("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ 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!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text -------------------------------------------------------- This text is copyright 1996 by Joe Parsons. Permission is hereby granted to repost it electronically, provided that it is posted in its entirety. -------------------------------------------------------- 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