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I know I should not be writing this letter to you, but it is the only
way I can get my message across to you. I have been going through this
for the last six years trying to decide to write this letter or not,
but i cannot stop myself now, so here it goes. You know somewhat what
type of person I am, but I really have two personalities, one for home
and the other for work. You pretty well have to do this to keep sane
working at Overland, you know this.

For the last six years, ever since the first day I worked at Overland,
I have had stronger and stronger feelings for you and what type of
person you are. You are a very special freind to me, and have made a large
influence to me and my life in the time I have known you. You probably
know that I am not too good at relationships with woman, you can tell
this from my last little stint with a Girl named “Tracey”. You are really
the only woman I have had as a man- woman realtionship with in the last
few years. I guess my problems really started when I met this girl named
Dawn, you remember her of course. When I was somewhat seeing her, I could
not help myself from falling in love with her, and I mean deeply in love,
more then she will ever know. I have a tendency to do that with most woman
I meet and go out with, it is just one of those problems I must deal with.

What I am trying to say is that I am not falling in love with you, you
have no worries there. You have a good marraige and two great kids, I
would never want to get in the way of that. What I am saying is that is
I need a Woman to understand what I am going through, and that is I know
deep down inside I will never have a successful relationship with a woman.
Don’t get me wrong I love woman very much, I’m no fag if that’s what
you think, in my opionion they can all go fuck themselves. I dont mind
people being different races, different colors, or different religions,
but when a person is not straight, count me out on liking that person,
just my feelings. I know now that I will never Marry and I will never
have children, both of which I most desperatly want, because I know it
would make my life all that more meaningful. What I am not saying is that
I don’t find you a turnoff though, I find you incredily attractive and
Boy Oh Boy, if I or you were ten years older or younger, I wouldn’t wait
a second to make my move on you. You know I am not a pervert or anything,
because if I was I would of tried something on you years ago. I hope I am
not scaring you by writing this to you, I would not do anything to harm
you or anybody, you know that. But everyday when I see you I can help
myself but wonder what It would be like to be with you, yes sexually,
but more importantly, emotionally.

Yes, sex is one of the most important things in a relationship to me
and to most persons, but if you cant link with someone emotionally in a
relation- ship, its not worth it. God I hate writing this, it is so hard
even to write it down, it would be impossible to say it to you. It kills
me everyday to see you and wonder what it would be like to be with you.
I know everybody has fantasies about most people that they are around,
its normal. You probably hate to admit it and probably never would, but
admit that you have had a fantasy about me. Maybe not I dont know, but
most people do have them. I am not asking you for anything, because it
would ruin our relationship that we have now and would complicate things
further more. I just wanted to tell you my feelings about you, before
I told you upfront and scared you, which is the last thing I want to do.

I just wonder sometime what It would be like to make mad passionate
love with you, to make you’re every dream come true, and to fulfill
you like no other man ever has. It is something I think about when I am
at work, why do you think I spend a lot of time around you. And why do
you think I like bugging you all the time, because I cannot get enough
of your attention. You probably notice that I don’t ever hardly look
at you much, because when I do. all I think of is you and I together.
You know how tough it is when you give me a neck massage, I swear,
and I’m not lying. Every time you do that, I walk away with a Hard On,
No Kidding. That is what you do to me, you drive me nuts sometimes,
I just wonder what it would be like to sneek away somewhere at work
and make love to you, but I know you’re not into quickies. But just to
be with you would probably kill me, it has been very long since I made
love to a woman, if you can beleive it, it has been over 5 years now,
god its been over three years since I even kissed a woman.

I hope you understand my feelings toward you now, I am very glad I
have told you this, and maybe I can get on with my life in the way of
having a meaningful relationship. I’m sorry if I have hurt you in anyway
by writing this to you, but it had to be said.

From your dearest friend.
Kevin

copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002

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Jill and I were best friends all through high school, always together
and looking for good times. This either meant finding boys, or parties
or raising some sort of hell. Sometimes we’d drive around, looking for
a couple of guys in a car to flirt with, then lose them if we wanted to
“teach ‘em a lesson”.

Jill is beautiful without any question. She’s five foot six, with a
pair of very nice, long legs, blonde hair that falls halfway down her
back, blue eyes, and she’s very shapely…how does 38D-24-35 sound?
Dreamy isn’t it? Jill usually gets all the guy’s eyes when she walks
into a room, and her love of wearing tight sweaters doesn’t help. I’m
not so lucky. I’m only five three, with red hair, gray eyes (which is
unusual for a redhead I’m told), 108 pounds, and a modest 34C-23-35
figure. Along with the orange hair, I’ve got a typical redhead’s
peaches-and-cream complexion, with freckles here and there. Jill and I
have been friends forever it seems, and this last year was the first
year we spent apart, her going to USC and me going to CAL-Berkeley. We
both went home for the summer, and quickly caught up on the juicy
details of each other’s lives. So the first thing to do was to call up
some guys and get dates right? Wrong! Almost every guy we knew was
“hooked” by some gal, here or at school. So Jill and I fell back on
each other, and went to a movie together.

After the movie, we stopped at Marie Calendar’s pie shop, talking about
our interests (in guys at our schools), and Jill told me about something
she did that got me really excited. Jill had worked out late one day,
and she finished showering in the girl’s locker room and was just about
to leave the school. She saw a few guys on the football team working
out on the field and she watched them for a few minutes. Neither of us
knows who to thank for those spandex uniform pants, but they don’t hide
much! Jill cautiously crept into the men’s locker room, hiding in a
utility closet and peering out the slotted vents. Sure enough, these
guys come in, and start stripping down to shower, with Jill watching!
The closet was near the showers, and, according to Jill, she could see
both the lockers and the showers easily. One of the guys, came out of
the shower and stood there, toweling off in front of Jill’s closet door!
Jill said she was practically drooling, because this guy’s dick was
about six inches long, and it wasn’t even hard! All those flat stomachs
and tight asses had Jill all excited, and when the guys left, she crept
out of the locker room. I told her I didn’t believe it, and when we got
back to her house, she showed me a jock-strap she’d taken from one of
the lockers that had been unlocked! Like I said; Jill and I can really
get into trouble.

It was about a week later, when we went to a local bar, using fake IDs,
that we started our really nasty summer adventures. We let two guys hit
on us, and we were dancing and getting a bit drunk. Finally, we went
outside to their car, and necked for a few minutes. Both these guys
proved that they were jerks when they figured we were drunk enough to
let them do anything. The guy I was with put his hand under my top and
was squeezing my tits, and of course I was rubbing his dick through his
pants, feeling it grow. Jill was in the front seat, and I could hear
her moan but I couldn’t see what was going on. The guy with me tried to
unbutton my pants, but I stopped him, not wanting to get out of control
in the car. Jill and I finally said we had to go to the restroom, and
that they should both be stripped and ready for action when we got back.
Of course we went around to the front and got into my car and drove off,
both of us laughing at the thought of those two “studs” sitting naked in
the car, waiting for us.

