Snippettsville: Proofreading Queue to Publish

[Snippettsville Group]

In this thread you will find a copy of your story complete with any proofreading comments clearly noted in bold beside that which needs altering.

Please PM me letting me know when you have corrected your story in the 600 Word Story base thread.

It is important that these alterations are done quickly as your story has been chosen to be included in a Snippettsville Issue.

Thanks all

wildsweetone

 

[wildsweetone]

Introducing Molly - PierceStreet

I’m not sure what is appropriate for the day after Granddad’s funeral, but I suspect it shouldn’t be enjoying Molly’s strong legs pumping a bike, and her cute ass astride the seat.

My family was back in Snippettsville for a few days for the funeral. I was born here 18 years ago, but we’d moved when I was seven. It as(was) a great place to be a kid. I remember playing in the woods, and walking downtown to buy CrackerJacks. I had a freedom there I did not have when we moved to a city four hours away.

After the funeral, my girl cousin and I were playing frisbee in the backyard to get away from the morbidness(morbidity?) in the house. Molly’s yard abutted my Uncle’s and she wandered over and played with us for a bit. We all sat on the grass and talked. One thing lead(led) to another, and Molly invited me for a bike ride and picnic the next day, to “take my mind off things”.

After she left, my 16 year old cousin filled me in on her. Graduated the previous June, her boyfriend had gone off to college, but fallen in love with someone else. Molly worked at the diner in town.

Snippettsville was having an Indian Summer that October. It was in the 90's already as I followed Molly out of town. A couple miles out, we turned onto a dirt road. We stopped at a farm pond. “This is my grandparents farm–the(farm, the) house is a mile away. This is my private place.”, she told me.(place,” she)

We spread a blanket and downed the sandwiches and a beer each. Afterwards we laid and talked and became friends. She looked so cute, her shoulder length red hair, a skinny body in a thin t-shirt. Her large eyes seemed to take in everything.

“How about a swim?”,(delete comma) she asked suddenly.

“No swim suit”, I responded.(suit,” I)

“I never wear a suit here.”.(delete full stop) Molly leapt to her feet, peeled off her T, and skimmed her shorts and panties down in one move. She stood there, her weight on one leg, her hand on a hip waiting for me.

I was struck dumb. Molly in a bikini would have left me breathless. My eyes traveled(travelled – i think) down her body – she was a true redhead – and back up. I saw slight impatience in those green eyes, so I quickly stood and shed my clothes. I had a little trouble getting my underpants off my stiff cock. We jumped into the pond.

We played for a while as kids do in water, but we weren’t quite kids. She swam up to where I stood in shallow water, and wrapped her legs around me, put her arms around my neck and kissed me. We kissed again, long and hard.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” I shook my head no. “I had to ask. A skank didn’t ask my ex-boyfriend when she should have.” She repositioned herself on me.

“Ever have a serious girlfriend?” I shook my head again. “Are you a virgin?”.(delete full stop)

“Yes.”

She wiggled a little. “Do you realize where your cock is?” She’d positioned it so my tip was at her entrance.

“If you want to stop being a virgin, pull me closer.”

I did.

I lasted longer later, back on the blanket. And longer still the next time.

“My parents are coming back to settle the estate in a couple weeks.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”(boyfriend,”) she said dashing my hope. “I do want another afternoon like this with you, though. Hurry back.”

 

[wildsweetone]

Every cloud... – Alex De Kok

“Goddammittohell!” He sat back and glared at the computer screen in frustration. Black and lifeless, it gave a dull reflection of his frustrated face. Nothing more. There was power, because the monitor ready-light glowed redly. He stood and checked all of the cables. Nothing. Inspiration dawned and he riffled(rifled) through the papers in his desk drawer. Yes! On-site service. He reached for the phone….

Sitting in Hannah’s diner two hours later, he looked out into the rain again. Because of the difficulty involved in a stranger actually finding his home, he’d arranged to meet the service engineer at the diner. The computer people hadn’t been able to give an exact time, saying only that it would be ‘after four, but certainly before six’. He glanced up. Molly, Hannah’s young waitress, stood with the coffee jug.

“Refill, Jack?”

“Please.” Molly was looking over his shoulder and he glanced out to see a station wagon pull into the parking lot. The driver got out and he sat back, disappointed. She came into the diner and Molly made her way over. He couldn’t hear what was said but Molly pointed and the woman came over to him.

“Mr. Shaw. Jack Shaw?”

“Yes?”

“Hi. I’m Sally Aker, service engineer for Ace Computers. I understand you have a problem?”

Surprised, but not showing it, Jack stood. “Great! I asked to meet you here as my place is tricky to find. If you’d follow me, it’s about five minutes drive.”

Sally Aker smiled. “Lead on, Mr. Shaw.”

Ten minutes later the cover was off his PC and Sally was probing inside. She turned to him. “Seems OK.(okay) It may be the monitor so I’ll get my test set out of the car.”

Sally connected the test monitor and rebooted Jack’s PC. “What were you using last?”

“Word.”

“Right, let’s see if that comes up okay…, yes, that looks good. Ah! It wants to load a partially-completed file. Okay, let’s see….”

Jack felt his face go red as his latest opus came up on the screen. ‘I forgot I was working on that,’ he thought. “Um, just move on to your tests if you want.”

She gestured vaguely. “It’s okay, this is fine for a test.”

“It’s not finished…”

“I can see that, but it’s good.” She looked round at him, a slight smile on her lips, a sparkle in her eye. “Are you Alex de Kok?”

Jack avoided her eyes. “Um, yes, I guess I am.”

“Great! I’ve read all of your work on Literotica.(comma)” Sally grinned. “You left some gaping holes in your ‘Aunt Ellen’ stories. Surely you’re going to write some more?”

“Well, yeah, one day.” Relief went through him. At least Sally Aker seemed to be a fan of his writing. “I’ve been told I need to write a sequel to ‘Goody-Two-Shoes’ as well.”

“Yes! I have to know what happens to that odious Tony!”

Jack laughed. “Okay, maybe one day I will.” He gestured.(comma) “Want a coffee?”

“Please. You’re my last call today. Can I stay and talk about writing for a while?”

“Only if you’ll stay to dinner.(comma)” Jack laughed. “Actually I was planning on eating at Hannah’s. Will you join me?”

“Yes, please.” She(please," she) grimaced. “I’ve been trying to get up the nerve to submit one of my own stories to Literotica.”

“You should. What about?”

Sally smoothed her sweatshirt down over the swell of her breasts and licked her lips. She looked Jack in the eye. “I haven’t actually finished it yet. I need to do some research. It’s about a PC repair girl who seduces one of her customers.”

 

[wildsweetone]

Driving Out the Demons by Erlikkhan

“Uncle Bill! What are you doing to Aunt Jill?”

Polly, who was visiting Snippettsville for the summer, could see her uncle’s head between her aunt’s legs. Her aunt was screaming. Polly was shocked that his uncle would hurt his aunt like that.

