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Fools Rush In
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.
Subject: FOOLS RUSH IN (mf, cons, phone, satire)
Date: Fri Jun 2 11:31:59 1995
FOOLS RUSH IN
By Joe Parsons
"And you, sir, are just another one of those liberal,
dope-smoking, pencil-necked geeks, just like our (heh)
Commander-in-Chief." I signaled to Marty, my engineer, and the
call was terminated. I pounded the desk for effect.
"My friends," I said, in my most robust, radio-trained voice,
"this is just another example of the failure of our liberal,
Commie school system. Why, that guy couldn't even converse
coherently with someone like" --I paused for dramatic
effect--"your charmingly humble host. My Friends, you can
always tell a liberal Commie: they just seem to turn to mush
when they get onto the radio in front of tens of millions of
Real Americans, you good folks who are a part of the
Wonderfulness in Radio Network. We'll be back in just a
moment, after this word from Far-Right Randy's Spotted Owl
Delicacies." I pointed through the glass at Marty and the
commercial began running.
I unbuttoned my collar and loosened my tie; the extra pounds I'd
put on over the last few months seemed to have settled around
my neck. Time to buy a larger shirt size, I thought. Business
had never been better; the day I found my calling skewering
those Commie liberals was the day my fortune began to be made.
Millions upon millions of people were tuning in every day,
wanting to talk to me on the radio; I was a but a humble conduit
for the noble cause of Conservatism, yes: prayer in the
schools, spotted owls and California Condors on every table.
Life was good: I'd gone from being an obscure talk show host in
a 250 watt AM station in the backwoods, to being the idol of
millions. Why, Presidents even wanted to talk to me from Air
Force One! I'd take his call, too--as long as he was on the
"right" side of the fence. The one we have now, why, he
wouldn't even get past my screeners! Ah, yes! Free speech.
What a wonderful land we live in!
Pulling down a hundred, two hundred thou a week, net is not too
bad either. I hope to God we never get a Conservative
President--my material would all be gone in a flash.
I laced my fingers over my ample belly, leaning back in my chair
as the commercial and station I.D.'s finished. Marty held up
three fingers, then two, then one, then pointed at me and my
microphone and headphones came alive again.
"My Friends, we are Back!" I said in the cultured, resonant
tones that had become my trademark. The lights on the
telephone board blinked at me, and the computer screen gave me
summaries of each caller on the line: where they were calling
from, their first name, how long they'd been holding, and what
they wanted to talk about. I read a bleeding heart liberal
article about how whales and dolphins were being slaughtered,
then followed it with our musical rendition of "Whales and
Dolphins, all Mixed in a Stew." It was some of my best work,
and I knew millions of Real Americans across the Fruited Plain
were listening to it and being edified. As the tape was playing
I scanned the computer screen. My eye fell on a name: Eve,
from some town up north. I hadn't had a woman on the air for
some time, and since most women calling my show tend to be of,
shall we say, a "feminist" bent (and I know just how to handle
them), I thought we'd have some fun. The tape ended, and I
punched up Eve's phone button.
"Eve, you are on the air with...Me! Gush Plumbob, the most
beloved man in America, the idol of all Real Americans. What
did you want to tell me, Eve? Just speak right up, my dear;
there's just ten or twenty million Real Americans about to hang
on your every word." I always enjoyed putting my callers at
ease by telling them how many people were listening to...My
Show. Callers are often just a touch nervous when they get on
the air with...Me: Gush Plumbob, the idol of all Real
Americans, the Scourge of the Commie Liberals.
"Gush?" The voice in my headset was strangely self-assured,
lower in pitch than I had been prepared for. As she spoke my
name I felt for some strange reason that there were some other
layers of meaning, as though she was speaking to me at some
other level.
"Yes...go ahead, Eve, is it? What did you want to say to these
millions of Real Americans across the Fruited Plain? Just speak
right up, Eve. Were you calling to complain about the
Femi-whatchamacallits? Some drunken liberal senator from the
northeast? Did you have some wonderful, juicy allegations we
could spread across the airwaves? The Wonderfulness in Radio
Network is at your disposal." She was quiet as I delivered my
catch-phrases, so beloved by the masses of Real Americans.