The night was still young, and we were both a bit tipsy, so we drove
over to the beach. It was dark and quiet, and we let the fresh air
clear our heads as much as possible. Just as we rounded a small rock
outcropping, we heard someone moaning. We stopped and listened, and
peering through the gloom, we could see a couple fucking on the beach.
Jill and I watched, making some very scandalous and critical remarks
about the whole thing. They both came, the guy just before the girl,
and by the time they finished and started dressing, Jill and I were
sopping wet. We turned around and started back up the beach, when we
saw a guy walking towards us. It was pretty dark, and when he was about
ten feet or so away, he said “hello”. His voice was so sexy, that I
stopped and we both started talking to him. He said his name was Jeff,
and he asked us if we’d like to walk down the beach with him. Jill and
I really didn’t want to walk with him, and he smiled and said that he
understood (too many crazies around). So we talked for a bit, and Jill
…End of the part1. To be continued..

This morning, I woke up horny (as usual) so I slipped my
prick up inside my sister, and fucked her.
Mary Beth was already slippery, so it wasn’t hard to get
inside her. By the time I felt the familiar tingling in my prick
that told me I was about to squirt, Mary Beth had woken up, and
was humping back at me just as hard as I was pushing into her.
My sisters all like to fuck just as much as I do, and Mary Beth
is no exception. Still, just because she likes to fuck, doesn’t
mean she wants to get knocked up.
“I’m going to shoot up you,” I warned her; giving her the
opportunity to pull off, if she didn’t want me to squirt her.
After all, I didn’t want to knob my own sister by accident.
“Huh, huh, huh, It’s OK,” panted Mary Beth, as she pushed
back even harder, “you can squirt me, if you want to. My period
was last week.”
Well, that’s a little close, but since my sister didn’t seem
to mind, neither did I. At least I had warned her. Still, we
had to be careful, ’cause Momma won’t let us marry until we’re
older, and earning enough money to afford babies of our own.
I barely had time to reflect on this, before my sister’s hot
wet hole sliding on and off my swollen prick got the better of
me, and I let her have it. Oooh, did that feel good! I felt
wave after wave of hot sticky goo squirt through my prick and
into my sexy sister’s tight little hole.
Mary Beth seemed to like feeling me shoot up inside her as
much as I did; milking each thick drop out of my dick and into
her sexy little tummy.
Our little sister Sue Ann was awake by this time; watching
with disappointment as I filled her big sister’s vagina with my
warm sticky cum. The little kid likes to have me squirt up in
her, when Mary Beth can’t take my stuff up inside her, without
risking a baby. So today, Sue Ann figured she would only get
“sloppy seconds.” Only today, seconds it turned out were better
than firsts. But she didn’t know that.
As I slowed down, with the last sticky drops of cum oozing
into my twin-sister, I became aware of the action going on on
either side of me. It seems that my fucking my sister had woke
everybody else up, and had started a regular orgy on either side.
On one side, Betty Jean and Joe were going at it like
newlyweds, while on the other, Daddy was sticking it to my big
sister Lisa Marie. Even the little kids Mike and Joany (Joanne
Lou) were “practicing” making a baby; even though neither one has
reached puberty yet.
For the next few minutes I watched the rest of the family
fuck, while I kept my half-hard prick up inside Mary Beth’s tight
little hole; leaking the last drops of cum inside her.
Mary Beth and even Sue Ann watched too; knowing that the
sight would probably get me excited enough to take care of my
little sister as well.

1

It was exciting. Daddy’s prick isn’t as big as Joe’s, but
he sure knows how to make our big sister’s pussy hum with it. I
knew Lisa Marie must be close to her period, as Daddy wouldn’t
fuck any of the girls unless it was “safe” to do so. One
accidental pregnancy was enough.
Daddy never pulls out like me, so he has to make sure he
doesn’t fuck any of the girls unless it’s the right time of
month. Once he’s gotten inside a girl, Daddy knows he doesn’t
have enough control (like I do) to pull out; so he doesn’t even
start unless it’s OK.
Me, I don’t mind pulling out, because there’s usually one of
my other sisters willing and able to take my squirts; like Sue
Ann had been hoping to. Even if not, none of my sisters would
ever leave me with “blue balls”. They were all just as good with
their mouths and fannies as they were with their tight little
pussies. It had been years since I last had to resort to a “hand
job.”
I watched as Daddy speeded up; thrusting his swollen prick
into my big sister, until they were both panting and grunting
with the effort to cum. Lisa Marie’s wail announced her orgasm,
…End of the part1. To be continued..

BTW, the story is NOT about LYNN’s suffering, but JOE’s. HIS hurt, is the
one that’s supposed to break your heart.
Think about it, having to do that to someone you love, in the HOPE that
it MIGHT save her for someone else. To be willing to make someone you
love, and had hoped to have love you, hate you, so that they’ll survive.
“Greater love hath no man. . .” I think that being willing to give up
the love of someone for their well-being, is at least as great, and THAT’s
the point I was trying to make.

I’ll admit, I WAS trying for shock-value, when Joe “did-in” her mother.
I wanted to raise at least a LITTLE doubt in the reader’s mind, whether
or not they had figured Joe out right.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_/ <_

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN>Frank,

IN>Re whether Lynn was hoodwinked, yes, I think
IN>Joe and her mother did a good job of convincing the trusting
IN>starry-eyed girl that she was actually given up to a degenerate,
IN>and that he would enjoy her, and then kill her.
IN>Joe’s suffering is evident. Maybe you could put the “greater
IN>love hath no man…” quote in the story. It is both dramatic
IN>and succinct of the feelings Joe must have gone through before
IN>Lynn came over and all was patched up.

I would like to. I just can’t think of a neat way (or place) to put it in.
I’ll re-read it, maybe I can. Hmmmm. maybe afterwards, in a comment by
Lynn, or June. I’ll have to think about it. It’s a nice Idea, but I want
the story to flow smoothly. I’ll try. No guarantees though.

IN>For my own version of “what is right” you might
IN>also add in the epilogue that Lynn finished HS on the honor roll,
IN>despite her bulging belly.

Good point. I’ll fit that in somewhere at the end. “After finishing
High-school, Lynn has worked her way through college, and is now working
on her doctorate by taking evening classes, while June and I watch the
kids, sometimes alternating, and sometimes together. Now that the oldest
is 12, and can watch the younger ones, we find interesting things to do
together while still maintaining a presence in the house.”

Something like that. I’ll have to work on it. Any suggestions about this,
or the other will be appreciated. I think, that if I put in that Lynn’s
working on her doctorate, then her finishing high-school (honor-roll or not)
would be superfluous. What do you think?

