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Cruisin' Kent - Part 2
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
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This is part two. If you've not
read part on, write me, and I'll
send it.
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Typical Legal shit
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Side note: not that any of you care, but I've
just lost my mind. I decided to work on this
from home, just so I wouldn't have to face
any more granola bars this weekend. As a result,
I'm being bothered by my dog. In an attempt
to tick him off enough to go away, I just discovered
that whipped cream covered dog biscuits are
really not that bad. However, whipped cream
should never, *ever* be used as a substitute
for Hellmann's when making tuna salad, or as a
topping for sharp cheddar cheese. Brie, maybe. (Like
any good bachelor, I wait until the exact last moment
to go to the grocery store.) This is the neat
kind of discovery that you make every day
when you're me. And yet, oddly enough, I can't
find anyone who says that they'd like to trade
lives....hmmmm....
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So, here Christine and I are, without Eileen. Conversation
ranges all over for a couple hours, and when we try to find Eileen
and Steve, they've already left. I wasn't one to complain, I asked
Christine if she'd mind if I took her home.
As long as I live, I'll never beleive what she said to me. "I'd
rather just go over to your house, if you want to."
That made my day, needless to say. After the rather long trip
back home, with both of us still as nervous around the other as when
we first met, we entered my home, and immediately headed for the basement.
(It's more than just a bedroom, there's a living room down there, too.
Get your mind out of the gutter.) We sat down on the couch, and she
immediately started playing with my disc changer. Finally, she got a disc
she liked in my player, and sat back down beside me.
We talked for a few minutes, and I decided to continue with
my "brave" act. I reached over and kissed her.
You know what it is that they say about shy girls, right?
It's true. No sooner did my lips touch hers than she was all over me,
hands, lips, body, all pressed against me, climing on top of me. We fell
onto the floor, and before I knew it, she had already gotten hers and
my shirt off, and was working on my pants. I was still reeling in shock-
as any shy person will tell you, when they make the first move, they're
expecting to get rejected in one form or another...not raped. So, being
pinned under this girl, who I was thinking to be as shy and nervous as
I was (And she was. She was just waiting for me to make the first move.),
and being stripped. (Gentlemen, I've said it before and I'll say it
again. Oo-rah!)
Talk about being worked over. She slides her body down mine,
(which at this point is covered in sweat, both from the heat of the
moment and the room), licking everything that she comes across. As she
flicks her tongue across my nipples (Ladies, if you've never done this
to a man, try it sometime. You'll be pleased with the result.), I damn
near hit the ceiling. Wow. He tongue has this amazing ability to move
like an organic vibrator...it's moving so fast that I can't keep up with
it. And finally, I found someone who is as sensitive to nails on the back
as I am. (Happy happy joy joy, happy happy joy joy....) She took in a sharp
gasp of breath, and as she did so, clenched her teeth together. Now, for
the most part, I'm bothered by pain, unless it's caused by fingernails
or teeth. ('cept someone was talking to me today about the idea of a woman
dragging a knife across my chest whilst I was making wild passionate love
to her, and that thought didn't strike me as being anything undesireable,
either. Gotta try that someday. (I can hear you...really I can. You're
saying, "Whoah! Call Fallsview, the Muttster has *really* lost it this
time." All I can say is, "They're coming to take me away, ha ha, they're
coming to take me away, ho ho, hee hee, ha ha to the funny farm, where
life is beautiful all the time, and I'll be happy to see those nice
young men in their clean white coats and they're coming to take me away,
ha ha haaaaaa...." (Really, it's a good idea not to get me singing that.
I can go on for hours.)) Anyway, if anyone out there has tried that, I'd
like to hear some feedback on it. (The knife thing, not sitting in
a padded cell in a straight jacket.)) I was in exquisite agony, as she
damn near bit my left nipple off. (To this day, I can't wear a shirt with
an embroidered design over the left pocket. Hurts like HELL.)