"No, Gush; I really wanted to talk about you." She spoke
slowly, and the slight husky quality of her voice seemed to
fill my head. I found it difficult to concentrate on skewering
Liberals.
"Me! Of course! Everyone wants to talk about...Gush Plumbob:
the idol of Real Americans across the Fruited Plain, Friend to
Industry and the Common Man alike." I was finding my stride
again. I waited for her to respond.
"I wanted to talk to you, Gush. Do you know what I might do if
I were there with you?"
"Excuse me?" If I didn't know better, I would think this woman
with the hypnotic voice was trying to...seduce me! Right here
on the air!
"I'd sit in your lap," she purred, "and put my fingers inside
your shirt." I looked up at my engineer, but he was engrossed
in his comic book, as usual. My hand hovered over the phone
button, ready to cut the connection. I was finding her voice
strangely arousing as it cooed inside my head. I couldn't
think of anything to say; Me! Gush Plumbob, the Idol of all
Real Americans! At a loss for words. And all because of
this...voice, this Eve talking to me in my headset.
"Then as I sat on your lap," she continued, her voice
breathless, I'd feel your little cock getting hard against
me..." Oh, my God! I couldn't believe what I'd heard! I hit
the phone button with one hand to cut the connection, the
intercom toggle with the other.
"Goddam it, Marty!" I screamed at the engineer. "You're
supposed to catch this shit!" He sat placidly behind his glass
in the booth, reading his comic book. Eve's voice continued in
my ear.
"And then I'd reach behind my back, and I'd unhook my bra, and
let my tits free..." I stabbed at the phone button again, but
her voice continued. "I'd take off my blouse, and bring your
mouth down to my nipples...yeah, that's it..."
"Marty! Get this bitch off the phone, Goddam it! We're on the
fucking air, and you know the fucking FCC listens to this show!"
I turned all the controls to zero, watching the VU meters
slump against their stops. Eve's voice continued in my
ear."And then, I'd just slide slowly off your lap, and unzip
your fly, and I'd take out your hard little cock..." I was in
a state of panic; my engineer was ignoring my screams and
shouts, and Eve was cooing in my ears as though it were the
most natural thing in the world. I buried my head in my hands,
defeated.
"I'd love to have your little cock in my mouth. Would you like
that, baby?"
"Yes," I said from behind my hands. I didn't know if the mike
was live, or if any of this was going out on the air. I thought
it might be a gag, but I didn't know anyone who had a sense of
humor. Something was happening, and I was powerless to stop it.
"Ohhhh," she sighed. "It would be so good, baby, to have you in
my mouth, tasting your little cock. Would you let me do that?"
Her voice was the most sensuous thing I had ever heard.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"I just want to talk to you, Gush. And I want to make you feel
good. Don't you want that?" I looked down at my lap, seeing
the bulge--the first erection I'd had in a couple of years.
"Listen," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I'd like to
talk to you, too, but we can't talk right now. I'm at work.
Give me a phone number, and maybe I can give you a call after my
show.
"Okay," she said. "Write this number down; it's my private
exchange, so make sure to get all the numbers." I grabbed a
pencil.
"Go ahead."
"First, I want you to dial these numbers: 10509. Did you get
that?"
"10509," I repeated back to her. "What the hell kind of area
code is that?
"That's my private exchange," she said. "Now the rest of the
numbers are: 1-514-851-1599. Did you get that?"
"1-514-851-1599. Got it." I looked at the numbers I'd written
on my pad, then at the clock on the wall. My show (what was
left of it) was almost over.
"I'll be waiting for you, Lover. Please don't keep me waiting.
'Bye." Her voice, so breathy, seemed to fade away into nothing,
and the light on the panel winked out.
Suddenly, the VU meters sprang to life on the board, and Eve's
voice in my headset was replaced by the raucous sounds of "Clear
Cut the Rainforest," a perennial favorite with my fans, the
"Colonheads." I looked up at Marty and he signaled that I had
another caller cued up. I nodded to him and a coarse voice
grated in my ears.