IN>Everybody seems to live and make love happily ever after.
IN>Does Joe continue as a professional top?

Yes, but in later years it becomes more of a side-line. His main line
becomes designing and supplying bondage clothing and accessories, with
Lynn as his main model. Do you think this needs to be in the story?

IN>do Lynn and June become his beautiful and kinky assistants?

Lynn does, as explained above. June is closer to being a “top”, than
a “bottom”. Sometime she helps him with a fantasy with Lynn. June remains
as kinky as ever, but with her own twist on things. How and why and where
she gets those kids of hers, are each stories in their own right. Joe
THINKS almost all the kids are his, but he’s not sure about at least 2 of
them. June likes to keep him guessing. (BTW, outside of the story,
for your information only, they ALL are. June loves him just as much
as Lynn does, and wouldn’t dream of cheating him. Make him THINK they might
not be his, yes. Actually HAVE anyone else’s kids, no. Joe suspects this.)

IN>Does the huge family move out of the soundproof apartment?

That’s a bachelor apartment. What do you think? One-bedroom, bath,
kitchen and tiny living-room, plus the one extra “dungeon” room. Of course,
the owners have bigger, fancier apartments, at sky-high rentals. No, they
moved to a small fixer-upper ex-farm-house, at the outskirts of the city.
By the time the story ends, with the three of them working on it, they’ve
…End of the part4. To be continued..

“And he was to marry
A girl who shown with beauty and light
And they loved each other
And with me watched the sun set into nights.”

Sarah. I remember the first time I saw her. She stood on the prow of a wooden
fishing ship leaving the bustling docks then traveled through the bay that lay
behind me. Sarah’s long skirt floated out behind her, as did her shining,
unbound hair. I could feel the wind myself. There was a brightness and pure
joy to her smile. The ship slowed as it dropped a dory. A few of the seaman
helped her down into it, where she rowed herself to us.

She scrambled to shore, and rushed into Joe’s arms. I think if I had had arms, I
would have wrapped them around them. It was obvious how much they loved
each other. He led her up to me, and I felt her soft fingers caress my doorway.
“Our home.” Joseph whispered. Sarah’s fingers brushed over the tables,
cushions, furnishings; my walls. I was smooth, clean and bright. She twirled
towards him and smiled. “I love it,” she said. “It’s beautiful, Joseph.”

They sat and talked, ate and planned. I watched them walk out along the now
choppy shoreline, hand in hand. As dusk fell, he pulled her up to my balcony,
carrying a blanket. He lit my lamp and curled up with her against my wall.

Their warmth spread against my cool exterior, as they watched the sun set over
the bay and how Aurora painted the sky in luscious, romantic colors and how it
played over the sails of the ships returning for the night. When the final ray of
sun caught the tip of my light, the ship that dropped her off set anchor and
awaited her dory. Sarah would snuggle into Joseph with a sigh, and he would
lead her down to the shore, where she made her short row back to the ship.

This was their habit for the weekends; her father, who was a fisherman, would
drop her in a dory to visit with Joseph, and pick her back up at the sun’s last
rays. And every evening, before they left, they would watch the sunset on my
balcony.

“She’d had to leave us
My keeper he prayed for her safe return
But when the night came
The weather to a raging storm had turned.”

One Saturday evening, the weather grew rough. They watched from my
balcony as the waves beat against the jagged rocks, the wind twisting Sarah’s
unbound hair and slapping it against my sides. They watched as ships bounced
on the choppy waves and as the sky turned grey and chill, Joseph turned on my
light. They saw her father’s ship fight to get closer to the island, so the dory
wouldn’t get swamped. Joe begged Sarah, “Wave your father off, I’ll row you
to shore myself in the morning.” She kissed him softly. “I want my first night
here to be our wedding night. I can wait. It will be soon.”

He hugged her tightly, and then led her down the stairs. I watched as he placed
her in the dory, kissing her once more. I wished for a voice then, to scream, to
let them know this was no ordinary storm. But I have no voice, and I watched
in distress as her father’s boat was getting pushed by the wind closer and closer
to my shore.

“He watched her ship fight
But in vain against the wild and terrible wind
And me so helpless
As dashed against the rocks she met her end.”

Joseph stood on the shore, watching her dory pitch and swale in the rough
water. Sarah became drenched as the cold rain started to pour down, nearly
flooding the small dory. Joseph yelled into the wind, calling her back, but the
wind tore his voice away.

Her father’s ship started to list, and its bow scraped the rocks on my shore. He
shifted his sails and managed to get back off, but further away from the
struggling dory. The wind began to twist, and even my solid walls began to
quake. Sarah and the dory were flung about like a feather in the breeze. Her
small boat, nearly submerged finally pulled along side her father’s ship. The
ship moved to block the wind, so she might climb on board, the dory lost, when
a particularly nasty gust pushed the boat sideways into my shore. It listed
under the weight of the wet sails. The port side- the side that Sarah had been
climbing- smashed against the rocks. Quickly, the ship sunk beneath the
violent waves as it was torn apart and dragged out to sea.

Joseph ran to the shore, screaming.The storm howled around him as he
searched frantically along the shore. He sought all night as the storm raged.
then on the next day.

“my keeper found her
washed up on the shore
he kissed her cold face
that they’d be together soon he swore. ”

I saw her before he did, her pale, limp body, tossed up on the shore in the first
light of dawn. Joseph was still circling the shore. It was a bright morning and
the sun glistened in her golden hair. He came upon her and fell to his knees at
her side. He brushed the sand from her face. I saw him whisper to her as he
leaned over her slight body and kissed her cheek.

He stumbled away, then turned and walked toward me with grim determined
steps, his face pale and his eyes red from crying and the wind. He reached the
shed and pulled out his shovel before returning to her side.

His tears consecrated the ground to his love as he dug her burial place in the
sand. He lifted her gently, kissed her one last time before placing the sand on
her final resting place.

He left the shovel on top of her sandy grave and trudged back toward me. He
looked up at me, squinting in the now bright sun. He slowly climbed the stairs
to my tower. He sat for a moment, in their usual sunset spot. I felt the wet
warmth of his back.

He stood then took a few steps forward and opened the safety grate to my
railing. I wish I could have closed it. I wish I could have stopped him. He
pressed his body against my side one last time, his fingers gently touching my
face, as if to say goodbye then he ran off the edge of the balcony to land on the
rocks below.

“I saw him crying
Watched as he buried her in the sand
Then climbed my tower
And off the edge of me he ran.

I am a lighthouse
Born by the weather and the waves
And though I am empty
I still warn the sailors on their way.”

