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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This text is copyright 1996 by Joe Parsons. Permission
is hereby granted to repost it electronically, provided
that it is posted in its entirety.
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Fools Rush In
by Joe Parsons (jmp@cyber-mall.com)
***
A satire on political life in the white house set in the
90's. Of course nothing like this could happen in real
life. (MF, mast, parody)
***
Author Note: The following story is purely a work of
fiction, intended exclusively for readers over the age
of eighteen. Any resemblance between the characters
depicted herein and any other persons living or dead, is
purely coincidental. (If you believe that, I have a nice
bridge to sell you. Or perhaps a nice game of three-card
monte?)
***
"And you, sir, are just another one of those liberal,
dope-smoking, pencil-necked geeks, just like our (heh)
Commander-in-Chief." I signaled to Marty, my engineer,
and the call was terminated. I pounded the desk for
effect.
"My friends," I said, in my most robust, radio-trained
voice, "this is just another example of the failure of
our liberal, Commie school system. Why, that guy
couldn't even converse coherently with someone like" --I
paused for dramatic effect--"your charmingly humble
host. My Friends, you can always tell a liberal Commie:
they just seem to turn to mush when they get onto the
radio in front of tens of millions of Real Americans,
you good folks who are a part of the Wonderfulness in
Radio Network. We'll be back in just a moment, after
this word from Far-Right Randy's Spotted Owl
Delicacies." I pointed through the glass at Marty and
the commercial began running.
I unbuttoned my collar and loosened my tie; the extra
pounds I'd put on over the last few months seemed to
have settled around my neck. Time to buy a larger shirt
size, I thought. Business had never been better; the day
I found my calling skewering those Commie liberals was
the day my fortune began to be made. Millions upon
millions of people were tuning in every day, wanting to
talk to me on the radio; I was a but a humble conduit
for the noble cause of Conservatism, yes: prayer in the
schools, spotted owls and California Condors on every
table.
Life was good: I'd gone from being an obscure talk show
host in a 250 watt AM station in the backwoods, to being
the idol of millions. Why, Presidents even wanted to
talk to me from Air Force One! I'd take his call, too--
as long as he was on the "right" side of the fence. The
one we have now, why, he wouldn't even get past my
screeners! Ah, yes! Free speech. What a wonderful land
we live in!
Pulling down a hundred, two hundred thou a week is not
too bad either. I hope to God we never get a
Conservative President--my material would all be gone in
a flash.
I laced my fingers over my ample belly, leaning back in
my chair as the commercial and station I.D.'s finished.
Marty held up three fingers, then two, then one. He
pointed at me and my microphone and headphones came
alive.
"My Friends, we are Back!" I said in the cultured,
resonant tones that had become my trademark. The lights
on the telephone board blinked at me, and the computer
screen gave me summaries of each caller on the line:
where they were calling from, their first name, how long
they'd been holding, and what they wanted to talk about.
I read a bleeding heart liberal article about how whales
and dolphins were being slaughtered, then followed it
with our musical rendition of "Whales and Dolphins, all
Mixed in a Stew."
It was some of my best work, and I knew millions of Real
Americans across the Fruited Plain were listening to it
and being edified. As the tape was playing I scanned the
computer screen. My eye fell on a name: Eve, from some
town up north. I hadn't had a woman on the air for some
time, and since most women calling my show tend to be
of, shall we say, a "feminist" bent (and I know just how
to handle them), I thought we'd have some fun. The tape
ended, and I punched up Eve's phone button.
"Eve, you are on the air with... Me! Gush Plumbob, the
most beloved man in America, the idol of all Real
Americans. What did you want to tell me, Eve? Just speak
right up, my dear; there's just ten or twenty million
Real Americans about to hang on your every word." I
always enjoyed putting my callers at ease by telling
them how many people were listening to...My Show.
Callers are often just a touch nervous when they get on
the air with...Me: Gush Plumbob, the idol of all Real
Americans, the Scourge of the Commie Liberals.
