Message-ID: <20690eli$9903210436@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "ovids meta" Subject: Stop it (part 2) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19990320215809.6066.qmail@hotmail.com> "All set," she said, closing the door behind her. She turned around and smiled at us, shrugging, her eyes squinting from the glare of the low spring setting sun. "Well?" Sue. Sue. It never failed. I didn't want to stare at the poor kid and looked through the window of the small shop she'd ten seconds ago closed. Lovely flowers. So many colors. I laughed to myself, could see Sue walking in every morning to get some exotic specimen for her office, chatting with the kid, engaging her, making her think she was critical to Sue's well-being, feeling her out. Beautiful flowers, wonderful smell. What? Fuck. I shook my head, marvelling at Sue's impeccable taste. Mid-twenties, married, a little grungy, somewhat spoiled, undoubtedly happy, intelligent and built. Firmly built. I could tell by her shoulders. Powerful. The kid could take a pounding. Sue. Sue. "Come on," Sue said, locking the kid's arm with her own. "I want to go somewhere special." The kid grinned, sheepishly pointing to her jean jacket and light blue dress. "I'm a little informal so . . ." "Nonsense," Sue interrupted. "You're heaven on earth." They started walking arm in arm and Sue turned to me, bringing up the rear. "Don't you think so darling?" Beautiful asses. So very different. One long and narrow, the other full and . . . "Darling?" "Yes, my love," I responded, slowly. "The child is a creation of divine inspiration. Divine." They two asses laughed, one jiggling, they other swaying. **** "Oh, come on. Don't you taste the strawberries?" The poor dear shook her head, her eyes glazed and reflecting the candle-light from the table. I shook my head. What was the use? These kids these days. I was about to say something, but our pony-tailed waiter came by and started clearing the table. Fag. Look at the cunts sitting with me, asshole. Look at them. He saw me staring at him and threw a dazzling smile at me. I wanted to cry. No. No. Dumbshit. I've got a hairy ass. What are you going to do with that, for Christ's sake? Do you know how tight that kid would be? Oh fuck. What the fuck. Kids these days. I tried once more, pleading with him. Look at the bitches. He turned away, uncomfortable. Fuck it. Back to the red poison. I took another sip, slumped in my comfortable chair, letting it caress my tongue and burn the back of my throat. Idiot, child. It was there. So there. Big, juicy, red, dripping strawberries. Oh fuck, I could feel their texture. I took another sip and a different, subdued taste, the smell of wheat bread came up to my nostril, tingling the hairs. I could do this all day. Sue was watching me, rolling her eyes. "Give it a rest, already." Give it a rest, you stupid, fuckin'. . . The kid piped in. "What was it, again?" "This," I said, taking the bottle in my hand and filling her glass a little. "This is Lynch Bage. Pauillac. Eight-nine." Sue shook her head. "It's a simple fifth growth and you're going to water? What would you be doing if it were from the Domaine?" "I would slit one of my wrists to purify my body for them." "Maybe an enema would be better, darling," Sue said, turning again to her prey. They laughed. Fuck you bitch. I took another fresh bottle and poured the crimson, purple into a clean glass, handing it to the kid. This should be interesting. "Try it," I grinned. "No, really, I'm way too far gone." "You'll break my heart. Please" She laughed. Don't laugh. This is serious. She rudely raised the glass. Slow. Slow. That's not a fruit drink for crying . . . She closed her eyes and took a gulp. I wanted to cry. Slow. It was like shitting on a Rembrandt. Slow. Oh God, that's like . . . Let it do the work for you, baby. It's strong enough. Let it happen. She opened her watering eyes wide. "Wow. That's . . . Wow." I smiled, silent. "Wow." Sue laughed. "Yes. That's right," I leaned forward, happy the kid had experienced it for the first time. "It's massive, isn't it. Overwhelming. Better than sex." The two laughed. "Oh, it is. Fuck . . . I'm sorry. You, my sweet, have just experienced the sheer, audacious, monstrosity and joy that is Mouton. It shouldn't exist, but it does. These two vineyards are almost like next door to each other and look at the difference. It's . . ." Sue kicked my on the shin. I turned to her. Fuckin' selfish bitch. Do you want to get slapped? Don't smile at me. I'm here entertaining this kid, lubing her up for your unwholesome plan and you kick me? Sue's brilliant smile never left her face and she turned again to the kid, who was watching us, a little concerned. I ignored them, as they started talking about her husband, the graduate student in history. The world ceased to exist around me, a blur, as I poured myself a full glass of the charms of the life-giving Rothchild. A toast, dear, beautiful friend. Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----