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   Article: 96372 of alt.sex.stories

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   From: walexand@hemisphere.neocomm.net (Wade Mondegam)

   Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

   Subject: Master Wade's He Who Laughs Last (looking for a prominent
pubis-humor)

   Date: 8 Oct 1995 10:03:34 GMT

   Organization: Wade's World

   Lines: 199

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   MRWADE.200 By Master Wade

   Copyright 1993

   By Wade Mondegam

   He Who Laugh's Last...

   There are times for any single man, and probably single women

   as well, when, to put it in the vernacular, he can't get laid to

   save his ass.  I'm sure there are any number of logical reasons for

   such a low period in someone's life, but whatever they are the road

   out of this valley of despair sometimes means trying something

   different.

   This line of thinking led me to place an ad in the personal's

   section of a local newspaper.  I debated several approaches,

   finally deciding that the tried and true ad most often seen was

   probably most often seen because it was most successful.  My ad ran

   as follows:

   DWM, 45, ISO S/W/DWF for friendship founded on trust, good humor,

   and good times.  Tired of the bar scene and shallow people with

   shallow minds?  So am I.  Contact me for intelligent conversation,

   quiet dinners for two, or carefree romps on the beach or in the

   mountains.

   I know...they're a dime a dozen.  Still, there is something

   about such ads which appeals to women of good taste and upbringing.

   They reveal the man posting such an ad as caring, fun-loving and

   practical.  Right?

   Maybe so.  But in this case, at least, what the ad didn't do

   was generate a response.  Not one.  Posting the ad in the first

   place was not something I was particularly happy about doing, but

   for it to fail so miserably was even more depressing.  Finally, I

   used all my intelligence and patient resolve and just said, "Fuck

   it!"

   The result of this new avenue of thinking led me to post

   another ad, one which followed a slightly different tack.

   Man who goes where he wants, when he wants, to do whatever he

   wants, looking for a girl half my age to do it with.  Must be slim,

   have long legs and a prominent pubis.  Those unsure about what a

   prominent pubis is are especially encouraged to respond.  No IQ

   tests given.  Bring $4.95 for a burger, and half a bikini to room

   122, Days Inn, Miller View Drive, on April 15 at 9:00 PM (That's at

   night).

   Luckily for me, the proof-reader at the paper was among those

   who didn't know what a prominent pubis was.  She did ask why I said

   to bring only half a bikini, but accepted my explanation that I was

   not a demanding person.

   I booked the room at the Days Inn and arrived there about an

   hour early.  I didn't exactly expect to be over-run with

   respondents, but then I hadn't been before either.  I told myself

   that the process had some value as a study in human nature if

   nothing else.  And, there was always a chance that the proof-reader

   would show up.  She was no doll, but it would be interesting to see

   which half of the bikini she brought.

   Miracle of miracles, at six minutes past nine there was a

   knock on the door.  I went to the door, half expecting that I had

   left my lights on in the car or something, only to find a truly

   delightful young woman standing there.

   "Hi," she said, smiling and sticking out her hand to me.  "I'm

   here in response to your ad in the personal's section."

   I stood there for a moment, feeling as if I should pinch

   myself, and then growing increasingly suspicious of this young

   lady's intent.  Would she flash a badge on me and take me downtown?

   Or was she a rep from NOW who would see me in court or make sure my

   name made the front page?  Slowly I took her hand and looked past

   her to see if there was a van outfitted with cameras and sound

   equipment nearby, or even worse, a black limo with some guy named

   Mike leaning against it with his arms crossed.  Her hand was soft,

   and she carried a small paper sack, so I figured she just might be

   the real thing.  I let her in.

   "I'm glad you came," I said, my voice betraying none of the

   understatement the comment was laced with.

   "Me too," she said, sitting her bag down on the table.

   "You're kinda cute.  And hey," she said, excitedly, "do I have to

   be exactly half your age?  You didn't say how old you were, so I

   wasn't sure whether to come or not."

   "How old are you?", I asked, sitting on the edge of the bed,

   and motioning for her to sit if she liked.

   "I'm nineteen," she said, hopefully.

   "Amazing!", I said, barely able to contain myself.  "You're

   exactly half my age!"

   "Really?  How old are you?", she asked.  I figured the gig was

   up.

   "I'm 45," I replied, somehow unable to lie.

   "Isn't that something?  I guess we were meant to be," she

   said, tossing her blonde hair and crossing her legs.

   I breathed a sigh of relief and patted myself on the back for

   deciding not to require the IQ test.

   It was about this time that success got the best of me.  Either

   there was some huge misunderstanding here, or I was in for a really

   good time.  The girl was truly lovely, so lovely that it was hard

   to believe I might just be screwing her before the night was out.

   "What's in the bag?", I asked, finally, not sure where to take

   this quite yet.