“Hello, Polly. You’re home early.”

Bill looked up and saw Polly in pig-tails and a short blue polka-dot dress. His face was smeared with juices that dripped from his chin.

“Your Uncle was driving the demons from Aunt Jill’s body. I’m surprised your parents never explained this to you. Now that you’re 18 you probably have your own demons. In fact, I’ll bet these demons made you have impure thoughts with some of the boys at school.”

Polly turned red because what Uncle Bill said was indeed true. Why hadn’t mommy and daddy taught her how to handle these demons?

“Come here, Polly. You need to be cleansed.”

Bill took Polly’s hand and sat her on the couch.

“Aunt Jill is going to suck the demons from your body. But that means she won’t be free to help me remove my demons. Would you be willing to do that for Uncle Bill? I’ll show you how.”

Polly nodded her head. She was apprehensive, but she had learned all about demons in bible study. She would certainly do what she could to help. She was glad that Aunt Jill would be cleansing her. She would be embarrassed to let Uncle Bill see what she looked like “down there”. She lifted up so that Aunt Jill could pull down her white cotton panties with pink flowers. Polly spread her legs apart. Aunt Jill clamped her mouth over Polly’s ripe young peach.

Polly knew it was working right away. She could feel new sensations spread through her body. Her nipples were about to explode. Pressure unlike anything she had ever felt was building in her tummy. A loud moan escaped her throat.

“Oh yeeesssssss… please Aunt Jill… drive those demons away… oooohhhh…”(oooohhhh... .")

Uncle Bill removed his trousers and kneeled on the arm of the couch next to Polly. His massive hardness wavered only inches from her face.

“My demons can only be extracted from here, Polly. You must put you mouth around me and suck while I try to drive them from my body.”

Polly looked at the swollen flesh streaked with veins and a huge knob at the tip. She looked up at Uncle Bill and nodded. The pressure in her own belly increased when she felt his warm and hard meat slide between her lips. He put his hands on the back of her head and moved it in and out as she sucked just like she was told.

“Oh yes… oh Polly… suck those demons from me… aaaahhhhh…”(aaaahhhhh... .")

Aunt Jill did something with her tongue and fingers that caused Polly’s entire body to tense. She could feel the demons being driven away as she bucked and jerked her hips. She wanted to scream but could only moan with Uncle Bill still in her mouth.

Polly’s body was still shaking when she felt Uncle Bill swell. A warm creamy liquid filled her mouth. She knew he must have had a lot of demons because there was so much of it. She wasn’t sure what to do so she swallowed hoping it wouldn’t make more demons grow inside her. On the other hand she could just have Aunt Jill, or even Uncle Bill, drive them from her again.

Polly was glad she finally learned about demons. She would have to teach her friends back home.

 

[wildsweetone]

RIP HENDERSON by MathGirl

When she returned to the diner kitchen, Hannah noticed a man standing in the alley. She couldn't see his face but recognized the leather vest, filthy jeans, bowed legs, and tatooed(tattooed) arms of Duane "Rip" Henderson.

Henderson was, at the age of twenty four, a junior high dropout, unemployed and probably unemployable, losing his hair, and poorly groomed. He usually rode a decrepit Harley hog but had been rejected for membership in the rather tame local pack of Hell's Angels wannabees. The sleazy bikers felt that Rip failed to meet even their bottom-feeding membership standards. Never a good speller, Rip had a 'Born to Rase Hel' tatoo(tattoo) on his forearm.

He maintained a very basic standard of living as the local purveyor of illicit botanicals and pharmaceuticals, also being his own best customer. Henderson had an IQ of about drafty room temperature when sober, but he was seldom not under the influence of some mind-altering substance. He often bragged that he never mainlined drugs because he was deeply religious, but he was unable to explain how and why his religion condoned all methods of illicit drug administration except intravenous. It was generally believed that he was just afraid of needles.

Rip was the only member of Saint Anne's congregation that the kindly Father Morrison refused to accept for confession or communion. He knew that Rip would lie at confession, and he refused to give wine to someone who was already under the influence of something or other. In fact, the good Father wouldn't even speak to him. Rip had been expelled from the Catholic Teens for Christ some years earlier for passing around pictures of animal pornography (human-poultry) at a Sunday evening meeting of the youth group. The priest had said that Henderson made him embarrassed to be a Roman Catholic. Father Morrison derived considerable comfort from the certainty that Henderson would burn in hell, but he felt vaguely guilty for feeling good about it. Rip's own mother, Elvina, hadn't spoken to him since the vivisection of her cat, Frieda, when Rip was twelve.

Everyone knew Henderson dealt drugs, including the local cops, but he had a low cunning that somehow enabled him to avoid the law. Actually he had been caught several times, but the only thing that had ever stuck was a simple possession of cannabis charge for which Rip had done a thirty as a guest at the Snippets County Honor Farm.

He had served the full month and left that institution with a bad sunburn from field labor, a hatred of racial minorities, and an acute case of hemorrhoids. It seems that Rip had shared a cell with one Raymond "Sugar Ray" Stallings, a three hundred pound African-American gentleman with chronic attitude maladjustment. Sugar Ray, having a long history of problems with anger control, was in jail awaiting trial for assaulting his own ninety three(93 - one to nine in words, 10 upwards in numbers) year old great grandmother with a straight razor during a dispute over her Social Security check. He had reached the jail after receiving treatment for a stab wound to the abdomen caused by a knitting needle in the hand of an unexpectedly quick Granny.

On their first evening as cellmates, Mr. Stallings politely inquired of Mr. Henderson if he would rather be "the husband or the wife" during their stay together. After some quick thinking, Rip stated that he would prefer to be the husband, definitely the husband. The good natured Stallings laughed heartily and said, "Okay, mothafucka, you be the husband and I be the wife, but you still be the one who get fucked up the ass. Now git them drawers down, Hubby."

Rather than directing him towards the path of good citizenship, the experience had left Rip Henderson embittered.

Hannah worried about what business Henderson might have in the alleyway behind her diner.

 

[wildsweetone]

A Natural Viewpoint by Alex De Kok

Jack reached for her but she wriggled away, giggling. “Later, sweetheart. I promise you no sleep until we’re both exhausted, okay?”

“Promise?”

“I want to make love as much as you do, but I’ve never been to Green Lake before, we’re only here for one night and I would like to explore a little before the light goes.”

He laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “I’m convinced. Come on.”

They walked for twenty minutes or so and both enjoyed it, as much for the anticipation they were building as for the beautiful scenery. It’s pretty well wooded around Green Lake, with rolling hills, so they were going uphill as much as down. The hills mean the lake has a lot of little sandy coves, popular with the boat owners for picnics. And other pleasurable activities.

