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Jessica
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.
I'm going to try something new. I'm going to write about what's going
on in my life *while it's happening*. No hindsight, no retrospect.
JESSICA
a NEW story (I know, it's about fucking time) by
Muttley, the wonder dog.
**************************************************************
Confused. In a word, I am confused. (Of course, my .sig will tell
you that I'm proud of that fact, but it can be hectic.)
I recently poked my head out of the closet, and announced to everyone,
(even, accidentally, my mother (she has an e-mail account, and I forwarded
her something and forgot to take off my .sig...ooops..)) that I'm happily
undecided, and was somewhat disappointed when absolutely no-one, even my
father, (who was told by Wonder Ma) was surprised.
"I just figured that you were gay, Sam.", he said. I wish, just
once, he'd call me by my real name. Of course, looking back, I have my
family to blame for why I'm so fucked up. When I was a kid, my sister used
to make me wear a dress, and the whole family would call me Margaret.
"Well, Dad-", I started, and went to put my hand on his shoulder.
It's probably going to hurt for the rest of my life that he pulled away
from me, but oh, well. Such is life. "-I'm not gay, so to speak. I'm, uh,
more, let's go 80-20. I really prefer women, but there are just some guys
who, well, let's say, appeal." I decided to end my discourse because he
looked decidedly green.
But he's come a long way. 20 years ago, when he found out one
of my brothers was gay, he disowned him. (Needless to say, I was a little
nervous about him finding out.) "Well, it was still painfully obvious.
You swish when you walk. You love to go dress shopping with Kristen. You
drool over Christian Slater *every* time you see him. What's a father to
think?"
Kris took the news decidedly better. She was ecstatic. Of course,
she had known from day one, but was going to let me find out on my own...
dhe didn't want to be creating monsters.
Jessica, however, did *not* take the news so well.
I was over at her house, fixing her dinner, because her boyfriend
had gone back to school, and they weren't going to see each other for about
three months. So...always one to spread cheer, I went to the grocery store,
loaded up, headed over to her house, and whipped up some tortellini alfredo
and some chocolate cheesecake. (Guaranteed to put a smile on anyone's lips.
'cept my dad, but he's weird. For Christ's sake, he puts catsup on eggs.
Catsup and tobasco sauce, on fried eggs. Do you know how difficult it is
to watch that man eat on Sunday morning?) So, anyway, we ate, and for
some reason, the subject of, "So, Mike, Dave asked an interesting question..."
came up.
"He wants to know if you're gay.", she said, being more blunt than
most concrete slabs. "He said that if you are, it's cool, but he just wants
to know if you were checking him out."
I felt politeness would be appropriate at this time. So, rather than
mentioning that I don't like big, ugly, hairy, brutish apes, but rather
fems like myself, I said, "He's not really my type."
"So you are gay."
"I didn't say that."
"Are you going to tell me that you have *no* attraction to women
whatsoever?", she asked, as if inquisitioning me.
"No, that would be an out and out lie. I'm a bisexual, and
proud thereof. (God, I do not believe I said that. A year ago, I would
have smacked someone for inferring that, now, I admit it with pride.) I
am mostly attracted to women, (and I will *never* forgive myself for
what I said next), especially you, but sometimes, I need a man." I said. When
it dawned on me what I had just said, I put my head down. I *knew* I was
in trouble at that point. There was no way around it.
"Especially me?", she asked. "What do you mean."
"I mean, that the instant I met you, I knew that with Dave around,
you'd have to be on my 'little sister' list, or I'd fall in love with you."
She knows good and well that I fall in love far too easily. And
that I am a polyamour. I can love several people equally, and totally, and
it gets me in trouble. It also gets me in the habit of proposing regularly.
I really should stop that before someone takes me up on it. (Actually, a
few years back, when I was a senior in HS, I decided to see how many times
I could get rejected on marriage proposal. I would write down the names of
the "no"s, and get a ring from each of the "yes"s. (This is Stow, all the
girls had expensive rings.) I figured on getting only one ring. Out of
202 proposals, I got 198 acceptances. I had a collection of rings hanging
from my neck - I made Mr. T. look like an unfettered spirit.) Yet, for some
reason, I never accepted that I was cute until this conversation.
I'll never forget the look she gave me. She asked me if I had
even noticed that she had been flirting with me the first (and subsequent)
times that we'd met. I didn't. She asked if I knew how much she wanted
to do all sorts of fun things to me. I didn't. Then she said the greatest
thing. "It would be a sad day for women of the world if you went gay, Mike."
Wow. That made my day. (Wouldn't it make yours?)
We hemmed and hawed for a while, and we got back to the subject of
Dave, the guy she's marrying this summer. (BTW - these are not the real
names of the people, just thought I'd point this out.) I make a deal with her.
She wanted me to stop smoking, and she figured she'd need help getting
through the next three months without sex. So - whenever I needed a smoke,
I was supposed to call her, and whenver she needed laid, she would call me,
and we'd talk each other out of it.
Yeah, right. All those who know that I have the scruples of a
lawyer raise their hands. (I should see every hand in the air.) All those
who know that, when it comes to women, my willpower is zip, zero, nada, nihil,
nothing, zilch, squat, non-existant, raise your other hand. Now that you're
sitting at a terminal with both hands in the air, put them back down, and
keep reading.
The first 24 hours were, well, OK.
That's a lie.
They were *hell*. Absolute *hell*. I woke up and made breakfast for
us, (yes, I can sleep with a woman and not have sex with her. It's rare,
(especially if they look like her), but it's possible. She went to her
classes, but before she left, she stopped and planted a kiss on me.
For some reason or another, the alarm didn't sound in my head. I
figured, ah, nothing major, it's just a friendly thing, I mean, come on,
she loves Dave, right, and who am I to get in the way of that. I'll admit
it, I'm a moron. But I'm a cute moron, so I can get away with these things.
(I'm also a blonde moron, but that's a different story altogether.)
After she went to class, I went to my lunch date with Jessie's
friend Lisa. (Jessica had set me up with Lisa, and there was an instant
attraction. We've become pretty good friends, and it seems to me that
there will probably be a part of this story dedicated to her. But not
now.) Here's the fun part. She told me that she was *jealous* of Lisa.
She wants her cake, and she wants to eat it, too. (I often complain about
the confusion in my life. Then someone wrote to me and told me that at
least I have lots of women to be confuzzled about. I guess that I'm luckier
than I thought. But I digress.)