"Gush?" The voice in my headset was strangely self-
assured, lower in pitch than I had been prepared for. As
she spoke my name I felt for some strange reason that
there were some other layers of meaning, as though she
was speaking to me at some other level.
"Yes...go ahead, Eve, is it? What did you want to say to
these millions of Real Americans across the Fruited
Plain? Just speak right up, Eve. Were you calling to
complain about the Femi-whatchamacallits? Some drunken
liberal senator from the northeast? Did you have some
wonderful, juicy allegations we could spread across the
airwaves? The Wonderfulness in Radio Network is at your
disposal." She was quiet as I delivered my catch-
phrases, so beloved by the masses of Real Americans.
"No, Gush; I really wanted to talk about you." She spoke
slowly, and the slight husky quality of her voice seemed
to fill my head. I found it difficult to concentrate on
skewering Liberals.
"Me! Of course! Everyone wants to talk about...Gush
Plumbob: the idol of Real Americans across the Fruited
Plain, Friend to Industry and the Common Man alike." I
was finding my stride again. I waited for her to
respond.
"I wanted to talk to you, Gush. Do you know what I might
do if I were there with you?"
"Excuse me?" If I didn't know better, I would think this
woman with the hypnotic voice was trying to...seduce me!
Right here on the air!
"I'd sit in your lap," she purred, "and put my fingers
inside your shirt." I looked up at my engineer, but he
was engrossed in his comic book, as usual. My hand
hovered over the phone button, ready to cut the
connection. I was finding her voice strangely arousing
as it cooed inside my head. I couldn't think of anything
to say; Me! Gush Plumbob, the Idol of all Real
Americans! At a loss for words. And all because of
this...voice, this Eve talking to me in my headset.
"Then as I sat on your lap," she continued, her voice
breathless, "I'd feel your little cock getting hard
against me..." Oh, my God! I couldn't believe what I'd
heard! I hit the phone button with one hand to cut the
connection, the intercom toggle with the other.
"Goddam it, Marty!" I screamed at the engineer. "You're
supposed to catch this shit!" He sat placidly behind his
glass in the booth, reading his comic book. Eve's voice
continued in my ear.
"And then I'd reach behind my back, and I'd unhook my
bra, and let my tits free..." I stabbed at the phone
button again, but her voice continued. "I'd take off my
blouse, and bring your mouth down to my nipples...yeah,
that's it..."
"Marty! Get this bitch off the phone, Goddam it! We're
on the fucking air, and you know the fucking FCC listens
to this show!" I turned all the controls to zero,
watching the VU meters slump against their stops. Eve's
voice continued in my ear.
"And then, I'd just slide slowly off your lap, and unzip
your fly, and I'd take out your hard little cock..." I
was in a state of panic; my engineer was ignoring my
screams and shouts, and Eve was cooing in my ears as
though it were the most natural thing in the world. I
buried my head in my hands, defeated.
"I'd love to have your little cock in my mouth. Would
you like that, baby?"
"Yes," I said from behind my hands. I didn't know if the
mike was live, or if any of this was going out on the
air. I thought it might be a gag, but I didn't know
anyone who had a sense of humor. Something was
happening, and I was powerless to stop it.
"Ohhhh," she sighed. "It would be so good, baby, to have
you in my mouth, tasting your little cock. Would you let
me do that?" Her voice was the most sensuous thing I had
ever heard.
"Who are you?" I asked. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"I just want to talk to you, Gush. And I want to make
you feel good. Don't you want that?" I looked down at my
lap, seeing the bulge--the first erection I'd had in a
couple of years.
"Listen," I said, lowering my voice to a whisper. "I'd
like to talk to you, too, but we can't talk right now.
I'm at work. Give me a phone number, and maybe I can
give you a call after my show."
"Okay," she said. "Write this number down; it's my
private exchange, so make sure to get all the numbers."
I grabbed a pencil.
"Go ahead."
"It's 1-800-666-6674. Did you get that?"
"666-6674," I repeated back to her. "What the hell kind
of number is that?"
"That's my private exchange," she said. "Are you sure
you wrote it down?"
