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From : RPALADIN@IX.NETCOM.COM
To : ROBIN ROBERTS
Subj : Submittal Max 11................................etc
Numb : 12371 Date : 03/10/96 5:59a
Read : NO Reference : None
Conf : 1 - E-Mail to/from InterNet Private : YES
From: rpaladin@ix.netcom.com (Richard Fischer)
To: robin@backdrop.com (Robin)
Date: Sun, 10 Mar 1996 13:01:29 -0800
Subject: Submittal Max 11................................etc
This is another story from my imagination. If you do not
appreciate such, don't take offense. Just go on to the next
posting.
If you are under age or immature forget the following.
If you are offended by non consensual sex, violence, S&M ...
ETC then go on to the next posting.
You have been warned!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Max's Cafe # 11
by Paladin
Meanwhile back at the bar Max's attention was divided between the
images of the events taking place in Philipie's yard and the
customers lining up for Sonia's lip servicing at the card table.
True the camera was recording the remote events but, well, Max
wanted to see it first hand also.
Max was sure he missed getting his rent from a few hands of cards
while he was enthralled, observing the shearing / fucking in
Philipe's yard, Those who were past over got the 'circus' gals
mouth for free. What a give away for the bar!
Sonia was sucking #20 or was it #21. The dicks just kept coming.
She would be only half way done with a slimy meaty rod and she
would hear another chair draw up to the table. Another pair of
knees would appear at the periphery of her vision. They would
frame another stiffening slimy organ in a forest of icky smelly
pubic hair.
Her lips were numb. Her neck hurt and she knew she would never
get rid of the slimy salty taste of cum from her taste buds.
While she was thinking of her troubles, she lost her
concentration on the job at hand....
Sonia commenced to coughing as a load was going down. It went
down the wrong way. This loss of her concentration caused the
spew to be deposited in her bronchial tubes. The result was now
her nose commenced to running cum.
<OH GOD... Yuch..... Will this never end.> went through her
brain as she struggled to breath. Now she not only tasted cum but
she smelled cum with every ragged breath she managed.
"Max I think this un is plumb full up." came the comment as a
hand seized her hair, and pulled her straight up. While she was
choking, and attempting to bend over her new assignment, a grisly
old face poked itself under the corner of the table, and went
on,
"Why she done swallowed so much cum her hair's done turned all
white. Max we need another one. One that is really really
thirsty. One like that red beavered poon I heard about from
this afternoon. Yea my old horn 's up and I ain't had none of
this here gal's mouth loving going ta do er for me. Why I ain't
had none for a month of sundays. Bring out that other circus
gal... The boys say her poon be pure red velvet. You know the
red beavered one they done told me of." the old man demanded.
Annoyed, Max turned his attention to the snivling novice cock
sucker's table and retorted,
"Now you hold that there pecker of yourn by the tweezers you'll
uses to find her and my employee will do her directly... That is
if'n your sure you don't want me to have George fetch old Brucie.
Seems to me you and he done hit it off right friendly like, last
time you come in here....." Max stroked his shaggy beard and went
on, "Or was it one of Sam's sheep you was mooning for them?" Max
took a pull on another long neck bottle to moisten his
disposition. The video had caused him to go dry... It had also
got his 'horn' up again for some poon.
The old man let go of Sonia's hair and resumed his seat at the
table. He reached into his vest and drew out a draw string poke.
"I plumb got a hankering for that red un Max. This hear suckie
suckie white um just don't get my old pecker up." the old man
complained.
"Rob that there poon be private stock .... for the moment... Why
I'm thinking on keeping her private for my own pecker... Then too
their is the fact that she's done fallen in love with my old
meat, from the last time..." Max answered. "Why she be upstairs
right now just a pining and a strumming her bud for me. And you
want me to betray that tender feeling... You is plumb heartless.
Probably got a stone in you chest."
"Ya big ugly bug faced fool why in tarnation would a gal like
that even want to be in the same room with you... I know...
Lets see if it is love or .... what.... How bout $1000." The
old man answered.
"Naaa you old billy goat, sides where'd you get a thousand
dollars american, if 'n I was to says ya??" Max demanded.
The old fellow smiled and pored out a dab of sparkling yellow
metal from his poke onto the green felt covered table.
"Gold good nuff for trade hereabouts?" he inquired. "I'm plumb
out o' green backs but this here be better anyway."
A hush fell over the crowd. All eyes went to the little bit of
gleaming metal on the felt table covering. The old desert rat
had been out there for years and judged by most loco. But here
was a factor no one had taken into account. (Had he found the
mother load??)