I am alone now. Some people even say I am haunted. A new-fangled
automated system replaced my oil lamps, so no one need stay with me
anymore. Majestic sailing ships don’t pass by my shore much these days, just
motor boats speeding past.

I will not forget the happiness I saw, that I shared. As long as I stand, their
love will be remembered.

*thanks to Poison Ivan for the Edits! *
Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2002 http://www.asstr.org/~Dryad

This is the first in the Tales of Home series. I don’t give a rat’s ass where you stand in this war; its here, and I’ll be damned if I’m not going to support our troops.
That being said;
This is a work of adult fiction; if you have to sneak in to see a NC-17 movie, get your sorry butt outta here.
Otherwise, enjoy, copyright is mine,(which simply means ask first) and mail me any comments/concerns good or bad.
************************************************************************

What could she do?

With a stiff upper lip and no tears, God, no tears, she had waved John off at the Norfolk pier as the USS Bataan left port bound for the Gulf.

That was 3 months ago, but now it was their anniversary. He was God knows how many miles away. The last e-mail she had gotten from him, he was somewhere in the Persian Gulf, but that was three days ago. He’d warned her that e-mail would be spotty, at best.

What could she give him? The USO was putting strict guidelines on what could be sent; and the DoD was still leery of packages.

His last e-mail was so hot. Maybe the equatorial sun was keeping his body warm, maybe the distance made him want her more, or maybe it was just the situation and his wanting to feel human again. He poured emotion, hot and deep, into the letter; told her what he would do if he were there with her. Her hand drifted up to her chest, softly brushing against her breast, bringing the nipple to attention.

Perhaps I should go re-read his letter, she thought to herself. She headed into the bedroom, where they kept the computer, and she pulled up his last e-mail.

She curled up in the chair, wiggling to get comfortable.

“Hey Angel,
I miss you. It’s starting to get hotter than hell over here. You know how it gets down in the quarry? Mid day in August, and the sun is shimmering over the ledges? All dusty and gritty and grimy. That’s what it feels like–The quarry.

At night, if I tune out the jets taking off, I can almost imagine I’m there. Bringing you down to the bottom of the quarry, where it gets all nice and cool, no matter how hot it was during the day. I imagine us there, and how I’d slowly peel your clothes off, until you were glowing naked before me in the moonlight.”

Her skin began to moisten as she squirmed at his words. She knew what was coming, so she pulled off her shirt.

She stopped suddenly, knowing exactly what to give him for their anniversary. She clicked on the digital camera, setting it to take still every 10 seconds, before she continued to read.

“I’d pull you up against me, let you feel how hard I was for you. And I’d kiss you. Kiss you so hard, you’d know how badly I wanted you. My hands would cup your ass and pull you to me, and then I’d bring them up front and play with your tits. God, I miss your tits.”

Her hands rose to her chest, squeezing and pinching her nipples the way she liked him to do. She squirmed a bit and her eyes fluttered closed. Finally, she forced her eyes to focus on the screen and continued to read.

“I’d let my tongue move down your neck, down to your tits and suck on your nipples. I can just feel my fingers on your smooth back, kneading into you as I suck. I can feel your fingers fiddling with the buttons on my shirt, pulling it out of my jeans. Your hands feel so cool against my skin, so gentle.”

She sighed softly, her head lolling to one side at his imagined nibbling. She shimmied quickly out of the rest of her clothes before settling back into the seat. She reached over to her drawer and pulled out the dildo John had gotten for her before he left. She set it next to her in the chair before continuing.

“Your skin would glow in the moonlight. Do you know how beautiful you are to me? My fingers would trace across your skin, lightly, gently. And I’d smile when you shivered. My hands would slide down your hips, smooth over that really sexy silk skirt you wear when we go to my parent’s for dinner. My fingers ruck it up and I’d fall to my knees. I can almost smell you, if I concentrate hard enough.”

Her fingers were busy, first skimming her arms, her sides, pulling up on her tits, kneading them. Her hands roamed her torso, gently teasing herself. A blush rose from her diaphragm. Her fingers dipped lower, but she waited for his direction.

“Can you feel me nuzzle your pussy? Feel my nose press up against your clit? Feel my tongue flick out against your wet pussy lips. God, you taste good. My fingers press into your cheeks, pulling you closer to me, supporting you when I feel you sway. You like it when I do that, don’t you? My tongue dipping deeper into your pussy, sucking out your juices. That’s it, moan for me, Angel. Let it go for me.”

Her fingers followed his words, tickling first her clit, then down lower into her wet tunnel. Her fingers circled her clit, pressing and pinching, then pressing further into her depths. She moaned, a moan of frustration, her eyes shut.

She could no longer focus on the words on the screen, but she remembered them. It wasn’t that hard, as much as she’d read it. With her eyes closed, she reached for the dildo.

“I can feel you shuddering, Angel. You want to come, don’t you? I love how your body is so expressive. I could flick my tongue right now, and make you come.

But that would be too easy. I lean back to watch the desire and frustration pass over your face. I take off my pants quickly, before you can truly miss me. My hands on your ass, I lift you up to me. You’re so light, like a feather; and I feel your legs encircle my waist.
Do you feel me? Can you? My desperate cock searching for your hidden warmth? Feel it thrust deeply into you? I miss the way you would cry out when I’m deep inside you.”

She pressed the dildo in, moving against it now. It wasn’t John, but it would help ease the loneliness. She flicked the switch to the quiet motor, felt it reverberate through her. She pressed it deeply, crying out for him, squirming madly in the chair, lost in the sensations he would have brought her if he were there.

“Can you feel that? Feel me swell inside you? Feel my hips bucking against you, our thighs slapping together? God, you make me want to come. I feel your pussy squeeze my cock, and I know you’re coming. It’s like a hand squeezing my cock.

And you know what? When I come back, no more condoms. When I come back, I’m not going anywhere else again. I know I said no before. But when I imagine my cum spurting into you, I feel dizzy. And all I can think is that maybe this time, you’ll get pregnant.”

Her movements quickened, as she ran through what he had written, in her head. Her fingers squeezed her breast as she wailed her orgasm. She whimpered until she turned off the vibrator, desperately trying to catch her breath. After a few minutes, when her breathing returned to normal, she scrolled through to the end of the e-mail.

“I know I said no before, babe. But I love you, and the thought of you is what gets me through all the bullshit over here. The thought of this being over, and my being home, with you, and watching you grow; You would be so beautiful, you know that?

I have to get going. I’m sorry. I love you, Amanda. Be safe,
John”

She turned off the camera, and saved it to edit later. She’d love to send all of them; but it was unlikely she could get away with that. She’d smuggle him one, maybe two, and save the rest for his return. She threw on some clothes, touching her burgeoning belly lightly. She hadn’t told him, afraid of what he’d say, afraid he’d blame her for the “accident”. Now she knew she had the perfect anniversary gift for him.

