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Subject: Shelly's Trial-by MIKE HUNT #8 June RP Celeste
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           Hey! It's Mailbag Day at the MIKE HUNT offices!

Here's an interesting e-mail from Pornmerchants.com. They want to know if I
want to join their service which would make readers use 'e-nickels' to
download my stories.

M1KE: No. Bad smut should be free. I don't even like paying the part of the
electric bill that goes toward keeping the modem warm while I'm downloading.

- - - -

The next message is from jwJakelski.historydept.room8561@BostonCollege.edu.
He
says, "Please keep my identity secret. The uptight jerks who run this school
would freak if they knew I was getting pornography from MIKE HUNT. Is there
any way you can send me the stories in another format to be more discreet?"

M1KE: No. HA HA HA.

- - - -

Here's one from BadMeat8243. He must be on AOL along with me since there's
no domain name. He asks "I'm trying to get started writing dirty stories.
Have any advice for me?"

M1KE: You don't say what kind of advice. Legal advice? Writing? Marketing?
Taxes? Learn to be specific. Then read this story. I've sprinkled some tips
for beginning writers throughout. Hey! Everyone else is giving advice - on
how to write, on grammar, even on how to post for chrissake! I might as well
put in my two scents! New writers undoubtedly will want to print this out and
save it for reference. Established authors and casual readers can just skip
over the Special Notes to Authors, or come back and peruse them later. 

  If you insist on scrolling back and forth, click your cursor in the [Note]
  brackets, then scroll down and read the note. Then hit an arrow key and
  you'll pop right back to the [Note] cursor. But it'll still make you crazy.

One last piece of advice, BadMeat8243: Get a real ISP. AOL is fucked up. You
can only post in itty bitty segments, and it's a pain in the ass. I only do
it cause I'm broke and I'm using a friend's account.

- - - -

My last message comes from GreatDisclaimers@disclaimers.net. They want to
sell
me disclaimers to be used at the top of each story. They offered a free
sample.

M1KE: I'll try it and let you know. Hey, if it's free, I'll try anything!


Sample: #### YOU MUST BE AN ADULT TO READ THIS. OVER 18 ONLY, PLEASE. ####

Think I'll stick to doing them myself, thanks.



Shelly's Trial - by MIKE HUNT


For those readers who missed the first installment:

First, PAY ATTENTION. I'm working my ass off writing this shit and you're off
somewhere getting laid or going to the Spring Auto Show or something. Get
your priorities straight. Second, you need a synopsis, which means I have to
write the whole fucking story over again and bore the shit out of people
who've already read Part 1. Have a little consideration.

SYNOPSIS: Shelly was an uptight bitch who was married to an investment
banker. Their marriage was on the rocks; sex problems, don't you know.
Seems she bit his dick during a blow job and he reacted badly. Go figure.
Anyway, she needed someone to talk to, and after spending a few hours
with my wife decided to get a male perspective and talked to me.

We had one brief encounter at a bar where I tried to break down some
inhibitions during our two hour tete-a-tete. Then I visited her at her
house and jerked off on her.

The story was better the first time I told it. Honest.

* * *

The last time I had seen a courtroom was at least 10 years ago. I tried
to fight a speeding ticket but lost. Big surprise. Courtrooms hadn't changed
much, apparently. This one was very big and very dark and very official
looking. I was intimidated.

Of course I was here in the worst of circumstances. I was named in the
Shulman
divorce proceedings. Edward Shulman's lawyer had subpoenaed me to testify. So
I sat meekly in the back, dreading the moment when my name would be called,
anxious to get this over with and get back to my life. And my wife. If she
would have me.

I had made a full confession to June. She knew about Shelly and Edward's
marriage, naturally. She had practically given Shelly permission to talk with
me. June didn't know how Shelly and I had fallen together, of course, until I
got the subpoena. Then I had to tell her the whole story, at least up to that
point. More would follow, and even June wouldn't know all of those sordid
details. Ever.

I heard Edward Shulman on the stand, testifying about how he had discovered
his wife's infidelity. It seems he noticed a change in her behavior that
made him suspicious. Like she started dressing sexy. Started grabbing at
his crotch in the morning before he woke up. Using foul language at
inappropriate moments. All things I had suggested to her to perk up her
marriage. All bright ideas from my very own mouth. And now I was in court.
I was 'hoist by my own petard', to quote the Bard.

"For instance," said his attorney.

"One time she said she was wet for me," Edward parroted. "Right in the middle
of a restaurant. Now if you knew my wife, you would know that she would never
do something like that. Never."

"Then you knew something had changed," the attorney said with conviction. He
knew the answer to his own question, of course. They had rehearsed this for
hours.

"Absolutely. That's when I called Johnson Video and had them install pinhole
cameras in several rooms in the house. It wasn't long before I had the
proof of her infidelity."

"Which I offer to the court as exhibits A, B, C, D, E, and F, your honor,"
Mr. $500-an-hour said. He handed a stack of videotapes to a clerk.

"So noted," said the judge.

"Didn't your wife wonder about the cameras in the house?" the suit asked.

"No, the cameras are tiny. And I told her I was putting a new satellite
dish on the roof, one of those small jobs. She never even thought about
it, apparently."

"And what do the tapes show?" the attorney asked.

"My wife having sex with another man. Sex in the living room. Sex in the
bedroom. Sex in the den. Sex on my pool table. Sex under my pool table.
Oral sex. Anal sex. Straight sex. Sometimes sex twice in one session."

Shelly and I had really gone at it, all right. Once her inhibitions broke she
turned into a virtual sex machine. Well not a 'virtual' one, a real one.
[Note
to Authors: I was using "virtual" in the older sense of the word, as in "a
powerful effect" not the more trendy computer use of the word as in "not
real."
Don't you just hate it when words change their meaning? That's why it's so
hard to read fucking Milton anymore.]

