Message-ID: <1107eli$9706021719@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: JohnThomas@compusurge.com (John Thomas) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.moderated Subject: Celeste contest: four entries Four entries for Celeste's 1997 writing contest: SPACED OUT!, YARDSTICK, DAISY, and SHIPS THAT PARSE IN THE NIGHT. The last two have already been posted over the past week as individual stores. At less than 500 words each, they might be easily lost in the spam ... All four are intended as humor; there's an erotic content, but it's relatively slight. None of them are likely to be considered pornographic by current law, but if you feel uncomfortable with erotic material, you'll feel uncomfortable with these. SPACED OUT! by John Thomas "Most groveling greetings, O Roth of the mighty mandibles, chief arachnid of the seven sun systems and twenty-eight planets!" "Nertsch, you idiot! I hear that you have invited two residents of planet Earth into your traveling domain." "Well, yes. But we've taken along supplies to make them comfortable and entertained, and they seem pleased." "You know the prime rule: none of the residents of these outer worlds are supposed to even know we exist, let alone be invited on board. What's the matter with you?" "Well, as you know, my function was to study reproduction technology among the dominant species. This turned out to be a harder job than I had anticipated. Their two-dimensional audio-visual facilities had plenty of examples of this -- a whole industry seemed to be producing them. But very often, the mating organs seem to be interconnected to the wrong places. A standard mating connection seemed rare, which was puzzling. "We thought we might do better studying written records. These, too, were plentiful. But they seemed also to include a great deal of extraneous material, such as the use of restraint equipment, and actions intended to cause discomfort. "The audio component was confusing, too. The videos indicated a mating sound such as 'Ooooh, God, Unng, Yes, Aaaaah,' all emitted at a low level. In contract, the written material typically indicated loud shouting, such as 'Shove it in me, big boy!' or 'I love it! I can't get enough!' "So we put out light holoprobes in survey mode. We found a strong correlation between sex and travel. Mating was frequent with long distance travelers, such as businesspersons, air crews, and athletes. But it was even more prevalent among short distan ce travelers: milk deliverers, pizza delivery humans, plumbers, and Maytag repairmen. Amazingly, we found the most active mating frequency in a small group called 'door to door Bible salesmen.' "We focused our probes more directly on individual mating sessions. All I can say on this is that humans are poor on timing. I still don't know how mating time is allotted. But, invariably, they run out of scheduled time; at the end, they are always i n a great hurry." "Get to the point, Nertsch! Why are the humans on board?" "We decided to do an in-depth study. We found an attractive young couple and laced their mating area with megaprobes. I swear, I had no idea that they could detect our presence. "But as they reached the conclusion of their mating act, the male shouted 'I'm coming!', and the female shouted, 'I'm coming, too!'. And after they had said that, what could we do other than accede to their wishes and invite them along?" ======================================== YARDSTICK by John Thomas (in the style of Deirdre) "Do you both have to gaze at my husband's crotch like that?". Betsy smiled, but I was still embarrassed. "I'm sorry but .. well, after you told me over cocktails that your husband had twenty inches, I was fascinated." I shifted uncomfortably in my seat. "And I told Bob about it .. he's my husband, after all .. and he said he didn't think it was possible." "Well, Bob," said Betsy, still smiling, "you've been looking in that area long enough. Do you think I'm, umm, stretching it a little?" Bob seemed a little uncomfortable. "I really can't say, Betsy. But if it's true, it would be one of the wonders of the world. I'm not sure I really want to know. It might give me a complex." He licked his lips. Bad move, I thought. Dirk, Betsy's husband, was off in the kitchen fixing more drinks. I could hear glass clinking, and was reasonably sure he wasn't eavesdropping. "Maybe you have a photograph," I said. An enlargement, I wondered giddily. The thought made me grin. Perhaps Betsy misunderstood my expression, because she smiled back at me. "Or .. do you have giant-sized condoms around somewhere?" "Admit it. You're both dying for a peek," said Betsy. "And Bob .. I didn't think you'd be that interested in male anatomy". Bob swallowed. "Well, it would be one of the wonders of the world," he said hoarsely. "A sight to be seen." "Naughty boy," smiled Betsy. "I'll just go and talk to Dirk and see what we can do". She left the room. Bob cleared his throat. We didn't speak; there seemed to be little we could say. We could hear low voices from the kitchen, but couldn't make out the wording. "Ta-dah!" exclaimed Betsy as she and Dirk came back into the room, carrying drinks. "Let's drink a toast to scandalous behavior!" We sipped our fresh drinks silently. It seemed as if Betsy had all the lines. Then Dirk spoke up. "Betsy tells me you have, well, anatomical interests," he said. That was an interesting way of putting it; we wanted to look at his dick. "I don't feel like being the exhibit in a freak show," he continued. "Seems to me that if we all wanted to become more intimate, that would be possible. What I'm saying is: I don't want show-and-tell, but I wouldn't mind stay-and-play." I really thought Bob would get up and leave at that point. But he nodded