RICHH: CRUEL TO BE KIND

[richh]

You know how this works.
<my(richh's) comments>
this story was reposted by Paul Stacy not long ago.
I think it was called "Brooke".

The 8-Track Seduction
I was walking through the Arnot Mall. It is not a mall, but
none of the locals will tell you what it IS. But it is NOT a
mall (or a cinema 10), It even SAYS so. Whoever named my town
"Arnot" deserves to be shot.

<??????????????????????????????????????????????????>

It was almost closing time on a Tuesday, mid-August. There
weren't many people around, just the usual japs who never seem to
leave<ouch>. Do they LIVE here or something? Have a cot in the
back perhaps?<And what if we *did*?> Or is it just that they look
the same. Then again, I have that problem with blacks and
orientals. I can't tell them apart until I get to know an
individual<Oh, shut up>.
Well, walking around, I did see a few good looking girls<oh,
I'm sorry, I mean chycks.> Mind you, girl-watching wasn't what I
came there for, actually I just needed a few more pairs of
socks<Heh.>. But while I was walking, I might as well enjoy the
sights, right? As a matter of fact, here comes<da judge?>...
Hey! I KNOW her! It's Brooke! And...she looked hot enough
to KILL for!<Say that again, Otis.> Her blouse was white with
vibrant blue zebra'ed through it<oh ick>. I LIKED that top<I
did!>. Something looked ODD about it the first time that I'd seen
Brooke wearing it<Now I realized what it was. It was the two holes
cut out of it so her breasts could poke through. Odd thing that.
Makes you go hmmm.>. It took me a while to see a man hidden in the
center of it, front and back, like a soldier camouflaged in the
jungle<Or like a story camouflaged in *this*.>. T'was<the night
before Kwanza?> neat of the designer. White and blue stockinged
legs swished her zebra'ed mini-skirt back and forth<as legs are
wont to do>. A matching outfit. With the way she looked? I think
that the fashion designers have us pegged to a tee<Yup, the way the
pants have *two* legs, the shirts *two* arms--TO A *TEE* I TELL
YOU!>.
Brooke DID have good taste<before the head injury.>. And good
looks to match<her *outfit*!!>. She's 'bout<oh the pain> average
height, 5'6". She's real in shape<whereas she is irrational in
color>. I guess that she's into aerobics or something<Yeah, *or
something*. Heh heh.>. She's an odd mix, part Swedish, part Thai.
She got the best of both<A liberal abortion policy and great beef
sate?> The facial look of the Swedes, with the look of a permanent
tan<My mistake.>. She usually keeps her long black hair in a
braid<All right. I can live with that.> It flowed down her back
like a gentle waterfall, almost to her waist<eek!>. I rather
enjoyed the way that it swung back and forth in rhythm with her
statuesque walk<'statuesque' adj. resembling a statue. Brooke's
kind of a stay-at-home gal. No, I'm *not* being fair.>. Her
semi-slanted eyes<Thank God not 'fully-slanted' or I'd just *never*
recognize her> gave her a look between coy and mysterious, and she
had the ability to be both<when, for example, she hooked.>.
Perhaps I should explain<Um...> I met Brooke in Magic, Witch-
craft, and Sorcery<Sounds like a cool Gen-ed.>. Sounds like a cool
Gen-ed, right?<Well, yeah.> Yeah,that's what I thought too<I
*thought*...>. It was boring like you wouldn't believe<I believe,
I *BELIEVE*!!>. The teacher was the main cause of THAT one<Man!>.
