Path: not-for-mail
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.bondage
Subject: Title story: "Just Get the HELL Out, Okay?" Author: RICHH 116158961
From: TheXfan <ryzij@poczta.fm>
Lines: 132
Message-ID: <PUgCi.230307$jE4.110248@fe12.news.easynews.com>
X-Complaints-To: abuse@easynews.com
Organization: EasyNews, UseNet made Easy!
X-Complaints-Info: Please be sure to forward a copy of ALL headers otherwise we will be unable to process your complaint properly.
Date: Sat, 01 Sep 2007 17:00:31 +0000
===================
-------------------------------- ONLY FOR ADULTS -----------------------------------------
You can at any time to read and comment the Stories sent to us OR
You can always add a favourite story on here http://e-story.biz/addstory.html OR
Add a favourite site on here http://e-story.biz/addlink.html
The continue of this history http://e-story.biz/virtuoso/index.html?id_group=12&id_story=1262&id_posting=72807
Free XXX photos on us frend: http://tgp.photoset.biz
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Just Get the HELL Out, Okay?
Zipperhead's is a famous store here in Philadelphia. The store is on South
Street, sell cools clothes and shoes, some handcuffs and leather and stuff, and
is a great place just to hang out and watch people in.
Well, I'm in there for a reason yesterday: Saltgirl, whom I am meeting at a
kinky sort of party this weekend, bought a bitchin outfit she was telling me
about, but couldn't find the wide shiny belt she needed to really complete the
ensemble. No problem. I knew just the place.
So I'm in there in the bondage-y section to your left as you walk in and there's
this ultra-cool woman behind the counter, who has piercings in places well, that
you wouldn't even find in a second-hand _Gray's_(which, incidentally, you could
buy, just up the street, in Philly's largest used bookstore.
She's helping me look through the belts.
"This one's nice..."
"Motorcycle chains, eh? A bit rough for this girl."
"Ooh, how about this one?"
It's gorgeous. Silver on black leather, extra wide, but it looked way long.
"It looks great, but I'm pretty sure it's too long."
She tries it on herself. "Fits me okay. What's your girlfriend's waist size?"
"Um." I hesitate. "27."
"I hate you both. Please leave."
I laugh and she hangs up the belt. "Now *here's* a beaut..."
She pulls down this cool-looking thing that was made out of large- diametered
silver O-type rings connected to little leather doo-dads that connected to
smaller leather silver D-rings that connected a wholemessa chains that connected
to another D-ring etc all the way around."
"Can we measure it? Looks great. She'll plotz."
Gets out a tape measure. Shit. 32" at the smallest hole.
"Sorry," she said, about to put it back.
"No, wait. I know the guy who owns 'The Leather Rose'. It's on my way home. I'll
just have him take out one of the O-rings, a doo-dad, and a set of chains. How
many inches will that take off?"
She measures. "About 5. Perfect."
"Cool. And I'll come back and give what he takes out to you for being so helpful
for being so nice. You could wear it through your-Then he walks in.
In *my* town.
Into the coolest street in my town.
Into the coolest store on the coolest street in my town.
With his ditzy blonde wife and his stupid little entourage of hangers-on.
Yup, last night was the night Morton Downey Jr. did Zipperhead's.
Everyone in the store immediately recognizes him and we all look at each other
and shake our heads. It's tough not to laugh at the guy.
Real tough. But wetry to be good. And we watch them walk through the store with
this kind of disdainful mocking 'people-really-*buy*-this- stuff?' attitude that
pisses us all off. I'm wearing a heavy leather riding jackets w/silver epaulets
and little cat-o-nine-tail fringes hanging from the zippers, so you just know
Mort wants *my* autograph.
The woman behind the counter and I decide to fuck with them. We start talking
about how good the Eagles looked crushing Dallas on Monday, but ever so often
raising our voices and shouting a buzzword or two Morty's way.
"Yeah, that was the best," I said. "I can't believe I didn't CAULKING
GUN bet it."
"Randall looked awesome FILLED WITH CREST BEN-GAY? A 60/40 MIX?"
She's good, damn good. "OF COURSE. The offensive line was
amazing. They were playing GAUZE PADS better than they actually are."
"I know what you mean. Playing AND SOME BETADINE over their heads. ANAL
SPECULUM."
"MOLLY BOLT ENEMA. And you know, Dallas made some key plays too.
The Eagles just looked Super Bowl. AND WE USED REVERSETHREADED SCREWS BECAUSE OF
THE HEAVY VIBRATIONS."
"YOU COULDN'T DAMPEN THEM?" she asked.
"NOT UNDER Randall! ROLLER COASTER YOU DON'T."
"GUESS NOT."
By this time, Mort and co. had seen enough. As they passed us to get out the
door, we smiled at them and all we heard them say was "Fucking freaks".
It was the best.
RICHH --cool town
End
-------------------------------- ONLY FOR ADULTS -----------------------------------------
You can at any time to read and comment the Stories sent to us OR
You can always add a favourite story on here http://e-story.biz/addstory.html OR
Add a favourite site on here http://e-story.biz/addlink.html
The continue of this history http://e-story.biz/virtuoso/index.html?id_group=12&id_story=1262&id_posting=72807
Free XXX photos on us frend: http://tgp.photoset.biz
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------