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o o
o The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories. o
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Fantasy (M+m+F+f+ spanish fly)
by Willy T <hangten@nym.alias.net>
Date: 5/16/99
@(C) 1998 Frederick T. If you're going to profit from this, please contribute
a portion of the proceeds to the National Organization for the Reform of
Marijuana Laws (NORMAL) and/or the American Cancer Society.
!!!!! ATTENTION READER !!!!!
The following work is of a sexual nature. If you have not yet reached the
age of consent, where ever you reside, the author requests your parents or
guardians review this material before you continue. Censoring the material a
young mind absorbs is not the responsibility of the creator but that of the
adult who has custodial responsibility for the young mind. Having said that;
the following story is pure fantasy. It didn't happen, probably could never
happen and the author accepts no responsibility for person or persons who
attempt to make it happen. All the characters were created by the author and
none of them are based on people who actually lived or are living in this
wonderful world we inhabit. We are all created by a wonderful process called
sexual intercourse. That it was made so pleasurable is undeniably the
reason we have filled this world with our children. While the creator
probably did so for a reason; remember that human beings created all the side
dishes that accompany the basic act. Sex should have a happy ending, whether
with yourself or with a partner. That this is sometimes not the case can only
be the fault of the participants. Sex should be fun ! As always e-mail your
comments to the usual.
Every Man's Fantasy
by Frederick T.
With thanks to the founding fathers and the U.S. Constitution
***** PROLOGUE *****
Hi ! I'm Willy Tamarack. I sure hope you enjoy reading my stories as
much as I enjoy telling them to Frederick T. Shit ! You're probably
wondering why I don't write'em up myself ? Well...I'm a bit lazy and usually
too stoned most of the time to get my shit together. It's much easier to let
Freddy do all the hard work. Plus, now that I've have/had prostate cancer -
Who knows, just because I had it cut out doesn't mean it's gone for good -
I'm convinced that I have to cram every little bit of life, I can, into the
time I have left. Writing about it just doesn't seem all that important.
Speaking of Prostate cancer...I know Freddy did a little research on it,
on top of the research I did. What we told you in "The Travels of Willy
Tamarack" is true. There is quite a controversy surrounding the treatment of
Prostate Cancer. I believe it's very similar to the controversy that
surrounds Breast Cancer treatments. I'm sure that until cancer is totally
understood by the medical community; there will always be controversies
surrounding it's treatment. Breast and Prostate Cancers strike at the heart
of women's and men's sexuality; not to say that sex is more important than
life itself but it sure makes living more enjoyable. Cancer is a horrible
disease. It scares the hell out of most people, I know it did me, so if you
can afford it ? How about making a contribution of your time or whatever to
the American Cancer Society or some other worthy cancer charity that comes to
mind.
Sorry for taking so much of your time but having cancer is the shits.
Anyway, you didn't download this to listen to me whine. I mentioned this
story to Freddy while we were working on the "Travels." Carol and I ran into
Robert at the tennis club right up the street from my parent's place a while
back. We spent an evening with him and he had quite a story to tell. It
began when he was working for the government...Aw ! Shit ! I'll let Freddy
tell you.....
***** Chapter One *****
The two monkeys were fucking like...Well, like rabbits. This was the
third time, in the last forty-five minutes. Neither one of them showed signs
of being sated. Robert D. Trancas watched from across the room. Robbie or
"Trank", as his friends called him and there weren't many of them, was voted
the "dork" most likely to succeed nineteen years ago when he graduated from
high school. At thirty-six, he still hadn't succeeded but in his estimation,
was getting real close.
Robbie didn't look his age at all. In the semi-thick glasses, he usually
wore, most people thought he was in his mid twenties - maybe a graduate
student. He was often carded when trying to purchase liquor and resented the
fact that he looked so young. It took him only three years to graduate from
high school and after six years of college - three years of undergraduate work
and then three years of post-graduate work - he was hired by a company that
was doing research for an arm of the United States government. Robert, he
hated to be called Robbie, was placed in the section that was attempting to
develop an aphrodisiac that would incapacitate enemy troops. The research
was similar to the LSD experiments that were carried on in earlier times.
Rob, as he liked to call himself, had been hired right out of grad school
in 1984 and was tremendously excited about the project. His excitement
stemmed not from any desire to incapacitate enemy troops but from a desire to
"borrow" some of the proven formulae and use it to make himself a "stud." Rob
wasn't a bad looking guy. It's just that his social skills were next to nil.
While he could talk for hours about the molecular composition of just about
every element known to man; after saying "Hi" to any decent looking woman, he
usually stood there like a wall flower until the woman got bored and left.
As the youngest member of the section working on Project "Sex," as it was
called, he was given most of the tedious assignments. He was usually at work
from well before sunrise to well after dark. Rob didn't mind, though, because
he was sure that the project was going to succeed - and when it succeeded -
Rob succeeded. He would often lay awake at night and fantasize about the
different women he was going to fuck when the project finally bore fruit.
