and while he was
finger-printed, one of the bulls had his opposite arm in a
hammerlock. He guessed they didn’t get many yellow sheets like
his….

When the detective finally got around to interviewing him,
he was asked, “What were you doing when the officers apprehended
you?”

“I just got home and was starting into my apartment, when I
saw something in that window. It looked like a fight or
something, so I walked across the street to be sure. I was just
checking it out when your guys jumped all over me.”

“They said you were acting like a peeper.”

“Like hell…when did you ever see a peeper standing on the
sidewalk… without a raincoat…under a streetlight?”

“You’ve got a point there, Ace.”

“Damn straight.” Leon wasn’t worried and it started to show
…End of the part4. To be continued..