Some of the coves are almost invisible from the paths and Jack was startled suddenly to hear a moan. Thinking someone might have fallen he led Sally off the path, grabbed a pine branch to stop himself falling and peered over the bluff. About to call out to ask if anyone was hurt he stopped himself. Whatever else they might have been feeling the couple on the beach certainly weren’t hurting.

The girl – and from the slim build and red hair he suddenly realised it was Molly from the diner – was on her back, her legs hooked behind her lover’s back. He – whoever he was – was thrusting rhythmically into Molly. Sally was just behind Jack and couldn’t see. She realised something had caught his attention and eased forward.

“What is it, Jack. Is someone hur - ? Oh! Oh, my, isn’t that….” Her(that..." her) voice trailed off.

Molly didn’t appear to have heard anything, but must have caught a glimpse of movement because suddenly she was looking straight up at them, fifty feet above her. Incredibly, she grinned and gave a little wave. There was no doubt in Jack’s mind that she knew who was there. No doubt either that she was enjoying herself. She put her fingers to her lips in a shushing gesture. Jack nodded and waved and he and Sally eased themselves back to the path.

Sally’s eyes were sparkling and she was fighting a fit of the giggles. Jack took her hand and they moved away from the bluff. Spotting a little grassy hollow Sally took his hand and tugged him off the path.

“Lie down,” she said. “I want you. Here. Now!”

As if he was going to argue! He lay down and Sally hitched her skirt up so she could straddle his legs. She loosened his belt and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans.

“Lift your ass!” she ordered.

Amused, he complied and she grabbed his waistband and jeans and boxer shorts were around his ankles in a second. Sally lifted herself and unhooked the waistband of her wraparound skirt, casting it aside.

Surprised at the absence of panties he raised his eyebrows in silent query.

Sally grinned. “I’ve been thinking about this all day. I took my panties off earlier; they were soaking.” She reached to the hem of her sweatshirt and stripped it off over her head. No bra.

His prick was hard by now and Sally eagerly impaled herself, settling to his root with a sigh. She glanced up at him with a contemplative look.

“Who was that with Molly?”

“You know something? I have absolutely no idea.”

Sally smiled again. “I wonder if she’ll tell him she saw us?” She(she) laughed. “Enough of them. Let’s fuck!”

 

[wildsweetone]

PM received from PierceStreet

Introducing Molly has been altered.

 

[wildsweetone]

The Ghost by Quasimodem


(delete extra spacing in here, leave one space after title)
The closest thing to a ghost, found in Snippettsville, slouched over a stool at The Roadhouse bar, late one night. He was a gray, rumpled man, drinking neat scotch and taking in the ambiance.

“I’ve had enough!” declared the shapely redhead wearing yellow sandals, a matching thong, and a tubetop that barely covered the prominent tips of her breasts.

The bartender seemed unimpressed.

“Nothing will ever induce me to go to bed with Jim Cargrew! He’s . . . he’s. . . .”(delete one dot) she took a big breath, then continued, “I don’t care what contract Kevin loses! I won’t be a . . . a . . . sales gimmick!

“Do you know where the Greyhound stops?” she inquired.

The bartender shrugged and kept wiping glasses.

“It's always the same with Kevin,” the woman declared. “You’d think I’d be . . . I’d grow . . . feel . . . er, ah . . . I don’t know. . . . ”(... ." - i think, alter others in the story if you agree.)

“Accustomed,” supplied the gray man at the end of the bar.

“Right!” she smiled at him.

That single smile revealed an attractive woman in her late twenties.

“It’s just that he wants everything his way. It gets so bor . . . er . . . frus . . . um. . . .”

“Fatiguing?”

“That’s it! Fatiguing. Then I learn our vacation is actually to dangle me as bait in one of his business deals. I feel so . . . er, um. . . .”

“Manipulated.”

“Manipulated, thank you. If I only had some place to go. Get a few hours to myself, to . . . er . . . sit and . . . er . . . um. . . .”

“Contemplate?”

(delete extra space in here)
“Is that too much to ask?”

“Seems nominal.”

“I think so, too! But, Kevin is so . . . so. . . . “

“Demanding?”

“Is it really selfish to want your way once in a while?”

“Only if you’d planned to become a martyr.”

A throaty chuckle bubbled from the woman, “That wasn’t my intention.” She(intention," she) sighed, then looked blankly ahead. “Which way is that Greyhound depot?”

“When are you due back at work?” the gray man inquired.

“Oh, I don’t work. I’ve been looking after Kevin. I’m not too clever about work, but I’m a whiz at housekeeping.”

“Ever consider becoming a housekeeper, or maid?”

“Women don’t hire maids who look like me,” she smiled, bitterly, “and men have . . . ah . . . what’s the word?”

“Ulterior motives?”

“Exactly!” she agreed, wrinkling her nose.

“If you really enjoy quiet times, you might consider my place. What kind of pay do you get?”

“From Kevin? Occasionally he buys me a present, like clothes, or perfume. Living with him, I don’t need much.”

The gray man cast a curious eye over the woman’s scant costume.

“Kevin’s a cheap bastard,” he pronounced. “I’d rather have a more formal arrangement. Room, board, salary, and a regular day off. We can negotiate that, later.

“I’m a bit of a slob when working on a project,” the gray man admitted. “You best look the place over before you commit yourself.

“Paramount,” he declared, “is, never touch my desk, or disturb me while I’m working. Your part is to see that we aren’t starving, nor condemned by the Board of Health.”

(as the previous three paragraphs are new ideas I agree with their separation and the punctuation is correct. I think this one should be added to the last though.)He raised an eyebrow, “Sound fair?”

“Well, sure, but. . . .”

“But?”

“While you were finishing my sentences . . . with just the right word. . . . It made me . . . you know?”

“No. That word you must supply.”

“Well, damn it, I’m horny!”

“Oh.”

“You do anything about that?”

“Not contractually,” the gray man’s lips twisted. “By mutual consent, certainly!”

“Good!”

“With Kevin away, wouldn’t this be a good time to fetch your luggage?”(try "With Kevin away, this'd be a good time to fetch your luggage though." because I feel there is some expectation toward sex from the last two comments.)

“You know it!” she agreed. “Er, should I know what you do?”

“Presently, I’m preparing a history of Snippettsville.”

(delete extra space here)
“Whatever for?”

“A local businessman has pretensions as an author. He will publish one this fall.”

“What’s that to you?”

“I,” the gray man explained, offhandedly, “am a ghostwriter.”

 

[wildsweetone]

Lisa Hitchhikes by PierceStreet

Bill Davis thought this would be another boring drive back to college. He was taking a cutoff from the interstate to pick up a state road. His headlights caught the image of a late teen woman walking along. This was the middle of nowhere and late, and she obviously didn’t belong out here. He braked and backed up to her.

“Are you OK?”.(delete full stop) She took a moment to answer, assessing him, and the danger. She stood a few feet from the car, prudently he thought.

“Yeah. Just a date gone bad. I’m walking home.”