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

I am the author of this story.

I own the copyright of the story.

I am legally entitled to enter this contest.

This story has not been published prior to the contest.

I will not permit this story to be published during the
judging period.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will permit
Calendar.atEROS to publish the story in Calendar.atEROS
through April 1st, 2003.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will permit
Calendar.atEROS to publish the story in an ebook through
October 31st, 2003.

If the story is selected as a finalist, I will not permit
the story to be published outside of Calendar.atEROS prior
to April 1st, 2003.

I’m going insane.

The burning I feel in my gut, behind my eyes, in my groin…all crying out for releases of
different sorts.

Scream therapy no longer works. A beetle has crawled into my brain, making me feel
and do things that are not me. A stranger has taken residence in my body, forcing me,
creating the ache I feel. And it churns and curls in me, wrapping around my fragile
control, tightening and squeezing it, as a python would it prey. And I scream inside,
scream for the loss of me, wanting to get back to me…

No longer in control no longer in control…

Reaching out, grasping, crying for help. Curl up fetal style, pulling your arms tightly
around me. Make me forget, make me forget what I am right now.

Hand softly stroking my hair, and I feel my body tense, feel the anger surge from no
where, irrational, feelings not my own.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Anger curls, swelling and receding, leaving a miffed pressure
behind my eyes, begging to be unleashed. The poisoned tears squeeze out, as my body
shudders again. My brain hurts. My body aches.
I’m so tired. Tired of fighting the alien inside me. The control slips. I hate myself. Hate
myself for the weakness. Hate being a stranger in my own skin. I feel the creepy crawlies
take residence under my skin…nothing is comfortable. I feel jittery, as though I was on a
caffeine high. I can’t seem to keep still, the neural synapses snapping, begging for
release.

Sex.
I don’t care how. Hell, I don’t care who. Buy stock in Energizer, but that ain’t doing it
anymore either. Just fuck me. Make me forget I don’t know myself. Use that power in
me, make it melt away. Flip me, bounce me on the bed. Hell, invite your friends, fill me
with cock from all angles, drown me, drown me in sperm. Override this monster in me,
use this anger, make me scream, make me curse and act like one possessed. Make the
tingle in my skin feel positive, rather than the wanderings of a soon-to-be insane mind.

No! No, don’t make love to me! My feeble brain can’t use it…I said FUCK me. Slam my
body, slide me up against the wall roughly, take my body, until my brain slows down,
before exploding.

But my body doesn’t care. I get a moment, perhaps two, of clear thought, before my
body begs to shut my mind down again, and I am crawling over you, begging,
threatening…fuck me, or someone else will. I can see you’re tired, and it angers me
further. Some small part in the back of my head tries to pull me back, but I don’t care, all
I care about is the storm inside me, my orgasm much like the eye of a hurricane, and I’m
thrown about. I’ve lost all control, don’t want it, don’t need it.

Feel myself falling, no longer aware, blissfully unaware. I close my eyes to the feeling,
all that’s left…no thought, no anger, no fear. And even in the midst, my body grows
slack, relaxed, blessed with a mind emptied of all thought, no longer desperate, jittery.

Until the next time, which could be soon. But for a few moments, respite from the
pressing insanity.

It was the annual “Hen Roost” as her husband liked to call it. Her and her two good friends would go out for the night, drinking, carousing, and male bashing. Of course, it was easy to do when he used terms like that.

She ordered a coke to start with, wanting to be sharp for the beginning festivities. Betsy was the first one in. It figured, since she was closer, and not having any kids, she’d find it easier to escape.

“Betsy! Over here!” she called out.

“Deni!” Betsy rushed over and threw her arms around her friend, then proceeded to drop a large shopping bag and her coat to her seat.

“Holy shit, Den! How much weight did you lose?” Deni did a little pirouette.

“You like? Twenty five pounds; yoga, and power walking,” she replied as they both slid into the booth.

“So, where’s Ella?” Betsy flagged down a waitress.

“I imagine she’ll be here shortly. Her kids go to bed later than mine…and she has a lot further to travel. You spending the night here like last year?”

“Hell, yeah. Too fricken far to travel back tonight. Too bad you can’t stay. Ella said she probably will.”

“Actually, I am. Ethan arranged it!” Deni grinned.

“Woohoo! Oh! There’s Ella.” Betsy cried out. “Hey Ella!” Deni laughed at how half the bar looked over at them. Ella laughed too through her blush.

“I can’t believe you did that!” She dumped her belongings down and looked at her two friends. “So…What’d I miss?” She plopped down into the booth next to Betsy as the waitress came by.

“Hi ladies. Will you be starting a tab tonight?”

The women chuckled. “Oh, yeah. Lots of talking tonight!”

“Great then. What will we start with?”

“Husband bashing for the first course?” Deni grinned.

“Oooh. I’m up for some of that!” the waitress replied, “but I have to take your drink orders.”

“I’ll have a mudslide please,” Betsy chimed in.

“Sombero please…and the more Kahlua the better.” Was Ella’s addition.

“I swear, I’m gonna call you girls the Kahlua sisters. I’d like a Tequila Sunrise please?” Deni finished as the waitress smiled and left with their order.

“Let’s go through the pictures first, before we’re too sloshed to recognize who’s who.” Deni said while she pulled her bag up to the table, digging for her collection.

“Good idea. I didn’t bring many this year. You always bring enough for the two of us.” Betsy nudged Deni.

Ella sighed as she pulled hers out. “The girls got into the pictures just before I left…so they aren’t all here…” she shuffled through, “Here is Molly’s school pictures.” She smiled.

“Pig tails, Ella? God, that’s old-fashioned! Oh wait.” Deni chuckled, “Look at Lizzie’s school picture.”

They all laughed when they saw Lizzie had braided pigtails as well. “Probably the only time I did that all year too.”

“Oh, aren’t they darling!” Betsy commented.

Ella snorted. Deni shuffled through the pictures. “Really? Take a look at this one.”

Betsy gasped when she saw the same “darling” covered with… “What IS that?”

Deni laughed. “Oh, they decided to get into the cubby where I store all the holiday stuff? That was Easter egg dye. They thought they’d use it like makeup. You should have seen the floor when I found them.” She shook her head, “it took me ages, and there are still green stains on the floor.”

“THAT is why I don’t have children. Well, that and I can’t. But it’s why we never adopted. I have enough trouble cleaning up after the dogs.” She handed the picture to Ella.

She laughed, “I recognize that. Only mine was Christy getting into my makeup.”

Pulling another picture from the pile, Betsy asked, “Was this your vacation?”

Deni nodded. ” If you can call a weekend a vacation, yes. But it was nice. The weather was gorgeous. Couldn’t've asked for better.”