"Mega-Colons there, Gush!" the voice boomed. "I just wanted to
talk about them dam' liberals in Warsh'ton, and all them fags
and commies." Ordinarily, this was my stock in trade, but for
some reason, my heart just wasn't in it at the moment."Thanks
for calling," I said, quickly. "We seem to be all out of
time." I drew my finger across my throat and the voice went
away, replaced by a message from one of our many Conservative
sponsors. I heard my own recorded voice pitching subscriptions
to "The Illustrated Conservative's Comix," always a big seller
among the Colonheads.
The commercial segued into my theme music, and the show was
over. I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door, intent on
getting to my office without being seen by one of my many fans
on this floor. Miraculously, I made it without being hounded
for my autograph. But then, I usually did make it.
I ducked into my large office and closed and locked the door. I
slumped in my large leather chair behind my large desk and
looked at the portraits on my wall: large images of every
Republican president ever to be elected. They gazed at me
sternly. At the far end of my office was a small shrine:
portraits of Senators McCarthy, Helms, Gingrich; My People, all
of them.
I fished in my shirt pocket for the scrap of paper I had used to
write Eve's strange phone number. I stared at it for a long
moment. The numbers seemed to take on a life of their own.
Finally, I picked up the phone, hit the "do not disturb" button,
and began dialing the numbers: 10509-1-514-851-1599. Stupid
woman. Why couldn't she just get a normal number like other
Real Americans?
"Hello?" Her voice was low and breathy, just as it had been
earlier, interrupting my show.
"Is this, um, Eve?" I asked, already recognizing her voice,
feeling a little foolish. I wondered if this was how some of
the callers to my show felt.
"Hello, Gush. I'm so glad you called. Are you all alone now?"
"Yes, I am," I said, feeling my heart starting to beat faster at
the sound of her voice.
"So am I, she said. "I'm all by myself here, in the house, just
waiting to talk to you. If we were together, what do you think
we might do?"
"I don't know; what do you mean?" I thought I had an idea, but
I didn't want to say it.
"Okay...how about if I sat on your desk in front of you, and I
let you unbutton my blouse, would you like that?" I imagined
what that must be like; the closest I'd ever come to seeing a
woman's bare chest was peeking at Mary Ann Foley in the locker
room in high school, but that was a long time ago. I said I'd
like to unbutton her blouse.
"And then, I'd take off my bra, and I'd let you just bury your
face between my big breasts, and kiss my nipples, and you could
feel them get all hard in your mouth as you kissed and licked
and sucked them. Would you like that, Gush? Would you, baby?"
I had a vivid mental picture of a beautiful woman sitting in
front of me, offering her soft, breasts to me. It seemed s
though I could smell her clean scent.
"And then, I'd pull my skirt up, and you'd see that I don't wear
any panties, and I'd just put my hands behind your head, and
pull you to my pussy. And I'm already so wet, just thinking
about you, licking my pussy. Would you do that for me, baby?
Would you? "Yes. Yes, I would." I had never heard a woman
speak this way. She was so open about sex, not like my mother,
for instance. I don't think my mother even HAD sex, except
maybe once. That would be when she had...Me; the idol of
all...well, maybe I could give it a rest. Eve's voice
continued in my ear--breathy, seductive, sweet.
"And you could taste the juices of my pussy, and you make me so
wet, with your mouth, and your tongue." I unzipped my fly and
pulled my cock out, in spite of myself--after all, most
Conservatives like myself do try to avoid any sort of
involvement in gratuitous sex.
"Then I'd take my skirt off, and I'd be naked for you, and you'd
just look at me--my big tits, and I'd let you kiss and fondle
them, and my pussy, and you could see how wet I am. I spread my
legs, so you can see how my clit sticks out, and I pull your
mouth down to me--" (she gasped sharply) "Oh, yes! That's
it--right there...just like that." I licked my lips, feeling as
though my mouth had been against her.
"I'd slide down off the desk, and get down between your legs.
I'd take your cock in my hands, and just gently kiss it, just on
the tip, tasting your pre-come. Does that feel good, baby? Do
you like that?" I was breathing faster, knowing what her lips
would feel like, kissing my cock.