“How far is home?”

“About ten(one to nine in words, 10 upwards in numbers) miles down this road.”

“I’m going that far, farther still. Do you want a ride? My name is Bill.”

“Hi Bill, I’m Lisa. Yeah, I could use a ride.” She opened the door and hiked herself up into his SUV, actually his Dad’s old SUV.

After riding silently for a while, Bill had to ask.(comma) “Lisa, you said a date gone bad, and you were willing to walk ten(10) miles. How bad was it? I mean, do you want me to drop you off the police station or something.”(that could hurt try 'drop you off at the police station')

“That’s sweet Bill. No I wasn’t raped. It’s just this guy I was out with actually used the line, ‘Put out or walk home.’ At first, I thought he was kidding. I mean how Neanderthal. But he was serious so I took the walk option.”

Bill relaxed, and out of the corner of his eye, checked her out. She was a tall girl, about 5'9" ,(delete space before comma) trim waist. She had on a thin skirt that was rather long, below her knees. Lisa was getting comfortable too. She slipped off her leather jacket. Underneath, a white blouse barely contained large, full breasts threatening to burst the buttons. She was dressed to attract.

She liked what she saw out of the corner of her eye too. “Maybe tonight wasn’t a total washout.(comma)” she thought. Time to give him a hint.(Time to give him a hint is also a thought therefore it needs the same punctuation as her previous thought. A way to avoid the clash of punctuation is to put her thoughts into italics instead.) “The ironic thing is Bill, he was demanding what in five minutes or so, I’d have offered.”

That admission floored him, so he said nothing.

“Want to take a few moments and see some local beauty?” Lisa asked as they neared town. She directed him to turn off and drive down Green Lake road to an overlook. A full moon hung over the lake.

“This is beautiful.”.(delete full stop)

“This isn’t the local beauty I meant” He looked over at her. She’d unbuttoned her blouse. On nights she anticipated sex, Lisa went without underwear. He had that stunned look on his face she loved when guys realized she was theirs for the taking.

He pulled her close to her and kissed her, his hands found her magnificent breasts. Her hands worked his belt open. She broke the kiss, and began giving him head.

“You’re fabulous at that.”

“Learned it right here.”.(delete full stop) She returned to his cock and kept at it until he came in her mouth. She swallowed every drop, a matter of pride to her.

They moved to the cargo area in back. Playfully, she hiked her skirt up and flashed him her pussy. “See anything you want?”.(delete full stop)

Bill astonished her by grabbing her hips to hold her and lowered his mouth to her. He too was a consummate at what he did and soon had her squirming around the back of the SUV.

“Bill, I need you to give it to me now.”, she(now," she) demanded soon. “Bill, do me, fuck me.”, she(me," she) gasped.

Afterwards, “Aren’t you glad my Dad expects his kids to repay every favor? We’re proud people around here. Horny too.”

 

[wildsweetone]

PM received from Quasimodem

The Ghost has been altered.


Note to all: My 'skills' with editing and proofreading are not wonderful and I make mistakes. Please if you notice I have commented on something that you do not agree with, do not hesitate to let me know. I am open to learning more always.

Thanks Quasi for letting me know about the ellipses.

 

[wildsweetone]

I get my looks from my Pa. by Alex De Kok

The scar on my cheekbone from a bottle when I was fifteen, the broken nose from a headbutt when I tried to protect Mary from a beating. Why she'd never left him I didn't know, except that without any money she had nowhere to go.

After Pa broke my nose, I took off. I found work at first helping on a horse ranch near the Cimarron,(where is this? - just curious) then joined a logging crew on the coast. That was three years ago. I was nineteen now, knew more ways of dirty fighting than I had ever guessed existed, had money in my pocket and I had come home to keep the promise I made to Mary.

The Snippettsville Road House was quiet this early in the evening, only three or four customers. One of them my Pa of course, drinking Mary's wages.

Mary came up to me as I moved to the bar. There was a fresh bruise on her cheek and my fists clenched. She moved nervously, mistaking my intent.

"What'll it be, mister?"

"Hi, Mary," I said gently. "I came back, just like I said I would."

Her eyes widened. "Alec?" she whispered, her hands clasped together. "Is it you?"

"It's me, Mary. Sorry I'm later than I planned."

She smiled tremulously. "You've grown, Alec."

I nodded, smiling. "Working in the lumber camps does that." I studied her, amazed that the life she led, and the senseless brutality of my father, had left so few marks on her. Pa had married her when Mary was just sixteen and I was ten, my own mother dead in a car crash, so that Mary was still only twenty-six. She had been good to me, and treated me as her own. It was thanks to Mary that my beatings from Pa hadn't been worse than they were. When I left I'd told her I'd come back to look after her one day. She'd smiled and said, 'do that', but I don't think she believed I ever would. Now I was back.

"Your Pa's in the corner," Mary said.

"I know. It's you I came to see. Are you ready to leave him, Mary? I've got a little ranch in Texas. It's not much at the moment, 'cos I was too busy putting a herd together, but there's a place for you there. If you want it."

"Leave?" she whispered, her eyes enormous. "I .."(three dots I think) She hesitated, then I could see the determination. "Now?"

"Now."

She nodded, took off her apron and came around the bar to me. "Let's go."

We were half way to the door when I heard Pa's voice. "Where the fuck do you think you're goin'?"

Mary turned. "I'm leaving you, Jake. You've hit me once too often."

"You'll do no such thing! With this punk?" He(or - he) sneered.

"Hi, Pa."

His jaw dropped, then rage spread over his face and he swung. I used to think he was a good fighter, but that was before I learned how. I stepped inside his swing, sank a fist into his gut, broke his nose with a head butt and hit him again so hard that he skidded when he landed. He was out. There was quiet satisfaction in me, but not the pleasure I'd anticipated.

Mary took my arm and we went to the door. Tom Holt, the constable was standing just inside the door, his face expressionless.

"Going to arrest me, Tom?"

He looked over my shoulder, then at me. "For littering?" he said, fighting a grin. "No. Just don't do it again, Alec. Okay?" He moved aside.

 

[wildsweetone]

Untitled by jon.hayworth (page 1) (- the italics did not copy and paste here, I can switch from window to window to check. Please insert a title.)

Through my rain spattered visor I read the sign, Snippetsville Pop 596 – do the town council have a hot line to the midwife and the undertaker(I would add in a question mark here) I mused - the last number was freshly painted.

The town looked like the set for a low budget road movie, the Diner was on the main street, the only street, and next door stood a general store. There was even a ubiquitous, beat-up Chevolret pick-up truck, parked down the street. Outside the Diner stood a Kenilworth cab-over with shiny chrome hubcaps and a pretty custom paint job. -(I would delete the hyphen and make a new paragraph for 'I looked...') I looked around, half expecting to see the Snowman striding out of the Diner. I was wet and cold, at least this town could satisfy my needs for a cigarette and a hot coffee.

