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From: themrlee@hotmail.com (The Mr. Lee)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 2 Apr 2000 03:59:28 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} "To Loathe and Abhor" <*> The Mr. Lee (MF, BD, Loathing, Mysterious Premonitions)
Date: Sun,  2 Apr 2000 00:10:12 -0500
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We found this story on an old PowerBook 520 an ex-associate of ours left
behind after leaving our Penguin Base for a psychiatric center. We always
wondered what the problem was. This story suggests some fairly deep
psychic angst and an inability to manage affairs with women. Alas alack.
We wish him well in his recovery. We also hope that you can find a sliver
of pleasure in the story. We are not quit sure if we did, or whether it
just made for a macabre read.

For those of you anticipating our next  The Uncertainty of the Meek -like
story, we apologize. Perhaps our next story will return to that territory.
For those of you who have been spreading the rumor that we have given up
romanticism and begun masturbating to the centerfold picture of Tanya
included in  Tanya Tucker: Greatest Hits  (Capital), we curse you, your
lies, and the six generations of defective DNA you will spawn. 

Spline Duck, who was quite busy with Real Life, helped us with some
editing. However, as he was unavailable for his usual, rigorous editing
and commenting, we bear the burden more heavily than usual for all that is
wrong. You can credit Spline Duck for at least some of what is right.

**********

To Loathe and Abhor, (C)2000 the The Mysterious Mr. Lee Organization

*****

I pulled four-day old samosas from my 'frige and microwaved them until the
door steamed over. I took them out and poured all of the hot sauce I had
left over them, dipped one in yogurt. I took a big bite out of it, taking
almost a third into my mouth at once. Not the wisest thing to do, since
the potatoes were so hot. I spit it back onto the plate and ran to the
sink, filling my mouth with cold water. I do this all of the time--eat the
samosas before they're cool. I don't even curse them anymore. I just
accept the burn as part of the ritual.

The phone rang. It was Kim. She was out in Pasadena and had run out of
money, so she couldn't get back to West Hollywood, where she lived most of
the time. Could I pick her up, she wanted to know. OK, I know that I
promised to not deal with her shit anymore. I promised that Kim was out of
my life for good, no going back. But she was stuck in Pasadena, which is
way too far to get to West Hollywood in any sane fashion, so I was in my
car again, heading out towards the hills.

I hadn't been home long when she called. I was tired after working for
fifteen hours and then driving the long commute across the Valley home. I
was working so late because Steve, the new draftsman, was out sick again.
I was forced to cover for him. I'm beginning to think Steve has a drinking
or drug problem because he misses so much work. Covering for him has taken
all of the joy out of my work. I usually work fifty or sixty hours a week,
which keeps me relatively wealthy for someone without a college degree and
keeps me from thinking about Kim. However, the extra three or four hours I
work when Steve's out push me over the line. I can't handle it. I get
tired and make mistakes I would never make if I were rested, and then have
to stay even later to correct them. 

After midnight on a Wednesday night and the freeways are still jammed. I
love this town. To be fair, I was in an all right mood. I had a Johnny
Cash tape on, the one where he's singing "Rings of Fire," turned up nice
and loud. My samosas had cooled to point where I could eat them while I
drove without scorching my mouth. I did spill a bunch of yogurt on my lap
changing lanes close to Pasadena, but I was OK. The moon was full and
their weren't any clouds, so the sky was pretty and bright. 

OK, maybe the thought of seeing Kim again was getting me excited. I didn't
want to admit it, I didn't want to allow myself to get caught up in her
again, but I was licking the yogurt from my fingers, imagining it was her
honey I was licking. I thought about the time we went down to Cabo San
Lucas for a holiday. We got a room with a view of the beach and never went
outside. She had a white one-piece that she bought for the trip, special
just for me. While I got the luggage she took a shower and came out
wearing the suit, all wet. The water running down her hair ran down over
her breasts, flowing around her nipples, which were dark against the
translucent wet fabric. I could see her pubic hair under the fabric too.
It was too much to wait for. She spun around, her hair spraying water all
over the room. The suit was cut high and showed most of her ass, including
the tan lines from her old suit. Her skin was starting to react to the
cold and get all bumpy, which made me even hotter.