"And how did it make you feel, knowing that your wife was having sex with
another man?"

"Outraged." Sure. Like Mr. Investment Banker hadn't fucked hundreds of people
in his climb to the top. [Note to Authors: I'm using "fucked" in the sense of
betrayed, swindled, or abused, rather than in the sexual connotation of
inserting a penis into a vagina. Perhaps you probably already knew that.
Maybe I'll put the rest of these author's notes at the end of the piece, OK?
They're a little distracting here.]

"And you took what action?"

"I contacted you and instituted proceedings for divorce."

Shelly, seated at her table with her attorney at the front of the courtroom,
let out a sniffle.

Shelly's attorney had told me there wouldn't be much to the trial. They
had us on videotape. Hours and hours of it. Perfect focus. Perfect light.
The schmuck had popped for the top-of-the-line equipment; he even had
infrared
in one room! He could afford it. The best we could do was try to get a
decent settlement for Shelly, which would be hard because there was a pre-nup
and we didn't live in a community property state.

I had hoped for a settlement, of course, to avoid the embarrassment of
a trial, but Edward the Schmuckhearted was trying to take her to the
cleaners.
So here I was. It was about 3:00. I heard my named called.

I was sworn; I sat down.

"Now Mr. Hunt, would you summarize just how your illicit relationship
with Shelly Shulman began?"

I did. And it was a lot better than that shitty synopsis at the top of
the story, I'll tell you. Of course, I had more than two paragraphs to
work with. I told the story in about 10 minutes, without interruption.
I wasn't really graphic though, since I didn't know what the boundaries
of decorum were in a courtroom. When I was nearing the climax of the story,
so to speak, I guess I got carried away and said, "So I was standing over
her jerking off and my cum went all over her tits and..."

"Mr. Hunt!" the judge snapped angrily at me. "Please."

I guess that was a reprimand. I backed off. "Well, I relieved myself while
she held her skirt up, and, uh, we just sort of got started from there.
It certainly wasn't intentional. I was only trying to help her with her
marriage. She was doing everything she could to keep it together..."

The Armani suit interrupted me, "You mean like sleeping with other people?"

"No, no. That just happened. Her husband was neglecting..."

He cut me off. "Describe for us some of your other sexual experience,
please."

"I don't know what you mean," I said.

"Are you a recognized expert in the field?" he asked me.

"Oh no. Just a normal guy."

"More experience than average?" he wanted to know.

"Well, probably. I played the field pretty well when I was young." I didn't
want to get into the details; I'd gotten laid a lot back then. Of course I
had
a lot of testosterone, so I had a good excuse. Still, it wasn't a period I
was
particularly proud of, although I had some vivid memories. "You know, like a
lot of guys, I guess."

"No I don't know," he said. "Please tell me."

"Well I went out with a lot of girls."

"How many?" He was insistent. I was getting pissed.

"I have no idea." That was true. Including the Playboy photographer and
lingerie scams it was over several dozen. Maybe way the fuck over. I mean
I was no Wilt Chamberlin or anything. For one thing, I'm not black. And
my dick is smaller. Probably. I have no first hand knowledge, of course.
Of HIS dick, that is.

"Guess." He wouldn't let me go. I felt a rush of blood to my neck. When
that happens my wife knows enough to leave me alone for a while. He didn't.

"Maybe a hundred. Maybe more." A gasp went up from the spectators. "But I was
much younger then, and girls liked me. It wasn't my fault." Every man in
the room knew what I was talking about. It's never your fault. It's that
pesky dick. I continued to backpedal. "Maybe that's why Shelly was
comfortable
with me. I mean, that I had been around so many women." I was so pissed
I almost said "IN so many women," but I caught myself.

The attorney didn't like me talking about Shelly in a sympathetic way.
His job was to make her out to be the betraying wife. My job was to do
the opposite, of course. She was an angel, recently fallen. But a good
woman, helpmate, all that shit. He steered the conversation back to her
sex escapades with me.

"Now please tell us about your next encounter with her." Shit. He wouldn't
let go.

I spoke without thinking. "You mean when I fucked her or when she blew me?"

The judge smacked his gavel on the wooden block to try to get control
of the room. "Mr. Hunt, that is absolutely out of order in this court.
Do I make myself clear?" he said.

"I'm sorry your Honor," I replied. You can't win an argument with a judge.
Ever. Even if the other attorney is being an asshole, which they are well
paid to be. Most are quite good at it.

I related a couple of the encounters in the most generic and innocuous
terms possible. The attorney objected. "Your Honor, he's being evasive.
I think the court has a right, no a DUTY to know what went on in this illicit
relationship for three months."

Now it was the judge's turn to ask a question. "Are you suggesting that
we let Mr. Hunt here go into graphic detail about his sexual adventures
with Mrs. Shulman? Graphic depictions of anal sex? Blow-by-blow descriptions
of oral sex?" The courtroom broke up. He banged the gavel. "Order. Sorry,
I guess I deserved that. Are you asking that I permit Mr. Hunt to ravage
the decency of the court system with these obscene sexual descriptions?"

Mr. Smarty Pants lawyer realized he'd gone too far. "No, no, your Honor.
But I think perhaps one illustration is in order."

The judge thought. "Perhaps. But I'm reserving final judgment on whether to
allow it in the record, and on whether to allow it at all, depending on Mr.
Hunt's demeanor. Is that understood by everyone?" The judge glared at me.
I nodded.

The attorney turned to me. "Mr. Hunt. Please tell us how your adulterous
relationship came to light."

This was the most ironic part. In spite of Edward's suspicions and his
superduper video system, Shelly and I had been caught in public. In the
car. In the park. By a park ranger.