I looked at the numbers I'd written on my pad, then at
the clock on the wall. My show (what was left of it) was
almost over. "Yeah, I did."
"I'll be waiting for you, Lover. Please don't keep me
waiting. 'Bye." Her voice, so breathy, seemed to fade
away into nothing, and the light on the panel winked
out.
Suddenly, the VU meters sprang to life on the board, and
Eve's voice in my headset was replaced by the raucous
sounds of "Clear Cut the Rainforest," a perennial
favorite with my fans, the "Colonheads." I looked up at
Marty and he signaled that I had another caller cued up.
I nodded to him and a coarse voice grated in my ears.
"Mega-Colons there, Gush!" the voice boomed. "I just
wanted to talk about them dam' liberals in Warsh'ton,
and all them fags and commies." Ordinarily, this was my
stock in trade, but for some reason, my heart just
wasn't in it at the moment.
"Thanks for calling," I said, quickly. "We seem to be
all out of time." I drew my finger across my throat and
the voice went away, replaced by a message from one of
our many Conservative sponsors. I heard my own recorded
voice pitching subscriptions to "The Illustrated
Conservative's Comix," always a big seller among the
Colonheads.
The commercial segued into my theme music, and the show
was over. I grabbed my jacket and headed out the door,
intent on getting to my office without being seen by one
of my many fans on this floor. Miraculously, I made it
without being hounded for my autograph.
I ducked into my large office and closed and locked the
door. I slumped in my large leather chair behind my
large desk and looked at the portraits on my wall: large
images of every Republican president ever to be elected.
They gazed at me sternly. At the far end of my office
was a small shrine: portraits of Senators McCarthy,
Helms, Gingrich; My People, all of them.
I fished in my shirt pocket for the scrap of paper I had
used to write Eve's strange phone number. I stared at it
for a long moment. The numbers seemed to take on a life
of their own. Finally, I picked up the phone, hit the
"do not disturb" button, and began dialing the numbers:
1-800-666-6674. Stupid woman. Why couldn't she just get
a normal number like other Real Americans?
"Hello?" Her voice was low and breathy, just as it had
been earlier, interrupting my show.
"Is this, um, Eve?" I asked, already recognizing her
voice, feeling a little foolish. I wondered if this was
how some of the callers to my show felt.
"Hello, Gush. I'm so glad you called. Are you all alone
now?"
"Yes, I am," I said, feeling my heart starting to beat
faster at the sound of her voice.
"So am I," she said. "I'm all by myself here, in the
house, just waiting to talk to you. If we were together,
what do you think we might do?"
"I don't know; what do you mean?" I thought I had an
idea, but I didn't want to say it.
"Okay...how about if I sat on your desk in front of you,
and I let you unbutton my blouse, would you like that?"
I imagined what that must be like; the closest I'd ever
come to seeing a woman's bare chest was peeking at Mary
Ann Foley in the locker room in high school, but that
was a long time ago. I said I'd like to unbutton her
blouse.
"And then, I'd take off my bra, and I'd let you just
bury your face between my big breasts, and kiss my
nipples, and you could feel them get all hard in your
mouth as you kissed and licked and sucked them. Would
you like that, Gush? Would you, baby?" I had a vivid
mental picture of a beautiful woman sitting in front of
me, offering her soft, breasts to me. It seemed s though
I could smell her clean scent.
"And then, I'd pull my skirt up, and you'd see that I
don't wear any panties, and I'd just put my hands behind
your head, and pull you to my pussy. And I'm already so
wet, just thinking about you, licking my pussy. Would
you do that for me, baby? Would you?"
"Yes. Yes, I would." I had never heard a woman speak
this way. She was so open about sex, not like my mother,
for instance. I don't think my mother even HAD sex,
except maybe once. That would be when she had...Me; the
idol of all...well, maybe I could give it a rest. Eve's
voice continued in my ear--breathy, seductive, sweet.
"And you could taste the juices of my pussy, and you
make me so wet, with your mouth, and your tongue." I
unzipped my fly and pulled my cock out, in spite of
myself--after all, most Conservatives like myself do try
to avoid any sort of involvement in gratuitous sex.