Pulling off my helmet I walked into the store for a packet of cigarettes, I had run out an hour back when I stopped to shelter from the rain under an interchange on the Interstate.

“You're a stranger to these parts,” said the man behind the counter.

Although his words had sounded like a statement I decided to treat them as a question, “Yes just up on vacation, do you know some place where I can find a room for a day or two?”

“You from out-a-state? New York or maybe even Boston.”

I smiled, “England.”

I pulled out a cigarette and concentrated on lighting it to choke off my laugh when he said, “New England ain't far from Boston I knew you was a Yankee.”

“I mean England across the Atlantic.”

“England Europe!” He gave a low whistle, “And you come all the way to Snippetsville. If you want a room best place to go is McGuire's Diner, Hannah will know who has a room.” American courtesy has never ceased to amaze me, and on this occasion Jack Carr kept to its best traditions, leaving his shop to escort me the few yards into the diner. I just hope none of the good folks I met ever come to England and ask in the local shop for change to use the telephone.

The shopkeeper introduced me to Hannah McGuire as, “This guy just rode into town from England Europe and he needs a room.”

His words conjured-up visions of the trusty BMW, its engine never missing a beat as it crested Atlantic rollers for three-thousand miles.

Hannah looked me up and down, “Your the one who rode the bike into town – well you look cleaner than Henderson and you don't smell none neither.”

I must have looked puzzled because Jack whispered, “Rip Henderson was the town's biker. One of Hannah's little mistakes if you know what I mean – right now he's in the county jail.” I love hearing small town gossip!

Hannah returned with the coffees I had ordered. “You don't smell, you look clean, and you have an honest face. A room will cost you thirty bucks a night. You can park your motorcycle out the back.”

I unclipped the Krauser panniers and carried them into the Diner. Hannah led the way to the rear of the building and showed me the room. I was pleased to note the sheets were clean, and the paintwork better than in a lot of rooms I had slept in since coming over to the States. I made a snap decision, “I'll take the room for a week – time to explore the country round here.”

“You going to stay for a week?”

I surmised from her incredulous tone that few people stayed in Snippetsville for that length of time.

 

[wildsweetone]

Preacher's Kid by PierceStreet

Snippettsville Church had a new minister, and eighteen year old Mike Smith was excited. The minister had a daughter, Lily.

This year all the Seniors were hooked up as couples. Mike was the odd man. Not that he wasn’t attractive. Lisa Myers had made that clear several nights at Green Lake. But Lisa didn’t want a boyfriend, and wanted Mike infrequently.

In those first weeks, Mike grew to appreciate Lily. In public she was shy and reserved but when they were alone walking home, he found her vivacious, candid and with a touch of blue humor. He knew a minister’s daughter wasn’t likely to meet his sexual needs. Even so, he was tired of being the odd man at school.

He asked her to be his girlfriend. She invited him to dinner, and promised an answer then.

That night, Lily greeted him cheerfully with a quick peck at the door.

During dinner, Lily told her parents Mike wanted them to be a couple. “What exactly does that mean?”,(delete comma) asked Reverend Niles.

Mike explained it meant that they would hang out, have lunch together, attend parties. “All proper events.(comma)” he said, making his case..(either three dots for an ellipses or one dot for a full stop)

Reverend Niles weighed Mikes(Mike's - the words belong to Mike) words, and saw the almost imperceptible nod from his wife. “I approve.”

The dinner conversation continued. Suddenly, Mike felt something. Lily was playing footsie!

Her barefoot(bare foot - i think) moved to his calf, then up along his inner thigh and she planted her foot on his crotch. When she flexed her toes, his cock responded. She was creating a problem. Mike pants were profoundly tented. He hoped Lily would stop before the meal ended.

"Mom, Mike and I'll clear the table."

"What!",(delete comma) he thought, panicked.

Lily continued, "Your game is about to start?"

With a bustle, her parents excused themselves and rushed downstairs.

Keeping up her erotic foot massage, Lily explained that her parents were Pirates fans. They never missed a televised game.

"You saved my life.",(life," he) he told Lily.

Lily came around the table. "How?", she("How?" she) asked with mock innocence.

Mike pushed back his chair. Her eyes widened when she saw the pup tent. Lisa had told him he was one of the largest in town. She’d know.

Lily straddled him and then reached down and felt his cock. She stroked it a couple of times while maintaining fierce eye contact.

"You have a nice one, don't you?"

“What”,("What," - also as it is a thought, I would either change it into italics, or use single quote marks. Either of those would help denote the difference between thought and spoken word) he wondered, “had this virginal girl seen to compare it with?”

Lily used both hands to work open his belt. She put her hands around him and stroked.

"I think it likes me."

Her touch went away. Mike heard the rustle of skirt. She bunched it above her waist. He glanced down. She wasn't wearing any panties under her long skirt. Lily impaled herself. She rocked back a forth a bit, working his size into her tight pussy. He found himself in her to the hilt without encountering any obstructions.

“Its been too long!",(delete comma) she sighed. He marveled at her ability to be both the virginal minister's daughter in public, and the exciting lover in private.

At the door, he asked her out for Friday. She assented, explaining “As my boyfriend, I expect utter discretion. A relationship with a PK, Preacher's Kid, need not be celibate, but I cannot embarrass my father, not again, so we have to be careful with the sex.” He wondered about that 'not again', and figured there was a story there.

After kissing him passionately,"Find a place for us to be totally alone Friday night. I want to be skin to skin naked while fucking you!"

 

[wildsweetone]

HANNAH by jon.hayworth (change the title into Hannah)

I spent my first day in Snippetsville exploring the one street town and sitting in the Diner listening to people as they called by. That evening I had a lot of notes to write-up. Then I settled down to write my daily thousand words.

The tap on the door was annoying. I hate being disturbed when I am writing, it breaks the flow of words. “Yes.”

Hannah took my reply for an invitation and stepped into the room. “What are you doing?” she asked looking at the lap-top.

“Writing.” Despite the fact that she was wearing nothing but a bath robe I wanted her to go.

She ignored my tone, “What are you writing?”

“Its part of a story.”

“My! You mean you're a writer – a real writer.”

“People publish my work.” I saved my work and began to close down the lap-top, it was obvious she wanted to talk.

“Jack from the store is a writer. He doesn't know that I know, if his wife Ethel found out I know she'd die of shame.”

I must have looked interested, because she added, “he writes dirty stories. He don't know I have read them on the net. Tell you what(comma) come through to my room and I'll show you on my machine.”

An interesting variation on come up and see my etchings. I followed her through to her room. For some time we perused Jack's stories, I sat at the PC(comma) Hannah stood behind me looking over my shoulder. I had to admit that he was good. Good enough to be published if he tried.

“Gee making this stuff sure makes me hot,” Hannah said pressing her body against me. I could feel her ample breasts warm against my shoulder blades I noted her two pebble hard nipples. This woman was hot.