"We were driving around talking about her progress, sexual and
otherwise..." I glared at the lawyer. "...when I heard a strange noise come
from the bottom of her car. Really loud. We happened to be in Frisk State
Park
at the time. It's a good place to drive around and not have to worry about
some crazy kid pulling out of the McDonald's parking lot, you know? Anyway,
she pulled over to the side of the road and I got out of the passenger side.
I bent down on my hands and knees to look under the car to see to see what
the
noise was, to see if something was falling apart, or whatever, when suddenly
Shelly came up behind me and jumped on my back.

"She was just being cute, I guess." I saw her blushing at her table. "But
she started riding me like a horse. You know, like a kid would with his
Grandpa. There was nothing sexual about it. But I was kneeling on gravel
at the side of the road, and her weight forced one of the stones against
my kneecap. It hurt me, and of course she was terribly sorry. Like I said,
she was just fooling around."

"With a married man," the fucking asshole said.

"Yes, with me. I told you, it was just harmless fun." Up to that point,
it was true. We hadn't done anything yet. That day, I mean. "I saw that
a piece of brush had gotten lodged behind one of the wheels, and I pulled
on it and it came out. But when I stood up my knee hurt like hell, and
I hobbled back over to the car door.

I sat down in my seat, facing out, rubbing my knee. I tried pulling the
pant leg up, but I was wearing a pair of Levi's that were pretty tight
fitting, an older pair, 509's I think, and I couldn't get them up high enough
to see my kneecap. Well, I was on the passenger side, so I wasn't facing
the road, so she suggested that I drop my trousers and see if I had done
any serious injury to myself. Like I said, there was nothing sexual about
it."

"Sure," the jerk interjected. I tried to ignore him.

"So I did. The injury was serious, but not real serious. I mean, there was a
little bit of blood, not that much, really. But I hadn't broken the kneecap
or anything. By this time Shelly had walked back to her seat, then back to
me.
She stood in front of me, looking at my kneecap. Then it just sort of
happened." It often did with the two of us. "She reached for me and took my,
uh, well, she took me in her hand. I was just sitting there in my underpants,
you understand, and, uh..."

The judge interrupted. He glared at the attorney. "Do we really need to
hear all of this?" he demanded.

"It's vital to my client's case, your Honor." The judge knew what that
meant. The attorney was laying rail for a possible reversible error. Judges
hate that. Hizzoner waved his hand in a circular motion and said "Go on."
He paused. "Be careful."

The attorney took the lead. "So she released you with her hand?" He knew
better. He knew the whole story.

"No, we both got so excited, we decided to do it in the car."

"Do it?" he asked. "You mean, have sex."

"Yes." Fucking moron. What else? "She reached behind me and hit some button
or other and the seat moved back. I guess her seats are electric."

The attorney leered knowingly.

"Then she stood up, pulled down her panties, and climbed up on top of me. She
was sitting on my lap, uh, facing out the windshield. I had my hands on her,
well, you get the picture. We made love for several minutes, and, uh, it was
great..." I looked at her. She averted her eyes. "...but just then a car
drove
by, fairly slowly. It's a State Park and all and the speed limit is 15. Most
people don't drive that, of course, but they still go slow. It's sort of a
negotiation between the police and the drivers, I guess."

I was getting off on a tangent, and I knew it. I pulled myself back. "Both
of us decided that it wasn't too smart, you know, making love with her
sitting on my lap in a convertible on the side of a public road..."

"Congratulations," the dickhead said sarcastically.

"So we stopped. Except we didn't stop. When she got out she turned around
and grabbed my, you know, thing, and then bent over, and then knelt down
in front of me. What was I supposed to do?" There wasn't a guy in the
courtroom who wouldn't have done exactly the same thing. "I swung around, and
she positioned herself in front of me, and began to service me, uh, orally."

"Go on," he said.

"Well, that went on for a pretty long time, and it felt great, and I'm
pretty sure she was enjoying it, too. She had just learned to, you know,
put a man deep in her mouth, you understand? Real deep. All the way deep."
I couldn't bring myself to say 'deep throat' in court. "And she was
practicing. I guess that's why we got caught."

"I'm afraid I don't comprehend," the attorney said. "Perhaps you could
explain?"

"Well, I was in her mouth, like I said. And she was on her knees at the side
of the car. So she couldn't see anything, and I was so distracted. And as it
happened the Ranger pulled up just as I blew my load right down her
throat..."

The courtroom erupted. Again. The Judge banged his gavel, several times.
"That is enough!" he snapped. "Mr. Hunt you are in contempt. This court
is in recess. I'll see you in chambers."

"Uh oh," I thought. "I fucked up."

I walked down the hall behind the black robed symbol of Justice. I was
flanked on my left by my attorney. It felt better having him there even
though he's a lawyer. I hate lawyers. Did I mention that?

We entered the Judge's chambers, and he stomped over to his desk. He didn't
even take off his robe as I expected him to. I walked in and took a chair
next to the desk. I was facing the judge, my attorney took a seat behind me.

The judge looked at me angrily, and said, "Now Mr. Hunt. I'm going to
show you to have some respect for my courtroom. I'm going to fine you within
an inch of your paycheck! I might even recommend jail time!" I might..."

My lawyer spoke up. "Your Honor, with all due respect. I would remind
the court that perhaps this is a decision not best made in haste or anger."
[Note to Authors: Lawyers really talk like that. You can tell from my other
stories that I wouldn't write shitty dialog like this unless that's how
they really speak. They do! That's why you can never understand anything
they write. They're even more fucked up when they have time to think about
it.] [## Note to readers: I won't interrupt anymore. Promise. ##]

The judge seemed to settle. A little. He called for the court stenographer.
It would take a minute or two for her to arrive.

"I suppose you're right. Let me catch myself here. I'll look at the evidence
and then decide. But I'm telling you, I think you've made a mockery of this
institution and I won't have it." He went on to lecture me for another three
minutes, telling me how fair he was going to be before he shafted me. Swell.