Seeing Brooke was one of the few reasons that I showed up<The other
being my fascination with Satanism. The Necronomican is real, I
tell you--REAL!!.>. When I did that is<Oh I just loves the way you
do that funky "is">. The attention given to that class was...not
one of my higher academic achievements<Like composition, for
example.>. I got a B-anyway<Because I'm good, DAMN GOOD!>. Brooke
and I talked a bit in the back of the class<Just a bit?>. Ok, more
than a bit<Thought so.> Knox 20's<my gelatinous basketball shoes>
big enough for people to get away with that sorta stuff<Why would
he lie?>. Four hundred seats will do tat to a boring class<And I
*do* believe in tit for tat. I think you hear me knockin,
Brooke...>. I really liked her, but I couldn't ethically go after
her<After all, I am ALAN BUTTFUCKING ALDA, you know.>. Brooke was
goin' out with this guy named<Bob?> John<ah>. I never met
'em<heh>, but talking to Brooke, it sounded like he was a
dishonorable schmuck who was shafting her big time<And dammit, that
should be *MY* JOB!!>. I thought John should be dumped real quick,
and dumped real hard<Tough guy.>. As of May 19th, the last day of
finals, she still hadn't dumped him. I don't know HOW he got away
with what he did<Do the words 'hung like a rhino' ring any bells?
Yeah, Marc, I think you hear me knockin...>
Anyway, Brooke's a Dance major, Journalism minor<Ok>. She
wants to write for the New York Times Art Section after
graduation<But I told her, she's got to change the OBJECTIVE line
of her resume to something better than "To laugh and jump and play
and sing.">
We're both from the Elmira area, albeit<!!> a 1/2 hour drive
from each other. I didn't get her phone number during the semes-
ter<not frequenting any of the bathrooms in which she'd scrawled
it.>. I sorta regretted that<after I saw how happy the hockey team
looked that one day.>.
Awakening from my daydream monologue<!!>, I saw that Brooke
apparently didn't notice that she was striding right toward
me<albeit statuesquely, so I had plenty of time to duck and cover.>
She did look nice in the outfit<nice>. And a small gold anklet
bouncing above the ankle strap to her white pumps<whatever.>. A
nice touch<for a *girl*!>. *sigh* I have "this thing"<in my
naughties> about white stockings. Mark <Word>up another one for
those designers. "Doesn't she look nice?" I thought<like a
pregnant grandmother>. "And scared out of her mind? Something's
up." I moved toward her and waved. She finally saw me. I could
tell. Her face brightened from scared to desperately
clinging<Sweet Jesus.>.
Using my vast vocabulary and exquisite mastery of the Eng-
lish language to it's fullest, I seized the moment<carped the diem
like a mother.>. "Hi Brooke, what's up?" Well, EXCUSE ME for
being an ENGINEER<!

...<on to the NAUGHTY BITS!>

Through her sleepy haze, she muttered, "Do whatever you
think will make me relax. Feel nice."<Ok...these are called
Tuinols...>
"o mote it be<!!!!!!>. Relax, this shall be legit<!!! Can't
quit now...>." With new-found devotion, my hand rubbed up her
back<??>. Flesh on flesh allows me to do a lot more things than I
could through a shirt<ya think...?>, small as hers was. Such as
drape my fingernails over her skin, dragging them<by "them" I mean
of course the curls of skin that my nails dug from her pretty back>
up and down, like a light scratch<call it what you will>. It
always made me relax when Maritza<my sharpei> did that to me <but
I'm "that way">, and so I did it to Brooke.
I dragged my fingernails up, skipped over her bra strap<like
some great skipping thing>, then continued on top, reversing
directions, skipping over the bra strap again, and down<AM I A
FOOKIN' NATCHRAL OR FOOKIN' WHAT??!!>. I did this a few times. My
hand again slid up her back, coming to rest on the bra catch in the
middle of her back. I whispered "Legit"<for no obvious reason>,
then undid the clasp. Bra straps only DO take one hand if you're
coordinated<especially like, if you put your foot flat against the
spine, grab that bear and PULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!!!!!>. Take
my word for it, I have experience on these type of things.<CUH-
LEARLY!>
My hands continued their massage of where her bra strap used
to be <See??>. Keeping my word, I avoided massaging her inner
thighs and the like<For Brooke was blessed with numerous thigh-like
appendages that grew from her body at odd angles>. I figgered that
she wouldn't relax at that<As I am good. DAMN GOOD!>.
The massage lasted for an hour and a half<*that* long??>.