That was enough to get my mind where it should have been at this
point. I turned her over, (Even though she said, "Hey! I'm not finished!"),
and started licking my way down her neck, and body. I carefully orchestrated
my hands and mouth so that everything but her most sensitive parts were
manipulated to my bidding. With each moan, with each attemt to get me
where she wanted me to be, I moved further away from where she was directing
my hands. I gently cupped her breasts, and lightly licked just the very
tip of her nipple. The wavering, groaning wail that I elicited from her
was enough to tell me, "Hoss, you dun' good. Keep that up, an' I reckon
she'll fuck ya silly." (I know you just said, "That shouldn't take long.
This guy's already silly enough.) So I pressed my mouth down on her breast,
taking the whole areaola in, and pressed my tongue flat against her nipple,
rolling it around in my mouth. I thought she was going to push her fingers
clear inside the back of my skull. (Not that a lobotomy would have made much
difference, anyway. All the blood had already rushed to the other head.)
My hand tried to do the same to her other breast, but couldn't. (Seriously,
if a hand could generate suction, do you think I'd *ever* leave the house?
Not hardly. (They're coming to take me away, ha ha....)) Anyway, while I was
sucking on one, and massaging the other, she was squirming and gasping,
and making all of those wonderful sounds that make me so glad to be a
heterosexual man. (Sorry, but I could never be gay. Men just don't have
large enough breasts or make good enough sounds. In all my life, I've
never heard a man squeak. And speaking of men, we're pretty ugly for
the most part, too. For example, from what I can tell, David Lee Roth
isn't exactly considered ugly by the female population. As far as I
can tell, he's a throwback on the evolutionary scale. This hairy,
testosterone filled thing jumping around on a stage nearly naked. I
just don't get it. (I definately shouldn't watch MTV while I write. VH1,
maybe, but comedy club is on, and I'd get nothing accompished.)) As I
left her breasts behind, I felt her breathing grow more rapid while
I moved further down her body.
That's when she decided that since I wouldn't let her finish
that little trek down the happy trail, she wouldn't let me, either.
She rolled me back over, and began kissing her way down me. When she
got to my bellybutton, I rolled her back over, (Ooo...she was furious...)
and turned my body so we were in a "69".
Neat. That's the only thing there is to say about 69ing...Neat.
As I licked, probed, sucked, fondled, etc her sweet little honeypot, she
was sucking the hell out of my cock. I felt her take it into her throat -
(I don't see how y'all can do it. I tried with the handle of a hairbrush and
couldn't stop gagging.) so I pressed two fingers into her opening.
Wow. She took in another sharp gasp of breath, and the suction created
by that was enough to nearly pull my nuts through my dick. I went at her
slit with more gusto than I thought I could. I licked her little clit, while
putting my thumb in her cunt and my forefinger in her asshole, and trying
to rub them together. She exploded. She came so hard I thought she was
going to bite me in half. That was all the incentive I needed, I shot
a load of hot jizz down her throat. (Another reason I could never, ever
handle being gay. Eeeeee.....) I guess it wasn't the best time to do that,
seeing as she still wasn't one with the world yet. Guess it sort of
wrecks coming down from an orgasm to choke.
So, needless to say, I was feeling pretty guilty about that.
Last thing I needed to do was kill this poor, wonderful girl.
She got her breath back, and let me know that she bore no ill feelings
by throwing me down and impaling herself on my cock. She was plenty
wet from the saliva and her last orgasm, and it went in fairly easily.
We took things sort of slowly for a while, rocking back and
forth, just enjoying the feel of being connected. Her silky smooth
pussy, dripping its juices all over my lap, gently contracting as I stroked
in and out of her was the most exquisitely beautiful feeling that I could
imagine. She started to pick up the pace, and threw herself down on my
chest, her erect nipples pressed firmly against mine (a cool experience to
say the least) and started chewing on my neck. I kept up with the pace
she was setting. Her breath became more rapid, she started moaning and
that soon gave way to loud screams as another orgasm rocketed through
her body, followed by another, and another. (I could feel my head
expanding to accomodate my ego.) Her body was shivering with the
intensity...God how I envy women. (If *I* could have a multiple orgasm,
I'd never leave the house.)
