From: gooley@netcom.com (Mark. Gooley)
Subject: yet more sniping at bad erotica
Followup-To: alt.fan.gooley
Organization: Netcom - Online Communication Services  (408 241-9760 guest) 
Date: Thu, 19 Nov 1992 01:41:12 GMT



<Here's another one: a piece of erotic writing found on the net, with my
 snide comments in these angle-brackets, aping a form favored by Richh.>


                A MOTHER"S LOVE <punctuated by BIFF>
                original fiction <oh, definitely> by 
		<name omitted to protect the guilty>

It was an early summer evening <in early summer, or early in the
evening?>.  I had been out with some friends for a late dinner <I
guess that clarifies it> when suddenly one of them became ill <I
can't say that I'm surprised>.  So our plans fell through and I
returned home earlier than expected <than who expected?>.

As I entered the front door, I noticed that the TV in the den was
<prancing around, admiring his careful job of drag> on.  The den is
accessible <to the handicapped?> from the hall via <air mail?> an
open door and from the kitchen via a swinging <naughty!> door. A
shuttered "window" also looked in on it <you Pee-Wee Herman or
something? do your chairs talk as well?> from the kitchen.  It was
originally supposed to be a dining room, but with kids formal dining
rooms are laughable <no more so than this story>.

Anyway, I heard a low murmur <as opposed to a loud murmur> of voices
<rather than steam-driven machinery> from the den, and figured that
Jeff, my 17-year-old son, had a friend over to watch TV.  Not wanting
to bother them <sure>, I entered the kitchen to fix myself a <triple
Everclear martini> sandwich.  But halfway to the 'fridge, I was stopped
in my <not someone else's?> tracks by <a bullet from an elephant gun,
which tore open your chest, killing you in seconds> a moan emanating
<not radiation?> from the den.  I crept up to the shutters, quietly
moved some of the louvers <to tears?>, and peered in.  There, by the
flickering light of the TV <kids these days just can't turn it off,
no matter what they're up to>, I saw Jeff on his knees in <prayer?> front
of the couch.  Seated on the couch was a young blonde girl, whom <wow!
"whom!"> I recognized as Barbara Carson <even though she was really a
talented female impersonator called Hymie Bergen>, one of the more
popular <sluts> cheerleaders from Jeff's school.  I had often heard
Jeff mooning <her with his bare posterior> about after her, despairing
that she was out of his reach <too tall?>.  I would really be cheering
for my shy son over this conquest, were it not for the fact that the
girl was naked <why should you give a damn, considering that you're
going to screw your own son, you hypocrite?>! 

Jeff, too, had most of his clothes off.  Clad only in his skivvies,
he was busily eating the teenage bombshell's pussy <call the SPCA!>!
She moaned <they always moan -- don't they ever laugh for pleasure?>
encouragment to him "Oh, yes, Jeffy.  That's good.  Eat my pussy <do
women really *say* that?>." And he eagerly complied <just the right
word there>.  I should have marched right in there to stop it <but
you're a voyeur>, but the poor boy would have been mortified.  In an
odd <yeah> way, I was pleased for him.  I had been so worried since
his father died that he would be <homosexual?> backward where it came
to women <he would do them up the arse, not knowing the function of the
vagina?>.  I decided to let the episode <yeah, it's as unreal as a TV
show, all right> run its course, then speak to him afterward.  In the
meantime, I had an opportunity to observe some real hot cunt-lapping! 
<You *are* a voyeur!>

The girl was getting closer and closer to orgasm <what a slowpoke>.
She kept encouraging him saying such <banal, stupid> things as "LICK
my clit.  Oh, yes, Jeff.  Are you sure you've never done this before?"
Eventually, however, she stopped talking and just moaned as her orgasm
approached <from across the room, bearing a letter on a silver salver>.
Finally she uttered <pretentious> a short scream, ground her crotch
<to a mirror-smooth finish> in my son's face, and flooded <the entire
valley> his tongue with her juices <lemon? pineapple? guava?>.  He kept
licking and sucking, until finally, with a shudder <of disgust> she
pushed him away.