(*********************************************)
End part one
Anyway, lunch went well, and I headed home.
I should have expected that the next hour and a half of my day would
go badly when I saw the grey volvo parked outside of my house, but I gave
it no mind. There was too much other crap in there. For example: How can I
get (Oh, Lord, I can't remember what I called G***** in my last part...uh,
hold on...Ok, I remember now...(It's so much easier when you don't use
psuedonyms...)) Lisa into bed. How can I avoid getting Jessica into bed.
(I know me, I know my abilities, and sometimes, they frighten me.
So, I wander into the house. Kristen flies out of nowhere, (she
does this. I don't ever know where to expect to see her coming from, but
she does.)
"Throw some shorts on, we're going to the gym.", she said.
I looked down. I appeared to be wearing shorts. (I don't care
if it's winter. It was up to 40 yesterday, and dammit, that's shorts
weather.) I went downstairs, grabbed my Atherton sweatshirt, (that's just
to piss you off, Mick. The tiger will *never again* defeat the rebel.) (Mick
and I went to rival high schools together.), and trotted out of the house.
Believe it or not, seeing a bunch of women and men, getting all
sweaty in nice tight clothes has a very dissimilar effect on my libido from
a cold shower. So, by the time we left the gym, my mind was on overload, trying
to find some way - any way - to get laid, then and there.
And then Jessica came over.
It's no secret that Kristen *hates* Jessie - with a livid, breathing
passion. Kris likes Jessie like she likes Jessee Helms. There is more than a
little animosity there...so Kris left. Quickly. She didn't even give me a hug.
(That sort of ticked me off.) So, I was alone with Jessica.
Well, that didn't really bother me, seeing as I was still worked
up from the gym. So, I had the brilliant idea of cooking dinner. (I should
know better right now. With the exception of Kris, I've managed to talk every
woman I've made dinner for into bed. (Of course, every time I try to cook,
Kris takes over my kitchen...grrrr)) So, after whipping up (from scratch,
mind you) some potatoes au gratin (I can make it, I just can't spell it),
a nice roast (OK, I admit, I had already had the roast cooking, and had
planned the whole dinner out. Of course, I had planned the whole dinner
around Kris....), and some, (what the hell possessed me to make these I don't
know, since I hate them) green beans. It looked to me like a well balanced
meal. It also looked to me like I had just turned into my mother, and that
sort of bothered me, but that was neither here nor there. (What she *didn't*
know was I had a S**** L** (don't want to copyright infringe) Strawberry
cheesecake in the fridge. (Oh, fuck it. They can use the publicity. Sarah
Lee Cheesecake is better than sex. It's more necessary than air. And every
once in a while, when Kris or I are feeling like we've really done our part
at the gym, we allow ourselves a slice. (And by the time we feel that it's
time for our next slice, the rest of the family has already eaten the rest,
so we're in no danger of overindulgence.))
I'm going to skip a bit. (I know, God forbid that Mutt shouldn't
tell every single detail) We ate, we watched a movie.
I believe it was Hellraiser II. (Actually, I'm sure that's
what I put in the machine, I just didn't see much of it.) She sat in my lap
and wrapped my arms around her. No problem, thinks I. Just a friendly thing.
IMPORTANT SIDE NOTE : I am totally clueless. I never knew that I
was getting flirted with at malls, banks, grocery stores, in fact, everywhere
I go until Kris pointed it out to me. I have never made the first move,
because I can never tell when someone is interested in me. According to Kris,
all of the straight girls and a few of the gay guys from the party Saturday are
totally in love with me. I never noticed. Not once. I can't tell if someone
is interested until they apply the hint with a 2x4. Anyway, back to the story.
So, after not too many minutes of the movie, she leans her head back
over my shoulder and starts kissing my neck. I thought little of it, and
kissed her (I want to say back, but that would put painful mental images into
people's mind of her being a human pretzel) in return. I guess at that point,
she figured she had my attention, so she turned over, and started kissing,
sucking, nibbling, and biting all over my neck, lips, ears, shoulders...wow..
it was great. I love that kind of stuff.
IT NEVER ONCE DAWNED ON ME THAT SHE MIGHT WANT TO GO FURTHER.
That's important...if it had, I wouldn't have let myself. (I can
hear you saying right now, "Oh, BULLSHIT, Mutt. If you had thought that,
you'd have nailed her right there on the couch, even though your dad was
in the room. Well, you're wrong. Dad had left the room the instant he saw
what the movie was. (He doesn't like Clive Barker. I told you, my father
has no taste.) And, you're also wrong because, hey, I have *some* scruples.
I know, they're few and far between. But, c'mon, Jessie is as good as
married, and, uh, (I think I called him Dave. His name is Scott, so when
I slip....) Dave is built like a tank. I'd last, oh, about three seconds
against him, and that's only because that's how long I'd be able to confuse him
by running before he came to kill me. That's one of my morals, though, never,
ever sleep with a married woman. (I don't want to die. I've done that before,
(the sleeping with a married woman, not the dying. That's not something
you get to do twice), and I didn't like the feeling of knowing that her
gun nut husband could and would kill me at the slightest provocation after
he found out. (The scary part is he's one of my golfing buddies. I have not
one brain cell in my head, do I?))
We adjourned downstairs to my basement, where the dog wouldn't
go, (he had been jumping on us, as he doesn't like the idea of anyone
but him getting any affection - I guess after living in my family, showing
someone that you like them confuses him.), and she stopped me.
"I'm blocking the driveway, aren't I? Do me a favor, move my car
so your parents can get out in the morning...", she said.
Still thinking all was cool, I did as she asked. (I'm telling you,
I'm a moron. You may not believe, but I am. Double 800s on the SAT and all.
(Or is that idiot savant?)) When I got back in and went downstairs, she was
already under the covers on my couch, (Yes, I said couch. I have a big
sectional couch that I made into a square so I could sleep on it. It's all
I have left after a rather disturbing late night escape from my last
apartment.), so, I crawled under the covers and joined her.
Now, let me explain why I still thought that nada was happening.
Kris and I spend the night together almost every single night. It's no big
deal to us - we just like to keep each other warm. She's not into men, and
to me she's more like a sister, (I mean, what I think a sister would be like,
if she were normal, unlike members of my *real* family), so nothing ever
goes on. We just keep each other warm because it's all of 38 degrees in my
basement year round. (Which is why I don't get cold.)