As the world came back to join her, she started getting back
into the movements that she was doing before she came her brains out.
This time, though, since her pussy was quivering, and she was shaking
herself, it was like her whole body was vibrating around my cock,
and I went off like a gunshot.
We lay there, cuddling for a few minutes, and then she got
an idea. She told me to go lay on the bed, and she'd be right back.
I just assumed she was going to the bathroom. (While she was gone,
I took the opportunity to sop up the juice off the floor, and towel
off my chest. (Doncha *hate* it when the two of you are both
sweaty as hell, and you press together and your chests fart? That is
just so annoying.)) She killed the light at the top of the stairs,
making the room much much darker. (The whole place was being lit by the
stereo. It was very dark.) She slowly made her way to my bed, (remember,
dark, unfamiliar room), and I heard this strange hissing sound when
she got there.
I thought that the water heater had blown until I felt something
icy cold on my chest. I saw a sort of whitish glow coming from the area,
and in the dim light, I saw that she as spraying whipped cream all over
me. (I *knew* that there was *something* good to top with that whipped
cream other than dog biscuits. (And if you don't know what I'm talking
about, I suggest you start reading the headers of my stories. They're
usually my favorite parts.)) (Oh, cool. Pete Gabriel, "Sledgehammer"
on VH1. Great video, great channel.) Somehow, through wonderful timing,
the changer finally hit "Young Lust" by Floyd just as she started licking
it off. (For the heathen out there, it's the song that goes, "Ooooh,
I need a dirty woman." from The Wall. If you've not seen it, listened
to the disc, what have you, do so. It'll give you great insight into
life in general.)
We took turns eating whipped cream off of each other, and
shortly after we got tired of that, she showed me the next thing
she'd scouted up while she was scavenging my kitchen. (Stale granola
bars - no, no, that's not it.) Well, she didn't exactly show me
becasue it was dark. But she rubbed it on me. It had the consistency
of peanut butter, but was very cold. She licked that off and deposited
it in my mouth. Cream cheese. Eileen *had* told her a lot about me.
(Cream cheese equates to sex in my mind. Hell, with Eileen, sometimes
a nice cream cheese bagel was preferable to sex. (Oh, My God. I've just
seen everything. A video of what keys to push to operate your computer.
As a CS major, I might be a little biased, but I really don't think
people that stupid should be allowed to use computers. To make things
worse, whilst flipping through channels to have something decently
entertaining in the background for when my fingers get tired, I actually
got interested in the US Open. I've always thought that watching golf
on TV was a bad enough sign of no life, but I was actually enjoying it.
Has something to do with not having golfed in 3 weeks. And while
I'm on the subject, I was watching the LPGA tourney a couple weeks
ago, and I was just wondering if there were any attractive women
golfers. I've never seen one on the course, and definately not in the
LPGA. Any ideas? Also, why the hell isn't Niclaus on the leader board?
Why why why?))
As we played with each other and the food for a while, we
found ourselves getting hotter and hotter. She was rolling over when her
hand brushed against one of those eyehooks on the side of my bed. She
asked what they were for, and I told her to be creative. She asked me
if there was anything around that she could use on them. I told her that
she was a pretty good scout, find something.
Apparently, while she was going through my kitchen, she found
the mother lode of bungee cords. (I don't know why we have over 35
two and three foot long bungee cords. I live in a weird house.) She came
back with those, and proceeded to tie me down.
This was not a good time for the doorbell to ring. Not a good
time at all. That set the dog off, and the dog woke the parents up.
Now, with all the time that Mom had spent trying to get Eileen and I
put back together, she was more than happy to see that "Her future
daughter-in-law" (ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha. Not as long as I have
any say in my future, she isn't.) was standing on the doorstep. She
decided to "escort" Eileen to come find me. (At 5 in the morning. Mom
somehow knew that I'd be up anyway.) Fortunately, Christine had enough
presence of mind to get a cover over us, but she didn't have a chance to get
my arms hidden from the eagle eye of my mom.