The steno arrived. I hadn't even seen her in the courtroom, but of course
she must have been there. She had her arms folded in front of herself;
in them she carried her funny little machine and a couple of note pads.
She settled in the corner, in a chair obviously designed just for one of
her, as it had an attached table top at exactly the right height. It looked
like my 3rd grade desk, except, of course, adult size.

She sat down with a sigh. Her legs flopped apart. My eyes bulged.

She had heavy thighs, which I guess made it almost impossible to put her
knees together at least for very long. It was a struggle she had long
since given up judging from the comfort of her slouch. She always sat
like this, I could tell. She arranged the steno machine. She was ready.

"Miss Wilson, please read back the first incident with Mr. Hunt," the
judge commanded. Her fingers flew through the miles of strange symbols
on white tape until she found the appropriate moment.

She spoke. "Mr Hunt: So I was standing over her jerking off and my cum went
all
over her tits and... Your Honor: Mr. Hunt. A pause. Then 'Please.'" She said
it
without the slightest trace of embarrassment. I guessed she'd heard worse.

"And the first warning after that incident?" The judge was moving this
right along.

She fumbled with the paper for a moment. Then, "Ah, here it is: Mr. Hunt:
You mean when I fucked her or when she blew me? Your Honor: Mr. Hunt, that
is absolutely out of order in this courtroom. Do I make myself clear?"
She had it down all right. This girl's fingers were better than a SONY.

"And I believe there was another?" he said.

"Yes your Honor. It's right around here." Her fingers pulled at the tape.
They were nearly supersonic. "Ah, yes. Mr. Hunt: She turned around and
grabbed my, you know, thing, and then bent over, and then knelt down in
front of me. What was I supposed to do? I swung around, and she positioned
herself in front of me, and began to service me, uh, orally." She paused.
"I'm sorry your Honor. That's not it. It must be a little further along."

To be truthful I was a little further along myself. I was looking at an
amazing beaver shot, right up this girl's skirt. And while it wasn't the
cutest beaver I'd ever seen, it was still the best thing around at the
moment.
Anyway she had a cute face, perfectly round with big saucer eyes that she had
accented with eyeliner and long lashes. She was maybe 10 or 15 pounds
overweight, though that's well within the limits of personal preference as
far as I'm concerned. Her tits were a little overweight, too. Like I said,
that's also OK.

Her most striking feature was her lips. Big, full, and puffy, and smeared
with bright red lipstick. Drivers on the interstate probably moved to the
side thinking there was a fire truck behind them when she pulled up,
I thought. I wondered if the prostitutes of ancient Egypt had any idea
what they were starting when they advertised by painting their lips red?
[## See Note to Authors #1 at the end of the text ## Click here to hold your
place if you're dumb enough to read it now. ##]

"Ah, here it is: Mr. Hunt: And she was on her knees at the side of the car.
So
she couldn't see anything, and I was so distracted. And as it happened the
ranger pulled up just as I blew my load right down her throat... Then your
Honor tried to gavel down the noise from the courtroom, and I couldn't hear
anything else."

"Are you sure?" he asked. "I thought there were three warnings after the
first incident, not two."

"I'm pretty sure, your Honor," she said. I took my eyes out of her skirt
for a moment and looked at the judge. I could have sworn I saw some movement
beneath his robe. I looked back at the girl. You could still see her panties,
shining like some target at the end of a runway of skin.

I looked back at the judge. Nothing. He spoke, "Have the entire transcript
transcribed tonight. I want it on my desk in the morning." She nodded.

He dismissed us like the unimportant schmucks that we were in his world.
We all filed out of the room. As we were walking down the hall my lawyer
whispered to me "Enjoy the show?"

"You mean, his fire and brimstone?" I said.

"Of course not. The Beaver. We all watch every time she sits down. I
think she's totally unaware of it. But it's a nice show, don't you think?"

I answered slowly. "Sure, I guess." So everybody knew. Well.

That night June asked me how it went and I told her. I left out the part
about the beaver. She was concerned anyway. She said "Are they going to
reinstate the criminal charges?"

Oh. I guess I forgot to mention, the cops had arrested Shelly and me for lewd
and indecent behavior. Fornicating in a State Park. Getting a blow job on
government property. That's illegal I guess. Probably never been done before
or something. [## See Note to Authors #2 at end of text. ##] I told her I
thought it was going to be OK, that the judge was only talking Contempt,
probably just a small fine. The charges had been dropped the day after Edward
Shulman filed his divorce papers. Shelly's lawyer convinced the cops that
they
had better things to do than prosecute the two of us for an obviously one
time
offense. And anyway, Edward was exacting his revenge, so what was the point?

The next morning came too soon, and I dragged myself back to the courthouse.
I was back on the stand. I was reminded I was sworn. I knew.

As I began my testimony, my eyes scanned the room. I found the stenographer.
She was easy to spot; I just looked for the flash of white panties. I
couldn't
imagine how I had missed her the day before until I realized that she
was sitting nearly sideways in her chair, facing directly at me. Yesterday
she must have been seated the other way, facing the attorneys. I was so
nervous yesterday that I probably wouldn't have noticed if she had come
right up and sat on my face. [## See Note to Authors #3 ##]

The judge seemed in a better mood. He told me that he always allowed three
warnings after the first transgression, and apologized for losing his temper.
But he also let me know in no uncertain terms that I was at the limit. I
knew.

My testimony lasted another hour. It went without incident, and I was
done. The court took a 10 minute recess. I prepared to leave. As I was
walking down the hall, the stenographer caught up to me. Breathlessly she
said, "Mr. Hunt, Mr. Hunt..."

"Call me Mike," I said.

"OK, Mike. I'd like to talk with you during the lunch recess, if you have
the time."

In truth I was planning on getting as far away from that courthouse as
quickly as possible, but I heard myself say "What for?"

"I need some advice, and based on what I heard in court, you're the perfect
person to help."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Oh, it's too detailed to go into right now. But with your experience
with sex, I thought maybe you could help me."