Yes, THAT long<ok, ok, I believe you.>. When I was done, Brooke
barely pulled herself up into a half-sitting<half-castigating!>
position to face me. She was half asleep<and I was about to do
somethin' 'bout that other half I was...> with a satisfied grin on
her face, I couldn't very well blame her, now could I?<No, but you
could hold my hair back while I retch.>
I placed my hands on the sides of her<toilet?> breasts<my
mistake>, saying in the same innocent whisper, "Tell me if this is
non-legit."<Shee-it!> I then grasped as much of her bustline as I
could in each hand, carefully avoiding the nipples<LIKE THE PLAGUE
THAT THEY BE!!>.
First I put pressure with my thumbs<against her WINDPIPE!!>,
then with palm, then my fingers, in a circular swirling motion<much
as I do in my car, in the winter, when the inside windshield fogs
up, and I try to rub a hole in it, so I can see. Oh, *you* know.>.
I gauged the reaction<With an anemometer??>. Brooke smiled, then
dreamily murmured, "I like it."<the *slut*!> So I continued.
I liked the feel of her breasts rolling through my
hands<detached as they were, like two detached, rolling things.>.
I wonder what it is about the female breast that so enthralls the
male<could it be...SATAN??!!>. Breasts are just the right
consistency. They just FEEL right<Marc, there's someone here I'd
like you to meet. Her name's Jenny. Jenny Jones. No, she's not
married to Wayne Gretzky.>. Probably the same thing that makes a
koosh<!!Gezundheit!!> so addicting. But to thing<sic> that
biochemical reactions are based on this type stuff...<Wow, to
think...Like just, like oh wow, you know?>
"Uh, Marc? My bod's thinking that this is straying from
your 'legit'"<Aren't they just the skwewkiest coupla kids y'ever
did see??>. A sly smile came over her. "Perhaps we should
continue some other time. This IS my brother's house an' all."
"Yeah, ok."
We each went to check on Anissa<Brooke's familiar>, who was
sleeping contented-ly<Thank God for Tuinol. And hyphens!>. And
oh, so cute.<Almost a shame she has TO DIE!!> Then we sat down,
and turned on the TV to watch The Late Show. Then the Late, Late
Show. And then the Much Too Late Show. Halfway through the Much
Too Late Show (I forgot the REAL name of it<Thanks for the tip,
cause I been lookin' through this TV Guide near an hour and...>),
Brooke's bro returned, and we were free to take the hour-long trek
back to Bright Balmy Buffalo<That's funny. I'm from normal
parents.>. We slipped out of the house before I fell asleep.
When we got into the car, Brooke dropped me<with a right to
the solar plexus> a glance. She wanted me to continue the massage
some other time. And she'd be looking forward to it. It's a good
sign to be able to read someone else that well.<Just *one* of the
advantages to being *SATAN*!!>
The ride home was quiet. By the time I was on the Thruway,
Brooke was in Dreamland<but not for long because, as soon as we
pulled onto campus, it was, HELLO *NIGHTMARELAND*!>.
We finally arrived to Ellicott (the dorms). Brooke was
sleepy, so I walked her back to Spaulding Quad, and tucked her
into bed<And no, I did *not* "forcefuck the slut", you sillybilly>.
We woke up the next morning, arms entwined<in actual twine.
Damn my prankster housemates. DAMN THEM TO HELL!!!>. Seems like
I hadn't made it back to my room. Neither of us minded. Scarily
enough, it was dawn<Um, hi Dawn, I said, before she shot us both.>.
And we were awake. College students, awake at dawn. Is something
WRONG with this picture?<Giggle.>
I turned to Brooke. "Ain't love GRAND?<I got two words for
you: JD Salinger. Catcher in the Rye. Oh, you say you read it?
But only because you'd heard the guy who shot John Lennon was
carrying it with him?? Why, I oughta...> Last night was...quite
enjoyable."<Oh how you are!>
"Marc, you have a nasty habit of<picking inside your ears>
understatement."
An idea came into place<But *where* to hide the body??>. I
needed to go shopping today<Lessee, I'll need a trunk, a hacksaw,
some olive oil...>. Condoms, sponges, something<really tight
bikini briefs?>. "Brooke? How 'bout we shower, we eat, and then
we do something?<Like *FUCK*!! Do you have any plans for <WORLD
DOMINATION??!! *I* do. I got them from Alex Trebeck.> the day?"