The waitress showed up with the drinks, taking a moment to laugh at Lizzie covered with egg dye. “Just holler when you need more, it looks like a long night!” She grinned as she moved away.

“Now for the proof of point pictures, ladies.” Ella flipped one on top of the pile. “Remember how I said the house looked? And neither of you would believe how bad it was?”

Betsy gulped and Deni laughed. “Looks like the girls’ rooms after a long, rainy weekend.”

“So, Bets, where’re your pictures?”

“Don’t have many…just one of the dogs, one of the new garden, and one of Daren when he got sunburned.” She shuffled through the pile and pulled out the pictures she mentioned.

…End of the part1. To be continued..

This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if
it is, it´s not what they would do. (not that you are
likely to
know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I don’t
like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion,
what are
you doing at ASSTR? In other words, go away. If none of this
applies to
you, great! Read on! Have fun!Let me know what you like!

Oh, and I work hard on my writing…so guess what? It’s mine.
That’s right boys and girls…it’s copyrighted…so if you want
it? Just ask…we’ll talk.
**********************************************************

She stepped into the living room dropping her keys on the
table. She rolled her neck, working on getting out the strain.
She tensed when she saw it.

Her bookshelves were gone. In their place was the large 50
gallon fish tank that they stored years earlier because of its
unwieldy size. The lights were glaring against the stone strewn
bottom and a new filter system was thrumming noisily. It was
obviously just waiting for the addition of fish.

She heaved a deep sigh.

“What’s with you?” he remarked sarcastically.

“What is THAT?”

“It’s the fish tank. The one that’s been sitting in the
basement for 4 years?” He answered her with false calmness.

“Don’t be facetious. You knew what I meant.”

He shrugged.

“Great something else to take up the damn room. Do I dare ask
how much you spent putting it back together?” she glared at him.
“Of course not, I can see it in your face. You have the gall to
bitch at me over how much I spend and you go and do this? Did it
even occur to you to ask what I
thought?”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about it for some time. The fish
calm me down after a long day. They’re peaceful. You know I like
it. ”

“Yeah, like last time? You ended up flushing the fish down the
toilet!”

“That isn’t what happened. And even if I did, what do you care?
They were mine anyway.”

She took a deep breath. “It is what happened and you know it.
You can lie to yourself, but don’t lie to me. You always get
things, let me get attached, then get rid of them when YOU’RE
tired of them!”

“Fucking cunt.” he muttered. She turned away attempting to
ignore it, knowing he was trying to piss her off. She clenched
and unclenched her fists in a desperate attempt to control her
anger then stepped backward into the bedroom.

“That’s right, just like always, go and fucking pout.”

“Well, better to pout than try to talk sense into that
Neanderthal rock you like to call your brain.” she undertoned.

“What was that?!”

“Nothing.” She sighed.

“Bullshit it was nothing. If you want to say something-say it.”

“Oh, you mean like muttering ‘fucking cunt’ under your breath?
Follow your own damn advice.”

“Well, you heard it, didn’t you?” He stepped closer putting his
face in hers.

“Just go away. Talk to me when you can act like an adult.” She
turned to shut the bedroom door on him.

“Don’t you fucking dismiss me in my own damn house!” he
apoplexed.

“I stated what I had to say. If you can’t deal with, shove off.
You bitch and bitch about every little nickel and dime I spend
on fucking necessities, then you go off and spend what? A
hundred dollars?” a ghost of guilt crossed his face at this,
“and yet you STILL manage to turn this around so it’s MY fault?”
She took a deep breath. “I’m not saying you couldn’t've had it.
I’m saying it would’ve been nice to have been consulted.”

“Fine! I won’t get the fucking fish! Is that what you want?” He
stormed over to the fishtank.

“Jesus Christ! Aren’t you listening to me?” she shook her head
knowing the answer. “I’m not pissed over the fish…I’m pissed
that you didn’t bother talking to me about it. I live here too
you know.”

“Fuck this.” With that he snatched his keys off the nearby
table and stomped out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“None of your damn business!” he said as the door slammed shut.

She really didn’t expect anything different. He’d come back
later with all the fish he wanted. Never apologize and act as if
nothing happened, no matter how much she glowered or begged him
to apologize. Never thought about her. Never listened.

So much for the peace the fish tank would bring. Who needed it?

It was perfectly peaceful without him.

Copyright Dryad 2003 (gbbjg@yahoo.com)

Dear Diary, 11/5/88
Today I went to work. Chris was 1/2 hour late. Linc had left early (about 8:30) because he had to go to the Home Product Show. During first break, I kept bothering him; he told me to cut the shit. I kept going though. Why was I doing that? I was thinking maybe It was something like I can’t have him love me, I would want him to hate me? (Thin line between love and hate?) I don’t know. I kept myself extremely busy at Players the whole time. I got paint all over myself. Daniel was there till 5 Valerie, Michele, Eric, Carson, Linda and Jill left before the rest of us.

Dear Diary, 11/6/88
Today we cut up the deer Dad got. I had told Sandra and Maggie was there. Maggie’s chin dropped to her chest. It was so funny! I now have 18 1/2 hours in on the players (you need 200 to get a letter) Daniel gave me a ride home. We all, (Tabitha was there too!) started hitting eachother-Daniel hit me in the eye because he couldn’t see where he was hitting. We had a partial run through of Adam and Eve- during the blackout Sandra and I moved their new home on stage and put it nearly in the right spot; in the dark. I was proud of myself…don’t know why really…we have to know that anyway. I think rehearsal is until 9:30 tomorrow. Players paid for my dinner (also the people who came early) This is great therapy- I don’t have time to get mopey. I guess I ought to go to bed. Night!

Dear Diary, 11/7/88

Worked on show all afternoon. Deirdre took me home, Mr. Lion wanted to get up to Passionella’s change scene- we only got up to the first part of Lady or the Tiger. I honestly don’t think we’ll be done in time. Its late. Sandra and I were dropped off by Mr. Lion at Mama’s . We ordered pizza and brought it back (we walked) I’ve gotta get to bed. Night!

Dear Diary, 11/8/88

It’s 11:18 at night. We had the total run through of the play. There is a ghost in the Auditorium. We named it Sarah. Katherine’s been really edgy, but then so has everybody. I hope (as probably everyone else does) that opening night will be a success. It seemed to go fairly smoothly.

Dear Diary, 11/9/88
Opening night was a success! We only had maybe 2 mishaps. Linda forgot a few lines to her song- but it still sounded beautiful and the wheel on Adam and Eve’s hut broke, so we had to put a new one in. Sarah showed herself. There was a glowing in the back room and the work lights went on mysteriously twice. We accounted for one where Amanda flicked the switch on and off. Nicki had a sore throat but she still sounded beautiful. One of the candles fell out of the candlestick and off the platform. Afterward, everyone was hugging everyone. Daniel hugged 4 of us at once! (this is one growing boy!)
I’m starting to mend but I had a setback when I saw that boy again. Dierdre gave me a ride home. Night!