his head slowly. The bastard didn't even ask me what I thought. Maybe he didn't need to. "You two undress first," said Dirk. "If you'd like Becky to help, I'm sure she will do so." And so the two of us stood and started to disrobe ... ***** What a liar that Becky is. Dirk had at least two feel. Both Bob and I are still limping. ======================================== DAISY by John Thomas You seen my girl Daisy? I swear, I catch that bitch, I'm gonna cut her. Two day back, I was businessman with five girls on my string. I take care of them good, give them money, clothes, drugs, condoms. Keep 'em happy, keep 'em high, keep 'em motivated to work hard. Motivator's my fine body if they do good, my belt if they do bad. And I keep their money so they won't get mugged, and dress up real pretty for 'em. Daisy, new girl, bring in this guy. She say, this Joe, he a doctor from her home town. I say, doctor, huh? You got any drugs, man? He say he don't carry his black bag in this part of town. He got a point there. I say maybe he check out my girls, for which I give him freebies. He say maybe he do that, but he say I look a little strung out, and how I feel? That true, I'm a little ragged lately. Mostly, I tell him, I get bound up from the pills I been popping. He say constipation can be serious, and he should check. He listen to my chest and tap it, he bang me on the knee, then he grab delicate parts and say, cough. By this time, my pants down around my ankles. He move around back, then he holler, hooeee, you taken a look at your asshole lately? I say, how the hell I gonna do that unless I work for a circus? He say, take this here pill and ben over that table, 'cause he need to give me medication back there. I think the pill was a 'lude, 'cause I'm feeling all happy and dreamy lying acrost that table with my shorts around my shoes. He say, take it easy, he gonna give me a poultice. I say, pole what? He say, chill, it just ointment. And I feel something go gently into my back end. OK, say the doc, we leave that in place for fifteen twenty minutes. Maybe he go look at the girls while it's working. Just say there and relax. I lie there feeling kinda good, even with my back end plugged. Suddenly the door burst open, and in walk a whole mess of ladies from the 'hood, must be twenty or more. Screaming and laughing like it's a party, or they seen the finest joke ever. I raise up, look back at myself. There's a whole bunch of flowers sticking out of my ass. Now my girls gone to other business managers. When I walk out, the ladies titter and smirk, their fancy men too. My business is wrecked, my girls are gone, I get no respect. I hear tell that Daisy and her man - I don't believe he really a doctor - have flown outta town. I find that girl, I get her. She dissed me good. Because, you know what? Those flowers in my butt were daisies. ======================================== SHIPS THAT PARSE IN THE NIGHT by John Thomas It was on the corner of Strunk and White that I met her in front of the bank building. She stood in front of the bank in her vinyl raincoat with 24 hour cash withdrawals. Her face lit up when she spotted my car with sparkling blue eyes and a friendly smile. She raised her skirt slightly, which made my jaw drop open, showing a pair of frilly panties. I caught my breath, a glimpse of her stocking tops, and a whiff of her perfume. Her beautiful blonde hair framed a gorgeous face that hung down to her shoulders. "Looking for a good time, honey?" she asked, adjusting her brassiere and smoothing her skirt, which must have been a 36-B. I couldn't speak; my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth which was still open. "What's the matter? Misplaced your modifier or something?" "Let's go," I croaked hoarsely, and followed her up the steps of a nearby building with heavy feet. As she entered her apartment she took off her coat; I admired her mahogany chest. I took her coat, an asprin, and a moment to think. "I don't think I can do this," I said limply. She took her eyes off the lump in my pants made by my wallet. "What's the matter? Can't get it up?" It was true: her chest of drawers was on my foot and I couldn't lift it. "Give me a break, a hand, or a couple of minutes," I responded. "But .. I'm being followed .. I'm under observation .. every word I say is being analyzed .. the slightest mispelling and I'm in deep trouble!", I exclaimed. "A mysterious woman is tracking my dogs, or doggingks." She lifted her eyebrows, her dresser, and my spirits, since my foot was no longer stuck. "Her name is Celeste, and she told me I had to do this .. but," I faltered, "she said I had to be short! No room for long ones in her universe!" "Forget her", she cried, stamping her foot and shaking her head, which was still clad in a shiny leather boot. "We can lock the door and split all the infinitives we want!" Tears filled my eyes and I clenched my fists as they ran down my cheek. "You don't understand!" I cried. "She's an English professor, and when she stands in front of that blackboard there's a pain in my heart, which is usally green these days!" "I have to! No, that's ending a sentence with a preposition: ummm, I to have? To I have? Hell: I must!", I yelled, mussed. She showed me her pretty legs, her stamp collection, and the door. I should have guessed it. Outside, SHE was waiting. She looked me up and down coldly. "Your participle is dangling," she said. ======================================================================== Feel free to copy any or all of the above stories in electronic space or any other space you have access to. Copy them, sell them (ha! you wish!), write sequels, sneer at them, or whatever else turns you on. JT -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /