Death of the Salesman.

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Sara came out looking ravishing. She looked so damn good it wasn't funny. My dick was still hard by the way and got even harder. I stood up and her old boyfriend chuckled, now I see why he was trying to sit on your lap... The pair burst out laughing and Sara and I embraced as she rubbed on my bulging hard on. Her little satin shirt was felt good against my bare fore arms.

And then we went out to a club where we were meeting the rest of the blonds friends. And so it was; my sexy little minx was hot in her little mini skirt and top. We danced and rubbed against each other all night long as we watched the blond flirt shamelessly and chase after Sara's old boyfriend, every once in awhile giving his friend some attention. Sara bet that she would fuck them both by the end of the night. I said no doubt. His friend was getting pushy, but it wasn't too bad. We sat in a booth holding each other while the two boys sandwiched the blond on the dance floor. They were shameless.

So we left the club. On the way home Sara was flashing me her panties from the passenger seat and the blond in the back between the two boys was doing the same too, but unknowingly. She was making out with her new man and rubbing both of their crotches. I will admit she looked good, but my mind was on Sara's wet panties in the passenger seat. I had been working so hard the past few months it was really a pleasure for me to be with my old friend and let go a little and for the first time in a while I was starting to feel a little humble and relaxed.

At the apartment we let them have Sara's bedroom. My little Sara and I would use the study room. It had ‘semi' clean sheets and we weren't going to need a big bed anyways. She loved to sleep on top of me. The three kids were so worked up by then they went straight to fucking right in front of us on the dinner table. She wasn't even out of her sun dress and those big tits were flopping about as she was getting fucked from both sides as she lay on her back across the corner of the table. It was funny to both of us. Being the horny little devil Sara is she pulled my dick out and started to suck it. Her ass was in the air displaying her wet panties to anyone who looked. As she sucked me off on the couch I was fingering her with no mercy. She was squirming and squealing in delight.

Her boyfriend's friend came running over to her upturned panty covered bottom leaving a very vocal blond to scream with pleasure without the dick in her mouth. Sara noticed instantly and changed positions, obviously she had some dealings with the assholes unwanted attention before. Her soaking wet panty covered crotch was sliding up and down my dick now. The asshole was trying to figure out the best way to get his dick near her face. I whispered in her ear something crazy... She giggled and asked if he liked S and M. The drunk asshole literally jumped on to the couch and shoved his dick towards her face. She grinned real big and grabbed his member firmly by the base of it and with a squeal of delight she hit the top of his dick as hard as she could. The couple on the table stopped fucking they were laughing so hard. For whatever reason the shell shocked asshole was felt pity for by the blond and she got up off of the table and grabbed him and her old boyfriend by the hand and led them into the main bedroom.


Sara was still humping and sliding against my cock as she lay with her back against me and kissed and licked whatever skin of my body her little upper torso could twist and reach. We stayed like that for twenty minutes until she came violently against me. I carried her into the study and laid her on the bed. Stripped my cloths and went to get some glasses and I took a wine bottle from the kitchen. I opened the bottle and poured us each a glass and we drank together propped up by the cushions on the bed and talked as we both dished out one handed fore play and kissing every once in awhile in between interludes.

After three glasses each the bottle was almost empty; it was late early morning. The drunker we got the more serious we got. It was almost four in the morning; the occupants on the other side of the apartment had long since passed into slumber. She got up and turned on her computer checked her email and some other such bullshit things. I asked if she wanted to look at porn with me and she giggled and swiveled in the chair and spread her legs at me. The only clothing she still had on was her sexy panties. She finished and instead of shutting it down she hit the rest button on the power supply. I had already noticed the frequency jammer earlier when I was surfing porn earlier. She had a nice little set up on her machine too, I was impressed. But I was still the most up to date and technologically advanced teacher of such things and I found it all out already; even the SS program running from the modem card which product numbers didn't match the factories. I already knew why she had turned it on, it was part of the reason I had come out to Northern California, part of the reason why she hit the assholes dick so hard.

Right as she snuggled into me she was about to tell me everything about her machine and I laughed at her and said I know before she could even start. She giggled and retorted; I should have known Mr. Know it all. Then I told her how I had already shorted the hard coded circuit in her modem that was stealing her clock cycles and jamming the standard NSA circuit and left it cloned to send fake data back out to the SS and still let the mother board (which is the NSA circuit) work without the unlawful and unwanted intrusions by the corrupted United States government service, but I was still glad she had that signal jammer on because I was piggy backing out on it as we spoke and I wanted the SS to think I was ‘locked in'. She seriously started to cum and I was only playing with her nipples as we had been talking. Her orgasm was so big she literally went limp as a rag doll against me.

I reached over to the night stand and took a tiny sip of the last little bit of the wine and put the bottle to her lips and let her have the last few sips of the highly expensive liquid. 1793 was a good year. She was still in the throws of ecstasy and pleasure as she greedily let each sip soak into her mouth. She was so tired she was asleep before she could finish the last sip. I drained it and held her tightly to me till sunrise when I got up and turned off the computer and jammer. I snuggled with her still sleeping soundly for another two hours. The others were no where near waking up before noon; where as we shared a bottle of wine at the end of the night they had been drinking and smoking all night long starting on the way to the club.