Brooke started thinking<Ain't she cute when she thinks?>. And
so did I. One more question for her. "Brooke? How many people on
your floor are awake now?"
She gave me an answer with a face to match. "Are you kid-
ding? On THIS floor? HA! Nobody will be up until noon!"
"Then shall we shower? You wash my back, and I'll wash
yours?" <OH THE HUMANITY!>
She thought about this one. "Aye, m'lord, we shall<See
above.>. But if anything happens, THIS WAS ALL YOUR IDEA!" She
grabbed her shower bag and a towel, and headed out the door, trying
to contain a <wet fart?> giggle<call it what you will.>. I
followed her into the women's bathroom.
Brooke stopped by the shower stall, tensing and wondering
what to do. I looked<popped> her right in the eye, and started to
massage her shoulders. We just looked into one another's eyes
until I leaned over, breaking the trance with a gentle <knee to
her midsection. She doubled over, then straightened, allowing me
to plant a> kiss on her lips. I KNOW she thought, "Oh yeah! He
loves me! It can't be all bad!<Even if he is...*SATAN*!!>" I
continued planting gentle kisses on her lips, and she loosened
up<as sluts are wont to do>.
I started to gently lift her T-shirt, but she held it
down<with surgical staples>. "Marc? Do you mind going in first?
I'm just not used to doing this sort of thing<with a *human*!!>."
I gave up with a shrug. "Neither am I. Come in whenever
you want to," hopping into the stall. I undressed and started
the water<in *that* order>.
But two minutes later, her hand swing<sic> back the shower
curtain, and her face peeked by. "I can't believe that you're
doing this. That WE'RE doing this! Turn around." I did so and
she<strapped on this mongo anal reamer.> started to soap my back.
*sigh* The simple pleasures in life. Nice warm
shower<Nixon's coming. Four dead in Ohio>, with a loving woman
carefully cleaning your bod<It is TO HURL.>.
When she stopped, I turned back around to face her. Yes,
the simple pleasures in life<rolling a boogie around, the aroma of
one's own flatulence, proving Fermat's Last Theorem, trisecting an
angle, squaring the--> . I tan-looking woman<you, you Jane>, water
cascading down her unclothed body. And Brooke didn't even have tan
lines<MERCY...>. Brooke smiled back.
"Turn around<grab your ankles and think of England, sweet
thing. PAPA'S FOUND A BRAND NEW BAG!!>." I tried to say it in the
same sweet voice that she did for me<doofus that I be.> Then I
returned the soapy favor<in bed>. The simple pleasures in life
indeed<inDEED!>. A loving man carefully cleaning your bod...
8-)<Shee-fucking-it.>
I made sure to scrub her back thoroughly<as it was filthy.>,
then cleaned my way down her hips, then her thighs. Maritza<my
sharpei> preferred to clean her own privates<with her *tongue!>, so
I didn't try on Brooke<I don't think she'd have fit, anyhow. But
she *was* roomy through the hips. Hmmmm. Fava beans... roomy
through the hips...yeah, Brooke, I *know* you hear me knockin. And
you *know* I'm comin' in. And I'm bringing a sewing machine and a
big bottle of chianti.>. I continued down her legs, soaping her
shins, then between her toes. Nope<no toejam. SOL again.>.
Brooke wasn't<spayed?> ticklish<ah>.
I joined my two hands, my fingers forming a ring. "Please
insert arm for proper cleaning procedure to initiate." Chuck-
ling<with remorse>, Brooke did so. My hands went from her
shoulder, sliding down her arm, to her hand. The nail polish still
looked nice. I meticulously cleaned her hand, rinsing it. I bent
down and kissed it<*GOODFUCKINGBYE*!!> .
I resoaped my hands, and made a ring<meat grinder> again.
Brooke smiled and inserted her arm<which I'd numbed up with
Novacaine>. I cleaned her other arm, again kissing her
hand at the end.