Jeff stood up and shucked his <corn?> shorts.  I gasped inwardly when
his sweet <boiled in corn syrup?> young cock <a Bantam rooster?> sprang
into view.  Like the rest of him, it was man-high but boy-wide <a skinny
little prick, in other words>.  In fact, its lack of girth made it look
<like a pencil> even longer than it was <about two inches rather than one
and a half>.  I don't know where he got such an endowment <probably from
the National Endowment for Endowments>, but it wasn't from his father
<yeah, he's the spawn of the milkman>.  Anyway, he sat down next to the
girl and said  "What about me, Barb?  How about my turn?" Barbara got up
and turned <into Idi Amin?> to face him.  "Very nice," she said "but I'm
<a lesbian at heart?> done here.  You can go back to jacking off."

Poor Jeff's face fell <to the floor, and he picked it up and pressed it
back on>.  "But... I thought you liked me,"  he said.

"I like you fine..." the teasing bitch said cruelly <turgid prose, ahoy!>
as she dressed, "as a cuntlapper.  But there's no way I'm returning that
favor. If it got out <how?  I mean, really?> that I fucked or sucked a
dweeb like you, I would be the laughingstock of the school, not to mention
getting bothered by all the other geeks <look, the only way they'd know is
if he told them, and he can lie and say that anyway>.  Thanks for the cum,
baby, but I'm gone." and she flounced out of the house <with her flounces>.

Jeff just sat there stunned on the couch, his hard-on in no way diminished
<hard to diminish anything so tiny> by the shredding <his penis?> he had
just received.  If he hadn't been my son, I would have found it almost
comical <I find it boring and pathetic> the way his prick quivered all
alone without hope for relief <he can masturbate, or take a cold shower,
can't he?>.  With a half-sob, Jeff grabbed it and began jacking off
furiously <no self-control whatever.  Couldn't he stop and get some Kleenex
so that he won't get semen stains on the couch?>.

My heart <and depraved nature> went out to him and, without thinking, I
entered the den <no longer worried about his mortification> and approached
him.  "MOM!" he yelped, grabbing a throw pillow and trying to cover up. 
Then he just gave up and burst into tears <crybaby!>.

"It's okay, baby," I soothed him <writing that instead of "said" is
a mark of a hack>, wrapping my arms around him in a <death grip>
protective embrace <awwww!>.  "It's okay.  I heard the whole thing.  I'm
not mad at you <not even for being such a stupid git?>.  But that teasing
bitch has really pissed me off." <right; hunt her down and kill her>

As I soothed him <with soothing emollients?>, he sobbed out the story of
how she had come on to him.  He had been thrilled <doesn't take much> to
receive the attention of the object of his <juvenile lust> daydreams, and
when it got sexual, he could barely restrain himself.  But she had called
all the shots <talk of pussy-whipped wimps>, with the result I had witnessed
<and signed>.  It was painful to me to see such a good-looking young guy
at the mercy of any woman because of his lack of confidence <heck, I've
got no confidence but I'm not at the mercy of any woman>.  I decided to
help him the only way I knew <incest, presumably.  How charming>.

I slipped my hand down his torso and under the pillow.  His head shot up
in alarm as I grasped his still <small voice?> stiff <rigor mortis?> cock.

"It's okay, honey," I whispered, stroking him gently.  "You're a handsome
young stud <as sold in building supply stores and lumberyards> who
shouldn't have to put up with that from any woman <he could have insisted
she degrade herself first, no?>.  Most women would be proud to go to bed
with you <ha ha bloody ha! are most women particularly proud of going to
bed with anybody? pleased, willing, but proud?>.  I would be <being an
incestuous pervert>."

"You would, Mom?" he husked <fifty ears of corn to keep his mind off sex>.