Call me a Neanderthal. Call me a male chauvinist pig. Call me whatever, but I am not one of your touchy feely New Age men who can only make love when everything is right. I have always been led by my cock's instinctive reactions and right now the warmth of Hannah's body had spurred my cock into a rock hard erection.

I turned from the PC, pulled open her robe and buried my face in her ample bosom and inhaled. The smell of a freshly bathed woman holds aphrodisiac properties that no perfumer can replicate.

She squirmed pressing an erect nipple against my lips. I pulled her to me, swirling my tongue around her nipple. She gave a low contented sigh as she tugged at my hair as she forced her breast into my mouth.

The PC was abandoned, effortlessly we had moved onto Hannah's bed. Hannah, who had slipped her robe off as we moved, tugged and tore at my clothes. As I kicked my pants from around my ankles I pulled back and looked at her.

Like many women she was brainwashed, if they weigh over one-hundred and ten pounds they think they are overweight. “No let me see you,” I said as she sat-up rounding her shoulders as she used her hands and arms to cover her nakedness.

“If you look at me like that you won't like what you see.”

“Hannah you're all woman and I like what I see – you're my kind of woman,” I added truthfully. I have this thing for women with Rubenesque figures, I like their soft curves and something to hold onto. It has been my experience that women's libido is in direct proportion to their dress size and Hannah did nothing to disprove my theory.

 

[wildsweetone]

THE CHEMISTRY TEACHER by MathGirl (please put the title into initial capitals only)

Hannah called a greeting as Emil van Zant came into the diner for his usual after school coffee. She recalled an unfortunate incident that was still being talked about around the small town.

Mr. van Zant was the chemistry teacher at Snippitsville High. As the class had started that fateful day, Emil knew he was in trouble. He had forgotten to put his noontime dose of medication in his pocket when he left home that morning, and a frantic phone call to his wife had gotten his pill to him just before the one o'clock class began. He could feel a spell coming on, but he still had hope that the drug would kick in before disaster struck.

Emil was the victim of an unusual neurological disease called Tourette's syndrome. It is characterized by uncontrolled muscular spasms, usually in the form of bizarre facial tics. Some Tourette's sufferers also experience coprolalia ( literally(delete the space between '( l' ) meaning "speaking excrement"). This manifests itself in uncontrollable outbursts of vile language. Van Zant's case involved both facial tics and naughty words. A drug regimen had been found that controlled his affliction and allowed him to lead a normal life, free from the unfortunate symptoms. Free, that is, as long as he took his Haldol on a rigid schedule. That day, though, Emil began his lecture fearing the worst.

The students, unaware of their teacher's condition, sat attentively as Emil began his lecture on the periodic table of the elements. He was using a wooden pointer to pick out the halogen elements on the large chart and telling the students about the properties of the chemicals.

He said, "These are all gasses in their elemental state, but they combine readily with other elements to form compounds with entirely different properties."

Then a massive tic struck Emil. His facial muscles contracted into an exaggerated wide smile, as if he was trying to touch his ears with the corners of his mouth. At the same time his tongue pressed against his lower lip, forcing it outwards. When he made this remarkable face, some of the students laughed, thinking Mr van Zant was making some kind of a joke.

The tic passed after a few moments, and Emil bravely continued with his lecture. "Chlorine, for example, combines with sodium to form sodium chloride. We know this as common table salt, and .... WAWAWAWAWAWA........... uh, oh ............COCKSUCKER!! ........... Oh, gosh, I'm terribly sorry. As I was saying the compounds that result from the combination of ............... EAT SHIT, MOTHERFUCKER!! .......... Oh, dear, I can't ................ Awwwwwwwww FUCK!!"

With that, the teacher ran out of the classroom and headed for the faculty parking lot. He was yelling something unintelligible and probably in poor taste and wielding his pointer as if it were a saber.

Outside, Emil was cornered by the assistant principal before he could reach his car. After the disurbed teacher called him a "shit eating cocksucker" and threatened him with his pointer, the administrator summoned a member of the campus security force. The cop, alarmed by the teacher's facial expressions and upset at being called a "pig fucking shitass," used a choke hold to subdue the troubled teacher.

Van Zant was taken to the psychiatric department of Snippitsville Hospital, given a sedative, and put into the quiet room to calm down. When he awakened, Emil wondered how he had gotten there and how his lecture had gone, remembering nothing of what had happened during his one o'clock class.

Hannah was quite fond of the young teacher and hoped he had taken his medication that day.

 

[Alex De Kok]

Who edits the editor?

Posted by wildsweetone on 04-30-2003 04:29 AM:

Sisterly Love [consider title change - rather gives the plot away!]

Roger peered through the rain and smeared grease on his windscreen at the blurred lights beaming [I can't reconcile ‘blurred lights' and ‘beaming' - perhaps ‘showing in' rather than ‘beaming from'?] from the windows of the diner. The hot food he'd bought for their dinner steamed up the inside of his truck windows. Darkness from the thunderstorm had fallen quickly tonight.

He turned the key in his truck, listening as the engine coughed into asthmatic life, then drove off splattering mud over the sidewalk. Punching the ‘on' button of his radio with a clean finger, he grinned as his baritone rang out the sounds of Michael Bolton's ‘Can I touch you there?'

"Baby, tell me what you feel…" the lumberjack in his plaid shirt turned down his driveway recalling the special moments he'd spent with Samantha last summer. The [...summer, the...] moments when she'd gone from virgin to woman in one swoop.

Now, squinting through the unclear windscreen, he slammed on the brakes stopping barely a foot from a drenched Maggie. She looked like she'd been standing in his driveway waiting for several hours. Her glossy locks were plastered to her head. In the headlights, she looked remarkably like she was holding [pointing?] a shotgun directly at his face.

"Holy shit!" He ducked down behind the dashboard shouting, "Maggie, Maggie honey! It's me! What's wrong? Put the gun down baby."

"I'll put this gun down when you understand, Roger. Get out of the truck."

"Maggie, please honey. What's this all about?"

"Just shut up and walk." She prodded him ahead.

"Okay, Okay! I'm walking. See. Put the gun down honey. It'll go off if you're not careful."

Pushing him in the back again she ordered, "Move buster. Get up them stairs."

Without looking back, he walked ahead of her. Water streamed from their bodies hitting the floor with loud plops as they made their way up the stairs.

"In there."

"But Maggie..."

"Do as you're told for once in your life damnit." The gun clicked. He walked quickly into the dark room.

"Sit on the chair." He did as she bid.

"Don't move or I'll blast your ears off."

"Maggie. Please, can't we talk about this?"

"There's nothing to discuss. Now shut the hell up." She covered his eyes with some rough material. Blinded, he listened to her grunt as she climbed off the bed, then felt her hands tug his as she tied each hand to the arms of the chair.