I resoaped my hands once again<re>, and started at her shoul-
ders, cleaning my way down her sides. Now for the fun part<a high-
volume, hot/cold enema with double bardex nozzles...THAT'S RIGHT--
NO LEAKAGE!!>. I worked my way up her <now-distended> stomach.
The look in her eye told me that she knew the only logical
conclusion to all of this<And she looked longingly at the toilet.>.
I made sure to clean her stomach lowly and dutifully. Very slowly
I cleaned her stomach. It's strange how she was only standing
there, yet her breathing and pulse quickened so much<Probably had
something to do with the 5 quarts she was holding>. I'll just have
to give her a massage to calm her down ay?<ay ay>
Before I arrived at my destination (no Twin Peaks jokes
here!<none taken>) I planted a kiss, right between her <pendulous>
breasts<dugs>. Then I looked her in the eye and resoaped my hands.
It had been some time since either of us had said anything -
nothing needed to be said<if only you *meant* that.>.
I put my hands on her bustline, lowly<bug that I be> circling
inward. The spray coming over her shoulder washed the soap from my
hands quickly, but neither of us noticed. I had my hands on some
highly addictive breasts<yup...she was an iv drug user and she was
lactating>, and Brooke claims that someone was distracting her at
the time. Can't imagine who it could be...<SATAN??!!>
Brooke leaned back against the wall. My hands spiraled
inward, kneading as they went. Then got to the nipple with a
flick.
"Oh!" Brooke gasped. So I did it again. And she gasped
all the louder<ALL THE!>. Finally realizing that Brooke was clean
there. I have her a tentative lick<and I have here an ordinary
deck of playing cards...>. When I licked her nipple, I felt
Brooke's hands on the back of my head, gently pressing me against
her<awwww, that's sweet>. I continued licking and sucking, happily
fulfilling the male addiction to the female's breast<that's
heinous.>.
Brooke held my head tightly, pressing my head against her
breast as she slid down the wall<leaving a shiny, gelatinous trail
that I knew would be a bitch to clean in the morning.>. The warm
spray was hitting me in the back as I hungrily licked and sucked,
alternating breasts<eeny meeney miney hey Moe>.
Brooke's hands guided me upwards. My tongue lashed out,
wiggling its way inside of her mouth, meeting no resistance<I found
out later this was because she had told a lie in her native
country.>. Because<of this lie> her tongue was en-route to mine<in
a box!!>...
We frenched for quite a while, heating up<a natural herbal
laxative on the stove. We neither of us are regular.> as we did.
Brooke suddenly stopped. "Uh Marc? Do you mind, uh, quickly
finishing up? I'd like to, uh, finish bathing alone?"<uh, I have
this, uh, problem...>
I smiled, and made my best attempt at the one minute
shower<pits, anus, ba da bing ba da boom see ya...>. "I'll be in
the room when you're done<for!>." I took her sudden desire to
finish alone as a high compliment<as I am an utter doofus>. I knew
what she'd be finishing before she finished her <*NAILS*!!!> shower
When she entered the room, she looked a lot more relaxed
than she did in the shower<Yup, the tuinols were kicking in...right
on time.>. I sat on the bed, trying my best to hide my <tiny boy-
thing?> proud smile<ah>. She walked around, trying to look
busy<soon, she had alphabetized all of last year's notes and had
prepped an end-table for varnishing>. Neither of us knew what to
say<Gosh golly>. I don't have Maritza's seduction ability; her way
with words<Know thyself.> I gave it my best shot<oooh, this is
gonna be great!>. "C'mere."<BARANGUS!> I held out my arms, having
Brooke sit on my lap, then enwrapped her win a wonderful hug<Oh my.
I just get all gwunky inside when I see a sentence that defies
parsing...>
Brooke immediately tensed<like a schoolgirl before her first
pelvic exam>. As she realized that I was interested only in
romance, she relaxed<the muscles in her throat, allowing me to...>.
The sex was done<Shit! I blinked.>. For the time
being<Oooooh...scary>. Sex is like a <500 dollar a day coke
habit.> It was a way of resurfacing at the oddest times<Yup. I
heard *that*!>.