Of course, my views of what were going on were changed when I
put my arms around her and noticed that she was wearing, what I later
discovered to be only a pair of socks. (I didn't find those right away...
but I could tell that the rest of her was, well, unclothed.)
I guess now would be as good a time as any to describe her. Jessie
is about, oh, one her tippie toes, 5'5", and she claims to weigh 115. My best
guess is that 115 is when she's soaking wet, carrying two bowling balls, and
wearing everything in her wardrobe. *I* can pick her up under one arm, and you
know what a wimp I am. But anyway....she's got a great body for a Karen
Carpenter clone, but that's about it. (I don't like 'em too skinny. They're
dull and crunchy - like carrots. I'm serious, when I laid on top of her, every
bone in her spine cracked....it sounded like crunching a carrot.) It's her
face that makes her attractive - to me at least. But she literally has two
faces. When she's got her glasses on, she looks like that cutie who always
has her hand up with the answer in your calculus class - you know, the one
who you sit there and ponder how much fun you could have with her if you
could just stop time, walk over, and fuck her senseless right there in class?
The one who always thought that she was ugly, and never realized that there
were hundereds of guys who wanted her - she just couldn't see it. (Why does
that sound so familiar?) But without her glasses, WOW! (I've seen her modeling
pics...when she does up her hair, loses the glasses...it's magic.) She has
these big green doe eyes, that just scream for attention, these soft, pouty
lips, long eyelashes, eyebrows that are the same shade of sandy blonde that
her hair is (all of her hair. :)) and this cute little
ever-so-slightly-turned-up nose. (The kind you'd expect to find in that rich
area just about five miles from your house. You know the one I mean. Here
it's called Hudson.) Never one who will be described as a stunning beauty,
she is *beyond* cute. When the word cute was invented, it was a prophecy of
her birth. That kind of cute. Disgustingly cute when mixed with Dave...who
is that same kind of cute. Makes you want to vomit watching them together.
(Well, they do all those cute things, like say, "Oh, no, sweetie, *you* eat
the last egg-roll" when they're both eyeing the thing like it's the last
scrap of food they'll see for the next six weeks. It made me and Lisa sick
when we went out with them. But, such is life.)
Well, it didn't take me long to figure out that she might be there
for more than just someone to cuddle with while her Dave was gone. So, I
did what I do best. (I have yet to receive argument as to wether or not
it is what I do best, so I'll continue to believe it.)
I decided to start small. I rolled her over on her stomach, and
carefully started kneading her shoulders, the muscles beside her spine,
her lower back. For some reason, her skin was moist enough so that I
needed no oils, saliva, or whatever else was handy to keep from giving
her rug burns with my hands. (I tend to attract women with dry skin. This
was a novel concept to me.) Every time I squeezed, she let out a little
whimper of pleasure...I guess since she's usually so busy giving everyone
around her backrubs, she didn't get too many in return. I like giving almost
as much as I like receiving backrubs, so this was great to me....
I started nibbling on her neck while I was rubbing, and that seemed
to take her over the edge of control. It wasn't more than a couple seconds
before, (Oh, I forgot to mention, she's incredibly strong for her size. She
can pick up Dave (you know, her hulking brute boyfriend) without much effort.)
without any warning, I was on my back, pinned. She placed her shins on my
biceps, and held me there. Then she leaned forward and started grinding her
pussy in my face.
I AM NOT A TOTAL IDIOT. That's one of the hints that I can understand
readily. So, I began to lick her *drenched* little lips. (Dear God, I've never
seen anyone more wet. Her SO was only out of town 48 hours and she was this
horny...suddenly the idea of the next three months looked *very* appealing.)
This was something I was unused to. Normally, I controlled just how much of
what I'd do...she was taking the reins this time. I had no chance to tease,
to withhold, nothing. [sniff] For 45 minutes, she just ground her womanhood
into my face, pressing harder and harder, soaking my entire head with her
(Oh my God was it tasty!) sweet nectar. Now, I'll be the first to admit - I
could go all day, and never, ever, ever get bored with eating a woman out.
But there was one small problem. My arms had gone to sleep about a half hour
before, and now they were starting to hurt. But, could I say anything? No.
My mouth was full of pussy. So, I summoned what little strength I have, and
leaned forward - catching her off balance and she fell backwards.
When her head smacked into my balls, I totally forgot about the
pain in my arms. She saw the look of abject terror in my eyes, and realized
what happened. I guess she felt guilty, becuase she decided to nurse my poor
dick back into health with her mouth.
Not that I would have minded ordinarily, but I was in pain. It takes
a lot to make me hurt, and that was one of those things that qualifies.
So, I moved her off of me, and we decided to just sort of snuggle until he
was feeling better.
However far gone my mind was from the pain, it wasn't far enough
gone to know that there was a *very* horny woman in my bed. So, while we
were spooning, I reached in front of me and began to massage the front
of her body, and, since she didn't let me tease her earlier, taking special
care not to touch any of the more sensitive areas....I'm a bastard, I know.
When I felt she had been teased enough, I let my hand reach up toward
one of her breasts. (Which, what with her being as skinny as she is, are, at
best, half of an A cup. [sniffle]) BAD ENOUGH that my balls hurt, she almost
broke my nose with her head. I'd never heard of ticklish nipples before.
I rolled over on my stomach, knees drawn up to my chest, holding my face in
pain. Looking back, I should have taken it as an omen from God. He knew that
she was going to break the last of my willpower, so he wanted to have her
break everything else before that.
When she finally got me uncurled, and the world stopped spinning
from the pain, (really, normally I seem to have no nervous system at all.
That night, I was all nerves. Mostly pain receptors), she threw a leg over
me, (I had since rolled over on my back, to that I could watch my clock
spinning around. It was neat.) and started rubbing my cock with her lips.
He didn't need to be told twice. He was up and ready to go, in
no time flat. Suddenly, pain was forgotten. She got a hold of him, and guided
me into her.
Normally, it takes a couple seconds to get all the way inside someone.
That's the nature of the beast. Not this time. She was so fucking soaked that
it went in like a hot knife through warm butter. (Wow! I like that. I'll have
to use that more often.) Anyway....it was *great*. Then she did something odd.
