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From: "E. Z. Riter" <ezriter@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.d
References: <87zmki4ph7.fsf@drizzle.com>
Subject: Re: {ASSD} A Title I Can't Use Yet
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Date: Sat, 25 Feb 2006 23:09:25 +0000
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===================
"Elf M. Sternberg" <elf@drizzle.com> wrote in message
news:87zmki4ph7.fsf@drizzle.com...
> This afternoon as I was walking home, I looked down at a patch of grass
> and saw something. "Oh," I thought. "An undeveloped desireline." And
> then I thought that that phrase, "Undeveloped Desireline", was a great
> title for a story.
>
> Now I just have to figure out what story.
>
> It'll probably end up in the Graveyard of Great Titles, right next to
> "The Princess Warehouse", another title for which I have no clue what to
> write next.
>
> *Sigh*
>
> Elf
I, E.Z. Riter, do give and bequeath the incomplete story entitled "Princess
Warehouse" to whatever denizen of ASSD, ASSM, and environs wishes to finish
it.
Princess Warehouse
It was 1965, which was a lifetime ago it seems. The world has changed and I'
m a hell of a lot older. Anyway, way back in 1965, I was a senior in a men's
college back east, active in my fraternity, sports, school politics, and all
of that stuff that seemed so important back then.
Of course, getting laid was the most important thing of all. Being in a
men-only environment had both its advantages and its drawbacks. We dated
girls from both the girls schools in the area and two universities not far
away, so there was plenty of feminine pulchritude available. We just had to
work a little harder to get it.
By the time we were seniors, a lot of the guys had their spouse picked out
and nailed down. They were "pinned," which meant the girl wore the guys
fraternity pin to show she was taken. It also usually meant she had been
pinned to a mattress by the guy's dick. I had pinned a girl late in my
junior year, a sweet young thing from a good Christian family. When I
visited her at her home after school retired for the summer, I found out two
other guys had pinned her, too. Good bye, Mary, and kiss my ass.
Anyway, back to my story. In October of my senior year, I was horny, too
horny for my own good which was a state I did not endure well. I wasn't
ready to commit to a relationship with a woman after the last commitment
ended so badly.
That left me two choices.
Go to a whorehouse or go to the Princess Warehouse. I decided to do the
latter. It was cheaper and the quality of girls was better.
Big Al, my roommate, wanted to go. Big Al was always ready to get laid and
he couldn't get a date anywhere near by because of his reputation as a
reprobate. And I decided to take Paul with me. He was my little brother in
the fraternity and a good guy.
So, I took Paul aside and said, "Do you want to get laid?"
He looked like it was a stupid question but he humored me and said, "Sure,
Mike. Who and when?"
"There's a girl's college three hours from here. Most of the girls are from
middle class families who view their progeny as their little princesses."
"Jewish American Princesses?" he asked.
"Jewish and Irish and Italian and everythingish. They're all American
Princesses. We call the school the Princess Warehouse."
"That sounds great. Tell me more," Paul said.
"The parents send them there because it's an all girl school, the curfews
and rules are tight as hell, and the academics are easy. The girls can't cut
the better schools academically, but their parents want them to have that
'private school refinement' so they ante-up the tuition. The girls can only
date Friday and Saturday night, and they have to be in a ten on Friday and
eleven on Saturday. That's the only time they get out because a ten foot
high fence surrounds the place and the entry gates are locked. I mean that
literally. They lock them in all week. And the place is isolated as hell.
You know, the parents like that aspect, too. They think getting laid will be
'out of sight, out of mind' for the girls. The girls have their own saying:
'Lights out at ten, candles out at eleven.' You get the picture, don't you?"
"When do we leave?" he asked. I didn't look at his dick, but I'd bet ten
dollars he was hard.
"Not so fast," I said. "It'll cost you about $400 for the weekend. That
covers food, the rooms, gasoline, and your share of the liquor and bribe."
"What bribe?"
"The bribe to the proctor who will let them sneak out after lights out."
"So, when do we leave?" he said.
The three of us headed out Friday afternoon, blowing down the road in Big Al
's '63 T-Bird. For those of you who only remember T-Birds as being a two
seats sport cars, the T-Birds during those years was a land yacht that could
cruise at ninety all day and not break a sweat. Big Al didn't say a word the
entire trip. He was intent on arriving there timely and safely.
We didn't drink on the way. In fact, liquor was out of the question for us
for the entire weekend. We wanted to be stone-cold sober for this assault.
Liquor was definitely part of the equation for the girls. "Candy is dandy,
but liquor is quicker" was the saying.
We stopped at a service station two blocks from the campus gates, gassed up
the T-Bird and put the top down, and had a bathroom break. We pulled through
the gates of the college at five, which was perfect. The girls weren't
released for their dates before five. The place looked like a fine, moral,
upstanding academic establishment to the parents. The girls thought it
looked look like a prison. I thought it looked like an ornate warehouse of
horny honeys eager and ready for a guy like me.
I knew a girl who was in her second year there, and, yes, I mean "know" in
the Biblical sense. Her name was Mandy Kline. When we decided to make out
road trip, I called Mandy and arranged dates for Al, Paul, and me. Mandy's
roommate, Patsy Sugarman, loved to fuck as much as Mandy did, and her
regular beau was going to be out-of-state playing left tackle for his
football team. Mandy and I agreed Patsy would be Al's date because Al was
like Patsy's boyfriend, big, abrupt, and demanding.
Mandy suggested a freshman for me. "Her name is Kathy O'Malley, Mike. She's
sweet and she's shy, but she's smart, smarter than I am, anyway. And naive."
Mandy laughed. It was almost a snort. "And she has big boobs. I know you
like that."
"Will she put out?" I asked. There wasn't any reason to be indirect with
Mandy. We both knew the score.
"Oh, come on, Mike. You could get any girl to put out if you put your mind
to it," Mandy replied.
"Answer the question. Will she put out?"
"Probably," Mandy replied.
"Probably doesn't cut it. Why don't you go out with me?" I said.
"Because you and I will never end up together permanently and we both know
it," she replied without rancor.
She was right about that. Mandy and I had a little bit too much to drink one
time and got into a serious discussion about life and love and marriage. She
said she would never be faithful and she wanted a guy who would accept that.
Most definitely, that was not me.
"I think you'll like her and I think she'll like you," Mandy said.
"And if I don't?" I asked.
"Oh, shit, Mikey. If she doesn't fuck you before the weekend's over, I
will," Mandy said. That made it a deal for me.
We parked the T-Bird in front of the wide steps to the colonial style
columned veranda and walked through the front door to the parlor. The parlor
is what the college administration called the big barny room with chairs and
couches everywhere. It's where the girls waited to be picked up for dates.
The girls were dressed for dates, which meant they wore dresses, hose, and
shoes with two or three inch heels. Their hair was done and they carried
their purse in hand. The dresses were modest. All those middle class mamas
didn't want their little princesses being risqué. And remember, we're
talking the 1960s here. In the 60s, the average harlot didn't dress as
risqué as the average 2005 high school girl.
I knew a lot of the girls in the parlor, and, yes, I mean that in the
Biblical sense. Mandy and Patsy saw us and came a-running. A very pretty
girl followed them. She had lustrous raven black hair, pale, fair skin, and,
from what I could tell, a curvy feminine shape. I introduced Al and Paul
before Mandy introduced the girl to me.
"This is Kathy O'Malley," Mandy said.
Kathy extended her hand and looked me in the eyes for the first time,
peering up at me through her lashes to reveal big, beautiful eyes.
????????????????
Okay, guys and gals. Go for it!
E. Z.