Dear Diary, 11/10/88
The play went great! In Adam and Eve Adam’s first hut fell over. Daniel said, “It’s all your fault Eve!” and they improvised until they got it back up. Nick had gone to the mall. There was a parrot in the pet store. When people said, “hi” it said hi; when people said “John” it said “John”. Well, Nicki thought she’d be smart and say, “Nicki’s God”. And the parrot LAUGHED! The whole entire store laughed.

I’m working 8-4 tomorrow, so I’ve got to get to sleep.

Dear Diary, 11/11/88
Nothing much today. I went to work and we did geraniums, new guinea impatiens and fuscia oh, and vinca. It was Linc, Chris, Sasha, me and mom. Got home and went to eat at Dragon City. Its 7:00 now. I’m gonna get ready for bed.

Dear Diary, 11/12/88

I worked at the store today, 9-1. I got home, ate, sat and moped. I am feeling extremely sorry for myself. I miss Chris (as a boyfriend) The play went beautifully, near success. Daniel’s mom drove me home because everyone else went to Friendly’s. Last night I had the strangest dream. I had a dream that I was going out with Eric Brando and that we were rolling all over the ground, fucking like mad. If his lips are as good in real life…
My subconscious has a filthy mind.

Dear Diary, 11/13/88
I slept until 8, which is late for me. I putzed around, did 2 loads of wash (still have 2 left). Lianne and I are going to do the seminar for the Newspaper tomorrow. It ought to be fun. I am feeling worse and worse. When I was working on the play, I was kept busy enough. I always seem about to cry.
I have a dull ache in my chest where my heart used to be. But now, my heart has shattered causing my breath to be short and a constant lump in my throat.
I am in a constant state of melancholy though no one even sees it. I would honestly be a fantastic actress.

Dear Diary, 11/14/88
I went to the journalism workshop which was interesting and I got letters from my pen pals—on the same day. I am tired so that’s all I’ll say except that I’m getting a 62 in French.

Dear Diary, 11/16/88
Nothing much goin on. I am sending a poem to YM to see if I can get it published. Daniel lost his voice. We are hoping that he will get it back. (oh, well) I sent the letter to Australia the next day.

Dear Diary, 11/17/88
Nothing much. It was a ½ day so I went ot work. Got my report card. English-78, foreign policy-85, Algebra- 71, French- 62, CPR- 88, Gym- 88 Chemistry- 83. Test on Moby Dick tomorrow. UGH.

Dear Diary, 11/18/88
I am in the pits of mortal despair. (Dryad note: obviously stolen from “Anne of Green Gables”.) I hurt so badly, If only I could cry and let it all out, but instead I have this horrid ache inside. It is so hard to be on the verge of tears all the time and never being able to cry. Putting on a brave face so no one (and honestly no one does) knows how badly I’ve been hurt. Its something like putting a bandaid over a chopped off arm.
Why? I care for him surely, but do I (honestly now do I love him? My symptoms are pointing to that, but its too late for me to do anything now.
On to cheerier matters. The play went great. Daniel had his voice (praise the lord). Daniel is having the cast party tomorrow night. I had better get to bed now.

Dear Diary, 11/20/88
Being so early in the morning (1:30am) and so much to tell, I’ll finish in the morning. All I’ll say now is that I went to the cast party, the play was the best yet, and work was okay. Finish later.

I never finished last night. Mom got mad at me this morning for asking if she was going to the play. Chris cheered me up (not just the sight—verbal wise!) Mom and dad took me to school. Closing night was our best night. Daniel made a joke about Quayle as president in Adam and Eve. The party was fun. We watched a video tape of the show. Lizzie’s mom took me home. I didn’t do much today.

Dear Diary, 11/23/88
Sorry so late in writing. Nothing much is going on. We’ve been taking down set, sophomore class is selling cookies, I got an A+ on my French composition and a 91 on my oral report in English and an 80 on my chemistry test. In volleyball, I dove for the ball and got a floor burn. (feels nasty too) (Dryad note: still have the scar too!) Well tomorrow is thanksgiving. What am I thankful for? My family of course, friends? I put a question mark there because I have no real friends anymore. I used to be able to tell Lianne anything but now it’s hard. I have plenty of friends though between classes and Players. Well, I’ve got too many to count.
Mr. Cloog liked the changes I made in my poem. In a way, I hope YM doesn’t print it, because It’s so much better now. I’m still extremely sad all the time, but I’m getting better–I can forget about it for a second now and then. After my oral report, Josh started clapping and everyone followed. I think I’m healing because I’ve been thinking about Josh. We have so much in common. Just a thought of course, and like I said, no more unless someone says something to me. I refuse to ask a male out again. Forever! I hate (!) feeling this way. Ah well, C’est la vie! Not only that, Josh is cute (though tall).

Dear Diary, 11/24/88
Thanksgiving is over. Tomorrow I work 8-4. I’m still tired. Last night I asked mom to cut my hair. Its shoulder length now. Its nearly all even except for my bangs and a small part where my hair used to be feathered. It looks nice, but I want my long hair back! Mom cut about 5 inches off –OUCH! I have a headache for some reason, so I’m going.

Dear Diary, 11/25/88
Today I went to work. A while ago I said I had bothered Chris and said it might be “thin line between love and hate” I figured it out. I did the same thing today. I wanted to inflict pain onto him, he had inflicted onto me. And it hurt to realize this. We had a long talk about things after that. I think I have finally come to terms with it. He told me it was all psychological. I told him he wouldn’t say that if he felt like I felt. I hate that saying “its better to have loved and lost…” I’m going to feel worse if I write anymore on that so I’m going to bed.

Dear Diary, 11/26/88
Worked today. I was in a fairly good mood. Chris and Linc read my poem. Linc didn’t say anything and Chris said it was nice. My face is itchy again. We went to my aunt and uncles house right after work. The first Star Trek of the new season was great. Deana Troi had a baby that grew rapidly. Wesley’s mom left and he was supposed to but he is staying. (Thank god!) Anyway, I’m going to bed.

Dear Diary, 11/27/88
Have I really changed a whole lot? I figure as long as I’m not happy with myself, I’ll keep changing! I did my wash and a little homework. That’s really all.

