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From: Celeste801 <Celeste801@aol.com>
Subject: {ASS} Celestial Reviews 250 - Jan 18
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Celestial Reviews 250 - January 17, 1998
Note: Jane was a first time contestant on the $65,000 quiz show, where
contestants have to answer questions to win the cash prize. Lady luck had
smiled on her, as Jane had gained a substantial lead over her opponents. She
even managed to win the game, but unfortunately time had run out before the
show's host could ask her the final question.
Needless to say, Jane agreed to return the following day. Jane was nervous and
fidgety as her husband drove them home. "I've just gotta win tomorrow. I wish
I knew what the answers are. You know I'm not going to sleep at all tonight.
I will probably look like garbage tomorrow.
"Relax, honey," her husband, Roger, reassured her. "It will all be OK." Ten
minutes after they arrived home, Roger grabbed the car keys and started
heading out the door. "Where are you going?" Jane asked. "I have a little
errand to run. I should be back soon." He replied. Jane waited impatiently for
Roger's return. After an agonizing 3-hour absence, Roger returned, sporting a
very wide and wicked grin. "Honey, I managed to get tomorrow's question and
answer!"
"What is it?" she cried excitedly. "OK. The question is 'What are the three
main parts of the male anatomy?' And the answer is 'The head, the heart, and
the penis.' "
Shortly after that, the couple went to sleep with Jane, now feeling confident
and at ease, plummeting into a deep and restful slumber. At 3:30 in the
morning, however, Jane was shaken awake by Roger, who was asking her the quiz
show question. "The head, the heart, and the penis," Jane replied groggily
before returning to sleep. And Roger asked her again in the morning, this time
as Jane was brushing her teeth. Once again, Jane replied correctly.
So it was that Jane was once again on the set of the quiz show. Even though
she knew the question and answer, she could feel the butterflies conquering
her stomach and nervousness running through her veins. The cameras began
running and the host, after reminding the audience of the previous day's
events, faced Jane and asked the big question. "Jane, for $65,000, what are
the main parts of the male anatomy? You have 10 seconds." "Hmm, uhm, the
head?" she said nervously. "Very good. Six seconds." "Eh, uh, the heart?"
"Very good! Four seconds." "I, uhh, ooooooohh, darn! My husband drilled it
into me last night and I had it on the tip of my tongue this morning..."
"That's close enough," Said the host; "CONGRATULATIONS!!"
Second note: If you have sent me a story for review and have not seen the
review yet, I may have made a mistake. It's OK to write to me and ask what
happened.
Third note: * Bumper Sticker: * Snatch a kiss, or vice versa.
Final note: Remember: even though someone else may be posting my reviews for
me, my e-mail address is still Celeste801@aol.com.
- Celeste
"Burning Letters" by Lord Malinov (breaking ties)
10, 10, 10
"Spare the Rod" by Tiffany (sexual abuse) 10, 8, 1
"Doubts and Uncertainties" by Kim (torture & revenge)
10, 10, 10
"Power and the Word" by Taria (interracial sex) 10, 10, 10
"The Call of Desire" by DG (a.s.s. and phone sex) 10, 10, 10
Guest Reviews:
"Midnight Pleasures" by Myschief (cybersex & real sex) 4, 6, 4
"Kissing Cousins" by Candy Kane (ff adolescent sex) 10, 10, 10
"Burning Letters" by Lord Malinov (malinov@mindless.com). Malinov has been
writing stories at a prodigious rate lately. I saw a note on a.s.s.d. that
suggested perhaps he has been scanning stories from Readers Digest and simply
inserting sex into them. You might think that a person who writes so many
stories so fast would write weak stories, but that is not the case. The
stories are short. They differ from more fully developed stories. But they
have a distinct impact, and they are well worth reading.
In the present story we have a woman who has been told by her husband to burn
her letters from her old lover. He owns both her and the house now. It's
time to cut the ties. Or maybe it's Independence Day. This brief story
conveys an intense atmosphere and has a surprise twist at the end.
My advice to you is to download this author's stories whenever you see them
and to save them for a time when you have just a few minutes to read a quick
story. When the sexual revolution REALLY comes, maybe we'll see these stories
in a futuristic Readers Digest.
Ratings for "Burning Letters"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
"Spare the Rod" by Tiffany (posted by Phil Phantom <slutmissy@hotmail.com>).
Phil Phantom, who posted this story, says that this is Tiffany's favorite
fantasy as a young teen. She wrote it down as an adult, imagining herself as
her mother and writing the story from her mother's point of view. If this is
true, Tiffany is a deeply troubled person.