"WHATTHAFUCKIZGOINGONHERE?!?!?!?", the holy terror barked at
me. She doesn't like to space out her words. Especially when she's
mad. I really didn't want to move back home, but I had no choice. Now,
I was realizing just why that was.
I long ago learned that it's much more fun to tell mom the
truth about what my plans are, and what's going on. She'll ask me
where I'm going, I tell her I'm going to get good and stoned and fuck
the hell out of someone. It always gets her panties in a knot. So, I
say, "Kinky sex, mom, and now that you're here, it just got kinkier."
That seemed to piss her off enough to leave her speechless, so she stormed
upstairs to make fish faces at my father. (It's great. When she's really
pissed, she moves her mouth like she's talking, but she doesn't say
anything. It's just like a fish. I do whatever I have to to make her do
that.)
That's when the real trouble started. (No, not because of
dad. He's just happy I'm not gay, so as long as I'm boning a woman, he
doesn't get mad. No, the trouble was with Eileen.)
"What the *fuck* are you doing?", she asked.
"Making wild passionate love. Care to join us?", I asked. "Oh,
nevermind. For a moment, I forgot who I was talking to."
Eileen is not susceptible to cases of fishface. She can talk
when she's pissed. "I wasn't talking to you.", she snapped.
"Fucking like crazed bunnies. Wanna go away?", Christine said,
smugly.
"I came to get you. Remember, we live in Cleveland, and if I have
you out all night, your father will ground you for life."
"I'm 22, there's not much he can do."
I just wanted Eileen to go away, and voiced that opinion. Since
we broke up, I've never been to quiet about my opinion of her. However,
I knew the she-bitch upstairs would be raising hell, and didn't need for
Christine to see that. So I told her that we'd *definately* see more of
each other, and sent her home with Eileen. (And no, I didn't do that
for an excuse for a one night stand. This actually went on for quite
a while. I'll tell more of our sexploits in part three.)
So they left.
And I didn't.
But I should have.
My father came down stairs. He was pissed. I was surprised.
"I don't mind that you're fucking some girl in my house. In
fact, son, I'm proud of you. She's quite a little number.", he said.
Letch bastard. "What I do mind, however, is being dragged out of bed
by that psycho woman upstairs to tell me that you're into S&M. I don't
care what it is you do-"
I cut him off. "That's not S&M, dad. It's light bondage. S&M
requires more toys than I could find here."
He didn't want to hear it. "Shut the hell up. I want to say
this, to appease your mother, and go back to bed. Anyway...I don't
care what you do, but for God's sake could you at least not wake us
up when you're doing the kinky shit?"
"Sure dad. I didn't mean for you to wake up. I didn't expect
Satan- er, Eileen to show up."
"Oh, that's another thing. Your mother wants me to try to
convince you to get back together with her. She's all broken up about
her divorce."
"Tell Mom that as soon as she is willing to sew shut every
orifice in her body, I'll get back together with Eileen. It was all
I could do to not kick her in the birth canal. If I wasn't tied down,
I probably would have done it. Doesn't Mom have any clue that Eileen
screwed me up for life? Any at all?"
"Have you ever tried explaining anything to that woman? You
might as well discuss Neitzsche with Bear for all the good it would
do you." At the mention of his name, Bear stretched and walked over
to my dad, looking him in the eyes, almost imploring him to shut up. Bear
and I have some very similar philosophies on the droning of my father.
"Can I tell her you'll think about it?"
"Slight adulteration of the truth. I'll think about it as a
form of self-abuse, should I decide to get into that. Really, just
talking about it has made me nauseous."
With that, he went to bed.
The next morning, bright and early, Steve called. (The guy who
I set up with Eileen.) He wanted to know why I sent a dead woman home
with him. Apparently, they did have sex, and she hasn't improved in the
two years we've been apart. Heh heh heh. It's no surprise to me that
she got a divorce...get more out of a handjob....
So, all in all, that evening could have gone better.
But Chrissie and I got together again real soon........
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End part II. Part three will come out just as soon
as I have the time.
G'night, all!
Mike
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