"Maggie, this is insane… Plmmmuuggshhhh." He [," he] garbled as she stuffed his mouth with sweetly scented material. "Mmmaagggglmmmgg!"

Ignoring him, she unbuttoned his wet shirt, then undid the button and zip of his jeans. Reaching inside with her hand, she smiled at his groan when she gripped him firmly.

As Maggie stroked, his moans intensified and he struggled to lift his hands. His groans spurred her on[,] stroking faster, then so slowly her hands had almost stopped. His grunts were moments of frustrated pain mingled with pleasure.

She knelt in front of him and took him into her mouth. He jerked in the chair.

"Sit still Roger. Let me finish."

"Nmegghhh."

"I know[,] honey. I know how much you love me doing this. I remember."

Unable to control himself he felt his cock expanding in her mouth, her little teeth nibbled [nibbling?]gently and her tongue worked [working?] magical charms around and around his throbbing head. He exploded in her mouth then endured listening to her slurping and sucking him clean.

"There now. Doesn't that feel better Roger?"

"Shhhmnktt."

"Oh. Wait up." She stood then took her makeshift panty gag from his mouth. "What was that?"

"Maggie you shouldn't have done that. You're my sister for heavens sake!"


(599 words)

 

[Alex De Kok]

Posted by wildsweetone on 05-13-2003 11:21 PM:

The Golden Oak

The wooden kauri penholder sat on the desk. Its[...desk, its...] ink pen held in the manicured hand of Mrs Dresden, sole remaining owner of The Golden Oak.

The Golden Prison would be infinitely more correct,[delete comma] she thought as she signed each goatskin sheet in front of her. The new Deed completed, she folded then [...folded it and replaced...] replaced it in the vault behind the Renoir.

Her family originally from Duchy English soil, Elizabeth recalled her mother talking about ‘Home' and how Snippettesville would never equal what they'd been forced to leave behind. Having no siblings, she had inherited the property alone.

"Aunt Elizabeth, are you finished in here yet? I need you upstairs for a few minutes." That Kevin leaned with indifference against the oak doorframe did nothing to dispel his air of excitement.

"What is it now, Kevin?" Elizabeth did not lift her head.

"For God's sake, Aunt. Just leave that paperwork and come upstairs."

Unwilling to wait for her to finish her paperwork, he took Elizabeth's hand then firmly propelled her through the door and up the highly polished oak staircase.

"Kevin dear, I simply don't have time."

"Yes Aunt, you always have time for this." He led her firmly into his own room and pushed her backward onto his four poster bed. The curtains trembled as the bed rocked with her slight weight.

Unable to help herself, she smiled as she watched him kick the door shut with the back of his foot.[why not just ‘heel'?] He undressed as he sauntered towards the bed. Clothes strewn all over the room like scattered remnants of tornado struck homes.

She watched his firm body as he straddled her. At her awed expression, he slipped inside her warm wetness without preliminary playing. Like sweet strawberries smeared over her skin[lost me here!], he slid in and out without difficulty. When the sharp intake of icy air paled her features[where did the icy air suddenly come from?], he brought her back to reality with a sharp slap across her alabaster face. Immediately she drifted into the space known only to submissives where all life ceased to exist and all thoughts cleared her mind. The hot sting from the slap kept her attention solely on him and she moaned as he lost control pumping his shaft deep inside then collapsed upon her lean body.

Elizabeth drifted then, a heavy sleep enveloping her body. She did not feel the prick as the blade slid home. With a last sigh, she lay still, the blood seeping[I think ‘seeping' is too weak a verb here] from the wound and soaking into the white sheet.

Kevin removed the stiletto from her body, wiping it on the sheet beside her then pocketed the weapon. He dressed and without looking back at her, he left the room. Once inside the study, he pulled the Renoir aside, turned the vault knob listening for the telltale clicks until with one last grunt[where did the grunt come from?] the heavy door opened.

He reached inside[,] lifted out a wad of papers and spread them across the top of the oak desk. Grabbing the Deed, he opened it staring at the signature scrawled at the bottom of each page.

All five pages had the inked word ‘Sub'. Roaring with anger, knowing the Will was void and the estate proceeds would go to the originally intended new Snippettesville Kindergarten, Kevin threw the offending document to the floor. He had no possible way open to pay off his gambling debts now.

He sat on the leather chair behind the desk, reached for the bottom drawer, opened it and gripped the cold metal gun in one hand. He lifted the barrel to his mouth, stared straight ahead at Elizabeth's portrait and pulled the trigger.

 

[Alex De Kok]

Posted by wildsweetone on 05-15-2003 06:01 AM:

Senior Superiority

Last weekend Neil had mowed the lawn, sprayed the weeds around the edging of the lawn, stacked wood in the wood shed and cleaned the guttering and down pipes on the house.

This weekend he'd started on his workbench. His son had been playing ‘handyman' again and almost every tool from the back board had been left lying on the bench. It didn't worry him that his son used the tools, but it really pissed him off that he never bothered to put anything away.

He grabbed a rag from the bag, began picking up the tools, wiping each one and replacing it against the blank pattern he'd spent hours stencilling on the board.

He knew full well his son had other things on his mind. Girls. That was the latest problem to set him wandering around dopey eyed. Neil had watched the young girl when she was preoccupied in the kitchen with his wife. The way Mandy had sashayed past him had him gulping scolding[scalding] hot coffee. That hadn't been a bad thing, he'd felt stirrings in his groin and the burning liquid had sure taken his mind onto other things fast.

But the way she leaned over the kitchen bench while she chatted with his wife, whew! It brought him out in a hot sweat just thinking about it. When she'd bent over to pick a dropped fork from the floor, he'd gotten a bird's eye view of a whole lot more than he should. Thankfully his son had seen the same thing and rushed up behind her to ‘help get the fork' or something.

Yet even that hadn't been as shocking as when they'd been eating their desserts. Ice cream and strawberries, and some of the strawberries had been dipped into chocolate. He'd not been able to take his eyes off her luscious mouth as she'd sucked and licked the chocolate from the biggest strawberry. When she'd caught him watching, she had waited deliberately until their eyes met before she[delete ‘she'] winking grandly. Her knowing grin made him squirm in his seat and swear he wouldn't look up from his bowl ever again.

It was when he felt bare toes creeping up the inside of his leg that he fell apart. Whipping off his napkin then slamming it down on the table, he excused himself and hid in his study. It took him a full 45 minutes to calm down enough to consider going back into the dining room. He thought better of it, instead pouring himself a generous helping of brandy, he sat with his empty pipe and latest Stephen King epic on his lap unable to read a word. His eyes glazed over and he flicked the switch on the standard lamp smothering the room in warm darkness.

Moments later they sneaked into the study. Before he could announce he was sitting there in the dark, he heard muffled giggles, slurping kisses and clothes hitting the floor. With his humiliation almost complete, he placed the brandy balloon silently on the desk and poked his fingers in his ears[,] closing his eyes tight.