She came over to me and pulled her body against me, cold from the water,
hot from her skin. She kissed me hard, her tongue thrusting into my mouth,
almost urgent, demanding. I kissed her back, but she pulled away. She
pushed me hard, setting me off balance so I fell onto the bed. She untied
my shoes and pulled them off, kissing my foot. I wanted to touch her, too,
and started to sit up and reach for her, but she ran her hand up my leg
and over my balls and cock then pushed me back down. She held her hand
just above my cock, letting me know that she would hurt me if I sat up
again. She didn't say anything.

She kissed her way up my legs, running her hands up the backside. When she
got to my shorts, she started rubbing my dick with her hands, while
licking my inner thighs. Then she slide a hand under my shorts and boxers
and grabbed my cock. She squeezed hard and it hurt. I started getting
angry, because she wasn't getting me off, wasn't turning me on. I started
to say something, "Kim, ...," but she grabbed my balls. I was confused. I
wanted to hit her and I wanted to fuck her, fuck and make it hurt, but I
was noticing that maybe I was kind of turned on. I could see her cleavage
and the edges of her aureoles; the "V" made as her body slimed from her
breasts to her waist.

She unbuttoned and unzipped my shorts, pulling them open, but not down.
She licked the circle on my boxers where pre-come had soaked through. She
gently stroked my cock.

"Do you want to see my tits?" she asked. As I started to say yes, she bit
my cock. Then she pulled one of the straps aside, so her nipple was
exposed, her breast pushed up. I leaned forward, wanted to take it into my
mouth. I wanted her to start coming and loose control. I wanted to take
control myself, but she just teased me, rubbing her nipple on the head of
my cock.

She took my cock into her mouth, just the head. I was close to coming, but
she knew that and didn't stroke the shaft. She just licked the head. She
slowly slid my dick into her mouth. Her mouth was so warm and moist, I
couldn't help but start moving my hips up and down, trying to come. Biting
down slightly and scraping my cock with her teeth, she pulled her head
away. I could see a bead of come on the tip of my cock. It was red and
swollen, with darker red tracks from her teeth.

Kneeling over me, she let her swimsuit-covered cunt touch my dick ever so
lightly. Then she pulled the swimsuit down to her waist, her breasts, tan
and gorgeous spilling out. She put a hand on my chest and lifted off of
me, touching me only with the sides of her legs and her hand, her tits
just above me. She started rubbing her nipple, squeezing it between her
fingers.

"You want to touch it, don't you?"

I just nodded.

She lifted her breast with her hand, her fingers pushing into her flesh. I
knew that feeling of supple weight and my cock jerked with desire. She was
breathing faster now, her hair drying, but her body still wet, sweat and
water. Sliding down, she placed my cock between her breasts, holding them
together. She moved up and down, her sweat and my pre-come lubricating my
cock in her cleavage. I was building towards an enormous orgasm, on the
verge of coming when she stopped and let my erect dick slap against my
stomach. There was a thin line of come between her breasts. Her nipples
were enormous. I leaned my head up, flicking my tongue out, wanting to
taste her. She moved over my head and held her tits just out of reach.

Straightening out over my crotch, she held her cunt just an inch or so
from my cock. She started playing with her nipple again, and reached her
other hand into her swimsuit to play with her cunt. I could see everything
though the tight, wet fabric. Her finger on her clit, her finger sliding
between her lips, into her cunt. She started rubbing faster, moaning, "Oh,
God, Oh, God, Oh! God! OHGOD!" both hands in her swimsuit, rubbing,
sliding, probing.

Then she reached behind her and pulled a pink dildo out from behind her
back. I guess she had tucked the dildo in there earlier, but I never saw
it. She started rubbing the dildo against her swimsuit, pushing the nylon
in so I could see her lips wrap around the dildo; so I could watch the
plastic cock fuck her. As she started to stroke the dildo in and out of
her faster, she pushed the swimsuit to the side, the fabric bunching up
and exposing her glistening cunt. She probed the dildo in and must have
hit her g-spot, because she squirted on my cock, my trembling cock.

