Post Date 20 Apr 2002

                               DISCLAIMER

This is a piece of fiction. Its characters have not even
begun to contemplate such things, mostly because said
characters do not exist.  Any imagined resemblance to people
living or deceased is either the result of dementia on the
reader's part or that the reader is, in fact, a character
this story.  None of these are conditions to be proud of,
and it would not be wise to draw attention to one's self by
claiming any similarity.

It is assumed that readers of this story have the permission
of the state, mom, dad, and the pastor and are able to fully
tell the difference between real and make-believe.  If not,
move along you lookie loos. Nothing to see here.
Furthermore,
the writer is aware that he is bound for hell, but welcomes
both praise or/and well thoughts out, humourous insults on
his
writing skill or lack there of. Note: he already knows he
cannot spell warth shet.

The events and descriptions of this story are the sole
property of Kenny N Gamera and should not be recorded,
reposted, or profited from in anyway without express written
permission of the person hiding behind that pen name.
Reposting and free archiving may be tolerated given the
writer's name and address remains attached.  Archiving by
Deja.Com and ASSTR/ASSM is assumed and encouraged.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

ftp://ftp.asstr.org/pub/Authors/Gamera

                     Tuesday Morning, Please Be Gone
                                   by
                             Kenny N Gamera

The sun was coming through the windows and shining into his
face when Alan finally woke up.  First, he felt to his right
to the nightstand and the pack of cigarettes he kept there.
Next, he felt to the left and found nothing.  His hand
traveled upward toward the bedpost. Soon, his fingers
encountered a hollow in the pillow next to him.

   Heather was gone.  The thought raced around his head for
a moment as he sat up and pulled a cigarette from the pack.
He placed it into his mouth and lit it with the cheap
plastic disposable he picked when he dropped the pack back
on the stand.  She was gone, he thought as he pulled in the
first puff of smoke of the day.

   He smiled.  She said that she would leave without waking
him, but he had doubted her.  He would catch hell from her
when they met at the bar later.  He didn't mind at all, for
she was cute in the way she teased him.

   His sigh was loud and satisfied.

   His smile grew when he smelled the coffee.  Heather
clearly had left the coffee on before she had left for her
morning classes and to feed Misty.  He looked at the clock
and was a bit surprised at the time, which was too late in
the morning for the coffee to smell so fresh, but...that was
when he heard the clank of pans.

   Heather had promised him that she wouldn't skip her class
like she threatened to do.  So, how could two pans clank
together in the kitchen?  He reached down to the floor for a
pair of discarded boxers.  His hand stopped inches away.
His hand moved from the floor to his mouth.  It removed the
cigarette, which was put out in the ashtray next to the pack
and lighter.  Led by his growing erection, he stood and
started to the kitchen.

   Damn, he thought, damn her to hell.

   "I love you too, Alan," Shelly's voice taunted him from
his own kitchen. "But you had better hurry for your
breakfast.  It may get cold before you can eat it."

   He walked into his kitchen with all of the grace of a
zombie.  He headed straight to Shelly and gave her a kiss on
the cheek.

   "Bitch."

   "Alan!" Shelly answered bringing her hand to the cheek
that he didn't kiss.  "Why I never...!"

   "I doubt that," he said as he moved his arms around her
waist and pulled her tight against his body.  "I doubt there
is anything that you would not do."

   He lowered his head and covered his mouth with hers.  Her
lips tasted remotely of some other woman. His tongue moved
into her mouth and found her tongue.  They fenced like that
for a moment and Shelly's hand stroked his cock.

   He discovered himself enjoying it for a moment and then
realized he had control of his body again.  He pushed her
away and backed to the table.  Shelly put her fists against
her sides.

   "Alan!  A girl might start to think that you didn't like
her."

   "I don't, Shelly."  He sighed.  "You are a bitch.  A
total, absolute bitch."

   She moved to him.  He couldn't escape because of the
table.  She kissed him on the cheek, quickly.  She then
stepped back to the stovetop.

   "I'm making you french toast."

   "All I have in the refrigerator is beer."

   "I noticed.  I had Mrs. Lopez bring some things from your
neighbors after she had let me in to your apartment."  She
added before Alan had a chance to ask about the build
supervisor.  "She's okay.  I didn't hurt her or little
Talia."

   "What did you do to them?"

   "Nothing," Shelly said in an innocent voice.  "But they
ate me for an hour before I had her let me in.  They should
be in a sixty-nine right now."

   "Shelly..."

   "No Alan, they are not human beings.  They are my toys.
Just as you are, unless you can prove otherwise.  When I am
through with you, I will go downstairs and watch Talia's
boyfriend fuck them both until he collapses.  And when he
comes home from work, Mr. Lopez will 'clean' them up."

   "You're sick"

   "Yes, I am, Alan.  I'm one sick fuck, and that is what I
like, a nice, sick fuck."

   He began to stroke hi cock as Shelly took the last slice
of french toast from the stove.  She placed the plate with
three slices onto the table next to him and he sat down in
front of it.  He also heard the door open.

   Sixteen-year old Talia came into the kitchen and knelt in
front of Shelly.  She was pretty with big brown eyes and
long black hair with reached almost to her ass.  Her nude
body was that pleasant shape that many Hispanic women have
before their first kids, thin but with the Rubenesque hints
of later years in the hips and breasts.  Her heavy make up
was smeared around her face.

   She whispered something at Shelly and stood up.  Alan
turned the chair to face her and Talia bent at the waist to
his cock.  Alan put his hands behind her head and forced her
down his length as she gagged.  Shelly began to strip out of
her shorts, exposing a leather or maybe vinyl harness.  She
extracted a dildo from her purse that she attached to the
harness.  She moved behind the young girl.

   With a thrust that pushed the girl's nose into Alan's
tummy she entered the girl.  Talia screamed around the cock
in her throat, the vibrations going into Alan rather than
the air.  Alan pulled her head away from his body.  He
popped from her mouth.  The girl began babbling in Spanish.

   Shelly answered her in that language and then said in
English, "she's begging me not to stick the dildo up her
ass.  I had to remind her that it is already there and if
she wants her boyfriend to take her cherry she better get
use to it.

   "Of course, I just might have her boyfriend do her ass
too, so her papa can make her a woman."

   No in Spanish sounds just like no in English.  Talia just
mumbled the word over and over until Alan pulled her back
onto his dick and forced her face back into his lap in time
to the pounding that Shelly gave her from behind.  Each of
his trusts made her gag which sent a shiver down Alan's
cock.

   Shelly finally announced her release, and to the mental
command that entered his head, Alan pulled the girl firmly
into his lap.  The girl began to gag again and then he felt
something begin to flow around his cock.  He looked down at
his lap.  Vomit squirted from Talia's lips and poured down
onto the chair and down to the floor.  Alan held back from
doing the same, but he could feel a tickle in the back of
his mind almost ready to urge him to let go.  He cleared
imagined the sight of his puke covering the girl's beautiful
head.  He fought it for a moment and it went away.

   "I'll give you that Alan," Shelly said.  "Besides, I
don't want her looks ruined for the big deflowering.
Speaking of which, finish him, Talia."

   The girl took Alan's vomit covered cock into her fist and
began to pump up and down.  Within a moment, Alan felt
himself clench up and then release.  The girl directed the
spray at her clean tits.  The white cum, a sharp contrast to
her dark skin, flowed into the valley between them.

   "Now, clean up Alan and the mess you made of his kitchen.
I'll be downstairs with mama and your boyfriend."

   Alan's hand picked up a fork and began to eat his cooled
french toast as he felt the girl begin to lick at his
testicles.  He tried very hard not to think about it.