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Subject: {Lysander}JDR"She Invited me to Fuck her Over the Net"(MF fant humor)[1/1]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
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The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
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=====================
If you're over 18, feel free to read the following story. Just don't
try this at home unless it's barbecueing season.
=====================
She Invited Me to Fuck Her Over the Net (So I Did)
or
Sometimes Spam is a Treet
by Lysander
(lysander@bitsmart.com)
If you're ever sitting in the airport waiting for a plane, or sitting on
a subway or bus or sitting in a bar, and you feel a little tickle or
tingle on your clit, maybe it's just a trick of your circulation. Or
maybe not. Look around and if you see an average-looking guy with a
mole on the right side of his neck, scratching his finger on his seat or
one next to him, then give me a wave. If you don't mind my little
hobby, mouth the word "thanks," and if you do, "stop" works pretty good.
I don't know how I got to be the way I am. I wasn't hit by lightning
and I didn't down some weird chemicals. I didn't even subject myself to
massive amounts of gamma radiation. Puberty was pretty normal for me
and I've never had a concussion. All I know is that one day I was
looking for my keys, but they didn't seem to be anywhere in my
apartment. So I was doing all the usual shit, retracing my steps,
looking in the same place two or three times, like that. Anyway, I put
my hand in my pocket again, just in case I missed them the first time I
checked there and I almost but didn't quite feel them. Like I was
feeling the ghost of them or maybe I was feeling them wrapped in cotton.
And I could not-quite-feel more metal around them, in a cylindrical
shape. On a hunch, I opened the apartment door and there they were,
sticking out of the doorknob.
Weird, huh?
Then, another time I bought an alarm clock at K-mart. I paid for it
with a fifty and got a twenty back with my change. I could feel that
twenty vibrating and pulling me, even through my wallet. Or maybe it
wasn't a pull. Maybe it was more like when you wet your finger and hold
it up to feel which way the breeze is blowing. I felt that twenty
guiding me. I followed the pushing and pulling of that bill for about
five miles, turning left, then right, then left, following a more or
less diagonal path from the store until I found myself outside a
suburban split-level with a boy of about twelve playing with a Tonka
dumptruck on the sidewalk. He would push the little truck as hard as he
could up the sidewalk, then run and chase after it, then push it back in
the other direction. I could feel the bill in my wallet trying to
follow him, tugging one way and then pushing the other. I got out of my
car and said hello to him. Naturally he was a little wary of me, since
I was a stranger, but it was probably his house he was in front of and
being on his own turf gave him a enough courage to talk to me. I asked
him where he got the truck. He said he'd bought it at the K-mart
earlier that day.
"You mean your mom and dad bought it for you?"
"No, I bought it myself. My gramma sent me twenty dollars for my
birthday last month."
No shit. The same twenty-dollar bill I had in my wallet, I bet.
As an experiment, I took that twenty out of the money compartment of my
wallet and put it behind my driver's license, so I wouldn't accidentally
spend it. For a week or so, I could feel every move that kid made.
Mostly to school and back, I assume. But over time, the feeling went
away. When I couldn't feel him any more, I spent the twenty on a carton
of Salems. As I left the store, I could feel the twenty pulling on me.
Later in the day, I felt it moving. That night, I followed the tugging
of the bill until I was sitting in my car outside a bank.
So I went home and had a long think. I went over every possibility and
none of them made sense. So I went over every impossibility until I
thought I had an answer. I'm not going to tell you what the answer is
but you can probably figure it out. Thing is though, it didn't work out
when I tried it again. I knew I hadn't imagined that week when that
twenty had been tugging on me, trying to get back to the boy, or when it
was calling me to the bank. So, it was real and it worked for a long
time but then it didn't work any more after I doped out a reason.
So from then on, every time a new ability crops up, I don't wonder about
it too much. Maybe it's the thinking that kills it. I hear Plato said
that all the planets and stars were set on big crystal balls inside each
other and the earth was in the center of all these balls. Then this guy
Newton looked up in the sky and thought about it and said bullshit.
Maybe Plato was right until Newton came along. Maybe Newton busted
Plato's balls. All I know is, as long as I don't think about it too
much, I can feel how many eggs are cracked in a carton at the
supermarket, I can tell how many people are on a given floor of a
building, I can read the graffiti scratched on a bathroom stall even
when it's been painted over, and I've never lost my keys again.
Oh yeah, and I can tickle women's clits from across the room.
Well, not exactly from across the room. I have to be in contact with
the same kind of seat she's on, and I have to be able to see her. So if
a woman is sitting on a barstool and I'm at a table, I can't touch her.