Dear Diary, 11/28/88
I am feeling very poetic this evening. If my name were Elizabeth, my mood would certainly be that. Most of the day today I was a Liz; the majority of the time I’m a Beth though. I just wrote “If you keep a smile in your heart and a laugh on your lips you shall always be happy” On October 24th I asked, “how long does it take for a broken heart to heal?” I think I can answer that as being now. Approximately a month. I am ready to live again! Watch out world, here I come!
Would you believe-
I talked with Lianne today. This is a list of who she likes (in order of course):
1)Peter 2) Sean 3) someone I don’t know 4) Josh 5) Seth 6) Karl and 7)Jeff.
This is my list:
1)Chris (still) 2) Josh 3) Seth 4,5,6 (in no particular order—because I’m only mildly interested) Daniel, Eric and Chad,

Players is doing (the believe) 12 Angry People (actually men, but well, obviously) [Dryad note: perhaps your drama dept was unlike mine, but we were very male challenged…and female heavy] I am going to try out for it. That’s all for tonight, G’night!

Dear Diary, 11/29/88
Nothing much today. I have a French test, a vocab test, anything else (?) tomorrow. Joy, Joy.
I had a dream last night about Josh. We were lying side by side on the grass, and he asked “What would you say if I said we were the perfect couple?” very softly and (both of us being on our sides) leaned over and kissed me. I answered back, “ I’d die of happiness.” And we began kissing again. Then we were up in my room, and we were going downstairs. We were holding hands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Chris, and Grandma were in the kitchen. We had gone out the back door, and he put his arm around me. Then the scene changed and we were under a tree house and he said, “you’re plan came out well.” And a bunch of other things I can’t remember. We had a short argument and we kissed. Then Sean or Matthew (I can’t remember which) popped out a window and were like, “ooooh, look at you two kiss” type thing. It was a nice dream. Oh, Well! At least I can kiss (I mean, know how for sure.) That’s really all.

Dear Diary, 12/4/88
I forgot to mention on 11/23 that I got my hair cut. I was extremely depressed Saturday morning, but Chris cheered me up. He really is a great friend. He’s the one person I can talk to- not even how I talk with Lianne. I tell him nearly everything. My shopping is done except I made a mistake on Uncle Chris’s present (I got him a Christmas tape, and he doesn’t really care for the artist) So, I’ll return it and get another one.
I got dad a black leather wallet; mom a CD; Grandma a PenDelfin named Jingles; Ron some blank tapes; Sabrina a pair of silver heart earrings; Aunt Ellen and Uncle Leo a meat and cheese set; Sasha a sweater; and got the rest of my girlfriends earrings. Whew! I spent well over $100, which for me is an awful lot. I might get Chris a present and I might get Bea one too. U have 3 small jars of herbs which I’m thinking of giving her. I have to start my term paper for Foreign Policy- I haven’t even started, (oh, shit!) it’s due something like January 7th. I’m doing better in French class except for the asses, such as Melanie and Roberta. We had a sub in class on Friday, and she asked the class who hadn’t had a turn reading the dialogue. And Roberta says, “Marie hasn’t!” It wasn’t so much her words, but the venom just oozed from her lips like it poisoned her just to say my French name. Ah well! Life is full of undesirable people. The photo for the newspaper for the yearbook, for instance. Linda went up to Julie and told her Tasha and her were Co-Editors. I go to tell her, 1) she spelled my name wrong, and 2) that I’m assistant editor. Linda says, “oh, that isn’t necessary.” As if it isn’t enough she already took editor, but won’t even let me have that scrape of recognition? After writing all the wrong things of that day, no wonder I was depressed! Just thinking gets me feeling down again. I’ve cleaned my room. So that’s all.
P.S. I started my period—again! (Already, I should say)

Work in Progress

Copyright Dryad (gbbjg@yahoo.com) 2003

I’ll be waiting with “baited breath”, like the cat who ate cheese, and sat by
the mousehole.
_____
/ ‘ /
,-/-, __ __. ____ /_
(_/ / (_(_/|_/ / <_ / <_

P.S. Do you mind if I save this letter, except for your name, and use it
and my response to answer any future flames/criticism? It helps not
to have to do it twice.
P.P.S. I got the scanner, and recovered part-2. Story follows this post.
PLEASE don't get squicked, until you've finished the whole story.
THEN feel free to let me have it with both barrels. ;-}

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

IN> Frank,

IN>1. Using my last letter to respond to other critics, some
IN>probably not as friendly. I re-read the letter, and it is fine, except
IN>for my personal identity, which you should please safeguard totally, and
IN>the first paragraph. The first paragraph is not only irrelevant to the
IN>story, but also is pretty identifiable as written by me. To those who
IN>know me, that may be true of the whole thing, but they would not be able
IN>to prove anything, so go ahead.

I’ll remove the first paragraph, and anything else that points to you.

IN>2. Have not yet had time to go over “BfF I” in the detail I
IN>promised, to send you the minor typos, etc. Hope to do so today,
IN>if not, tomorrow.

I’ll wait on both stories for your criticism.

IN>3. “Bound for Fun II” – the blistering literary criticism! ;=}

IN>Anyway, I liked “BfF II” It certainly
IN>did not squick me. It dealt well with the trust issues, and the whole
IN>fascination with violence and torture as “fun” when in the real world
IN> 1) they actually go on, and
IN> 2) they are __NO fun.

Amen.

IN>Now, the literary hard part for me, is that I must tell you that you
IN>did not pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. This reader, at least.
IN>Jones is clearly too careful of Lynn’s feelings, her peripheral
IN>circulation, etc. etc. for him to actually be planning to kill her
IN>This plot reminds me of the movie “The Sting” I thought that
IN>was a fantastic movie, because it was all about a sting operation, and
IN>audience member thinks he is in on it, but in the end, gets totally
IN>taken in himself, and actually gasps when it appears that one of the good
IN>guys kills the other. Again, at least this viewer.

IN>I do not read a lot of the NC stories, except the Parker works,
IN>and so I am not too good at telling you what a NC perpetrator must “think
IN>like” in a story, but one thing is that he must be totally
IN>uncaring about the victim, except regarding leaving clues.
IN>Clues don’t really have to do with
IN>the victim, just protecting himself, but at least that as close as he gets
IN>to giving a damn about the victim. Jones is way too careful.
IN>He is also clearly too nice a guy. I really don’t know
IN>how to remedy this from the dramatic
IN>viewpoint in the story. That he is careful is okay,
IN> but that he is careful of the girl’s
IN>feelings and comfort is not. I don’t know how to get across his care,
IN>and maybe carefully and intentionally mislead the innocent reader, with
IN>statements
IN>that when read quickly look like the self-centered detail worries of a
IN>schmuck trying to cover the clues, but on rereading after the surprise
IN>ending actually may be interpreted to see that he was looking out for
IN>her all along. A difficult task,
IN>but the only way I can see to get the desired effect and leave it in 1st
IN>person.

The idea was never to pull the wool over the reader’s eyes. The Idea was
to see if you could convince the reader that “Joe” was good enough and
convincing enough to pull the wool over Lynn’s eyes. Since you don’t point
…End of the part3. To be continued..

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