The story is a well-written description of a seriously dysfunctional mother
who encourages men to sexually abuse her daughter and enjoys watching it
happen. Although the story is linguistically coherent, it's really a stupid
story. It's the moral equivalent of reading about a person who vomits, scoops
the vomit into a bowl and re-eats it, vomits again, and repeats this process
ad nauseam. I guess there are people in the world like this, but they're just
not fun to read about.
I originally sent this story to a guest reviewer, who declined with this
comment:
"Yucch! Sorry, I couldn't finish it. Too sick and horrible for me. The
writing is acceptable, nothing special, but the subject matter is just
too repulsive. The idea that anyone actually enjoys reading this, or
gets aroused by it, is not pleasant to me. I doubt I'd be a good
reviewer! Good luck finding anyone well-adjusted enough to actually
write a review who's also willing to read it all and try to comment
objectively... <grin> I could I suppose review it as a case study
in sexual pathology, but I doubt that that's how it's actually
intended."
So I read the story myself and discovered that the reviewer was right. I
think the author thinks there are readers who will take this story and say to
themselves, "Hey! This is really neat!" Well, all I can say is that if
anyone ever publishes that vomit story, I'll try to call it to the attention
of those readers. Perhaps they'll like that one too.
Ratings for "Spare the Rod"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 8
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 1
"Doubts and Uncertainties" by Kim (ghost@nym.alias.net). In the first few
paragraphs of this story we are given the vivid impression that a man who
raped the narrator has now been captured and is going to be executed by her in
revenge. Specifically, she's going to burn down the wooden shed he's in,
while he's securely chained to the workbench by a chain around his balls. The
only way he can escape would be ripping off his own balls....
If you have ever watched Dragnet, you may recall that the plots often
consisted of an essay embedded into the dialogue. I'm convinced that the
screenwriter would read an article on, say, the need to lock one's doors at
night. Then he would write a story about a middle-aged women with two little
children who would fail to lock her door at night. Sergeant Friday and his
faithful psychic would then come and interrogate her, and the dialogue would
include things like this:
"You really have to lock your doors at night."
"I know, but sometimes I forget."
"When you forget, bad things might happen. I know, because I'm a cop."
Kim does something similar here; but she does a much better job, because she's
a smut writer, not a cop. Since I have given this story high ratings, you can
pretty well assume that it's not a senseless rape and torture story. For more
details - and for an interesting embedded essay - I recommend you take a look
at this story.
Ratings for "Doubts and Uncertainties"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
"Power and the Word" by Taria (tariat@aol.com). I labeled this story
"interracial sex." I could have perhaps labeled it "emerging sexuality,"
since the narrator's increasing self-awareness in the context of her sexuality
and black literature is the main theme of this story. I went with the
"interracial" label mostly because I wanted to show you that it's possible to
have interracial sex without monster cocks and white girls who love to be
called sluts.
Cleanthe is a young black woman who has arisen from her poverty to attend
college at Columbia University. She is intensely attracted to her professor
of African-American Literature, who is a white man. The story describes the
development of that relationship.
This is an excellent story. It does a marvelous job of integrating into the
story line poetry and sensible insights about a person's personality. This is
the sort of story that I would love to have my students read; but I can't,
because the Puritans who control American school systems severely harass
teachers who try to introduce this level of realism into literature classes.
So I'll just ban it instead, and that way my students will find it and read it
on their own.
Ratings for "Power and the Word"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
"The Call of Desire" by DG (dionysian1@hotmail.com). As I loaded the word-
processing file to write this review, I became aware that my husband was
gazing at me from the doorway. At least I thought it was me he was gazing at.
Sometimes it's hard to tell. We share the same computer, and he has two
Sports Illustrated calendars hanging on the wall right above the computer. He
refuses to throw away the 1995 calendar. He says it might become valuable
some day. And so this babe with a leopard-skin bathing suit and sand on her
breasts is probably going to stare down at me into eternity. I have a
religious calendar of my own - complete with Catholic fish symbols - right
between his calendars. Anyway, sometimes it's hard to tell what he's staring
at. However, on this occasion, judging from the bulge in his shorts, I
quickly ruled out the religious calendar.
"Are you happy to see me, or is that a banana in your shorts?" I asked. Ever
since I started reading and reviewing stories for this newsgroup, my clever
repartee has improved.
"Can you do this?" he asked. He was wiggling his nose and moving his mouth in
grotesque circles.
"Sure I can," I replied, imitating his facial contortions.
"Good!" he said. "Why dontcha stop what you're doing, and we'll go to bed and
fuck like bunnies?"
I smiled. It WAS a good imitation of those cute little rabbits that eat the
lettuce in my garden each spring and summer.
