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From: "Kenny Gamura" <turtlemeat69@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} No, I Really Didn't See That {Gamera} (best oral)
Date: Sat, 21 Sep 2002 22:10:03 -0400
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                         Disclaimer

What follows is a work of fiction based somewhat but not
entirely on really life events.  The major characters have
been changed beyond all recognition by even their own
parents.  Many other things have been completely made up by
the fevered mind of the writer.  It is a sex story meaning
that it includes descriptions of sex acts and so you should
most likely not be reading it, especially if doing so will
result in prison, spankings, restrictions of privileges, or
excessive numbers of "Hail Marys."

In no way does the posting of this work on the Usenet imply
that the writer has waved any rights under international
convention and copyright law.  The use of this story on any
web site, both commercial and free, is prohibited without
advance permission.  The archiving of this story by ASSM
and Goggle is understood and encouraged.  Come-ons for
penis enlargement systems and hair replacements can be sent
to the address below, where they will be deleted without
being opened.  The occasional piece of fan mail will not be
deleted, but instead, will be read, answered, and saved
forever.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera
Date of First Post 8 May 2001  (to ASSD)

               No, I Really Didn't See That (best oral)
                                  by
                            Kenny N Gamera

It was last Thursday, I think.  I am not certain, because I have tried
to forget the whole thing.  Yet, the memory lingers like the perfume
of an annoying, old lady; so, I have decided to unburden myself in the
hope that I will be freed of it.  Most likely, I will merely spread it
like a flu.

But I never liked you much anyway.

As I said, it was Thursday.  I had just left the mega-plex book store
with a fresh copy of the "Story of O' to replace the one that
I...uh...dropped in the bathtub, the latest Alan Dean Foster novel,
and a double latte when I decided to visit that little used book store
that denny told us about to see if I could maybe find some James Blish
or maybe one of those James Tiptree, Jr. novels that I have been
meaning to get.

 From the outside, it looked like any of a million used book stores,
which is better than okay.  Form the inside, it looked like any of a
million used book stores, which is better than okay.  You've seen what
I mean of course, worn wooden floor, cobbled together shelves filled
with the standard mix of books that no one would every really want to
read mixed with the books that you want, but everyone else thinks that
no one would every want to read.  Here and there, I saw the odd stack
of old hard bound books, few with the old dust cover the rest without.

I liked the place.

But it seemed empty, as if I were the only soul inside the four walls.
Usually, someone as old and worn as the books would be sitting behind
the counter ready to duscuss some unimportant fact on literature or
help find that out of print resource.  Even the required book store
cat was missing.  For some reason, I felt as if I had stepped into an
episode of Star Trek (original).

Now, I have watched enough television to know that I should have
shouted a hello into the store. I have yet to see anyone do that in
real life, however, and I am bit a of a rebel in that regard (though
the ex-fiancee would say a mindless twit).  I just walked in and went
to the shelf marked science to see if there was any interesting
geology books or only the old, boring Geological Survey publications
on gravel production.

Passing on the reviews of gravel production, I went down the end of
the aisle with the purpose of looking for the SF paper backs.  I
didn't find them.

Instead, I found a little old lady with a fish.

I can't say that either was attractive.  I have never felt the
fondness for koi that some people have developed, and the particular
example of decorative carp that I was staring at left a lot to be
desired.  It was orange with white sploches across its two foot long
and very, very fat frame.  And if you are imagining long whiskers,
stop it.   It's a carp not a catfish, okay, jeeze!

The old lady was your standard book store lady, thin, white hair in a
bun, and glasses.  She only left the ideal  in that she totally lacked
in clothing.  Not a stitch covered her pale, wrinkled skin so that her
sagging breasts were clearing in view as a reminder that gravity is
not our freind.  She conceeded to modesty only be holding the fish in
front of her gentilia.  Considering that the poor pisces was pointing
head first, it was not much of a concession,  Especially, when one
realized what it was doing.

Yes, that.

Don't make that face, you weren't actaully there.

I was, and it was worse than you can imagine.  The over grown minnow
was doing the old suck and gape on the old woman clit as she held it
against her pussy.  Her own head was thrown back in pleasure with her
eyes closed.  I could only stare in shock as she softly moaned out.

Now this is the worst part, as the fish continued to nibble at her she
finally said something intelligable.

"Oh, mommy's little fishy is making mommy feel so good," she moaned in
baby talk as if the fish understood, which it couldn't seeing as how
its brain was nothing more than a knot to keep its spinal cord from
unraveling.  "Oh, mommy feels so good.  Mommy feels so good.  Oh,
mommy is about to cum."

And I was about to leave.  Honest, I was.  And I did.

I was in such a hurry to leave that bookstore that I almost missed
hearing the woman's squeals of relief as the fish finished it duty and
she orgasmed into its mouth.  I even spilt some of my lattle on myself
which left a wet spot on my pants.

At least, that's my story and I'm sticking to it.


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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