After a bit<gag was applied>, I returned to my room. We each
had some work to do. I tried to study, but I don't even remember
opening up a book. I knew that what was on my mind was not located
in those books<but rather *these*>. It, or she<or...IT!>, was in
Spaulding<Gray> Quad. Three minutes later, so was I.
I knocked on her door. "C'mon in," she replied<replied? to
the *door*? Brooke's a *special* girl, ain't she?>
She was decked out on the bed<in all her finery!>, wearing a
conservative blue dress and white stockings<and she had a pair of
stethoscopes around her neck, and was pulling on a white latex
glove...>. I intentionally avert<i>ed my eyes from her legs, nice
as they looked<That would just be too, too easy.>. That would be
the problem. Too nice.<That would be.>
Her books were laying<!!> closed on the desk, barely shifted
from where they were two hours ago, when I left. I looked at the
her, then at the books, then back at her. "You too, huh?"<or
rather, you two>
She stammered<like a Cub Scout speaking before NAMBLA>, "Well,
I was just about to sit down and get going on some<crystal
meth>...Yeah. Me too.
I walked over and sat on the floor next to the bed. Brooke
shifted over toward the wall. She offered me some bed<"Would you
like some bed?>. With an offer like that, I couldn't refuse<Heck,
who could?>.
As I laid<!!> down, her legs slid against my legs, clothed
only in shorts. We smiled at each other, and snuggled up to one
another<That's sweet.>. All during this, her legs were unwittingly
sliding up and down mine<Stop that, you free-thinking autonomous
limbs, stop that this instant!>.
She stopped, looking me in the eye. Then deliberately
pressed her thigh up against my crotch. Yep, I was hard<full stop>
all right<exclamation point>. My eyes were wide and glazed
over<yup, the crystal was kicking in>, the whole nine yards.
I gave her my best "Oops. I didn't MEAN to do it smile!" smile,
then muttered, "You feel rather nice."<Oh the inanity!>
Brooke reached down to my <man-cannon?> member. "Why thank
you." She tried flattening a certain protrusion back between my
legs. I bucked forward, pressing against her hand. A natural
male reaction, I assure you<Why the *fuck* do you--ah, never mind>.
Brooke smiled, and innocently tried tucking it back again.
And again I bucked to her touch<5 bucks, in fact. it was all I
could afford.>. Since it wasn't going down<but *she* was, and
soon!>, she tried with longer strokes<as opposed to the TIA's she'd
had before>. I wrapped my legs around hers, pressing against her.
With her hand traped between us, the strokes became a definite
fondle<A definite!>. Through the <purple>haze, my eyes saw the
smile on Brooke's face, seeing how she was getting me SO excited by
<something> doing so little. So it DID work both ways<and it cuts
like a knife...>.
At this point, I was practically humping Brooke's leg<like
Mariza!>. There's just no other word for it<Well, there *are*,
only I don't know them>. She stopped me. "Wait here a sec, I need
to <take a wicked, noxious dump> go to the bathroom."
I tried to be calm as she got up, smiled, and walked out the
door. I was proud of myself. I was able to let her go. She did
INDEED look gorgeous, but with her out of the room, I was able to
calm down a bit<by masturbating feverishly into her naughties
drawer, glazing two potpourris. Damn I'm good.>.
She walked back in a few minutes later<toilet paper trailing
from the back of her dress>, laying down next to me. She looked
me in the eye, then brushed her stockinged leg along mine. Again,
my vision narrowed to a<the> glazed stare<of a psychopath pressed
up against the window of F.A.O. Schwartz(sp?)> at Brooke's sweet
innocent smile<that smile I would ERASE!>. With the slow down
stroke, my deep breathing began<and I checked the inside of my
wrist, where I'd written down my mantra, "Knish">. Brooke's
innocent voice was saying something to me. "Yes Marc? Is
anything...wrong Marc?"<Is it your willy?>
She cuddled up next to me, running her legs back and forth
across mine<soon, she had a small fire going.>. Or were mine
snaking across hers? I couldn't tell, I wasn't in control of
either pair of legs.<oh lawdy>
As she rolled<a pinner> onto her back, I thrust into her. I
still had my shorts on, as she did her dress, but lust had taken
over<Parse *that*!>. She arched up to meet me on each stroke.