(Well, it was odd to me. she pulled her legs out from under her, and threw them
over my shoulders. Then she leaned back on her hands, which were on my shins.
Works for me, I thought. Didn't strike me until I tried to move that I
couldn't. (I like to take the more active role during sex. This passive crap
is for the birds. I don't like it when people just lay there on me, (read: my
ex-fiancee) so why do it to them. But this time, it was really neat.) She
didn't move either. At least, not much. What she did move was the muscles in
her vagina...and *whoah* was it neat. I know now why cows just stand there
when they're getting milked. They don't want to move, for fear that it will
stop. It was *unbelievable*.
Then she started to come. (Which, of course, made my day.) She started
shaking and thrashing around, like some sort of wild beast in its death throes.
It was tres cool. She leaned back forward and drove her nails through the
skin on my chest, and dragged them down me like razor blades. That was all it
took for me...I went off like a 21 gun salute. (I'm so glad she's on the
pill.) The really neat part was it was a very *long* orgasm. It felt like it
went on for about thirty seconds. I was *not* disappointed. Without even
pulling me out of her, she put her legs back down by mine, leaned her head
on my chest, and went to sleep.
I, however, was wide awake.
First of all, it was 6:30, and I knew that we had to be up by nine
so she could get to class, and I could get something useful accomplished.
(For example, I had another lunch date with Lisa. (Who part three will be
about. I had a busy day yesterday.) ) But, moreover, I was feeling guilty
as hell. I had broken my promise to not let her have sex while Dave was
gone. I had, as far as I was concerned, betrayed a friend of mine. Worse yet,
I had let my own willpower go, which to me is inexcusable.
While I was lying there thinking of a way to justify the night's
actions to myself, and more importantly, to Kris, (who knows everything about
me and usually forgives me, (she's better than a priest)), the clock went off.
I just stared at it. I'm none to fond of that noise. I couldn't reach the
little fucker to turn it off. (Why it was going off at seven a.m., I'll never
know. I *never* get up then. (I don't have to be up for work until 8:45...))
So, it woke her up. Apparently, Jessica is just like me, inasmuch as if
she wakes up with someone of the appropriate gender and orientation, they're
going to get laid. She reached over and turned off my clock, and started doing
to my shoulders what cats do to places that they're trying to sleep. (I have
no idea what to call it. You know, when they're sitting there, claws out,
kneading the floor, and tearing the piss out of it? That thing. What the
hell is that called?)
That didn't do much for any attempt I would have made to sleep.
All in a sudden, Mr. Happy was standing at full attention, waiting for
his morning snack. She hopped on it like a tiger pouncing on it's prey.
(She thinks that it's pretty neat how I always compare people to animals.
I, naturally, am a dog, she is more like a cat. In many ways, she would
have made a great cat. But, I digress.)
For two and a half hours, we were having wild, passionate sex
in every position conceivable. One, however, stands out in particular.
I was on my side, sort of, and so was she, and she had a leg
behind me. I was sliding in and out quite nicely, (hey...I at least got
to excercise a little...got me out of going to the gym later.), and she was
able to push back. That's the one that sent me off. I've always been most
fond of doggy style (go fucking figure) but have since recanted.
It was intense. That's the only word that comes to mind. I thought
my eyeballs were going to pop out. Every hair on my body stood up,
even my pubes straightend out it was so all encompassing. (And, apparently,
that's quite a feat. She spent about ten minutes comparing mine
to hers....mine makes most afros look like a loose wave. Guess I'm just weird.)
The only way I could keep from screaming, (which I would have done, 'cept
my mom was in the kitchen (I know, I know, it's a first. Psychologists tend
not to like going into the kitchen, but she had to have her coffee, and dad
is not so whipped that he'll bring her a cup.), and the door to the basement,
where I live, opens into (take a guess), the kitchen, pretty close to where
she was standing, probably staring into her cup of coffee and wondering why
Jessica's keys were sitting on top of the coffee pot. (Mom's a little slow in
the morning.)) , was to bite Jessie on the shoulder and try to muffle it.
However, what I didn't realize, (hey, when you're that overwhelmed,
nothing else matters), was that she was feeling about the same thing I was,
and she didn't try not to scream.
Mom, thinking that someone was dying, ran down the stairs, turned on
the lights, and turned ghost white. Ooops.
I guess she ceased to think that her pure little boy was just that
anymore....
(end part two) (read : I have much more to this story, but I have *GOT*
to eat something.)
Mike
Ah.....I'm finally back to my old editor...happy....
*************************************
Anyway...this is part three of the story chronicling the
last 48 hours of my life....which have been rather interesting.
Now, if the cheif lab-lump (Matthew Hamilton, the reason for the
group alt.local.villiage.idiot was created), would fuck off, I could
actually get some work done....
************************************
One more thing....I am so far behind on my mail it isn't funny. If you've
sent me a message, and I haven't gotten back to you, it's not because
I'm ignoring you....I'm just taking down as many as I can each day, and
have so few hours....bear with me....
*******************************************
Needless to say, Mom was not pleased. Now, like I said, in the morning,
she can be a little slow. Ok, she can be a lot slow, but that's not her fault.
She just needs her coffee. (It's genetic, and I totally understand her plight.
There is no question that I'm my mother's son. ('cept for that difference in
our taste in men.))
"Don't you already have a boyfriend?", Mom asked Jessica.
Not one to take that kind of abuse lying down, (HA HA HA) (I couldn't
resist. I'm sorry.), I sat up and asked why she thought it was her business.
Not having an answer, she fucked off to the kitchen, where she railed at
dad for about a half an hour. (So I heard. I passed out. I was kind of tired,
after all.)
Jessica left, and left me a nice note, saying how wonderful the
night before had been. This kind of thing never disappoints me, so I went
upstairs to tape it to the fridge. Mike and Kristen were sitting in my
living room. Realizing that I wasn't alone, I darted back downstairs, and
threw some clothes on, and then went back to greet them.
Mike, the eternal homophobe, looked up at me, and said, "So. Your
mom tells me you're gay."
Kris almost smacked him. (I love her for a reason.) "He's not gay,
he's bi.", she said.
"I'm also standing in the same room, and quite capable of answering
for myself." I'm not pleasant in the morning. Particularly when being lambasted
by a friend.
"Oh. I was just wondering. It's no surprise to me.", he said, smugly.
