Date First Posted 6 Feb 2001 

                        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,
ain't you ever heard of Disney, _The_Little_Mermaid_ is plenty
hot enough for you, little boy, jeese.  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

               Story Quickly Writen in Hotmail
                              by
                        Kenny N Gamera

I was in the computer lab again, cursing the current lack of a working modem
on my currently operating computer, but such is life, and life really can't
be fought.  But as long as I still had campus access to the internet, I
could still get to my e-mail and newsgroups and what not.  Thank God, I
don't get into pictures; otherwise, I would be able to get at anything
erotic.

The writen word is good enough for me and has been for a long time.  So, I
can download a couple of stories or five and have enough to keep me
entertained before I go to bed.  Stories are also like lovers in that they
can keep you interested even if it weren't for the sex.  It just helps that
you can read one while in public.  You could never get away with that with a
.avi or .jpeg download.

I went through my e-mail and actually found a few fan letters.  Fortunately,
I have never measure my success by fan mail.  I have measured it by the
total lack of hate mail and my continued ablity to come up with stories.
But I still liked to hear from people about my stories.  It made me feel
loved.  I wrote the answers to the fan mail, while feeling guilty about
those that I have recieved while I was too busy to follow the newsgroups or
write.

I need to find time to get those answered, I chastized myself.

I looked up as a young student came in.  Being the winter semester, it had
become difficult to separate the frosh from the sophomore.  I guessed,
however, that she was a sophomore.  I did not need to guess that she was
attractive.  I just needed  to guess what her age was, for my own curious
nature (just take that both ways and you'll be correct).  I, discretely,
watched her from the PC that I had logged onto as she walked by me and took
the machine next to mine.

Years of being a janitor have made me a bit of a snoop, so that after she
had gone through the endless boot cycle and uploading of files from the
campus intra-net system, unloaded her book bag, and opened a brower, I
leaned back to check out what she was looking at.

It was housing numbers.

She was a sophomore.

A frosh would be using Napster.

I turned line of sight so that I could take a look at her face.  It was
pretty in a sharp edged, thin way.  Her eyes were blue with eye brows just
slightly darker than the highlights in her hair.  Both her eyes and mouth
suggested that she smiled more often than not even if they both displayed
her total concentration on the numbers that she copied into a spiral bound
notebook.  A little bigger than pixie nose crowned her face, and her
earlobes were cee-shaped and...WELL DAMN, I HAPPEN TO LIKE NIBBLING
EARLOBES...with a single, empty hole in the fleshy part that attaches at the
bottom.

I glanced down quickly at her legs.  Levis do hide a little, expecially with
current fashion, but she had on a pair of straight leg regular fit jeans
that gave my imagination a little to work with.  She was definately slim,
the type of girl that inspired Jenny in "Beggars Can't Be..." (another guilt
attack), but not necessarily the type to drive me wild with lust.  Her baggy
hooded sweat shirt hid her bust, but I could imagine them being the small
breast that I enjoy best.  After all, they are just speed bumps on the way
to the promised land.

I quit girl watching before I get caught, and finish my current e-mail.  I,
also, I needed to figure out why an e-mail to someone I thought of as my PSO
(Potential Significant Other), bounced back.  I decided to just try to
re-send it later, and I went to ASSM to find who had posted something.
While getting into Deja, I found that I had ran out of tea.  Leaving the lab
and the slowly loading web page, I went to the coffee shop upstairs,
reloaded, my Earl Grey, and went back downstairs.

She was still there and smiled at me as I sat down.  I smiled back and went
to play.  I quickly downloaded a couple of Maria G.'s latest reposts,
something new by Katie, and a couple of mine for archive copies.  Then I
returned to Hotmail and sent two stories to catch up with my goal of thirty
in thirty.

My concentration was interupted by a small cough to my side.  I looked up at
the slim girl, I checked out earlier.  She brushed back her short blonde
hair.

"Hi, my name is Karen."

"Uh, hi?"

"What are you doing?"

I looked at her smiling face and started to mentally run for the door. "Uh,
sending e-mail."

She bent to look at my monitor screen.  "Hmmmm! 'Fred Flintbone and the
French Tickler.' Sounds naughty."

"Uh!"  I just saw my computer lab privileges being revoked.  "Well, I..."

"And what exactly is alt.sex.stories.moderated?"

I just grinned in embrassment.  She just smiled.

"It's okay; I just like to snoop and when I noticed that you were checking
me out I thought fair was fair. Besides, I like sex stories, too."