"Let me finish this review first."
"What's it about?"
"A guy who writes stories has been discussing his stories with his wife, and
she's fucks him during the story. It's pretty hot stuff!"
"I'll bet!" he said, as he walked over and stood behind me at the computer.
"He's always been a good author," I continued; "but his stories are getting
better and better. I'd like to think I had something to do with that
improvement."
"You don't need to wear this shirt in order to write a good review, do you?"
I had been wearing nothing but my panties and a South Park Elementary tee-
shirt proclaiming that someone had killed Kenny; and so when he pulled the
shirt over my head, I was topless. My panties were already moist from the
story I had just read; and when he began to fondle my nipples and kiss my
neck, I guess you could say I was primed and ready for action.
But I was a bit miffed at the fact that he had been ignoring the intelligent
conversation I had been trying to have with him. Fair is fair, I told myself.
If he can ignore me, I can ignore him.
"I mean, this guy would probably write good stories without me, but I suspect
that my reviews help motivate him." I was impressed at the fact that I could
make this reasonably intelligent statement while my hormones were already
registering about 5.7 on the Richter scale. "At the very least I have helped
get him an audience, and that's gotta be a factor in his development as a
writer." I nodded with pride. Not at my influence on this author - which was
probably negligible - but at the fact that I had managed to utter a sentence
that was almost as insipid as a Rye Crisp. A nun in high school had once told
us that if we ever found ourselves getting sexually aroused, we should think
of something insipid or really bland to cool ourselves off. Rye Crisps used
to work for me. So did her lectures.
My husband continued his ministrations, but he glanced at the screen.
"Straight 10s!" he said. "What's so good about this story?"
"Well, first the husband and wife have a great relationship."
"So do we."
"And the first half of the story describes a really sexy, intimate fuck
between the two of them."
"Better than ours?"
"No, but a lot like some of ours." The bastard was clever. He had stopped
ignoring my conversation, but now I was more turned on and more distracted
than ever. My Rye Crisp was becoming a chocolate sundae. Pretty soon I would
be imagining Sister Mary Sex Education in the nude.
"Then the man quotes to his wife from his fan mail. A woman who runs a
phonesex operation had written to him. She said she liked his stories and she
offered to return the favor by giving him a free phone call. That's why the
story is called 'Call of Desire.' The woman's name is Desire - or maybe Day-
zee-ree, but Usenet can't transmit the French accents." If this digression
about computers and linguistics didn't cool his fervor, I was going to be in
real trouble soon.
Fortunately, the phone rang at just that moment. With any luck it would be
for him, and I could finish the review and then join him for a romp in the
sack.
"It's for you," he said, grinning roguishly as he handed me the phone.
The caller was a really boring old biddy from the PTA. The kids in our high
school band had been invited to perform at Epcot Center during spring break;
and she was trying to get us to cancel the trip, because the Disney people
have been letting gays and lesbians have a Gay Pride Day or some such thing at
the park.
Now you may think that this phone call would interrupt my husband's attempted
seduction, but that's not the case. He loves it when this woman calls,
because he considers it to be a personal challenge to make me have as many
orgasms as possible while I'm on the phone line with this prissy bitch.
I knew when I was defeated, and so I faced the inevitable. I turned away from
the computer, leaned back in my chair, spread my legs, and let him remove my
panties. He immediately slid around in front of me and knelt on the floor
between my legs. While he kissed my thighs, he slid two fingers into my
pussy. My husband is a very generous winner.
Now, you may think it's hard - er, difficult - to be brought to a roaring
orgasm while carrying on a telephone conversation; but with Rose it's no
problem at all. She talks constantly. She never listens. So all I had to do
was say "uh-huh" several times in the next five minutes. She had no idea that
I was bucking up and down with my free hand wrapped around my husband's head,
desperately pulling his face into my muff, while his tongue played my clitoris
with the expertise shown by a Cajun fiddler manipulating his instrument.
When I finally collapsed in exhaustion, my husband was short of breath, and he
withdrew his head for a moment. I think he had some pussy hairs in his mouth
as well. I took the opportunity to speak a few complete sentences into the
mouthpiece.
"Rose," I said; "Disney isn't sponsoring the Gay Pride Day. They are simply
letting gays and lesbians do their own thing. Nobody is going to be
copulating on the midway. I'm sure the gays and lesbians are every bit as
discreet as heterosexuals."
By this time my husband was back in action again. He began to kiss and caress
me again, and by now I was really getting into the swing of things. If I
didn't have to talk to the MotorMouth on the phone, then surely I could put my
mouth to a better use. I startled him by engulfing his cock completely in my
mouth. I moved up and down on it gently, each time withdrawing completely on
the up-thrust and muttering "uh-huh" into the telephone. I wasn't really
certain what I was agreeing with, but I was pretty sure it wasn't anything
important.