"Why that ain't near nuff." Max observed. "It'd take ... let me
see... 5 .... no .. 6 ounces to make a thousand dollars.."
The old man shuffled the poke again and more of 'The Sweat of the
sun' as the natives called it, flowed out.
"I recon 3 ounces be more that nuff to make a thousand and a
right nice tip for the poon." the weathered old man observed.
"Now go get the scales you use for the loco weed to measure it
up. That is if you ain't craw fishing on the deal, Max."
Max was in a conundrum. He wanted to keep the red beaver for his
self, and he wanted that poke and the two seemed mutually self
exclusive. He went to get the scales and put it on the bar. He
turned the adjustment knob full tilt seriptiously.
<Be the most spensive poon the old fart done ever had.> Max
thought confident in his deception of the old desert rat.
"Now this here coin be an honest ounce." the old man said
removing a Canadian Maple Leaf from his tattered jeans. He placed
it on the scales and to everyone's surprise it came up shy of the
scales indicated ounce. (Obviously Max had been selling um their
smoke cheaper than he ought... Such a benefactor to the lonely
cowboy out there on the range.)
"Dang thing must be broke." Max observed.
"NA I think it just be out of adjustment." George commented. "I
think we done been giving away the smoke as of late." Putting a
better light on the situation.
The crowd that had gathered to see the yellow metals weighing
groaned, but looked on with interest as the desert rat and George
adjusted the scale so it read an honest ounce.
<Damn smart old fart.> Max thought.
When the adjustment was completed Max took possession of the coin
and bit it. Sure nuff the metal deformed proclaiming it was indeed
the soft yellow metal and not copper or lead.
Max made to place the coin in his pocket but the old man
demanded,
"I'll have my coin back Max. It be my good luck piece, you know.
Got great sentimental value, then too the thing be worth big money
too."
"Oh yea, I plumb forgot." Max answered reluctantly giving back
the deformed coin. "Now let me see ... Seems to me that gold was
$ 200 or was it 250 an ounce..."
"You tarnation idiot it was close to $400 last paper I saw." the
wise prospector demanded.
Billie Bob brought forth the financial page and settled the
matter before blood was shed. Reluctantly Max agreed to 3
ounces but made a mental note of where the old man put the poke
in his vest ... for future reference.
"Rob you got a claim somewheres up their in the hills north or
ere?" Max inquired.
"I sure nuff got me a find but it ain't north and I ain't saying
where it be. Only me and old 'Nelly' know where it be and we
ain't known to be right talkative. You are welcome to talk to
'Nelly' nd see if you can get that old mule to talk. Why if'n
you did I'd split my poke with you. Be plumb nice to have someone
to talk out there at my find."
"Now you done got my coin. Bring on the poon!!" he demanded.
Max looked at the screen longingly. He had the 3 ounces of yellow
metal. He would have been happy to leave it at that but the crowd
would be disappointed. Reluctantly he started from behind the
bar.
"Come on upstairs you old fool and I won't be responsible for
your continued health. If'n she pulls that wilted old stick you
call your dick with her poon.... Just you member, I warned you.
that gal got the snappiest poon I done ever seed." Max retorted
as he and the old prospector started up the stairs.
The crowd surged forward and followed the pair to the locked room
where Jan was being held.
**********************************
Jan perceived a huge herd of feet approaching.
With a groan she raised her legs up high facing the door and
commenced to strumming her bud.
<Why did she feel soo wet... She should be horrified!! She should
be dry as a bone in this waste land but her body secretly
started the buildup for some attention. Surely the monster could
not get it up again.... but the.....>
She heard someone fiddling with the lock.
<OH god he is here.... Why am I flowing. What has he made of
me...>
"Now you see! This old gal been keeping it nice and mushy for
me...AIN'T YOU BITCH??" Max demanded
"Ye.... Yes.... Sir..." Jan said straining her neck to see her
owner.
Framed by her legs she perceived Max's demonic continence, and
then her gaze showed the old man... Now her eyes focused on the
sea of male faces seeing her in this horrible position. She
started to lower her legs and covered her slit with her hand.
"It's OK gal these here is friends of mine. I share poon with
um.." Max started with a scowl starting on his face.
Jan saw the change of expression and quickly locked her knees up
and returned to rubbing her sexy little organ. She feared Max and
his parting promise to kick her hole full of boot leather.
She lay back, stared at the ceiling and awaited the monsters
disposition or her treasures. She would have no voice in their
use so she tried to lose herself in masturbation.
<Fuck the bastards... Fuck um all...I probably will...> Jan
decided in her mind...
More to come.....