"Really?" came out of my mouth like a geek into a comic book shop.  I
blushed again.

"Really."

We talked for a while. I learned that she was a business major and had found
a free site that contained ripped off posts from ASS.  She, especially,
liked older men with younger women stories.  She learned that I called
myself Kenny N Gamera on the net (she, unsurprisingly never heard of me) and
that ASSM, while not on our news server, was a good source of stories.  I
suggested that she try Richard Bissel, which she promised to do.

We went back to work at our seperate computers. I just started typing and
was again lost in thought when I heard her cough again.

"Mr. Gamera?"  I looked at her slightly stunned.  Through, our whole
conversation she had called me Kenny.

"Yes, Karen?"

"Do you think I'm pretty?"

Oh shit, I thought, why is this happening.  Out loud, I said, "Very."

"Why?"

I let loose a mental sigh, as I mentally shook my head.  "Let's see, you've
got a strong classical face with  nice features.  I, especially, like your
smile."

"Why?"

I looked around.  No one was listening or, for that matter, anywhere around
us at the moment.  "I can easily imagine it around my penis," I answered
truthfully, but with some regret.  "I would think that watching you give a
blowjob would be sexy."

I started to turn back to my work.  She grabbed me by the arm.

"Would you like to find out?"  I just stared at her for a moment.  And, yes,
I think my jaw was hanging.  "I've never had an older guy and you remind me
of one of my father's friends."

I think I was just called old.

I started to say something, but she cut me off.  "I really, really want to
do this.  It would just be head.  I don't want to go any further, but my
boyfriend thinks I'm good."

God help me, I had just started a long distance love affair with a very
sweet woman, and now a young slut had to throw herself at me.  Two voices
argued in my head; one saying that she would never know and the other saying
that that it doesn't matter.  I looked at the girl, who looked at me with
pleading eyes.

At a set time, the student union closes except for the computer lab.  It is
a great place to do write club duels, for that reason.  No distractions (TV,
videos, hungry cats, cats that think they are hungry, dirty socks, ect) and
plenty of inspiration.  The downside is that there is a single bathroom on
the bottom floor.  So, at the set time the union closes, it becomes uni-sex
with a lock.  At a little after the set time, Karen gets the key to the rest
room.  Shortly after that, follow.

She is waiting in the hall, not the least bit concerned that we will be seen
doing what we are about to do.  I look around and nervously make up for her
lack of due paranoia.  Older and wise, I guess.  She lets us in and I check
that the door is latched.  As I do, she lifts off her sweat shirt.  She wore
no bra, and they did not suffer for the lack.

I stared.  I walked over to her.  I attacked.

She seemed to like a few of the same things that my ex hated.  So I spent a
moment relearning some bad habits.  In the end, she pushed me away.

"That's nice, but it is not what either of us want," she said as she dropped
to her knees.

In a flash, my jeans and underwear were around my ankles, and her mouth was
around my penis.  She went straight to work on me.  I wondered what went
through her head as she gobbled away at me.  I could she her fantasy as
being at a party with her father and letting his friend have quick blow in
the john.  Or maybe, she had visited her dad at work, and the nameless
friend had seduced her while she waited for him to leave a meeting.

Whatever the fantasy she enjoyed, she certainly didn't need to savor it.  I
looked down at her again and saw that she had turned away from me.  I turned
to see what had her attention.

It was a full length mirror next to the wash basins.  Our scene was centered
in the image of the room.  She stared intently as my large/average dick went
in and out of her mouth.  I looked at where her free hand played at the
cotch of her jeans and the slight bounce of her perfect titties.  It was too
much.

"I'm going to come."

She pulled away from my tool and held it inches from her mouth as she pumped
away at me.  This change of stimulation took the edge off, but only for a
moment.  I came and complete missed her mouth.  Instead, each blast of
ejaculate streaked across her face.  She smiled and licked at her lips.

She turned from her computer.  "I like it."

"Really," I ask as she closes her e-mail reader.  "Is it okay if I post it?"

"Yeah, that would be hot."  She smiled at me.  "Not as hot as a real
blowjob, but still hot."

"Yes, but I told you, there is someone that I like-like.  I don't want to
screw that up."

"Yes, but maybe she won't like you writing this either?"

I looked at her and shrugged as I pressed send and this story went of to
ASSM.  "Yeah, I guess so, but you don't exist and this is just a story."

I kissed her on the cheek and walk away.

_________________________________________________________________

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