Well. The Navy should be able to turn a carrier so fast. "Sure," I said.
"Glad to. See you at the lunch break."

I slipped back into the courtroom and took a seat in the back. Shelly was
called to the stand and sworn. Edward's lawyer got first crack at her. He
proved to be worth every dime of his $500 an hour fee. Shelly's lawyer tried
his best to deflect the worst of it, but the torrent of abuse from Edward's
schmuck continued until nearly 11:45. It was recess. If I had only known.

The steno found me wandering in the hallway. She knew her way around;
I didn't. "Hi," she said. "Nice to meet you. I'm Judy. Judy the
Stenographer."
Only in a dirty story, I thought.

"So, what's this about?" I asked. I was rushing things. I hated being
in that building.

"Can't talk about it here. Come on upstairs. There's a bunch of offices.
We can have a little privacy." We climbed the stairs. We barely spoke as
we heard the cacophony of noise [## See Note 4 ##] that echoed up the
marble staircase. We found an empty room and walked in.

"Mike," she started. "I'm having a little problem with my boyfriend. Finding
out about your vast sexual experience was fascinating, and I thought you
could give me a little advice."

"I'll try," I said. This is how I got started with Shelly. Oh shit.

"I'm trying to get my boyfriend to do a little bondage scene with me, and he
absolutely refuses. Won't hear of it. Won't even let me discuss it. My old
boyfriend and I used to do it all the time, and it was a lot of fun."

"So you want to get the new one to try it, right?" She nodded her head. "I'm
afraid you've come to the wrong person. I don't do bondage. Never have." She
looked at me, disbelief clear in her eyes. "It's true. I just don't get it.
S&M, torture, rape, all that stuff. I like my sex gentle and consentual." I
paused for a moment, then continued. "I've never had any experience with
bondage because I wasn't looking for it, I guess. And I've never looked for
it
because I've never had any experience with it. A 'chicken and egg' thing."

"I can't believe it," she said. "No experience at all? MIKE HUNT? Accountant
and part time smut writer? Never? Boy do you have some misconceptions."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Like that it can't be gentle. Or consentual. For heaven's sakes." She
was openly mocking me.

"I don't understand," I said.

"Stand up," she said. "Walk over to that roll-top desk." The desk was
a tall one, standing all alone in the middle of the room. A little triangular
sign on the top said "Sheriff John Porter".

She opened one of the drawers and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. "A quick
illustration?" she asked.

"I don't think so," I said.

"Oh for god's sakes. It'll take a minute. Two minutes, tops. Don't tell
me you're afraid?"

I was hesitant, but here we were in the Halls of Justice. "A quick example.
Fine," I agreed. A little instruction might do me good.

I stepped up to the desk. Over the top I could see the door to the room.
She snapped a cuff over my left wrist, and the other part around a wooden
carving that topped the left side of the desk. "OK, I know how this works."

"Just one more," she said. "Of course in another situation you might want
to tie all four limbs to the four corners of a bed or whatever else your
imagination allows. You might use leather straps, or silk scarves. Or
whatever" She took my right wrist and snapped the second cuff over it. Then
she repeated the action, snapping the other side of the cuff over the wooden
carving atop the right side of the desk. [## See Author's Note #6 ##]

"That's it," she said.

"That's what?" I asked.

"That's bondage," she answered.

"That's it?" I asked.

"That's it," she answered. [## See Note #7 ##]

"What about the nipple rings and cock rings, and the whips, the canes,
the Vaseline, the hot wax, the butt plugs, the masks and all of the rest?"
I wondered aloud.

"Oh you can use that stuff if you want. I mean it's all a matter of personal
taste. You can take it as far as you want. Or not." she answered.

"I had no idea." I mumbled. Boy did I feel like a fool.

"OK. I think I can help you with your boyfriend. I have a couple
suggestions."
I was thinking fast. "Unlock me."

"Well, uh, no," she said. It took a moment to sink in.

"No what?" I asked.

"No, I can't let you out just yet. This is bondage. Or at least light
bondage. I'm in control."

"Give me a break. You're kidding, right?" I started to sweat. "I mean,
I told you, I don't do bondage. And I don't do torture or any of that other
shit. Let me go." She walked around me. "LET ME GO, GODDAMMIT."

"Maybe in a minute," she said. She walked up behind me and slapped my ass.
Then
she grabbed me around the middle. She hugged herself against me, and I felt
her
tits pushing against my back. She had big knockers and she wore a bra that
kept
them pointed straight out. I could almost feel the hard material of the bra
scraping my back through my shirt. I couldn't go anywhere, obviously. I was
stretched against the desk and couldn't move but a few inches. I felt her
hand
reach around and go for my zipper. With a sureness that can only come with
practice, she slid her hand into my pants and closed her fingers around my
penis. Her hand pulled my unerect member out of my pants. It might have felt
good if I were in the mood. I wasn't. Hell, I was so pissed I wasn't even
hard.

I was only concerned that I was handcuffed to a desk in an office in the
County Building, with cops walking every corridor, and I had my dick hanging
out. My indecent exposure and lewd and lascivious behavior charges had
just been dropped. This was all I needed.

She squeezed me with her hand. "Oh, poor Mikey. Doesn't even have a hard
on." She laughed. "Not only is he stupid enough to get handcuffed to a
desk, he's a limp dick besides. And a little one to boot." She was openly
mocking me now. I was mortified. She was right. Fully erect, I'd say I'm
about average. When I'm small, I'm really small.

She knelt down at my side. She was crawling under the desk when I said
"What do you think you're doing?" No answer. "Let me go, please?" I was
begging. "I'm begging."

"I know," she said. "That's part of it."

"Part of what?"

"Part of the genre. A sub-set, really. Domination. And, of course,
humiliation. You know, exactly what's going on right now. I'm the master,
you're the slave. I'm in control," she said. She was right.

