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"Janey in Bloom" by Bitbard (hot romantic tryst) 10, 10, 10
"Janey in Bloom" by Bitbard (The Artist Formerly Known as Sandman) (bitbard@newsguy.com). --- This is a story about Sandman and Janey meeting for a day of passion beginning at Dallas Love Airport. That's it's real name. Ya learn something new everyday. I didn't know that the Dallas airport had little rooms (called Conference Booths) that people could reserve with a credit card and which were big enough for airport quickies. Let me explain how I know that. Through simple deductions derived from their stories and postings to these newsgroups, I had concluded that both Bitbard (formerly Sandman) and Janey would be in Dallas on exactly the same day that my husband and I would be in that city for our annual visit to the Dollhouse Museum of the Southwest and to check out some books at the Dallas Textbook Depository. We decided to go out to Love Field and see if we could spot the happy couple and possibly eavesdrop on their rendezvous. After several hours of staking out incoming flights from New England, my husband nudged me and pointed to a middle-aged man with an obvious bulge in his pants doing a tongue duel with a woman about four inches taller than me. "This is a wicked huge airport," I heard the woman say, as she paused for breath. At just that moment, a child standing between us and the couple said, "Look mommy! They're all mushy!" The mother glanced contemptuously at the lovers, and then turned away in a huff. Since the mother and child were going to run us over, and since my husband's boner was by now even bigger than Sandman's, we turned away to avoid further scandalizing the mother and child. By the time they passed and we turned back around, the couple had disappeared. "Shall we look for them?" I asked. "No, I have a better idea," my husband said. Then he led me to a pair of small chambers with signs that said "conference booth." Fortunately, one of them was unoccupied, and he dragged me inside. * * * * By the time we were finished, we knew it would be impossible to find the happy couple again, and so we rejoined our hosts - my husband's former college roommate and his wife. He was Randy; and so was she, as we described the events in the airport while we drove toward their house. Randy was a police officer, and my husband and I were seated in the back seat of the cruiser while the braless wonder snuggled up next to Officer Friendly in the front seat. As we drove down the highway, a Porsche zoomed past us. The woman in the shotgun position had her eyes closed and was moaning with delight. It was the couple from the airport, and she was obviously having an orgasm right there on Route 35E! "That's dangerous!" said Randy, as he flipped on his flashing lights and "initiated pursuit." His wife responded by whipping off her tee shirt, leaning over toward her husband, and saying, "I think it's sexy as hell!" My husband's cock responded by rising faster than a tachyon on steroids. Randy was holding his binoculars, gazing after the car, which had begun to accelerate, even while it continued to swerve on the highway. "She's plucking his chicken!" Randy exclaimed. "Like this?" asked his wife. "Oh, fuck 'em!" Randy muttered, as he slowed down, turned off his flashing lights, and pulled off the highway. And they did. "Can I borrow your handcuffs?" were the last words my husband addressed to his old friend until after Beth and I both came in discrete but roaring and simultaneous orgasms. * * * * Having definitively lost track of the target couple, I decided to make the best of my trip by checking up on Deirdre over in Sulphur Springs. However, when we got there, we discovered that the Hopkins County Dairy Festival Parade was in progress. Moreover, two teenage girls in Daisy Dukes who were hanging on the arms of Beavis and Butthead told us that the parade would be followed by Southwest Homemade Ice Cream Contest. {This is all absolutely true. You can find it in on page 116 of the 1997 edition of the Triple A TourBook.} We figured that it would be easy to find Deirdre at the contest, and we smiled as we wondered what extremes she would go to in order to win. To kill time, we wandered off into a field behind the Dairy Queen out on the four-lane leading to the Interstate. The field was full of bluebonnets. I fell asleep with my head on my husband's lap, as he reclined against a large oak tree. I was awakened by the sound of a melodious male voice singing on the other side of the grove "I see trees of green Red roses too I see them bloom For me and you..." It was just about the best mood music I could imagine. As the song ended, we saw a guitar being cast aside on the other side of the grove, and pieces of clothing soon began to pile up on top of the discarded instrument. "What a wonderful world," I heard a female voice say, repeating a line from her lover's song. "Are you seducing me?" "I give up--I'm yours," I said to my husband. Two couples could play this game as well as one. My radio quietly blared away at my side with a sexy southern twang. "They're too crazy about each other To even care about the show." "Would you look at that woman's ass!" murmur my husband, as he gazed over my shoulder while he fondled my ass. As I turned my husband around and began to pay lip service to his cock, I heard the woman say, "Don't stop! Don't ever stop!" "Listen to the lady," said my husband. "Which lady?" I asked. "Both of them." * * * * Well, we never did catch up with Janey and Sandman. It probably wouldn't have been all that exciting, since they just make up all that crap in their stories anyway. And it looks like I'm not going to have time to review this story either. Ratings for "Janey in Bloom" Athena (technical quality): 10 Venus (plot & character): 10 Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10 |