After a while, I realized that maybe Rose could go on forever, but my husband
could not. I was also getting pretty pissed at the self-righteous bitch who
was interrupting my review writing with her petty nonsense. Well, maybe not.
But anyway, I decided it would be fun to do something really outrageous -
something that would blow Rose away if she knew it was happening.
Gently, I removed my mouth from my husband's cock, kissed the pee-hole gently,
and shoved his face away. Before he could register an objection, I rose from
the chair, turned around, knelt down, leaned into the chair, and spread my
asscheeks.
My husband grinned with delight. I know this even though I couldn't see his
face - because I don't have eyes in the back of my ass. We don't do anal sex
very often, but he and I have both grown to like it. My first anal experience
came during the Tonight Show, when I found myself awakening with my ass
pulsating in a manner strangely similar to a pussy having an orgasm. As I
gained consciousness, I realized that I had fallen asleep while my husband had
been lying with his head on my asscheeks, caressing me from behind. I found
out later that he had switched to my asshole after I started snoring, and
since my ass had begun to pulsate, he assumed I liked it and had been doing it
for fifteen minutes or so. It sounded dirty and felt dirty, but only in the
best sense. And so we discovered something new. On that first occasion I
simply played with his cock while he continued to diddle my asshole; we both
came gently, and we fell asleep very comfortably.
Back in the present, he replaced my fingers with his, caressed my buttocks,
and began to kiss around the edges of my rosebud. With my freed hand I
reached into the drawer next to my desk and found a can of WD-40. Casting it
aside, I found the tube of KY lubricant and passed it back to him. I keep KY
in several places around the house. You can never tell when you'll need a
lubricant to help insert a large object into a small aperture. I also keep
WD-40 and duct tape in the same places, because they are almost equally
useful, but for slightly different purposes. Ooops - I forgot - I'm no longer
trying to restrain my passions.
Anyway, while my husband unscrewed the cap and prepared to prepare my anal
cavity for heavenly rapture, I found time to express a coherent thought to
Rose. "You know, Rose," I said, with rising irritation in my voice, "I don't
think Minnie and Mickey were ever married.
My husband didn't miss a beat. I had barely completed my sentence when I felt
first one finger, then two, and then three fingers gently slide into my
freshly lubricated backdoor. I knew that he was just priming me for the Real
Thing. Almost on cue, as I returned to my "uh-huhs," I began to experience
the wonderful fullness of his penis filling my ass. I know lots of women
don't like anal sex and lots of stories present it as a form of humiliation,
but I consider it to be a rare delicacy. I also knew that Rose would be
horrified to know that the woman she was talking to was really a slut who
enjoyed having her ass reamed out by a sexy stud.
My ass muscles are even easier to control than my cunt muscles. I knew my
husband had been almost ready to shoot his wad near the end of the blowjob,
and his thrusts and undulations suggested that he was at least equally ready
now. A joint orgasm during anal sex can be scary, but we have learned to
coordinate our efforts wonderfully. My ass muscles gave him one last kiss,
and immediately I felt warm cum shooting into my asshole. Simultaneously, my
entire body began to shudder in an enormous orgasm. The earth moved. Our
bodies continued to share this ecstasy for what seemed like an eternity - a
very nice eternity. I'm getting wet just proofreading this.
As his cock eased out of my ass, I regained my composure and spoke calmly into
the phone. "Rose," I said, "your problem is that you don't have a life. You
oughta go out and get laid by a real stud. Why don't you try taking it up the
ass like I just did?" I paused, then added, "I wish you could see me now, with
cum oozing out of my asshole, and my husband's cock continuing to throb as he
removes it from my ass and continues to gaze at me with unbelievable lust."
Then I hung up the phone.
My husband looked at me in amazement. "Did you just say what I think you
said?"
"Yes," I replied. "But she hung up back when I made the crack about Huey,
Dewey, and Louie."
While my husband went to get some towels to wipe off the wet and sticky stuff
from our bodies, I turned back to my computer. I had a feeling that we
weren't quite finished for the night. When he returned and handed my a towel,
I already had my tee-shirt snugly stuffed between my legs, preventing stains
via leakage onto the chair.
"So this guy wrote a story about writing a story, and it turned out to be
really sexy," he commented, as he kissed me several more times. "Too bad you
can't write a review about writing a review and have the review turn out to be
really sexy."
Ratings for "The Call of Desire"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
Celeste (appeal to reviewer): 10
"Midnight Pleasures" by Myschief (myschief@aol.com). Guest review by Bookman.