"Then how come you're the one on your knees?" I asked.

"So how come you're the asshole handcuffed to the desk?" she retorted,
pouring imaginary salt into my hypothetical wound. She had me there.
"Anyway, I have to be on my knees if I'm going to do this." And with that
she crawled under the rolltop into the space where a seated person's legs
would have gone.

I was terrified. At any moment I expected to feel my penis pierced by a
sewing needle. Or maybe clamped in a squeeze vise. Or who knows what else?
Instead, I felt her lips surround my dick. Warm, sweet, wet, willing lips.
She
enveloped my flabby fleshpiece with her mouth and cradled it with her
tongue. I felt her sink lower, lower, lower down on me. Then the most amazing
thing happened. I could feel her open her jaw to its maximum stretch, and she
continued to sink lower yet. I still don't know exactly how she did it, but
by
twisting her head, she managed to cup both of my balls in her mouth, along
with my flaccid penis. No woman had ever done something like this to me
before.

I began to get aroused. I was still fighting. Fighting with the handcuffs.
Fighting the fear of being discovered. Fighting my long held taboos about
domination and humiliation and bondage. I felt my dick begin to swell.

I could feel every jiggle of my cock as it grew. Her lips remained fastened
to my groin, my balls surrounded, my prick increasing in size with each
beat of my heart, my manhood slithering farther and farther down her tongue
with each pump of my organ. Her tongue licked and caressed my balls. I
was soon on the way to full erection. Now I had had an erection thousands of
times. And I've had my dick in a woman's mouth more than a few times, too.
But I'd never before felt the head of my cock GROW down a woman's throat.
I had always been fully erect when she pushed it there.

The pleasurable feeling of my pulsing pecker was indescribable. I was as hard
as I've ever been, and she still had my balls in her mouth. Her jaw would
ache
for a week, I was sure. I stood, a statue frozen in time and gratification. I
could scarcely move anyway, and I didn't want anything to change. I was
having
too much fun. Then without warning came my worst nightmare.

The door to the room opened. I was facing it directly and watched as the knob
turned, terrified as the door pushed open. It was the judge!

He couldn't see much of me because of the tall rolltop, thank god. To him it
probably looked as though I were just leaning on the desk. All he could see
was
my shoulders and head poking up from behind the piece of wood furniture. He
said, "Excuse me Mr. Hunt. I'm sorry, I was just looking for some transcripts.
"
He looked at me, puzzled. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I, uh." I had no idea. "I, uh," Come on. Think of something. "I, uh,
was going to meet someone. They, uh, asked me to wait here."

"It wouldn't be that little steno girl, would it?" he said, suddenly
interested. He took a step forward.

I nodded. "Actually, yes. Why?" He ignored my question.

"Tell me Mr. Hunt. With your vast sexual experience. Have you ever had your
balls sucked while you deep throated someone?" Under the table, she giggled.
The vibration felt like my dick was in a gentle Mixmaster. "What was that?
Did
I hear something?" He walked around. What could I do? As he turned the corner
I shrugged my shoulders and looked down. He saw the cuffs, then he saw her.

"My god," he said. "This is outrageous. Right here in the County Building!
I'm getting an officer." He turned to leave.

With a yank I felt her mouth leave my dick and balls. "Not so fast, your
Honorski," a voice called from under the table. He turned. "Weren't you just
talking with a witness in a pending case? Without any counsel present?
Isn't that possible malfeasance? Tampering? Wouldn't this look very bad
for you, too?" Now I'm no lawyer, but it sounded like she had a point.

"But, but, but," he stammered. "At least when you and I, uh, I mean, at
least I had the decency to take you out of the building before we, ah,"
He looked at me. I knew.

"Fuck you, Judgie," she said. "You spent $35 at a Motel 6. You still boffed
an
officer of the court. And you're still a married man. If you don't want to
see
your whole life go up in smoke, you'll come over here and do what I tell
you."

He lowered his eyes, meekly. "Yes, mistress," he said. I could guess what
their cheesy motel game had been.

Her voice was stern. "You're going to walk over here and lie down between my
legs. Then you're going to eat my cunt while I blow MIKE HUNT." [## Note #8
##]

"Yes mistress," he said again, and walked to the door to lock it. He returned
and bent to the task. He rolled on his back and pushed himself forward,
between
my legs, and under her squat. She replaced her lips over my erection. The
lips
were wet and warm and I was ready for them this time. The judge's head had
already disappeared under her skirt. She twisted her torso back and forth,
pulling her panties to the side. As she did, her big tits, hardened by the
massive bra, scraped back and forth across my legs.

"This is amazing," I said.

"Shut up," she said. "Both of you, shut up. You do what I say now." Her
tone told me she was exacting revenge. On the judge. Probably on me. Possibly
on all men everywhere for all time. Had she read "Women Are Stupid"? I
wondered. [## Note #9 ##]

She said "Lick me." She couldn't have been talking to me. I was chained
to the desk. I saw her squat down on the judge's face. I heard slurping
sounds. I heard licking sounds. I heard a huge fart. I guessed thunder
thighs had violated some EPA ruling or another, and I was glad my head
was up in the clear air. "Ahhhh," she said.

"JE-sus!" I heard the Judge say.

"I told you to SHUT UP," she shouted at him. "LICK ME and don't stop until
I tell you."

She replaced her lips around my cock. Her puffy red mouth fit me like
a too tight condom. She stroked back and forth, violently bouncing against
me, smacking her forehead into my groin with every jerk. She wiggled her
bottom over the Judge's face. I could see even from my vantage point there
was a lot of wiggling. Of course, there was a lot of bottom.

I was handcuffed to the desk, bent forward, watching the multiple action
below. She sucked and slurped. He licked and toyed. I bucked my hips. Her
hands rose, and she began to massage her breasts through her clothing.
It was just seconds before I saw her fingers fly to the buttons that held
her blouse together and pop them open. She had great fingers; it took but
a moment. She unclasped her bra and her heavy breasts fell free.