   "Oh, I stopped by Macdonalds.  I figured I'd just go ahead and

   get the burger.  And," she blushed slightly, "what you said to

   bring is in there too.  You know...the bikini part."

   "Can I see?", I asked.

   "Sure, it's just a plain ole burger with mustard and...oh!"

   She said, grinning, "You mean can you see the other thing.  I'm so

   silly sometimes.  I guess I'm a little bit nervous too."

   "That's okay, I'm nervous too.  You're much prettier than I

   thought you would be."

   "Aww, you're sweet," she said, and fished in the bag, removing

   its contents.  She lay the burger on the table and then brought out

   a tiny little scrap of material.  "I hope this is okay," she said,

   holding it up so that I could see it.  "I didn't know which half

   you wanted, but I lost the top at the beach last summer, so I

   brought this."

   Obviously the girl was frugal and slow to throw things away.

   I like that in a girl.

   "That's perfect," I said, smiling.  It really was.  There was

   almost nothing to it, and I knew it must look wonderful on her.

   "Can I see you in it?"

   "Sure.  Is it okay if I change in the bathroom?", she asked.

   The logic of that escaped me, but I wasn't about to complain.

   A moment or two later she came out, the little scrap of

   material clinging to her body tightly and only barely covering the

   subject.  Her breasts were splendid, firm and full, not too big,

   not too small, with ripe little nipples that could only be

   described by saying that they "pooshed out".  She walked over to me

   and turned in front of me gleefully, her tight little ass jiggling

   as she allowed me the whole view.

   "So, do I have one?", she asked.

   I was a little confused.  She wasn't lacking anything that I

   could see.

   "I'm sorry...do you have one what?", I asked.

   "One of those things you said in the ad.  The two p words.

   Something about a prom?"

   I laughed in spite of myself.  "Ohhhhh, a prominent pubis!"

   "Yes, that," she said, her face clouding a little.  I had

   embarassed her.

   I looked at her pubis, struggling to be covered by the little

   scrap of white material.

   "Well, I think so, but I really can't tell unless you take

   that off." I nodded at her bikini bottom.

   "Oh.  Okay.  Then can I take it off so you can check?", she

   asked, her eyebrows wrinkling a little.

   "Yes, please do," I said.  I really was beginning to wish I

   had a witness for all of this.

   She slid the bikini bottom off quickly, showing no hesitation

   at all.  Stepping out of it, she held it and put both hands on her

   hips.

   "So...what do you think?", she asked.

   I know that things like this just don't happen, but in spite

   of that, the girl DID have a prominent pubis.  Her pubic hair was

   fine and lighter in color even than the long tresses which hung in

   such delightful disaray on her head.  It did nothing to hide the

   protruding bulge of her sex.  Her little mound pushed out at me

   with a quick rise from the crevices where her thighs met her hips,

   and her swollen vulva could be seen through the gap in her legs.  It

   was a textbook prominent pubis if ever there was one.

   "It's perfect," I said, satisfaction written all over my face.

   "It's the prettiest prominent pubis I have ever been priviledged to

   peruse," I promised.

   "Huh?", she said, wrinkling her nose.

   "It's wonderful, precious," I said.  "It's so wonderful that

   it's giving me a protruding penis."

   "Well, I know what that is," she said, smiling sexily.

   "Good girl.  So, how about I poke my protruding penis in your

   prominent pubis passionately?""

   She giggled.  "That sounds like Peter Piper pecked a pick of

   peppled pep...I mean, Peter Piper picked..."

   I interrupted her by standing and pulling her to me, kissing

   her lips softly, my hands exploring her delicious young body.  She

   was instantly hot, moaning as we kissed, her arms wrapping

   themselves around my neck.  Suddenly I was no longer the aggressor,

   and she had me out of my clothes in no time, pausing only to kiss

   the parts of my body that she exposed as she went.  I fell back to

   the bed, almost in shock, my pulsating pecker proudly protuberant

   and perilously peaking.

   This delightful young girl sat on me, lowering herself onto me

   with just the right mixture of hesitation and resolve as I slid

   into her.  Inch by inch she enveloped me, until her swollen mound

   was pressed against me fully.  She leaned back, making her

   delightful breasts lift and push outward, her nipples begging to be

   toyed with.  My hands moved to her breasts, twirling her nipples

   between my thumb and forefinger as she worked back and forth on me.

   Her expertise was unexpected and it drove me quickly to orgasm.

   Luckily, she was not far behind me, and only moments later we

   collapsed in each other's arms.

   "Whew," she said, still panting, "you are a felicitous fellow

   whose fornication is both feverish and fantastic."

   "Huh?", I asked, my eyes opening widely.

   "Does it matter that I'm not quite the dumb blonde I appeared

   to be at first?", she asked, kissing me on the cheek.

   I shook my head slowly.  I had been had.  Then again....

   The End