"Then I'd take my skirt off, and I'd be naked for you,
and you'd just look at me--my big tits, and I'd let you
kiss and fondle them, and my pussy, and you could see
how wet I am. I spread my legs, so you can see how my
clit sticks out, and I pull your mouth down to me--"
(she gasped sharply) "Oh, yes! That's it--right
there...just like that." I licked my lips, feeling as
though my mouth had been against her.
"I'd slide down off the desk, and get down between your
legs. I'd take your cock in my hands, and just gently
kiss it, just on the tip, tasting your pre-come. Does
that feel good, baby? Do you like that?" I was breathing
faster, knowing what her lips would feel like, kissing
my cock.
"And then, I'd open my lips, and slo-o-o-wly move down
the length of your penis, until all of you was in my
mouth. I'd just hold you there for a moment, then I'd
move my lips up and down your shaft, up and down, and
I'd be tasting your pre-come, and flicking the tip of
your hard cock with my tongue...does that feel good,
baby? Do you like that?" My breath was coming in quick
gasps now, and I could hardly hold on to the telephone.
My entire world seemed to have contracted to the sound
of Eve's voice in my ear and the sensations growing in
my penis.
"I'd reach between your legs, and I'd just hold your
balls, so gently, because I don't want to hurt
them...and I'd put them in my mouth and lick them all
over, gently. Does that feel good? Do you like that,
lover?" I couldn't answer coherently. I was washed in
pleasure.
"Would you like to fuck me, baby? Would you like to put
that beautiful cock in my hot pussy? I'm just aching to
have you inside me. Would you please fuck me, Gush?
Would you, baby?" She pleaded, moaning.
"Yes! Yes! Please let me fuck you! Please..." This was
not a fantasy; I could taste her on my tongue, feel her
wet lips on my cock.
"I'll straddle you, spread my legs on each side of you,
and then I'll just slo-o-o-wly lower my pussy onto your
cock. Mmmm...that feels so good. Your cock feels so
good, so deep in my pussy. Does that feel good for you,
too, baby?" I could feel her warmth, her slickness
surrounding me. I heard sounds of moaning and realized
the sounds were coming from me.
"Are you gonna come, baby? I want your come inside me,
Gush, please come inside me, baby..."
"Aaaaaaahhhhhh!" The sound escaping from my throat was
the release of dozens of years of repressed desires,
past humiliations, failures. My body was awash in
pleasurable sensations I had never experienced before. I
clung to the telephone as though it were a lifeline. Eve
was still cooing sweetly in my ear.
"You're so good, Gush...oh, yes, baby, that feels so
good. Mmmm...so good." I slumped, spent, in my big
leather chair behind my big desk, rows of Conservatives
glaring down at me. I averted my eyes from Senator
McCarthy's accusing stare.
"Gush, baby?"
I had to work to find my voice. "Yeah?"
"Do you feel better now, baby?" I thought for a moment.
I had to admit, these were unaccustomed feelings.
"As a matter of fact, I think I do," I admitted. I
didn't know I had felt bad before, but I certainly felt
better now. Almost like a different man, in fact.
"I'm so glad," she said, warmly. "I have to go now, but
will you call me again? Soon?"
"Yeah," I said. "I've got your number right here." I put
my hand on the crumpled scrap of paper with her long
telephone number. "I'll call again sometime." And I
meant it.
"I hope so, she said." I'll be waiting here for you."
And she was gone. I looked at the silent receiver in my
hand for a moment before replacing it on its cradle. I
sat there for several long moments, thinking about this
strange conversation with this strange woman.
Finally I stood up, arranged my clothes, and one by one,
turned each portrait of each stern Conservative
politician to face the wall.
END
The events and people depicted in this story are
(mostly) fictitious--the product of the warped
imagination of the author.
©1996 Joe Parsons. All rights reserved.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. 4-million people around the world
contract HIV every year. You only have one body per
lifetime, so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 67