Her mouth left me for a moment. "Reach up and grab my tit," she commanded.
One of the Judge's arms flew up; his head never moved from her skirt. I
could see his hand massaging, squeezing, fondling her. I heard her moaning,
I watched her rocking. "Mike. Tell me a story. Tell me about Mrs. Shulman.
Tell me everything." He mouth went back to my cock. She licked my dickhead
as she put both her hands on the shaft, as though she were playing a
clarinet.
"And you, Judge," she said. "Take your cock out of your pants and play
with yourself." I heard the sound of a zipper below.

I was too excited; I'd knew never finish a long story. I picked an episode
where Shelly fairly attacked me as I walked in the door. I began talking.
"I was coming over to visit Shelly. It was a Tuesday, I think. Shelly was
in a tennis dress. I had on a pair of shorts; we were going to the club
to play tennis."

I felt the steno's fingers tapping on my cock as she held my mushroom tip
between her lips. "The moment I walked in the door, Shelly ran to me and gave
me a kiss. A hard kiss. Really mashed her mouth against me." The fingers
increased their tempo. "Our tongues fought with each other, and then I felt
her hand sliding up my bare leg until it hit the bottom of my shorts."

Judy's fingers beat out a tattoo on my penis. I realized she was transcribing
the story onto my dick as though it was her steno machine! "The shorts
didn't stop her. Her hand slid up the pant leg, until she was cupping and
squeezing me through my jock strap. She fought with the elastic and managed
to get her fingers inside, although one fingernail scraped me a little
in the process. I didn't care."

The steno's rhythmic touch increased. I could tell she like the part about
the fingernail. "I grabbed for her tit, and couldn't help myself as I ripped
her T-shirt up and over her head. Her jugs were magnificent, and her nipples
were as hard as I've ever seen them. She must have been playing with herself
before I walked through the door is all I can figure." Judy the Steno
increased her rocking over the Judge's face.

"Jerk off, you jerkoff," the steno commanded. The Judge increased his tempo.
She increased her rocking some more. She began to moan. Her fingers became
insistent.

I continued the story. "She twisted my erection, forcing the jock-strap
to snap back on one side. She pushed up my shorts and released my hard-on
into the open air. She grabbed it roughly and started jerking me off. I
wasn't five feet inside her front door, and she was attacking me like a
lioness in heat. She knelt in front of me, and I just leaned back against
a wall, pushing my hips forward." The steno moaned.

"Shelly grabbed me with both hands, like she was gripping a baseball bat, and
began to pound at me furiously. I stood there with my eyes closed, feeling
the sensations of her violent movements. I pushed my hips further forward,
knowing I was about to come." The tom-tom on my dick increased again.

I was having trouble talking but I pressed on. "Shelly had both hands
moving back and forth like a locomotive train's pistons. I thought she was
going to take me in her mouth. But I always make noise when I'm starting my
orgasm, and I did. She knew I was about to come, and she ducked her head
down.

She said "In my hair. I want you to cum in my hair. We've never done that.
I want to feel your jizz all through my hair, like a creme shampoo. I want
your cum to cover me. Come on, baby. Cum."

I felt the lips on my dick tighten, and the steno began to shake. Her legs
quivered, which must have set off the Judge. I heard him moan, and I knew he
was shooting his load up into the air. She was cumming on his face, she still
had my dick in her mouth, she still beat a rhythm on my cock.

"I came in her hair as she had asked. A big load in the first shot. An even
bigger load in the second. I could feel another big load with my third spasm.
The next and the next were a little less, but I knew I was still drizzling
cum all over her, into her hair, in one of her ears, down her neck..."

I couldn't stand it. I moaned, and the steno knew I was about to cum. She
opened her mouth wide, and stuck out her tongue. The weight of my dick
pressed
down in the middle, forming a valley of pink that nestled me securely. I felt
myself spasm, and I delivered a gob of white goo into the middle of her
tongue, perfectly centered. I had stopped talking, but her fingers continued
their gentle massage. I shot another spurt, and it joined the first in a
little
pool about halfway down her tongue. Then a third. Now a fourth, though
smaller.

I looked down. A large puddle of cum was sitting on her tongue. She looked
up at me from the corner of her eye, and pulled her tongue back into her
mouth. She swallowed every bit, not losing a drop. She gulped, fighting
with the creamy mess to get it all down. She gulped again. She smiled.
[## See Note #10 ##]

"OK, gentlemen, show's over." And with that she got off the Judge's face,
stood up, and walked around the desk. She folded her elbow and put her
head down on her hands and looked me square in the face. "So that's what
bondage can be." She reached over the desk, opened a small drawer, extracted
a key, and released one side of one of the cuffs. She handed me the key.

She turned and walked to the door, straightening her clothes as she did. She
said "I'm sure you gentlemen have some things to talk about..." as she left.

We did. As I opened the remaining cuff which held me, the Judge straightened
up his own clothes. His job was easier. He said to me, "Great story. I really
feel bad for Mrs. Shulman. Any woman like that deserves a break, you know?"
I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I nodded my head.

The judge went on, "I have to grant the divorce, of course. But I'm going
to find in her favor on the settlement. Fuck Edward. He's a creep anyway.
Uh, do you think you could, uh, introduce me to her, you know, after the
trial is over?"

So friends, that's the story of how I fucked the justice system, and found
real
justice. I finally won one once, [## See note #8 again ##] for the little
guy.
Or in this case, girl. Naturally Edward couldn't believe it when the verdict
was read. Shelly beamed. I sat with pretended ignorance. I never told my
wife.

Luckily for me, she doesn't know how to download. Hates computers, you know.
So don't any of you fucks tell her about this. It's just between me and you,
OK?