That was the funny thing about the SS controlled people. They are the ones who cock block and insist you drink more and annoy you till you just want to knock them out. An entire faked social partying standard to be able to keep your marks in sight until they can try to install a controller circuit or bug when a window of opportunity appears. Fucking lying stealing sacks of shit that don't deserve to be alive basically. The first thing they do is conditional response the target to the general proletariat's demographics of recycled base waves to be able to unconditionally reposition the well rounded culturally adjusted individual they are marking, replacing, or monitoring. They use the same tactics no matter what they are doing. They ruin the individual's life, make them discontented, and steal and acquire anything and everything that they possible can for free or a next to nothing price. It is sickening; it is not living or any standard of policing the living.

They were effecting the quality of life and the affecting the standard of the American Dream, but not only that they had taken a proactive approach of actively surveiling my so called ‘X' generation of NSA and FBI agents that had gone on to live in the private sector and report in for duty every few months and generally report misconduct and help the investigators catch the ‘real' criminals who kept managing to escape the ordinary FBI agents inquiries and investigations.

It is a scandal that lead right up to the President of the United States, the SS, and some various other groups of crooked individuals and a couple of organizations. Don't quote me I didn't say shit, but don't ever fuck with my family.

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6 Comments
Alvaron53Alvaron53almost 17 years ago
Something died all right, the story

Mediocre writing as the author's "plot" -- I use the term generously -- wanders all over the landscape. The prose is disjointed, and I've no idea to whom or what "SS" refers? Schutzstaffel? Secret Service? Social Security? Some supersecret group of neocons devoted to Truth, Justice and Bigger Condoms?

<P>

The main character doesn't seem realistic to me. When FBI agents boast about being able to bankrupt anyone they choose at will, that seems a bit off to me, sounding like a puerile fantasy instead of a genuine ability. Our hero's understanding of all things techno-geek was truly amazing. I've no idea what that techno-babble meant at the end of the story but I'm sure it means something to someone. The characters don't feel real, acting more like emotionless automatons than human beings.

<P>

If there was romance here, I couldn't localize it. I think some recreational drugs ingested before reading would've helped. Bad fiction this is. Thank you for your effort.

bornagainbornagainalmost 17 years ago
A Really Great Story

That was a great story Moked Out i think you hit the nail on the head i have a brother who is a special agent in the FBI he took his training in Quantico .

Atlanta,Ga

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Hmm...

At one time; the orginal old SS used to mean Super Star. The TV wouldn't even give you comercial time to advertise if you weren't at Star level yet. Used to be you had to start at the Radio level; if you got enough listeners you got an upgraded chip:meant you had to 'promote well being' to the general population. IF you worked your way high enough with 'real' supporters(ie. the viewers and the end products of your working to alleviate liveing conditions); you couldn't take campaign contributions, have to make and spend your own money. If you weren't smart enough to do that you weren't even considered for a TV implant. "Fucking MENSA" is what we used to call it. IF you were smart enough and fast enough you got into the real organization 'MENSB'. "Fucking MENSA\C" started celebratie hunting and tracking legal old money to steal. "I saw stars falling all around me." I am that proactive; they are my friends. I hate crooked ogditioners with a passion; they are normally slave traders or 'human organ' farmers.

*REM*

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Gibberish

Next time at least try rereading it when you're sober before submitting it.

AnonymousAnonymousover 18 years ago
Just a bunch of words...

Didn't understand this at all. Maybe invest in a grammer checker, since you've got improper, though correctly spelled words everywhere.

What first threw me were your agency names:

SS? I know they let all those Nazi's into the US after WW2, but to let them set up shop... I think not. You're probably referring to the Secret Service, but tell me, what sane individual, not a member of a militia or the communist party, would refer to them as SS? I'm sure those people are just as common as Germans named Adolph.

The Agency, is CIA. Nobody in the real world refers to the FBI as such. It isn't even and agency, but a Bureau, like a piece of furniture to hang and store dresses (JEH joke partially omitted :-)

NSA: They're codebreakers and Elint gatherers. They aren't operations, but geeks. Heck, at least NASA has Seal Teams assigned to it (is it 5? I forget which) to protect the shuttle. BTW, didn't get the NASA joke.

Then there's that Ranger thing. Not so smart, since that name is already in use (Army Rangers) but you probably didn't get that, or its a Lone Ranger reference of some sort? Sadly, I don't care.

This story lacks any coherency, almost as if it were a 2 page slice of a 3000 page novel. We lack context. What are these goverment bodies at work? Why are they undermining markets and business? etc, etc...

It's your job to clarify that.

The rest of your story is just the meanderings of some schizophrenic in dire need of medication.

"that blond," "this blond" who? How about replacing these and all those pronouns with proper nouns, get better action descriptions, but better yet, transition more on the action sequences. You are just chopping it up so badly, I'm getting seasick.

Even that technical jargon at the end made little sense. Aside from being all jibberish, why short out that "hard coded circuit in her modem that was stealing her clock cycles and jamming the standard NSA circuit." It was stealing cycles to operate, but now he's got to duplicate that process in the CPU. Why bother with all that work when he's generating false data to begin with?

Then's there that bit about piggybacking on a signal jammer... How in hell do you piggyback without a carrier wave? Or are you telling me that jammer is putting out carrier waves, ie it's not a jammer.

My advice: don't talk about things you don't understand. If you need that then don't bother with a technical explanation.

Oh and get an editor you can bounce plot ideas off.

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