Bastard. I just wanted to go outside and take the lugnuts off of his 3000gt.
And if I didn't absolutely worship that car, I would have. "I still want to
be your friend, I just want to have some assurance that you're not checking
me out."
Why is it that straight people are so, so egotistical when confronting
someone like me? They all assume that they're oh-so-attractive to anyone
who likes men. Pbbbbbt. I wouldn't fuck Mike on a bet. (And I'm the same
person who drank an entire bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 in one chug on a $50
bet. (Won my $50...and got to drink free. What more could I ask? Felt like
shit the next day, though.))
I told him how I felt about his attractiveness...he seemed upset.
(I think Mike is a closet gay, but I'm not going to tell him that. I mean,
c'mon. *ANYONE* who is *THAT* homophobic (and Mike is one in the extreme),
has *got* to be covering. I know. I was there.)
Anyway, he left, eventually, after informing me that he was moving
to Jersey, and wanted me to come with him. (As much as my heart is set
on moving to Manhattan, and anything that gets me closer is good, the
idea of living in Trenton is about as appealing as getting my nuts kicked
up into my nose. I mean, even the governor of NJ is ashamed to admit she
is from New Jersey. And we all know that Jersey New York's septic tank. No
thank you.) I told him that I'd think about it, and he seemed OK with that.
(And I'll always know when he writes me - the letter will smell bad. If I
can get through life without *ever* going back to New Jersey....it'll be
to soon.)
Then Kristen jumped on me. (Figuratively...get your mind out of
the gutter.) "You slept with her, didn't you. I warned you...I said, anyone
who has to have someone helping her to *not* have sex while her boyfriend
is gone is trouble. I told you that up front, but NOOOOO, you wouldn't listen.
You had to think with your dick."
"I didn't mean to.", I mumbled. I rattled off the events of the
evening, and how, right up until the last moment, I had believed it was
all sort of friendly-like. Kristen, knowing me, and knowing how my brain
will not let me accept anything that might keep it from accomplishing its
goal won't tell me what's going on, believed me. (It's sad, it's really
really sad, but true.)
"See that it doesn't happen again. I don't want to see you falling in
love with her and getting hurt. And you know good and well that it will happen.
Think about it, you fall in love far too easily, and you always end up hurt.
And she'll hurt you without thinking twice about it. Think about what you
told me. She's already possessive of you, which I know you love, but that's
beside the point, she uses you and leaves - you're her toy. That's all you
are to her. And when she tires of you, she'll throw you away. Aren't you
the one who's always complaining about feeling like a whore?"
I nodded. Really, what else was there that I could say. Kristen,
as usual, was right, and I, as usual, was blind. She left (she was running late
for an appointment already), and I was there considering my predicament.
I took a quick shower, threw on some clothes, called East Side Marios,
and said that if there was a cute redhead, about 5'6", short hair, waiting
for me, that I was running late, and I'd be there in just a couple
minutes. I flew down to Akron, (I love having a sports car), and met her
at the door.
"Right on time, as usual, Mike.", she joked. She had this big-ass smile
and looked like the world had decided that she was going to be made God.
"You look happy. What's up?", I asked.
"I got the part! I get to play Juliet!"
I thought that was great, and mentioned something to that effect.
She knows how much I love Shakespeare (sue me) and how excited I was that
she had the audition that morning.
"You look tired", she said, "rough night?"
"Jessie kept me up all night talking about Dave. Bleah. Remind me not
to cook dinner for her anymore. Once she starts talking about him...yeesh.."
I was *not* going to tell her that I spent the entire night boning her best
friend. It was a creative ommission...not a lie.
We ate, (She, big surprise, got the fettucini alfredo, although she
said it wasn't as good as mine, and I got the fettucini carbonara, which,
as much as it hurts me to say about anything at East Side Mario's, sucked.),
and, who should come strolling out of the kitchen, but the manager....Mike.
He sat down beside me, and started chatting with Lisa. I immediately began
begging God, silently, that he'd not say anything.
He threw his arm around me. "Mike, you're cheating on me.", he said,
and it didn't seem like he was joking. (I'm telling you...he's a closet
case.)
I pulled away, revolted clear through, (he gets a new woman every
day, so he can't be ugly, but Lord, I don't think he's anything great.), and
asked him, changing the subject, if he could do anything about the really
awful carbonara that I got. So, he went to the kitchen, and brought out
a pizza. I didn't eat that either, and he, thankfully, fucked off.
As we were walking out to the car, I saw Mike's car, and had
to make a quick stop....(I only took one, but it'll fuck up his alignment
enough that he'll have to get new front tires by the end of the week. I
couldn't cause any lasting damage to the car I love.)
She told me that she wanted me to pick up her contact sheet to take
back to my boss, and see if we could get her into our agency. (Like I said,
remember it or not, I work for a modeling agency.) So, I followed her back
to Kent, and up to her apartment. I almost made it through the
door, when she grabbed me, slammed the door, pushed me down on the couch,
and jumped on top of me. I don't understand it...there was a time when women
wouldn't talk to me, now, they're all over me. I have to come to the lab
to hide.....(I need rest....)
Anyway....
It was tres neat. She pushed herself up against me, grinding her
pelvis against mine, her tongue probing my mouth like a snake in a mousehole,
her hands roving my body like she was searching me for something. I wasn't
going to complain, but, dammit, I was *exhausted*. Meant nothing to her.
She was wiggling out of her clothes, and within moments all she had left on
was her bra and panties. (No socks. [sniffle]) She snapped her bra off,
and her breasts swung free. (Not small...nosireebob...) They were hanging
in my face, so, naturally, not being an idiot, I began to rub one and suck
the other. It was so much nicer than with Jessica...I like large breasts.
(I'm not at all ashamed to admit it, either.) I let my hands roam all over,
while she unbuttoned my shirt, took my pants off, and basically left
me wearing only a smile. She pushed her panties off of her legs, and
rolled off the couch, pulling me on top of her.
My brain was still catching up. A minute before, I was walking
into her apartment, now, I was lying on top of this gorgeous, naked redhead,
and, honestly, I couldn't figure how my world could improve.
She reached up to the table and grabbed her purse. (More like, she
grabbed the strap of her purse and pulled it down. She reached in, grabbed a
condom, unwrapped it, and wrapped me. (This saddened me. I was sort of hoping
I could take my time...she had other plans. Just once, I'd like to decide
just how these things go.) She grabbed my dick and started to aim it for
her hole...and, since I'm not one to argue, I helped.
