story segment
Madame Python says: Wicky, I've got a spicy story from the slush pile for today.
Madame Python says: Wicky, I've got a spicy story from the slush pile for today.
Miss Cricket says: Py, I thought today’s segment was about the relative attractiveness of men in certain types of jeans. I have a chart prepared.
Madame Python: No, Wicky, we're going to be talking about men's asses another day. Today's story is about a middle aged mother of three who decides to dump her inhibitions.
Miss Cricket: Translation: boring story about some wishy washy woman who throws away everything that matters in life because she is temporarily hurt. I like stories about people who have deep character and overcome odds.
Madame Python: Oh, well, she overcomes some odds all right. Odds are women like this aren't getting any. Rolling the dice:
He was unlocking the hotel room door.
She couldn't believe it. Here she was standing in the musty hotel hallway at the end of a long runway of green carpet, purse in hand, not having had sex since her husband left nine months and thirteen days ago. The man maneuvering the key was someone she had met at the laundromat two Sunday evenings back.
He had said, "Hello, beautiful," in a tall thin mustached chocolate voice.
She, Anne Marie, had looked up, way up, at his noble face and straight eye lashes. No one had called her beautiful in years.
"What are you reading?" he had asked, "The Glass?"
"The Glass Menagerie," she offered. The confusion came from an ill placed library sticker that said "DRAMA."
Two weeks had passed and tonight they had met for coffee at a slightly out of town diner. A neon sign blinked "Loo Loo's Grill and Bar." Anne Marie didn't think she'd bump into too many friends at Loo Loo's Grill and Bar. She didn't want any back chat about how she shouldn't be on a "date" when her divorce wasn't even final.
Coffee, donut, chat, perhaps a walk to her car and a goodnight kiss. That was the plan.
But Frederick - who does not go by Fred - Frederick sat close in the booth. He put his thigh against her thigh and said she deserved some happy moments in her life. He said he wanted to be there for her - a shoulder to cry on when she needed one. And would she walk across the diner so he could look at her frame again.
No walking across the diner ensued, but the mention of a nearby hotel and a commentary about how she had wonderful parts did. Then Anne Marie, after some quick silent moments of gratitude that Mandy was away at a tennis tournament and it was a good time of the month, was now, for once, about to do something for herself.
Frederick made quick work of her clothes and his own. Skin on skin was an ecstasy. Anne Marie just breathed in this miracle of naked man.
From above you could see her pressing the back of one hand to her forehead and gripping the hotel sheet with the other. You could see his geometric tattoo draped over one shoulder - dark blue on black. Like his own neon sign blinking: "Sex. Got it."
From the side you could see her breasts were a little saggy and during certain moments you could see stretch marks from her three pregnancies - four if you count the miscarriage. You could see that he still had his socks on.
From the back you could see his muscular buttocks and her two naked feet bobbling around.
She knew she'd never see him again, but for right now, this was for her. This was to make up for all the shit she had been put through, all the solitary nights, all the lonely days, all the somber looks from friends and brave smiles from family. This was "me time." In a big way.
And when she was on her way home she turned her car radio way up and smiled at the empty light bulb factory and nodded knowingly at a stop sign. She sang, "Hot blooded, check it and see. I got a fever of a hundred and three." The kink in her back was all gone.
Frederick, for his part, was turning off his three cameras and sipping Pepsi One. He figured it would take him about two hours to splice, render and upload his new video to MommiesBeingBanged.com. Frederick - who also goes by BigBlackCock20 or BBC America to his friends - BigBlackCock20 liked it. Liked it a lot. The only problem was that she had been so quiet. He had pegged her as a squealer.
Miss Cricket: And then...!
Madame Python: What are you doing?
Miss Cricket: You always add inappropriate extra content to the end of stories. It's my turn on this one.
Madame Python: Okay, suit yourself.
Miss Cricket: And then the FBI swooped in on Frederick and confiscated his materials and sent him to jail.
Madame Python:
Miss Cricket: For a long time.
Madame Python: You honestly don't think that improves the story, do you?
Miss Cricket: Nothing could improve the story. It over stretches believability. No one would traipse off to a hotel with a stranger. People don't do that.
Madame Python: Oh, Wicky, yes they do.
Miss Cricket: What moron would have sex with someone they do not know after merely having drunk a cup of coffee?
Madame Python: Someone who wanted to get a kink out of her back.
Miss Cricket: I think she is lucky that the worst thing that happened is that now she is featured on some unspeakable website.
Madame Python: True. Okay, alternative ending number two:
Anne Marie's sisters contacted Mr. BBC a week later with a proposed swap. He takes down the "mom cockoulds with black panther" video and they destroy the video of him being spanked while in a diaper (which doesn't fit his BigBlackCock20 persona too well). They shipped the 3D Robotics personal drone ArduCopter Quad-D with frame mounted camera back for a refund saying that the quality of the video was poor even though it was anything but.