"Of course I would.  You have a fine body <with a teeny tiny set of male
organs> and I could see you really know how to please a woman <of perverse
tastes, like you>.  Now let me show you how a woman can please you."  <Not
one shred of reluctance on either side.  Just like that.  Incest taboo?
what incest taboo?  Amazing that they didn't do this years before.>

I pushed away the pillow and dropped my head to his lap.  His involuntary
gasp was immediately replaced by a moan <everybody moans, ho hum> as I
vacuumed <the rug?> his prick <with a wet/dry vac to remove the foul layer
of rancid smegma> into my mouth <ah, you double as a vacuum cleaner!>.  Its
lack of girth was marvelous <about pencil thick, yes?>, as I could slide
it deep in without straining my jaw <important, that!>.  In fact, I deep-
throated him <as if he were Woodward and Bernstein?> on the first stroke
<of midnight? of the round of golf?>, something I could never do with
any other man.  As my nose bottomed out in his pubes, I inhaled the <foul
stench of his unwashed crotch> sweet musky smell of youth <available in
the popular 6-ounce and the economy 12-ounce sizes at your drugstore>,
and was immediately intoxicated <he has a yeast infection that's producing
alcohol?>.  I knew that I was going to do everything <wash him, change his
diapers...> for this young stud, and I wanted to because I loved him
<carnally, anyhow>.

Less than ten quick sucking strokes later <just like a clock!>, Jeff was
spewing his young seed <as opposed to his old seed, which he kept for later>
into my mouth.  His orgasm came without warning <nonsense>, and actually
hit as only the tip of his cock was in my mouth.  My cheeks bulged out
with his load <physiologically unlikely>, and I swallowed quickly <gee,
could you get all that down in only *one* swallow?>.  Between spurts, I
slammed my head back down his shaft <causing it to collapse and kill three
hapless miners>, and milked him dry with the muscles of my throat <yeah,
sure>.  When his orgasm subsided <just the right word!>, I lifted my head
and gazed at him.  His eyes shone with love and gratitude. <such a simple
little soul> Wordlessly I pulled his head to mine and kissed him deeply.
<"Awwwww, Mo-om, you're making me eat my own semen!  Yuck!"> The funny
thing was <well, *I'm* snickering>, I never fully realized the "impropriety"
of what we were doing until that kiss <of course not, you depraved old sex
maniac>.  Sucking off my son did not seem out of place, but french kissing
him did <no accounting for a diseased mind, I guess>.  Well, I was never
one to deal with paradoxes like that <or anything deeper than your own
warped lusts>, so I mentally <with what? you actually have a *mind*?>
shrugged it off and stuck my tongue nearly down his throat <what a parade
of anatomical freaks we see in these tales!>.

We broke the kiss and Jeff whispered, "Oh, Mom, thank you <now say, "You're
welcome" to him>.  I love you <carnally> so much."

"I love you, son."  I looked down and, as expected, he was only slightly
less <goofy-looking> hard after his come than before <stretching this
"youthful stamina" bit, aren't you?>.  "I can see you're still turned on.
<it's controlled by the toggle switch behind his left ear> That's good,
because I want to show you so much more."

"Anything you want, Mom," he <said?> grinned.

"No, dear," I <said?> corrected him gently "anything you want."

I stood up then, and began to strip <the finish off of the end tables?>.
Within seconds, my skirt was in a heap on the floor, my blouse was next
to it <magically! all by themselves!> and I had kicked off my shoes and
my panty hose.  I paused in only my bra and panties, knowing that if I
took them off that it would be the point of no return <you`ve already
said he could work his wicked will on you, so why pause?>.  I looked at
my loving son, avidly drinking in my <dripping vaginal fluid?> firm,
mature body <fat, flabby, senile monstrosity of a body, you mean>.  His
eyes lifted <themselves out of their sockets and flew out of the window>
to meet mine in a loving, imploring <puppyish?> look.  "What the hell,"
<hell?  definitely> I thought, and undid the clasp to my bra.  