His wife found him that way an hour later. He'd fallen into a deep sleep, looking rather comical with unlit pipe in his mouth and his fingers in his ears. Marion smiled, woke him, then helped him to walk up the staircase to their room. She helped him undress then dressed herself in the only way she knew would help ease his need. His second sleep was more peaceful and the smile still hadn't left his face a week later.

 

[Alex De Kok]

I've amended 'Every Cloud', but I have ignored some of the suggested 'comma to replace period' suggestions. I used the period because I wanted to imply a more definite break.

I've amended 'A Natural Viewpoint. One rewording, and one comma suggestion accepted.

I've amended 'I get my looks from my Pa'.
(The Cimarron is in New Mexico.)

Alex

 

[Guest]

 

[wildsweetone]

1. Alex

MathGirl has given us permission to change the tiny things that needed altering in her stories. I suggest that the changes can be made when copy and pasting the stories into the submission form.

Also Alex, thanks for editing my stories for me. I'll get to them on Monday (mine).



2. Thanks for adding your 'edited' posts here. Much appreciated.


3. It is every author's right to choose whether to accept my suggestions or not. I take no offence whatsoever.

 

[wildsweetone]

Alex I've gone through Sisterly Love. For the life of me right at this moment I am unable to think of a different title. I'll check in again tomorrow and see if I've thought of one by then.

 

[wildsweetone]

jon's story has now been titled. I choose - 'A Stranger Rides Into Town'.

Hannah has been altered by jon.

 

[wildsweetone]

Sam and Janet's Evening by PierceStreet

Sam Thompson pulled into his driveway just after dark. His hour commute from the factory in a nearby town back home to Snippettsville was done for another day. Thinking he and his wife might go out for a drink, he left the car out front instead of pulling it around to the back of the house.

He was surprised to find his wife Janet already asleep in their darkened bedroom. She murmured something when he walked in. She was asleep on her side, her back to Sam. Sam stepped out of his clothes, and slid under the covers with her. He was a little surprised to find her sleeping nude. She only did that when she wanted sex. His prick hardened, delighted at the surprise. He slipped his arms around her, and fondled her breasts as he started to kiss her neck.

Janet’s deep moan of passion surprised him. She reached over and found him and started pulling at him. “I must have woken her during an erotic dream”,(dream,") he thought. His wife normally needed more foreplay to get going. His hand reached lower, and confirmed she was ready. His fingers stroked her, moving to her clit when he sensed she needed it.

Before he expected it, she wanted him. She raised herself to her knees and offered herself doggy style. He was thrilled. She loved this position because of the penetration it allowed, but thought it impersonal so she rarely wanted it this way. Janet’s long dirty blonde hair covered her face as she buried her head to the pillow as he entered her.

Sam was amazingly turned on by the unexpected opportunity, and his wife’s seeming quick passion. He too loved doggy style. He loved grabbing her tits and fingering her clit while he fucked her. Both of them wanted it hard; almost brutal fucking. Janet buried her face in the pillow and screamed as orgasm after orgasm ripped through her. He was thrilled by his power tonight over her. Multi-orgasms were rare for her. He also was glad the pillow was muffling her screams. A hot night, every window was open, and not(and if not) for the pillows, the neighbors would think he was murdering her. He started to come, and like hers, his orgasm seemed to last longer then(than) most nights. He was totally spent when it was over, and motionless, remained in her. When he finally withdrew, she rolled to her side again, and with a mighty sigh, was asleep.

Sam slipped out of bed and gathered his clothes. He dressed in the hallway and went downstairs to see what he could find for dinner.

His wife was sitting at the kitchen table, watching the news on the little TV they had in there. “Hi hon.(comma)” she said cheerfully. “My sister got in a day early. She drove the last 20 hours straight through. I didn’t have the guest room ready yet since I was expecting her until tomorrow. Jane was so exhausted, I put my twin down on our bed. I’ll make up the guest room for us tonight.

“You look hungry. Ready for dinner?”

 

[wildsweetone]

Every town needs a Road House by PierceStreet

Eighty-three year old Agnes Carlson was normally quick to vault from bed as soon as she started to awake. Even though widowed and having buried one child, a car accident, she was usually eager to start the day.

Today, she reveled(revelled) in the waking moments, remembering a wonderful dream from the night. She’d been at the Road House, taking dancing lessons. That much was true; she had been at the Road House the previous evening.

The Road House is an important part of Snippettsville culture..(delete one full stop) “What a name.,”(delete full stop) thought Agnes each time she drove into its parking lot. “Sounds like a dive. Guess it is, later at night.”

By day, the Road House, three miles outside of town, was a restaurant for passing motorists. Dinner time it also attracted families from town. Early evening, the place filled with teens attracted by the video games while the banquet room was often used by groups such as Agnes’ dance club. After ten, the teens were booted out, and the bar spilled over into the restaurant. The lights were dimmed and some tables were moved aside for dancing. Weekends, there was a live band.

In the dream, Agnes danced with Stanton James. He had moved back to town after recently losing his wife.

She hadn’t seen him since he came back from the war. He’d stayed long enough to woo his wife, Doris, and then they left for a life in Seattle, where a war buddy had promised him a job. The job started him on a promising career, and he and Doris rarely returned home to visit Snippetsville.

In the dream, Stanton was tall and distinguished. He’d been such a frail looking boy back in the ‘40’s(full stop) Too frail to send to war, the girls thought. The girls of Snippettsville couldn’t fight in World War II, but they found a way to contribute. If the government’s draft board regarded an eighteen year old boy as able to fight as a man, and maybe die as a man, then the women of Snippettsville would make sure he left town as a man.

The night Agnes spread her legs for him in the back of his Dad’s Studebaker out at Green Lake, she thought she was his first. She didn’t find out until later that her friend Doris had beaten her to him, so it was Doris he wrote to during the war and returned to marry.

Agnes didn’t find reason to complain. She’d had a wonderful time with him, and there were more boys to make men after Stanton shipped out. One returned to marry her, but he had passed(passed on - i think) a few years back.

Last night, recalling the dream, Stanton was there at the dance. Agnes and Stanton danced comfortably together. Later, in the parking lot, she invited him for coffee. “Funny,” she thought, “how behavior that would have been scandalous and suggestive for a younger woman, is perceived as innocent when you are in your eighties.”

They made out on her couch like teenagers. Her hands reached down and found Stanton was still a virile man. Almost as if her touch ignited something desperately needy in him, an almost violent passion erupted that would have shocked a young observer, had their(there) been one. Their first time was on the couch, followed by another later in bed.

Agnes realized her body was responding to the dream’s memory. “I’d better quit this.,”(delete full stop) she chided herself. “There is no sex in your life, hasn’t been in years, and will never be again.,”(delete full stop) she spoke to herself sternly.

Someone touched her back. “Darling, are you awake.”