She took the dildo out and held it up to my face. I could smell her on the
fake cock. I saw her honey on the dildo and on her fingers. She put it at
my lips and I licked it. Pushing the phallus into my mouth, she fucked my
face. I was gagging. She pulled the dildo out and put it back into her
cunt. She fucked herself. Her hand hit my cock every time she pulled it
out. She was screaming when I came, shooting come all over my stomach an
her thighs.

She never let me fuck her that weekend, and I hated her for denying me.
Every time we got together after that, it was the same, sometimes even
worse. Twice she picked up guys when we were at bars and had them fuck her
while I lay clothed next to them. I hated her for it. But there I was,
driving to pick her up with a monster hard-on. I still hated her for
tormenting me like that, but I desperately wanted to fuck her. Maybe
that's why I kept coming back, hoping that I would finally get to put my
cock into her, fuck her the way I wanted to fuck. I'd never been with
someone who didn't allow me to control things, so I think I couldn't stand
it. I knew what I'd do, I make her come so hard with my cock, make her
want me so bad that she'd beg me for it anytime she saw me. But that
hadn't happened. I was driving alone to Pasadena to do her a favor.

I arrived at the gas station she told me she would be at. She wasn't
there. Not out by the phone booths, not by the pumps. I went inside, since
it was one of those gas/snack shops, but she wasn't there, either. The
clerk told me nobody had borrowed the bathroom key in hours. I went
outside and stood beside my car. I thought about leaving, going home, but
then I thought maybe she just ran across the street to the doughnut place
or something. Thought she'd call me again in two hours and yell at me for
not meeting her. Thought about her breasts in the wet white swimsuit.
That's why I stayed. Her wet breasts, her erect nipples, her dark aureoles
showing through the fabric.

Looking at my watch, I saw it was after one. I pulled out a cigarette from
the pack I was hoping to make my last and light up. It was hot out, a
little humid. The air smelled nice, floral, natural. I was pretty far out
in Pasadena. I guess the smog doesn't reach that far.

I finished the cigarette and started another, throwing the empty pack on
the ground. A couple walked by, obviously drunk, obviously on their way
back to an apartment or house or maybe hotel room to fuck each other's
brains out. She was slender with long, straight black hair and slight
breasts, maybe Asian. Couldn't tell very well. He was nondescript in a
business way. Could be a CEO, could be a data processor.

A blue Corvette pulled into the gas station. A big guy in sweatpants and
no shirt got out and pumped gas. He walked into the station, came out with
a giant-size soda. Drove away slowly. Big engine, light foot. Unusual
combination.

I snuffed out the cigarette and went into the station. They had eight
brands, but not the one I usually smoke. I decided to get unfiltereds for
variety. Hoped that they would be so hard on my lungs that I wouldn't
smoke two, but knew it was a lie.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that Steve was nearby, drinking at a bar. I
thought I could catch him and have some evidence that he was lying about
being sick all of the time. If I did find some evidence, I could get
someone to replace him. I closed my eyes, took a big hit, and tried to let
my mind locate him. Sometimes I believe I have supernatural powers, that I
can know things that my education says can't be known.  I knew he was East
of me. I could picture him clearly, in a dark bar, drinking tequila
shooters, on the verge of passing out. Kim was in that bar, too. I knew
that I would recognize it as soon as I got to it.

I snuffed the cigarette, threw the package on the shelf of one of the
phonebooths, and got in my car. I drove east. At first, I was driving
through a residential section with bungalows of all colors. Then I reached
a strip of fast food joints, a gas station and two bars. The bar on the
right side of the road was where I had to go. I parked on the street and
walked in.

Steve was passed out at the bar. He had a crooked line of shot glasses in
front of him, two twenties crumbled between them. I kicked the stool out
from under him. He fell to the floor, but didn't awake. I wrote "You're
fired!" on a bar napkin and stuck it in his pocket. I stole his wallet. I
don't know why. I guess because I could. Because Kim would like it.

I looked around. I knew Kim was here, but I didn't see her. I hated her.
She was someplace at the bar, but I couldn't see her. I left.

Kim was in my car. My locked car. She saw me and held up my car keys,
smiling. I tried to open the door, but she had it locked. I walked to the
other side and tried the door. It was locked. She unlocked the other door.

I walked over and got in. "Do you hate me?"