The change in his face was electrifying <and provided a steady generating
capacity of 150 megawatts to the rural grid>.  His eyes lit up <not
surprising, with all that generating capacity> and a hungry smile <which
nipped off into the kitchen and ate all the leftovers in the fridge> came
to his <buttocks?> face.  His tongue slipped out <and fell to the floor>,
moistening his <ankles?> lips, and he began to look less like a timid youth
and more like a <fair young maiden?> hungry wolf.  I loved it <you would>.

Jeff was mesmerized by my tits <they murmured: "You are getting sleepy, oh
so sleepy," and swung a pocket watch back and forth before his eyes>, which
are a nice <as opposed to a nasty> 38D size <why are breasts always D-cup
in these things, eh?  Can't the perpetrators imagine a man appreciating
small breasts?>.  I had always been proud of them <especially after they
won scholarships to Yale and Princeton>, though I usually dressed to downplay
them (not out of shame <why not?>, but to avoid being hassled by ogling
leches <as in cafe' con leche>).  But I didn't mind this ogler in the least.
Under his gaze <and some polyurethane resin?>, my nipples hardened out.
Even taking my panties off was anticlimactic <getting this far in this story
is anticlimactic>, as my son barely noticed, so taken was he with my tits
<typical immature American male, who can appreciate nothing else>.

I moved to the sofa, planting my knees outside <in the garden, where they
sprouted and grew into a fine pair of knee bushes> of his thighs and
settling my ass down on his lap <did he like having a braying gray donkey
in his lap? how did it fit?>, his rock hard prick between us <he detached
it from his body?>. 

"Oh, Mom," he breathed <in a breathy feminine voice>, "I want you!"

"Take me <out to the ballgame/ Take me out with the crowd/ Buy me some
peanuts and Cracker Jack (tm)/ I don't care if I never get back...>, Jeff,
I'm yours."

With that, he buried his head <in the garden> between my <severed knees>
breasts and we were off <to the ballgame?  to the races?>. He voraciously
licked and sucked the nipples, biting <hard enough that you bled?> gently.
Like that teasing bitch <at least it's a consistent epithet> Barbara, I
could not believe he had no prior experience <I can, but I don't care>.
Unlike her, however, I planned to put his expertise <heh> to full use
<in designing suspension bridges and other engineering projects>.  I
dropped my hand <on the floor, and the cat came up and started lapping at
the blood> between us, and began rubbing his cock against my very moist
<fudge brownies?> pussy lips.  He responded by bringing a hand <one of
three> up between my thighs and cupping my pussy with thumb and forefinger.
<small pussy you got there, especially for a woman who's given birth>  Like
a magnet <what an original metaphor!>, his thumb beelined for my clit <which
is made of cast iron?>, and soon I was bouncing up and down on his hand
like I was riding a horse <pretty big hand, or else you've shrunken>.  He
began a steady pressure <on the rebel forces?> upward with his hand. 
Simultaneously <ooh! big word!>, he began trailing his <three-foot-long>
tongue down my torso.  Soon I was fully raised up <on the last day> on my
knees, my back arched, pushing my cunt into his face <where it stuck firmly>.
He chewed my muff <and your 24-button gloves, and your favorite evening
gown, and the carpet> vigorously, and I came like gangbusters <firing a
brace of pistols into his abdomen>.

I was in awe of my son's technique <acquired by reading sex manuals when
he should have been doing homework -- hence his D average in school>.  And
I had to have that beautiful cock inside me <why not cut it off and have
it for a late-night snack?>.  I stood <him?> up, and pulled him up after me. 
We embraced and kissed deeply.  I could taste my <seven natural fruit>
juices on his lips, and it drove me even <Lauara Ingalls> wilder.  Together
we sank down to <greater depravities> the carpet.  I laid back before him,
spreading my legs <on pumpernickel> wide in invitation.  "Come on, Jeff,
come fuck your mother <realism in dialogue here>."

