See why virtual parties are better than ones with real-live people? First, no clean up afterwards. And second, we can invite international guests, like Isabel Kerr, who says:
"Some things play in your mind for weeks, some come back to haunt you years later. For several weeks I have been thinking about, giggling about really, because I LOVED it, Sommer's Halloween story 'Old Wives' Tale,' an erotically engaging story of a lovely young woman who becomes enthralled one Halloween night.
It has been 20 odd years, since that photo was taken of me one Halloween in the Castro, that time still haunts me, and I did not connect the two, but when I went in to refresh my memory about Sommer's tale, this delightfully delirious excerpt jumped out at me and I howled laughing. The comparison ends there, because I can't even begin to approach her creativity, that would be much too tall an order, but she is such an inspiration."
An excerpt:
He pulled over just a foot or so and blocked me. He blocked me! Damn him and his fake Vampire Lestat costume. I slammed my car into park and flung open the door. I was hot. I couldn’t breathe and I was flossing with my own thong. My patience limit had been exceeded. Before I could get to the driver’s side door, it swung open and about seven feet of hard-muscled man unfolded from the tiny car.
“How tall are you?” I breathed. I didn’t care that I sounded dumb. I didn’t care that I had just flipped him the bird and cursed him out. My heart did a drunken little two-step in my chest and something between my legs was keeping time.
“Excuse me?”
“Tall. How tall? Nine feet? Ten?” I babbled. Part of my brain had awakened and I could feel that part of me, the intelligent part, rolling its eyes with frustration.
“Six foot seven inches tall,” he replied. His speech was slightly stilted, halting somehow, as if English were his second language. “And you are angry.”
I blinked. What? I had been angry. Now I was mystified and ... what?
“And aroused,” he said and I felt the hair on my neck stand up.
Before heading back to the crush on the dance floor, Isabel adds, "Read the rest at ruthiesclub.com to see how this wonderful piece comes to a climax and you'll howl too. It's hauntingly lovely and no old wives' tale."
XXX,
Alison
3 comments:
Wow, Isabel! What a fucking hot picture. Worthy of a story all its own! Thanks so much for your make-me-blush-till-I-die participation. I love that story, too. Everyone should run to Ruthie's to see the whole deal and then some. Or you could cheat.
XOXO
S
It is my pleasure Sommer. It's a tough call on which story to single out, they are all so wonderful. (Thanks for the cheat, I would hate for anyone to miss this one.)
Thanks too, and a fucking hot time was had by all! I will take that as inspiration!
xx
Thanks for reminding me of this Hallowonderful Sommer story, Isabel!
I could taste my underpants—they were that far up my ass crack.
Don't forget to floss after you're done eating, Smut Girl!
I couldn’t breathe and I was flossing with my own thong.
There you go. Good job!
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