"And then, I'd open my lips, and slo-o-o-wly move down the
length of your penis, until all of you was in my mouth. I'd
just hold you there for a moment, then I'd move my lips up and
down your shaft, up and down, and I'd be tasting your pre-come,
and flicking the tip of your hard cock with my tongue...does
that feel good, baby? Do you like that?" My breath was coming
in quick gasps now, and I could hardly hold on to the
telephone. My entire world seemed to have contracted to the
sound of Eve's voice in my ear and the sensations growing in my
penis.
"I'd reach between your legs, and I'd just hold your balls, so
gently, because I don't want to hurt them...and I'd put them in
my mouth and lick them all over, gently. Does that feel good?
Do you like that, lover?" I couldn't answer coherently. I was
washed in pleasure.
"Would you like to fuck me, baby? Would you like to put that
beautiful cock in my hot pussy? I'm just aching to have you
inside me. Would you please fuck me, Gush? Would you, baby?"
She pleaded, moaning.
"Yes! Yes! Please let me fuck you! Please..." This was not a
fantasy; I could taste her on my tongue, feel her wet lips on
my cock.
"I'll straddle you, spread my legs on each side of you, and then
I'll just slo-o-o-wly lower my pussy onto your cock.
Mmmm...that feels so good. Your cock feels so good, so deep in
my pussy. Does that feel good for you, too, baby?" I could
feel her warmth, her slickness surrounding me. I heard sounds
of moaning and realized the sounds were coming from me.
"Are you gonna come, baby? I want your come inside me, Gush,
please come inside me, baby..."
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" The sound escaping from my throat was the
release of dozens of years of repressed desires, past
humiliations, failures. My body was awash in pleasurable
sensations I had never experienced before. I clung to the
telephone as though it were a lifeline. Eve was still cooing
sweetly in my ear.
"You're so good, Gush...oh, yes, baby, that feels so good.
Mmmm...so good." I slumped, spent, in my big leather chair
behind my big desk, rows of Conservatives glaring down at me. I
averted my eyes from Senator McCarthy's accusing stare.
"Gush, baby?"
I had to work to find my voice. "Yeah?"
"Do you feel better now, baby?" I thought for a moment. I had
to admit, these were unaccustomed feelings.
"As a matter of fact, I think I do," I admitted. I didn't know
I had felt bad before, but I certainly felt better now. Almost
like a different man, in fact.
"I'm so glad," she said, warmly. "I have to go now, but will
you call me again? Soon?"
"Yeah," I said. "I've got your number right here." I put my
hand on the crumpled scrap of paper with her long telephone
number. "I'll call again sometime." And I meant it.
"I hope so, she said." I'll be waiting here for you." And she
was gone. I looked at the silent receiver in my hand for a
moment before replacing it on its cradle. I sat there for
several long moments, thinking about this strange conversation
with this strange woman.
Finally I stood up, arranged my clothes, and one by one, turned
each portrait of each stern Conservative politician to face the
wall.
*****************************************************************
The events depicted in this story are (mostly) fictitious--the
product of the warped imagination of the author.
One part of this narrative that is NOT fiction, however, is the
telephone number: in case it went by too quickly, it is
10509-1-514-851-1599; you might want to call that number and
talk to one of Eve's colleagues. There is a catch, but it is a
small one: you'll pay $3.99 per minute, and you'll be on the
phone for 5 to 12 minutes, typically (your mileage may vary).
Of course, if you've been hanging around Usenet much, you
already know about Joe Parsons and had already come to the
conclusion that there was some sort of hidden agenda.
Congratulations! You've just found it (sort of like "Where's
Waldo," except Waldo never gets his rocks off, as far as I
know).
If you'd like to learn more about telephone sex, find
"Phonesex--the Straight Scoop" and "Phonesex--the FAQ" at a
newsgroup near you. The author will try to fulfill requests by
email, but he would appreciate requests for reposts instead.
If you are one of our neighbors outside of the Continental U.S.
and thus unable to call this number, take heart: our first
release of audio erotica is due out just after the Holiday
Shopping Season (clever timing!). These are original erotic
audio dramas on cassette. All will feature two full-length
dramas on each cassette, with digital sound, original music
score, and hot action to appeal to your head and your heart as
well as your groin. Watch for the release announcement, coming
to a Usenet Newsgroup near you.
Joe Parsons [email protected]
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