But - I figured that I could have a little fun with this one. I only
put it about half way in, and just let her indulge in that for a while. She
bucked and squirmed, but every time she tried to get it deeper in, I'd pull
back. (I love to tease. It's just my nature.) She began to bite me on the
neck, and claw at my back....suddenly, I lost the urge to tease. I thrust
myself into her up to the hilt, and her eyes got wider than saucers. She
bit the holy motherfuck out of my shoulder, (didn't bother me any), and
started pushing herself against me with all she was worth. (I found out later
that she hadn't had sex in about a year, and didn't want to give me the
opportunity to leave - apparantly Jessie had told her something about me
being a little, shall we say, shy?) She came fiercely, clawing, biting,
bucking, and shaking. When it was over, she pushed me off of her, and
got dressed.
I can just imagine the look on my face. Something similar to
a great deal of surprise....
"Don't lose that", she said, pointing at my dick. "I have an
appointment that I've *got* to get to, and I want to make sure that
you'll be ready for me to stop by tomorrow night."
She left, and I picked up my clothes, put them on, locked up,
and left. She's going to be over tonight....so I guess there'll be a part
four in the near future... :)
**********************************************
That's it for now....that's all that happened.
I'm only about ready to burst....nothing major. (That's why
the sudden fit of writing...)
Mike
*******************************
BAD ENOUGH THE OUTCOME OF THE STORY
PISSED ME OFF TO THE POINT OF WANTING
TO KICK THE DOG, BUT THE FIRST TIME
I WROTE PART 4, I SOMEHOW MANAGED
TO DELETE IT.
So, needless to say, I'm a little
miffed. Therefore, the tone of *this* version
will be A LITTLE LESS PLEASANT than last time
I wrote it.
Grrrr....
********************************
This final part of the Jessica travesty might come as a
disappointment to those, who after reading parts 1-3, thought
that my life was going as well as I thought it was. But, since
I report only the facts, as they happen, all I have to offer
is "Life is full of dissapointments, get used to it."
*********************************
Amazing. Truly amazing. I often wondered what *exactly* it would
take me to go over the edge and actually find myself getting pissed off
at someone, and I have found that there is no limit, there is nothing
anyone can do to get me really hacked.
But, I'm jumping ahead. Let's take a look at, where were we last,
oh, yes, Friday.
(It was Fri, right? I think so. Anyway.)
From the time I got to sleep Thrusday night, (actually, it was more
like early friday morning, but who's really counting, right?), to the time
all of TWO HOURS later when the phone started ringing, life was going well.
I was alseep, and that was what was truly important to me.
"Whafuyouwah?", I drooled into the annoyance. Usually not the most
polite thing to say to the person who is making a pest of themselves by
calling at an ungodly hour in the morning, (like 8), on your day off, but
appropriate.
"Where the hell were you last night? You were supposed to be here
at 5:30, and you didn't show, you didn't call, nothing.", the voice railed,
and was followed by a dial tone.
The next few seconds brought all sorts of horrible things to mind.
None of them had anything to do with the conversation, I was just thinking
horrible things because the person who woke me also had the unmitigated
gall to be pissy with me while doing so, and deserved to be infested by
weevils. (Hint : don't call me on Friday mornings, and especially not with
an attitude. Bad idea.)
My eyes opened to the point where I could tell that my contacts
had dried out, and I peered into the darkness. (Yes, at 8am, it is still
totally dark in my room.)
I know better than to try to reason with a pissed person over the
phone. My voice loses its normal, soothing quality, I can't pierce the
person with a stare, and, most importantly, I can't kick them in the head
when they remain unreasonable. So, I donned a pair of jean shorts, a rugby
shirt, a hat, and a pair of sunglasses, and went in search of my shoes.
Once I caught up with those, (the dog *loves* to take them for
walks around the house. He thinks they need to be hidden, lest they escape.),
I went outside, and started the car.
And then I started it again.
And again.
And again.
And again.
Then I tried it and didn't let it get below 3000 rpms until the
temp gage went up to the little C. (It was about 10 degrees out, and even
though they say wind chill doesn't affect your car, it does.)
Eventually, it decided that it would cease stalling, and I sallied
forth.
And then I hit a patch of ice, and took out the stop sign at
the end of my street. There were no witnesses, so I proceeded forward, and on
into Kent.
It took her about 20 minutes to realize that I would, in fact,
beat on her door until she either came out and talked to me, or let me in.
It did not help my health any that she decided to greet me with a bucket of
water from a third floor window. (I now have a cold. Rotten bitch.)
"What do you want.", Jessica sneered.
"A towel would be nice. But I originally came over to talk.", I said,
through chattering teeth. (Ok, fine, I admit it, I can get cold. You stand
outside, half naked, wet, in 10 degree weather, and tell me you're nice and
toasty.)
She let me in, and let me borrow some of Dave's clothes while mine
were in the dryer.
"You missed a great dinner.", she said. "I had steak, potatoes, and
(I don't remember what else she had. All I know was that ther was something
else.)."
"I'm really sorry. I forgot. It totally slipped my mind. Please
forgive me." Why was I groveling to this person? I had no reason to. She
wasn't my girlfriend. I had no obligation to her.
After about an hour of being railed at, I was instructed to meet her
after her psych class in the Hub. I got my clothes out of the dryer, and
went over to the lab to wait. (I wasn't driving all the way back to Stow.)
AS IF MY DAY HAD NOT ALREADY GONE BADLY ENOUGH, the first thing I'm
told when I walk in is that the system crashed and it was my fault. I thought
this was a neat trick, seeing as I wasn't anywhere near the lab when it
happened, and I have no modem.
So, I ducked out and hid in the hub. Or rather, I tried to hide in
the hub, but Scott, Lori, Shane, and Rich found me and decided that I needed
cheering up. I needed cheering up like I needed kicked in the balls, but
they did a good job, and when it was time to find Jessie, I was actually
in a decent mood.
This seemed to disappoint her. She was looking forward to having me
stare at her like a scolded puppy, and here I was all cheerful and jovial.
(What she didn't know was that I had gotten Scott's number, and was planning
on making next weekend memorable.)