There was no doubt in his mind that the formulae would work on both men and
women - so he figured that not only would it give him a hardon that would last
for hours but would also make the most desirable women he met become his sex
slaves, unable to control their desires, regardless of what they thought about
him.
While working on the project he would often get a raging hardon thinking
about the receptionist on the third floor, a cute little blond who would
hardly give him the time of day; or the buxom secretary of the project
manager, Robert P. Thorpp. She once told him to wait in the hall as there were
some important people waiting to see the "boss" as she called him. He could
hardly wait to watch her facial expressions and hear her cry out as he pumped
his cock in and out of her hairy twat. He was sure she had one.
Rob was quite hung. He measured almost six inches in the flaccid state and
when he was hard, it grew to just over eight inches of hard muscle. He didn't
come to that realization until he was well into college and happened into a
men's changing room late in his senior year. He couldn't remember why he was
there. He avoided almost all physical activity because he was always the butt
of most of the jokes due to his slight build and glasses. He was amazed that
of the twenty or so guys taking a shower at the time - not one had a penis
anywhere near his length. Now, Rob may have led a cloistered life as far as
actual sex was concerned but in the liberal America that was the seventies and
eighties he had seen his share of porno flicks. The guys in those videos had
cocks about the size of his, when he had a hardon. He just assumed that
everyone did. He got a real ego boost that day when he realized that everyone
didn't. Bigger is better, right !?
Rob had been summoned to Mr. Thorpp's office by Betty, the buxom, brunette
secretary. As usual she hardly acknowledged his presence. While waiting to
see Mr. Thorpp, Rob fantasized about pumping a huge load of cum all over her
tits. "Robbie...The 'boss' will see you now." Betty called across the room.
Rob hoped she noticed the semi that was growing down his pant's leg as he
walked toward Mr. Thorpp's office door.
Rob had no idea what this meeting was about. During the six years that he
had been working on the project, he had become instrumental in providing some
of the answers that would lead to the project's success. And while success
was a way off, he was confident that in just a couple of years "Sex" would
become a powerful weapon in the arsenal that defended America's freedom. He
was also confident that it would become a powerful weapon in his own arsenal.
Robert P. Thorpp was sitting behind his desk, going through some papers
when Rob stood in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Robbie, I'll be right with
you."
Rob sat and tried to relax a bit. He had rarely been called to Mr.
Thorpp's office as the man managed several of the projects that the company was
working on...And Rob was hardly high up enough in the pecking order to merit
many trips to the top floor. Maybe he was going to get a promotion ? He'd
heard through the grape vine that one of the senior researchers was leaving.
"Aah...Robbie...got a little bad news for you. Project "Sex" has been
canceled. There just hasn't been enough progress in the last few years to
warrant it's continuation. Plus, there is a large contingent of people who
thought the project was a little crazy to begin with and they have managed to
garner quite a bit of support in the last couple of months. There's good news
though, you've been chosen to close up the project and write up the final
report. That will keep you here for, I figure, six months at the most and by
then we might be able to transfer you to another project. Unfortunately,
right now the company is going through a little streamlining and quite a lot
of people are going to find themselves without work in a short time. You
should be real happy to have six months or so of wrapping up. I recommend
that you use it wisely and look for some other work. Be assured that I'll
give you a good letter of recommendation. You've been a valuable team member
here. Keep me appraised of your progress, wrapping up "Sex."
Rob had been dismissed. He didn't know what to say. After Mr. Thorp told
him the project was going to be canceled, the rest was just noise.
"Aaaah...Mr. Thorpp...I think we're real..."
"Robbie...The decision is final...Now I've got a lot of people to talk to
today and none of them are as fortunate as you, being asked to stay on for a
bit. You should be real happy that I chose you to wrap up the project. If
you're going to argue with me about the decision, I'm sure I can find someone
else to wrap up. Now, be a good lad and get started or..." Robert P. Thorpp
left the "or" hanging in the air.
Rob slowly got to his feet. He was in shock. Fuck ! What was he going
to do ? He wandered the halls on the way back to his small office and decided
to call it quits for the day. It was a little after three when he ended up
back in his apartment lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. All his plans
were destroyed in the few short minutes he spent in Thorpp's office. He was
devastated.
***** CHAPTER TWO *****
Rob mopped about all weekend and it wasn't until Sunday night that it came
to him. "Perfect !" He thought. He went to work on Monday with a big smile
on his face. Most of his co-workers figured it was because he was being
allowed another six months or so of pay checks. It wasn't though. For the
next six months, Rob was the hardest working son of a bitch in the company.
While the entire work force, from the lowliest research assistant to the
highest paid researcher and even the management, were constantly in fear of
losing their positions; Rob, on the other hand, came to work every day with a
determination that most had a hard time understanding and few could duplicate.
Most figured he was attempting to make such a name for himself that the
company would offer him a position when the project, he was working on, was
all wrapped up. They were wrong.