 "Yes." She looked my right in the eyes when she answered, didn't look
away, didn't flinch. "Yes."

"Why." I didn't ask it as a question.

"You're weak."

I took the keys from her and started the car. "Don't call me again."

"I will."

I drove west. I didn't ask where she wanted to go. She didn't ask where I
was driving. I didn't know.

Skipping the freeway entrance, I just kept driving west. There wasn't much
traffic. She looked beautiful, the moonlight struck her perfectly. I could
smell her arousal. I wanted to vomit.

We passed into Los Angeles. She took out a cigarette. "Are you trying to quit?"

"Yes."

She light it and look long, seductive draws from it. She didn't blow the
smoke in my face, but sent it in my direction. I wanted a cigarette. I
wanted a drink. I wanted to kill her.

"I want to fuck you."

"I know."

The road ended in a "T."

"Left." She looked at me like she knew this was where we were going all along.

I turned left.

"I want to kill you."

"I know."

We passed through five empty intersection. Moderate duplex with small lawn
after moderate duplex with small lawn. No one on the street, no cars on
the road. A sleepy neighborhood.

"Turn right."

I turned right. She put out the cigarette. There was a liquor store on the
corner. The first store in ten minutes.

"Pull over there."

I stopped the car in the little parking lot. Left the car running.

"I'm going to buy alcohol. Give me Steve's wallet."

I gave it to her and she went in the store. She came back with a small bag
with two fifths in it. She took out a pair of condoms from Steve's wallet.

"He was going to fuck me tonight."

I put the car in drive and headed out onto the street, heading west again.
We were going to the beach.

"You're going to kill me tonight."

"No."

"Yes."

She rolled down her window. The hot air overpowered the air conditioning.
I started to sweat. She took off her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra. I
put a hand on her leg, just below her shorts. She leaned back in the seat
and touched her nipple.

The road was empty. I took her hand and licked her fingers. I took her
fingers and rubbed her nipple. I took her fingers and pinched her nipple. 

I put the cruise control on. I felt her breast with her hand, squeezing
it, kneading it. She moaned slightly. I knew I was going to fuck her. I
unbuttoned her shorts and grabbed her other hand. I held her thumb and
forefinger on the waistband and pulled her shorts down forcefully. Her
panties were forced halfway off, so that the curls of her pubic hair lay
exposed. I took her thumb and rubbed her clit. Her moaning grew louder. I
forced her fingers up and down her slit. She was wet. I leaned over and
watched her finger curl under the pressure of my finger and disappear into
her cunt.

I turned back to the road while I fucked her with her own fingers. I saw
her head and shoulders tighten from the corner of my eye as she climaxed
for the first time.

"Fuck yourself." I pressed her fingers together and pushed four of them
inside of her, pulling her forward.

She began fingering herself slowly, and then more quickly. Her hands shone
in the moonlight, wet with her honey.

"Put the chair back."

She put it back and put her leg out the window, giving me an unobstructed
view of her sopping cunt. I took her hand off her breast and put her
fingers on her clit. She started coming again.

"Suck my cock."

She rolled on to her side, her breasts falling towards the seat. She took
her wet hand and unzipped my trousers. She stroked my cock slowly. It felt
good, her slick hand on my shaft.

"Suck it."

She crawled into my lap and licked it from base to head, and then took the
head into her mouth.  She slowly drew in more of the shaft and started
pumping it with her slick hands. I felt something powerful rise up from
inside of me. She drew in more of my cock, until I was completely inside
of her. I closed my eyes as her head bobbed up and down on my dick. She
began moving her head faster and faster, stroking my hard cock with her
hands until I came. I came like I never came before, an intense, almost
religious high.

She looked up at me, a line of come on  her chin, and said, "I was right."

I looked up and saw a truck surging towards me and knew she was.

-- 
This story is copyright 1999 the The Mysterious Mr. Lee Organization. Reposting is expressly forbidden, except with permission.

We at the The Mysterious Mr. Lee Organization adore feedback. Tell us what you liked, tell us what you hated, or just tell us you read the story. e-mail us at: TheMrLee@hotmail.com

Visit our wonderful Website at <http://pages.ripco.net/~metrdesn>

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