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From: bitbard@newsguy.com (BitBard)
Subject: {Mat Twassel} BEES 
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Reposted with permission.

The Author's Email: mmtwassel@aol.com
The Author's Website: http://members.aol.com/Mmtwassel/index.html

=====================================================
BEES      by Mat Twassel

      He was big and going deep, getting deeper, getting there,  
      getting her there, and then the alarm went off, and it was  
      just a dream... mostly dream. She was wet and swollen and  
      tingly, but empty, and she worried the cotton panty-cloth  
      into the heart of moisture. The alarm's buzz wasn't right  
      for this. She sighed and swiveled out of bed.  
       
      Bob's shower rattled. You better not be jerking off in  
      there, MaryLee thought as she slipped into her robe. "Want  
      company?" she called. "Company?" she repeated. Bob killed  
      the spray. "Can't," he said, "Busy day.... Could you find me  
      a towel? Maybe pack me a lunch?"  
       
      MaryLee spread the jelly thick, just the way he liked it.   
      "Green apple or red?" she called, thinking about his cute  
      wobble. "Kindergarten doesn't start 'til one," she shouted  
      crimping the sack. "Come home for a quickie," she whispered,  
      "If you're not busy. Oops, forgot the damn napkin." "What?"  
      he said from the hallway.  Smiling, MaryLee shucked off her  
      red panties, tucked them into the bag, and hurried to the  
      door. "Your lunch, sir," she said as Bob shrugged into his  
      coat. "And a kiss."  
       
        
       
      No question Jerry's new receptionist had a lovely ass. And  
      big bright eyes which always made Bob blush. Today she wore  
      linen slacks, tight, and thin. When she turned Bob admired  
      the hint of panty line way high up. "We're going out for  
      lunch," Jerry announced. "Got something from home," Bob  
      said, waggling the bag. "Give it to Jeanette," Jerry said,  
      "She complained earlier about only having yogurt." "Didn't  
      complain," Jeanette said softly. Bob handed her the brown  
      sack. Her fingers were long and thin and cool, and Bob felt  
      his groin stir.  
       
        
       
      Afternoon kindergarten went OK. Amanda brought in a  
      bumblebee big as a cloverpuff lying dead in the bottom of a  
      jar--two holes in the lid and a sharp blade of grass inside.   
       
           "He wasn't dead yesterday."  
       
           "Did he sting you?"  
       
           "Babies come from bee stings."  
       
           "Do not!"  
       
           "You rub your button it gets all buzzy and hot  
           and tingly, and then it bursts and out come the  
           baby bees."  
       
           "What button?"  
       
           "Your belly button, silly."  
       
           "How many bees?"  
       
           "Five hundred."  
       
        
       
      "How was your day, honey?" MaryLee asked. "Did you enjoy the  
      lunch?"  
       
      "Jerry took us out." Bob handed the sack to MaryLee.  "He  
      offered my lunch to his receptionist, but I guess she  
      doesn't like peanut butter and jelly... Said she liked the  
      apple, though. What's for supper?"  
       
      MaryLee took the sack to the kitchen. The apple was gone.   
      So were the red panties. But in their place, another pair,  
      wispy, green, with a deep clovery smell in the crotch. In a  
      twinkling MaryLee slipped out of her own underpants and into  
      the wispy green. A perfect fit.  
       
      "C'mon," she said, getting Bob. "There's something I have to  
      show you upstairs. A furnace full of bees."  
       
      "I thought the furnace was in the basement," Bob said.  
       
      "Shortcut," MaryLee whispered. "Hurry. Not one more word."  
       
       
       
      END  
      ====  
      Bees by Mat Twassel    
       
      Author's Note:  This story has been entered in Celeste's 
      second Third Annual Story Contest.  According to my 
      Microsoft Word, the word count comes in at exactly 500 
      (title, taxes, destination, and poster's prep not included), 
      but if one goes by the standards of a recent Esquire cover, 
      "Bees" is a novel--in fact, it is THE GREAT AMERICAN NOVEL.
      
      Seriously, the best bee novel I know is Utah by Toby Olsen.
      
      Comments are most welcome.
      
      mmtwassel@aol.com


====================================================
http://www.newsguy.com/~bitbard  


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