I tutored her in Spanish for a while, ignoring the fact that she was
doing everything in her power to turn me on, so that I would give in and
beg her to let me make last night up to her. I had no such intentions, and
was willing to demonstrate that she didn't own me.
So, by the time it was time for her next class, she had given up
hope of getting me to help her play hookey, and decided to meet me after
work so we could go see a movie. Harmless enough, I thought. Now, at this
point, I was already having my doubts about whether or not to continue this
little trist, seeing as I was feeling guilty (God forbid, Mutt developing
a concience? Sad but true.), and she was starting to frighten me anyway.
(I now know she's a psycho, clear through.)
I go back over to the table where the rest of my people are, and
we crack out a deck of cards and start playing euchre. It should have been
obvious who was going to lose after Scott's first deal, but Lori and Rich
didn't catch on to the fact that Scott and I were stacking the shit out
of the deck, and there was no way they could win. (We even let them euch us
twice, just so that we wouldn't completely destroy them and make it obvious
that we were cheating.) But there was one hand that really stood out. (Just
real quick, so that you understand : Lori and Rich are straight, and a couple.
Scott and Shane are gay, and I'm the happy medium.) I had a hand with a nine,
a ten, and three queens in it, (any euchre players out there just winced. I
can feel it.), and Lori said, "Ok, Rich, I'll be the nine, you be the ten..."
Scott and I thought it was funny....Shane and Rich didn't catch on. Sad, eh?
I enjoyed it, and I don't care if you thought it was funny or not.
Anyway, I realize that I *must* get back to the lab, seeing as I
had only put about 5 cents into the meter, and the fascists love to ticket
me. (Go figure). Anyway....
I walk over to my car, and, lo and behold, another ticket. And to
think, it wasn't even Friday the 13th. (It could have passed for it, though.)
So, my day was brightened when I spat into the little envelope, and stuck
it in the little drop box, where they expect to find money. Fucking bastards,
they deserve it.
I caught up on my mail, sort of, and then I went over to Kris' house.
I wouldn't have, 'cept my car got rear ended, ever so lightly on water street,
and when I got out to beat the holy living hell out of whoever did it, (I was
looking for an excuse to kill someone), I saw a grey volvo with a familiar
gorgeous redhead sitting behind the wheel.
"Meet me at my house, we'll talk there", Kris said.
I grumbled and got back in my car, and led her to her house.
(Well, I was in front of her. I couldn't very well follow.)
"Sorry I tapped your car, but you weren't paying attention to the
horn.", she babbled. I wasn't really listening. "There's something wrong,
isn't there."
I told her about my day, and what was expected of my night.
"But we had plans." If looks could kill I'd be so fucking dead right
now.
I came up with a bullshit excuse for not going, which she seemed to
accept. Then she asked me why.
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this? Why are you going back to her? Don't you
realize that she's just using you, and that she's going to hurt you?"
"Nah....it's not exactly a surprise to me that she's going to go back
to Scott, so it won't hurt when it happens." I am such a moron. I don't think
that there's anyone, anywhere, nearly as stupid as me. "Anyway, that which
does not kill me can only serve to make me stronger."
"That's bullshit and you know it. And don't hand me that 'I am
indestructible' line, either, because if anyone should know, it's me, that
nothing could be further from the truth. I don't want to see you getting
hurt, Mike. Or do I need to remind you how much that big dumb heart of yours
hates to be broken. You're just like a big puppy dog, you immediately fall
in love with people, and you hurt like hell when they leave. Do I need to
remind you of how you were when I found you? On the outside, you were fine,
no one knew anything was wrong. But I knew. I could tell. You and I are
the only ones who know just how close you were to sucking the barrel and
pulling the trigger, and you know damn good and well that if I hadn't changed
your mind, you wouldn't have even been having this conversation. Or did
you forget that?"
What else could I say? Nothing. So, I said nothing.
"Come on, lets get you ready."
I showered, shaved, changed, and basically got myself presentable.
"Think about what I said, Mike. I can't stand the idea of you
being hurt. Please don't do that to yourself. And whatever you do, don't
sleep with her again. You're just asking for trouble."
I kissed her on the forehead, and departed. (And today, I spent about
three hours kissing her feet, groveling for forgiveness.) I met Jessica over
at her house, and we went to the movie.
Through the whole movie, she was pawing me, trying to see how excited
she could get me without the whole theater knowing what was up. I wanted
nothing to do with it - I was trying to find a way to distance myself from
her. I don't want her thinking that I'm her little chew toy, to be used and
discarded as she pleases. (Which, apparantly, I was.)
We got back to her house, and we were sitting in her room, and a
thought struck her from earlier.
"Pants - off.", she said.
"My, we're being a bit direct.", I said. I didn't particularly
want to indulge her - I was still leery.
"No, I just want to put some lotion on your legs. They're too dry."
Now, I happen to like my dry skin. It keeps me warm when I'm outside
in shorts. (And if she hadn't coated my legs in that crap, I'd have not
caught a cold. My legs dried back up, and I'm healthy again.)
So, she starts coating me with this crap, and decides that maybe
the rest of my body needs it too. I'm *never* one to pass up a massage, I
don't care who's doing it to me, and that's basically all it was. She was
just trying to get her toy to play with her again.
She started kneading my chest, rubbing the lotion into me, like it
was some ritual - it was fairly neat. She looks really cool by candlelight...
:)
Then she took all of her clothes off, and tried to mount me. I, being
me, of course, had to resist. She looked all offended, and pulled away.
"You don't think I'm sexy?", she asked? Well, nothing could be
further from the truth, I just didn't want to jump into anything without
at least a warm-up. So, I pushed her on her back, and started nibbling on
her neck, her ears, worked my way down her, and found her bud, and I
*slowly* licked the top of it.
All she could think to say was something along the lines of
a screaming moan. She was *soaked*. (And I hadn't even done anything.)
She told me that she had been masturbating in the mirror for hours before
I came over, and she couldn't get off, and she wanted to so badly. At this
point, I was still pretty willing to just tell her to go buy a vibrator...
I'm not sure what I was so miffed about, I just was.
I was planning on staying down there for about 45 minutes, (I love
to eat pussy. If I could only do one sexual act for the rest of my life,
it would be that. Yummers.), but she grabbed me by the ears, and pulled
me up to her. She started to lick her juices off of my face, and she wrapped
her legs around me, trying to pull me inside of her.