"Oh yeah,' he groaned as he <collaspsed in agony?> leaned forward on his
knees.

I felt his hips <were rather plump and effeminate for a man's> between my
knees, between my thighs.  I reached forward for his silky-smooth <pussy-
whipped, silicone-lubricated?> young cock.  As he sank <further into
depravity> forward, I guided it towards <the enemy warship, which it
struck amidships, exploding> my pussy.  As it slipped through my hand,
it left a cool slimy trail <it's essentially a slug> of pre-cum <what
pre-schoolers produce?> across my palm <over your camels and into your
oasis -- talk of water pollution!>.  He paused as the head hit me square
between <the eyes, killing you instantly> my pussy lips.  He looked
inquiringly at me <the halfwit>.  In answer, I raised my palm to my mouth,
deliberately <as opposed to indecisively> licked off his spunk <hee hee>
while staring into his eyes, and said "Fuck Mommy." <fuck this nonsense>

He did <this one-sentence paragraph is comical>.

I felt every inch of his young meat <a lamb chop?> slide into me, and I
knew I would do anything <how about suicide?> for his pleasure.  As his
long strokes <what's his displacement? idling rpm?> brought us each
closer to <nausea?> orgasm, I envisioned all the ways I would please him.
I also knew that I would make that bitch Barbara pay for <his sex-change
operation?> the way she used Jeff <as a vacuum cleaner>.  Shaking my head
slightly to clear it of her unpleasant presence <she possessed you like a
dybbuk?>, I clamped my pussy muscles tighter <with a pair of C-clamps>
on my son's prick.  The increased friction <reduced engine life?> brought
us both to the edge <and you both fell into the lake of fire, where the
worm dies not and the fire is not quenched, tee hee>.  Jeff groaned
through clenched teeth <was he enraged?> "Oh, Mom, I'm gonna cum."
"Do it," I hissed <how clever to hiss the whole sentence when only the
last word contains the letter "s"!>, "cum in Mommy's pussy <can you
conceive of anybody saying this in real life?>.  Shoot your hot jizz <as
opposed to the icy cold variety> all in my pussy. Cum!"  Immediately I
felt the first splash <runny stuff, what? have you been feeding him right?>
of his jizz hit the depths of my pussy <uh, thought that there wasn't that
much sensation deep down, but I suppose I should believe you rather than
a book on physiology, right?>.  It triggered <the bomb you had had implanted
when you were a secret agent, and you both blew to smithereens> my orgasm,
and each spasm of <your epileptic fit?> my cunt brought forth another jet
<fighter-bomber to drop cluster bombs on you> of his cum.  Each jerk <who
writes stories like this one should be ridiculed mercilessly> of his prick
increased my orgasm and so on, back and forth, <until the feedback loop
caused you both to explode with a force equal to ten kilotons of TNT> our
orgasms building <model housing projects for the homeless>, extending
<lines of credit>, crescendoing <despite the clear decrescendo markings
in the score>, then subsiding <like the ground above an abandoned mine,
with great property damage and loss of life>.

Jeff sank into <the depths of the pit of sulfur> my arms and kissed me
<ho hum> as his hard-on subsided within me <almost Biblical expression --
you a failed fundie or something?>.  Exhausted, he rolled off me onto his
back.  I gently bent down and licked our mingled spendings <forty-three
cents in pennies and nickels> from his cock.  We fell asleep <boredom finally
getting to you the way it has to me?> together on the floor.  My last waking
though was how I would fuck <three stallions and a wild boar> my son in the
morning.  Did I dream that night? <Do I care?> Who needs dreams! <Clearly
incest is enough to satisfy every ambition you have in life -- how sweet.>

<Yawn.  These are getting dull, and it's hard to think up anything really
new when the stories all sound alike except for details.>

<Mark.
gooley@netcom.com>
Newsgroups: talk.bizarre