* * *


MIKE HUNT could send you some other stories if you're over 18. Send an
e-mail to Bannerboy1@aol.com. Fans and flames to MrM1KE@aol.com. Note
the 2nd character in M1KE is a "one" (1) not an "eye" (I). Thanks. For a
complete selection of my stories visit <http://members.aol.com/mrm1ke/>.

Unfortunately, this story is Copyright 1997 M1KE HUNT. You can give it away
free, though. You just can't sell it. It's kind of like sex.

Special thanks to Renae Nicks for licensed use of her special word
"perineum".
[## See Note #4 again. ##]. I asked her to show it to me, but she insisted
I find it in the dictionary. Damn!

Authors who want a printed transcript of these valuable tips should send
$100 (that's a See-note) to M1KE HUNT Enterprises, Orono, Maine. I'm sorry,
but the combination offer with the veg-o-matic has been discontinued
since my unfortunate accident with it in the bathtub.


* * *


## SPECIAL NOTES TO AUTHORS ##

#1 Note to Authors #1: This is a true fact. Lipstick is a leftover from the
prostitutes of Egypt; it's how they advertised. They didn't have a red light
district. No lights, you know. Tell that to your girlfriend the next time
she's
standing in front of a Revlon display! This is also an obvious case of too
much
research by the author since the fact really has nothing to do with the story
at all. It could prove important, however, if that Decency in Communications
bullshit law comes back. Your lawyers will be looking for any little scrap of
your story that could in some way be considered educational or socially
redeeming. Otherwise you're just writing pornography, and with the
Republicans
in control of congress, you could be fucked. I saw a show on C-SPAN about it
the other day. That's why I'm loading up on this shit starting now. You might
also note the other tidbits I've sprinkled through the manuscript, including
the references to Shakespeare and Milton.

#2 Note to Authors #2: This is called "A Fuck Up." I should have told the
reader about this earlier in the story, but I forgot. I didn't want to have
to
go back and rewrite a whole section so I just stuck it here. You can do that
sometimes.

#3 Note to Authors #3: This is hyperbole. It is useful for shock value, to
get
the reader's attention or to illustrate the writer's point. It should be used
sparingly. Hyperbole is never true. For instance, I really would have noticed
if she were sitting on my face. Especially with those thighs.

#4 Note to Authors #4: Use big words once in a while. Like "cacophony".
Another
good one is "perineum." Look it up. Words like this could be educational,
especially if someone under age 18 got hold of your writing. That could only
happen because their parent is a COMPLETELY IRRESPONSIBLE FUCK and didn't
click
the little America On-Line switch for Parental Controls or something. These
are
the kinds of SCHMUCKS who want the government to do everything like stopping
dirty stories and dirty pictures everywhere. They also don't want to pay the
government to do it because they want to cut taxes. That's why they vote
Republican all the time. Actually, the Democrats are fucked up too, but the
Republican lady on the C-SPAN show was a bigger jerk than the Democratic guy,
so I'm getting my licks in on her here. I'll take on the Democrats in
different
story. And those Perot people! What can you say? About the only ones who have
good ideas are the Libertarians, except that they're mostly hopeless morons
who think the roads should be private and you should pay a toll at each
corner.
Now THAT'S fucked.[## See Note #5 ##]

#5 Note to Authors #5: This sort of political essay could also be used in
your trial in a Freedom Of Speech argument. It won't help that much if
the judge is a Republican, however. Or Democrat. Or anything, really.

#6 Note to Authors #6: It sure is lucky this desk had these wooden carvings
to attach the handcuffs to, isn't it? This is known as literary license.
The reader isn't supposed to figure out that you just made it up. Did you
notice how the handcuffs just appeared out of nowhere? Same thing.

#7 Note to Authors #7: This kind of dialog is easy if you have a "cut and
paste" function in your word processor.

#8 Note to Authors #8: This is a form of alliteration, using the same sounds
in repetitive phrasing. Good writers do it all the time, although usually in
groups of three or more, not two. It's also a pun, (my cunt - MIKE HUNT, get
it?) repeated for the benefit of really stupid readers who STILL haven't
gotten the joke about my name. Some of them never will, because they're all a
bunch of fucking idiots. Most of them are barely literate. It's a good thing
they don't spend time reading my notes to you authors, boy, otherwise they'd
be really pissed at me. OK, if you're a really good writer you know this
example is not purely alliteration, because it's the same words, sort of.
Close enough for everyone except English teachers. Maybe I should have made
this paragraph about onomatopoeia, except I don't know how to spell it
much less what it is.

#9 Note to Authors #9: "Women Are Stupid", first published May, 1997.
Copyright M1KE HUNT. Now available through Reader's Digest reprints for
$50 per 100. Write Pleasantville, NY. 10570 for details. Enclose SASE.

#10 Note to Authors #10: I'm particularly proud of this scene. If you notice,
I managed to get four (4) cum shots with only three (3) live participants in
the story. I've never seen that in a porno movie, or for that matter even
in another story. I even thought of having Judy watching two birds fucking
in their nest outside the window, but I thought that would be too much
nesting and then Celeste would write another review that was funnier than
my story. Again. I hate that.

A special note to new writers: When you start performing tricks like this,
you'll know you've graduated to the "hack" level, which is where I currently
am. With another 25 stories, I hope to graduate to "mediocre," and maybe
someday get a certificate from the International Correspondence School (ICS)
in Smut Writing and Design. And by the way, thank God ICS got rid of that
fat ass Sally Struthers as their spokesmodel. You think the steno's thighs
were big? Sheesh!


* * *


Note to Readers: If you've gotten this far, congratulations. You're in a
select minority. If you're going to send me an e-mail telling me this one's
over the top, don't bother. I know. I get crazy sometimes. So do you,
probably.
I just finished writing it while waiting for the drugs to take effect. I
don't
get it; I took my Prozac over two hours ago. It should kick in any
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