Rob had researched the company employment policies and come to realize
that he would be given a very nice severance package when he was terminated.
And he was sure that he would be terminated, regardless of what Mr. Thorpp told
him. The severance package plus his 401K plan would give him a nice little
nest egg with which to continue project "Sex" on his own. Every day before he
left work, he down-loaded all the files, he was organizing, to his lap top
computer. When he got home he up-loaded them to his home computer.
He spent most of his free time at home preparing cover letters and
resumes, which he sent to most of the West Coast Universities. Rob was
looking for a research assistant's job. He figured that he was way over
qualified for the positions, he was applying for, but that was the idea. He
needed the facilities that a major university could provide but didn't want
the responsibility of running his own program. He wouldn't have the time
anyway. Not if he was running his own program at home...And he would be -
Project "Sex" was not dead - just in hibernation. When Rob got terminated and
settled on the West Coast it would be full speed ahead. At the time the
project was canceled, Rob determined that "Sex" was about one or two years
away from becoming a reality. He factored in the fact that he would be
working on his own and figured that in three or four years, at the most, he'd
bring it off.
In his fifth month of wrapping up the project, Mr. Thorpp left the company
for a lucrative management position at a major university in the L.A. area.
Rob was excited and made an appointment to see him before he left for his new
position. Betty, Mr. Thorpp's buxom secretary, kept putting Rob off. Telling
him that Mr. Thorpp was very busy man, with the move and all. He may not have
the time to see him. Rob was determined and waited after work one day. Rob
caught Mr. Thorpp on the way to his car and begged and pleaded with him to put
in a good word for him at the university where he was going to manage several
large programs. Thorpp laughed in his face and told him that a major
university wouldn't touch the stuff he'd been working on, plus there were
countless others who were much more experienced than Rob was.
Five months ago Rob would have been devastated and manufactured all sorts
of doubts about his abilities but that afternoon, when Mr. Thorpp snubbed him,
Rob changed a little. In fact he changed a lot. He realized that in just a
few short weeks he would be running his own project, on his own, without the
support that a company or a university provided. He would have to become
accustomed to failure because the majority of research ended with failure.
Rob was determined to succeed !
Three weeks later he was terminated and packed up all his shit. He left
the following morning and drove straight through to L.A. He choose L.A.
because he had done some post-graduate work there in the early eighties and
because, like the song said, California girls were just about the hottest
chicks around - or something like that. Rob immediately found the job market
in California was tighter than he had ever imagined. He went from university
to university and found that not only was he not over qualified but that
people with Phd's were working as lab assistants and felt lucky to get those
jobs. He finally swallowed his pride and accepted a position as a pharmacy
assistant in a major food store chain. The pay was better than minimum wage
but a far cry from what he was making, working for Uncle Sam.
Since the pharmacy, he was working for, didn't have the facilities he
needed to continue Project "Sex," he was forced to spend some of his severance
pay to build a small lab in his apartment. After a year of laboring in both
the pharmacy and at home on "Sex," Rob came to the conclusion that he had been
overly optimistic about his ability to complete the project on his own. He
was discouraged and disappointed. Every night he would stay up until all
hours, brain storming for new ideas, different paths that would lead him to a
successful conclusion of the project. He was lucky he wasn't working at a
demanding job as he surely would have been fired by now.
Before he realized it, six years had passed. That was a far cry from the
two or three he figured it would take him to complete "Sex." It was Spring
time in Southern California and Rob was sitting at his kitchen table, laughing
as he watched the monkeys fuck for the forth time in the last hour. He
laughed at all the put downs he had endured during his thirty-seven years of
life and the last six years he had spent in the shity pharmacy job he had,
laughed at all the disappointments he had endured, laughed at the hell he had
gone through procuring the monkeys in the PRC (People's Republic of
California). He was delirious, laughing like a fool. He got up from the
table, went out and bought a bottle of the best whiskey he could find and got
rip roaring drunk. When he was in control of his faculties again, the
following morning, he mixed another dose of "Sex" into their food and fed the
monkeys. Within twenty minutes they were fucking like...Well, like rabbits.
Rob tested his monkeys until - no shit - they passed away from fucking so
much. He compared the dosage to their weights and then went out and begged,
borrowed and stole to obtain another set of monkeys. Even after cutting the
dosage in half several times, the results were the same. They actually fucked
themselves to death. Rob spent several weeks reviewing the data. While he
was excited about the results of the experiments, he was hesitant about
starting human testing, especially since all four of his test cases had died.
Total fear flooded his mind and body when he even thought about slipping one
of his "Sex" pills to a woman, let alone himself.
He managed to procure another set of monkeys and this time cut the
formulae to a tenth of what he had used before. He then decided to fed them
"Sex" only once a week. These monkeys lived. Rob couldn't explain it but the
monkeys appeared to look forward to their once a week orgies. In fact they
would even become depressed and anxious if they didn't receive their "Sex"
every week. Rob decide that the time had come.