Coming up next here on KASS, "Midnight Pleasures" by Myschief. . .
But first, this brief announcement.
Authors, have you written a story you would like to see on A.S.S.? Then
here's something you should know. There's a free, yes FREE! proofreading
service available for you. Simply send an email to Celeste and ask her to
connect you with one of the many fine proofreaders available. That's all!
It's that simple! The proofreader will then contact you and work with you to
put your story in the best form it can be. Wow! What a bargain! Why send in
a half-baked story when, with a little teamwork, you too can look like a
professional writer? Don't delay. Send today!
And now, back to our regularly scheduled review. . .
It's a pity Myschief didn't (obviously) take advantage of Celeste's standing
offer. The story has a number of problems that a good proofreader would've
caught immediately.
First, the plot. . .
A young woman decides to cruise the chat rooms and goes into unfamiliar
territory. She picks up a conversation with a guy who's into dom/sub and will
be visiting her town soon. Will she meet him? Of course she will. To
prepare herself for the meeting, she bathes and dresses carefully (described
in loving, if typoed, detail), and attends a women's strip club (ditto).
Thoroughly warmed up, she leaves the club and heads for her rendezvous. She
meets the guy at his motel room and they have torrid sex.
At least, the sex would be torrid, if there just weren't so many typos.
A really, *really* good writer can put together a story so interesting, so
compelling, that the reader will bounce off the occasional typo and keep going
unslowed. Friar Dave is a good example. A superb writer, but prone to the
incidental error. But even the best of writers can't keep the reader's
interest if there's a cascade of errors getting in the way of the reader's
involvement with the story. For the average or mediocre writer, accuracy
becomes even more important. A weak but viable story can be made
uninteresting, if there are a slew of typos constantly breaking the reader's
connection with the storyline. It says, loud and clear, "I don't care enough
about the reader to work that hard." When I hit an obvious, glaring typo in
the third sentence, I know I'm in trouble.
Some other problems:
Myschief sets up his character as being interested in domination/submission,
but except for a brief flirtation with leashing her wrists, it isn't touched
again.
The final line, obviously intended for closure, simply doesn't make sense.
They've been corresponding by email; he knows where she lives; and at the
motel he knows and calls her by name. Then to close it with, "I kiss him
goodnight, he doesnŐt even know who I am.". . .huh? (Oh, and that thing in
the middle of 'doesn't'? It and its cousins appear throughout the story,
nearly requiring in some places a translator sheet to figure out what was
intended. It's caused, I understand, by using an archaic word-processing
program like Wordstar that Usenet no longer reads well. Not necessarily the
fault of the writer, but still. . .) {Note from Celeste: It's probably not
an archaic word processor - it's probably a very good one. The funny symbol
probably stands for a "smart apostrophe." It's a good idea to turn off such
features on your word processor, because Usenet usually cannot handle them,
and the result is these funny symbols.}
And finally, the POV (point of view). First person is fine, but first-person
present tense is problematical. If you're going to involve the reader that
closely in the speaker's life, so closely so that they're following the
narrator's moment-to-moment activities, then all of those activities have to
have importance, a narrational cohesion that brings the picture of the
individual together. Check out James Joyce, *Ulysses*; see how he did it. If
you don't achieve that importance, then all the reader is left with is a
pointless jumble of "I did this, then I did this." And if you're not aiming
for that close an involvement, then don't use a first-person present tense
POV. First-person past tense works just fine, without the dislocation.
This story, well, anecdote, since there is no conflict/resolution, has a lot
going for it. It also has so many self-defeating mistakes and problems it's
almost not worth reading. Pity.
Ratings for "Midnight Pleasures"
Athena (technical): 4
Minerva (general appeal): 6
Apollo (appeal to reviewer): 4
"Kissing Cousins" by Candy Kane (rytr33@hotmail.com). Guest review by David
Rills.
Pamela, 18, is baby-sitting her 13-year-old neighbor, Michelle. The two girls
are sitting in front of the TV when they channel surf across the adult
channel. After scenes of a boy and girl making love, two lesbians appear on
screen. The scene sends Pamela's thoughts back to the sexual encounter which
she had with her "kissing cousin," Becky.
Awakening from her reminiscence, Pamela finds Michelle on top of her begging
for sex.
The story is extremely well done and the dialog is convincing. The plot is
very believable and the descriptions of the lesbian acts between innocent
young girls is arousing. This story is well worth the reader's time.
Ratings for "Kissing Cousins"
Athena (technical quality): 10
Venus (plot & character): 10
David (appeal to reviewer): 10
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