And all I can do is tickle her. I tried pinching an ass once and it
gave me a headache. Don't know why, don't want to know why. I can't
really make a woman cum that way. If I'm sitting on the same seat as
her, I can sometimes. I was at a wedding once, and there was a pretty
woman on the same pew as me. I diddled my finger on the empty space
beside me for a few minutes. It didn't take long for her to turn
beet-red and give a little shiver, then slump down a little on the pew.
That was fun. So are high school football games, but then I can never
tell if a woman is getting excited because of me or because of the
score. Mostly, all I can do is give a little tickle. I can't even
really feel what I'm tickling. It's like with the keys; almost like I
can feel the shadow of a pussy. But it's fun anyhow.
But, this whole Internet thing has opened up a whole new world for me.
By now everybody and his mother knows what spam is. Most of it, I hate
as much as the next person. But this one time I tried out an offer for
5 minutes of free "sex" on the net. You know, it's like phone sex
except you can see the girl. You can ask her to pose how you want and
whatnot and she does it, but they charge a godawful amount of money. I
never saw much worth to it, but daddy always told me to never turn down
a free meal.
So I'm at this site, looking at really annoying video of a girl. I type
in that I want to see her tits and she takes off her bikini top, but the
picture's real choppy, like an intermittent satellite feed. I type that
I want to see her snatch. Off come the bottoms. How about some pink?
She sits down on a couch and spreads her legs. The picture quality's so
lousy I can't really see her slit. All I can make out is the fact that
she's shaved her outer lips. It's just one solid band of cafe au lait
beneath a black triangle. I ask for a zoom-in. No can do, they tell me.
So I reach out with my index finger to see if maybe I can clear my
screen up a little bit.
My finger went *into* the screen. I am not making this up. I watched
it sink through the picture tube. I couldn't see it inside the
monitor's guts, but what I felt nearly gave me a heart attack. I can
feel flesh. Warm, living, honest-to-God flesh. And the real kicker is
I can feel stubble. I move my finger back and forth a little, hoping I
don't run into a nose. Nope, I'm touching pussy, the pussy of the girl
I'm typing to over the net.
"Holy shit" is right. This was way better than the clit-tickling. I
could feel her pussy like she was sitting right in front of me with my
hand between her thighs. I slipped my finger between her lips. She was
pretty dry of course. After all, she's in some little room with a
camera pointed at her and somebody sitting at a terminal telling her
what the jerkoff at the other end of the line wants her to do. But no
doubt about it, it's pussy I got my finger in.
The weird thing is, I don't detect a reaction from her on the screen. I
type in, one-handed of course, that I want her to turn over on her
knees. She brings her legs together and sort of swivels on her butt and
rolls onto her knees, I guess so she can stay in the camera frame. But
I can feel her slit rotate around my finger. So I can feel her but she
can't feel me. How come? I don't know, I don't want to know.
I hear a tone from my computer and see a message saying my time is up
and would I like to pay the fee to join the site? I jerk my finger out
of the monitor real quick. After all, I don't know if, when the
connection breaks, it's going to take my finger with it.
Did I join the site? Hell, yes. And I paid for the Gold membership
where I get thirty minutes a day and the girls masturbate for me because
I figure they might get a little wetter that way. The very next day, I
went out and bought a 21-inch monitor and arranged for an ISDN line. I
could've saved myself some money, though. Those extra inches don't
seem to make any difference, but with the ISDN, it actually feels
*better* than real when I put my dick up to the screen and sink it into
a warm pussy. Of course, I can't get a blowjob this way, and trying to
buttfuck one of the girls gave me a worse headache than the ass-pinching
episode. The girl can't feel me and I can't feel her with anything but
my cock, since I have to use both hands to hold the monitor. And I
don't have to worry about disease. In fact, the only thing I do worry
about is whether the inside of my monitor is getting coated with dried
cum. But like I say: I don't know, I don't want to know.
(For those who've never heard of it, Treet is a canned meat-like product
similar to Spam, made from beef and beef-products. -L)
=====================
Copyright 1997 by Lysander (lysander@bitsmart.com)
This story may not be archived at any site that would charge for access
to it.
This story may not be sold as part of any collection that charges more
than a nominal copying fee.
Otherwise, this story may be distributed freely by electronic means as
long as the title, my pseudonym and this copyright statement are not
changed or removed.
=====================
She Invited Me to Fuck Her Over the Net (So I Did)
by Lysander
-30-
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