No go. I do nothing without protection - I've had too many bad scares
in my life. So, she reaches under the bed, covers me, and shoves me into her.
I was kind of disappointed. I like to make that first stroke last about
five minutes, she wanted it all in, and *RIGHT NOW*. Pbbbt.
Then, she started pushing against me. Back and forth she went, so
fast that all I saw was a blur and some billowing hair. Now, this is no
fun to me, I like to take my time, and enjoy what's going on. Not two minutes
later, she came wildly. She had gotten a hold of the skin just above my left
nipple with her teeth, and threw her head back so hard that my skin is still
ripped and bruised. (That hurt like hell.) When she started to calm down, she
said, "Did you come?"
"No. Nowhere near. Sorry.", I said, not sounding at all pleased.
"Awww.that's a shame.", she said, and pushed me off of her. Then,
she put her head on my shoulder, curled up, and went to sleep.
At first, I started thinking how sorry I felt for all those wives
with husbands like that. And then I started thinking how bad I felt for poor
Dave. He's going to have to put up with that for the rest of his life. I
gave that a few minutes contemplation while my dick figured out that he wasn't
going to be having any more fun that night, and went to sleep.
But not for long.
Miss 30-seconds-and-out was up again, tugging on my dick like she
was trying to pull the skin off. (I've got to teach that girl how to give
a handjob before she kills someone.) I was hard, but I wasn't awake, so she
decided to start sucking on my dick like it was some sort of straw through
which she was trying to drink a Frosty. (If you've ever tried to suck a
Frosty through a straw, you know what kind of suction that takes. Needless
to say, *it hurt*. I could feel my eyes pull back into my skull as a
vaccuum was created in my body. I pulled her off of me, and laid her back
down beside me.
"But, I'm just trying to make you happy.", she whined. I didn't have
the heart to tell her that what would make me happiest would be her never
coming near my dick again. At least, not until she's had some decent training.
(This girl has no talent.)
She climbed on top of me, and sat, facing the mirror at the end of
her bed, with me impaling her. She started bouncing on my dick at her
typical hundred strokes per second, (she didn't seem to understand that I
like it *real* slow), while masturbating to the mirror. Neat. I thought it
was kind of a turn on, so I decided to try exerting some authority. I grabbed
her hips, and *forced* her to slow down. She tried, but to no avail, to speed
up, but I wouldn't let her. Ever so slowly, I let my pecker slide luxuriously
in and out of her sopping wet gash. She started writhing, sliding to the
sides, making me fill her from all angles. She, apparently, was getting to
like the slow and steady approach.
And then, Oh MY GOD....I've never seen such a reaction. She leaned
down and bit me on the calf so hard I thought I would scream, and then
she sat straight up with this bloodcurdling scream of pleasure the likes
of which I've *never* seen. (I was impressed.) It cheered me right on up,
and the contracting of her muscles seemed to be just about all I needed to
go over the edge. I (Ooops...I forgot that part. I did manage to get a
condom on between the time all this started and now), blew my wad so hard I
could swear that I thought the end of that damn rubber would blow off.
She lay back on me and collapsed in a heap.
All well and good, 'cept I had to find a way to get that thing off
without disturbing her, and get it into the trashcan across the room.
After dislodging it from my prick, I looked heavenward, and heaved
it. God, however, did not respond to my plea, and it splatted on the mirror.
(AW, shit.) She was none too pleased to find it there the next day.
She called me from work, (at first I didn't answer the phone, and
couldn't figure out why she wasn't answering it, then I realized that she had
left, and figured I'd just stay there 'till she got home. (Wrong.)), and I
told her I had some errands to run. (Which was true.)
After I got through all of the shit I had to sift through, I was
sitting on my bed, (rather, lying there limp, from exhaustion, running on
no sleep sucks.), and I hear footsteps on my stairs. No problem, then they
pick up speed, run, jump, and land on me. I was suddenly awake.
"Hiya. How are you doing today?", she asked.
When I could again breathe, I told her that I had been just fine,
until someone jabbed be in the dick with her bony ass at high speed. She
looked insulted.
"Wanna go see 'Interview' tongiht?", she asked?
"Sure, I never pass up an opportunity to see Slater."
"You mean, you think he's attractive?"
"Oh, yes."
"You'd sleep wiht him?"
"In a heartbeat. You should know that."
And that's where it started to fall apart.
Brief summation :
She told me that she was only sleeping with me because she thought she
could make me go totally straight. Bitch. And she said one thing that I wanted
to spit at her for.
"You're just doing this gay thing because you're afraid of being
hurt by women again."
I wanted to go outside and piss in her car. I didn't believe what she
had just said. (Well, I didn't believe what she had said, but I was
incredulous that she had even said that. Which is what I meant.)
She *stormed* out of my house, and hasn't talked to me since.
So, I went over and talked to Kris.
"I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry.", I started
with. I thought it was a good opening. She opened the door.
"I thought you'd be saying that soon. What, did she decide to
go back to Dave?"
I told her of the conversation Jessica and I had. She kissed me
on the forehead and said, "See. Are you going to listen to me from now
on?"
"Yes. Now, will you marry me?"
And oddly enough, she said that she had been considering the
idea for a long time. (Floored me.) She figured she could get more financial
aid for college by being married, we could get better tax breaks, and our
parents would think we've both finally gone straight.
I just thought that it woudl be great for job interviews : "I'm
such a good salesman, I talked a lesbian into marrying me." (Well, that's
not the only thing I was thinking.)
So, I'm really considering this. I mean, there's no question that
I love her, and we both agree that we're allowed to have sex with whoever
we want (it wouldn't be with each other...after all...anyway...), but it
sounds good.
Whaddya think? Should I go for it?
**************************************************
End : Jessica travesty.
What has come from it? A distrust of straight girls. Henceforth,
if they're not bi or lez, I don't want anything to do with them. Nada.
Of course, I said on NYE that I was taking a five year hiatus from sex.
Failed at that vow, too.
Nevermind....
Mike
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+-----------------------+-----------------------------------------------------+
| Muttley, a.k.a | /\ |
| Michael P. Simone | / \ |
| [email protected] | /____\ |
| This space for rent | "Does your mother know you're out?" |
+-----------------------+-----------------------------------------------------+
DISCLAIMER : Shhh...nobody knows I'm bi.
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