Copyright 2013, Elizabeth Cricken, All Rights Reserved
image credit: http://www.etsy.com/listing/93091844/digital-slr-camera-bag-dslr-camera-bag
Miss Cricket: Translation: boring story about some wishy washy woman who throws away everything that matters in life because she is temporarily hurt. I like stories about people who have deep character and overcome odds.
Madame Python: Oh, well, she overcomes some odds all right. Odds are women like this aren't getting any. Rolling the dice:
He was unlocking the hotel room door.
She couldn't believe it. Here she was standing in the musty hotel hallway at the end of a long runway of green carpet, purse in hand, not having had sex since her husband left nine months and thirteen days ago. The man maneuvering the key was someone she had met at the laundromat two Sunday evenings back.
He had said, "Hello, beautiful," in a tall thin mustached chocolate voice.
She, Anne Marie, had looked up, way up, at his noble face and straight eye lashes. No one had called her beautiful in years.
"What are you reading?" he had asked, "The Glass?"
"The Glass Menagerie," she offered. The confusion came from an ill placed library sticker that said "DRAMA."
Two weeks had passed and tonight they had met for coffee at a slightly out of town diner. A neon sign blinked "Loo Loo's Grill and Bar." Anne Marie didn't think she'd bump into too many friends at Loo Loo's Grill and Bar. She didn't want any back chat about how she shouldn't be on a "date" when her divorce wasn't even final.
Coffee, donut, chat, perhaps a walk to her car and a goodnight kiss. That was the plan.
But Frederick - who does not go by Fred - Frederick sat close in the booth. He put his thigh against her thigh and said she deserved some happy moments in her life. He said he wanted to be there for her - a shoulder to cry on when she needed one. And would she walk across the diner so he could look at her frame again.
No walking across the diner ensued, but the mention of a nearby hotel and a commentary about how she had wonderful parts did. Then Anne Marie, after some quick silent moments of gratitude that Mandy was away at a tennis tournament and it was a good time of the month, was now, for once, about to do something for herself.
Frederick made quick work of her clothes and his own. Skin on skin was an ecstasy. Anne Marie just breathed in this miracle of naked man.
From above you could see her pressing the back of one hand to her forehead and gripping the hotel sheet with the other. You could see his geometric tattoo draped over one shoulder - dark blue on black. Like his own neon sign blinking: "Sex. Got it."
From the side you could see her breasts were a little saggy and during certain moments you could see stretch marks from her three pregnancies - four if you count the miscarriage. You could see that he still had his socks on.
From the back you could see his muscular buttocks and her two naked feet bobbling around.
She knew she'd never see him again, but for right now, this was for her. This was to make up for all the shit she had been put through, all the solitary nights, all the lonely days, all the somber looks from friends and brave smiles from family. This was "me time." In a big way.
And when she was on her way home she turned her car radio way up and smiled at the empty light bulb factory and nodded knowingly at a stop sign. She sang, "Hot blooded, check it and see. I got a fever of a hundred and three." The kink in her back was all gone.
Frederick, for his part, was turning off his three cameras and sipping Pepsi One. He figured it would take him about two hours to splice, render and upload his new video to MommiesBeingBanged.com. Frederick - who also goes by BigBlackCock20 or BBC America to his friends - BigBlackCock20 liked it. Liked it a lot. The only problem was that she had been so quiet. He had pegged her as a squealer.
Miss Cricket: And then...!
Madame Python: What are you doing?
Miss Cricket: You always add inappropriate extra content to the end of stories. It's my turn on this one.
Madame Python: Okay, suit yourself.
Miss Cricket: And then the FBI swooped in on Frederick and confiscated his materials and sent him to jail.
Madame Python:
Miss Cricket: For a long time.
Madame Python: You honestly don't think that improves the story, do you?
Miss Cricket: Nothing could improve the story. It over stretches believability. No one would traipse off to a hotel with a stranger. People don't do that.
Madame Python: Oh, Wicky, yes they do.
Miss Cricket: What moron would have sex with someone they do not know after merely having drunk a cup of coffee?
Madame Python: Someone who wanted to get a kink out of her back.
Miss Cricket: I think she is lucky that the worst thing that happened is that now she is featured on some unspeakable website.
Madame Python: True. Okay, alternative ending number two:
Anne Marie's sisters contacted Mr. BBC a week later with a proposed swap. He takes down the "mom cockoulds with black panther" video and they destroy the video of him being spanked while in a diaper (which doesn't fit his BigBlackCock20 persona too well). They shipped the 3D Robotics personal drone ArduCopter Quad-D with frame mounted camera back for a refund saying that the quality of the video was poor even though it was anything but.
Copyright 2013, Elizabeth Cricken, All Rights Reserved
image credit: http://www.etsy.com/listing/93091844/digital-slr-camera-bag-dslr-camera-bag