index


Message-ID: <28530asstr$980291403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: GenericJoe <genericjoe@vnet.net>
User-Agent: tin/1.4.4-20000803 ("Vet for the Insane") (UNIX) (Linux/2.2.16-22 (i686))
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 23 Jan 2001 14:03:35 EST
Subject: {ASSM} 300 Words by GenericJoe (MF)
Date: Tue, 23 Jan 2001 18:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

A lot of you have written me, to ask where I have been, what I am writing,
etc.  All I can say is that I have a very large hopper.  And having a very
large hopper doesn't do you much good by itself: it's all in how you use
it.  The right way to use a large hopper is to squeeze a little bit out of
it every now and then.  This keeps the hopper from getting too stressed out
and keeps the fans from being blue. 

So, in an attempt to keep myself from having any blue fans, I created this
little fable, to let you know what's up with me, at least sort of.

=================================

300 Words

by GenericJoe <genericjoe@vnet.net>

There once was a man named Saul.  Saul was an average guy.  He had sex a
couple of times a week.  He masturbated every day. 

And every day was the same. He'd wake up, go to work, come home, and eat
dinner. His wife would go to the den and watch TV.  He would write erotica.

And he was popular, with lots of works out on the net.   But then something
changed.  He wasn't writing anymore -- or at least publishing.  None of his
works got past 300 words.  He'd start writing them, then get distracted,
and well, and that was all he wrote.  Until the next day.

It all started one day, when he was writing. His wife came in, sank to her
knees, and began to suck him off. 

She pulled off of him.  "I read one of your stories today."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said with a sultry voice, and lowered her head down to his
cock.  It wasn't long before he was ready to blow.  But then she pulled up
off of him, and began going upstairs, pulling off one garmet at a time,
leaving a trail for him to follow.  By the time they made it up to their
bedroom, they were both naked. 

"You liked my story?" Saul asked, looking at his wife lying on the bed,
legs spread, fingers on her cunt.

"I loved your story," she moaned.

"Which one was it?" he asked, as he knelt betwen her legs, his tongue
snaking out towards her slit.

"The one, ohhh where they guy does that thing with his wife...."

"Oh, that one's unfinished," he said, his tongue sliding between her lips,
finding her clit, teasing it.

"How does it end?"

"I don't  know." He rose and slid his cock between her --

-- 
Bi Poly Pagan Switchy Writer Gamer Geek
Journal and Stories at
http://www.offthebeatenpath.org/genericjoe/
Butter vs. Margarine? I trust cows over Scientists.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+