With all of the pounding, her dress had ridden up<like a
window blind.>. I pulled her dress out of the way. She was still
wearing her thigh high white legs<!!>. She put her hands on the
clasp of my shorts, looking at my face for permission<but all she
saw was "Guilt">.
Definition of a man torn<um...Jerry Garcia eyeing some hash
brownies?> . Much as I wanted to, responsibility came first. I
managed to get out the words, "No. I can't. No entrance without
protection."<Please shoot me now.> Life can be a bitch at
times<Yeah, like if you're starving or being tortured or you're an
over-privileged college twit who has to <gasp> wear a condom.
Yeah, life really sucks sometimes...>.
Brooke smiled at me. "What are suitemates for?"<Get serious.>
She was serious. Ten seconds later, I was bare<and yes, I shat in
the woods>.
I slowly slid inside of her. I let out a sigh. It felt
like I'd just returned home after a few month long journey. So
welcome it was to be back. And it felt so right and so good. It
surprised me that Brooke was already wet. Maritza would've taken
a while in this case <by "this case" I mean by the prospect of
lowering her standars enough to sleep with a doofus like me>.
I pumped in and out of Brooke. She was in a state of shock
from the new emotions<"Is this *it*??!!" thought Brooke.>. In
short order, my body left its gift of love<feces> inside of her.
When we had both recovered, Brooke said in an amazed whis-
per, "So, that's it. That's what the big thing is about.<What a
fucking rip!>" She wasn't downplaying it, the vocal inflection
said otherwise. She mused, "Awfully short, <aren't you?>wasn't
it? Now you roll over and fall asleep?"
"Well, yeah," I replied. "Consider it a compliment. You
had me VERY excited! But then sometimes guys can..." I tensed
up my member, still inside of her.
She gasped and twitched, as if hit by an electric shock<in
fact, that's exactly what it was. I kissed my trusty taser>.
The feeling of stockings again. Brooke smiled. "You have your
cock, and I have my legs<?? You have your Gloria Gaynor tapes, I
have my soapdish>. I'm glad to see that I can excite you as much
as you excite me m'dear." She idly traced her feet up and down my
legs. I could feel myself getting larger and larger inside of her,
firming up with each stroke.
I started humping up and down once again, thrusting in and
out. This time, Brooke bucked up to meet each plunge that I
made. Staring down at this gorgeous woman splayed out beneath
me<gorgeous, simply girgeous> made me feel so wonderful. Seeing
the love that she had for me shining from her eyes made it
exquisite; timeless. Even past the point when<the meth really hit
home and> her figure blurred from view.
This time the action lsted<sic> quite a bit longer, but the
results were wonderfully similar. Yes, the suitemate's protec-
tion was used that night<oh good. They won't breed.>.
We hugged in a deep embrace. I gave her a tender peck on
her smiling lips. "Women just don't know how it is. Every
muscle in your body is absolutely bushed. Even ones that you
don't use. They feel as if I'd just swam the 500. Except more
tired, and all over. You don't mind if I crash out, do you?"
Brooke smiled. "Go ahead<Mr. Oscar Fuckking Wilde> . No,
I guess that I don't understand. I'd like to. I'd like to know
everything about you. Goodnight Marc."
"Goodnight Brooke."
<"Good night, Saigon
Good night, Mrs. Calabash.
Night, Mother.
Good night, John Boy
Good night, Irene!">

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
(PART II)
Wha?
What time is it?
I don't want to open my eyes to find out.
What day is it?
There's someone next to me.
This is good.
Do I want to wake up?
Or fall back asleep?
I don't know.
It's Sunday.
That would be Brooke.

<Yowza!>

RICHH

--thanks to RDC for Alex Trebeck(sp?) ruling the world
--and Dennis Leary for that 'I think you hear me knockin' shtick