Gratitude

"Finally!" Noam said, as he finished a final edit of the story he had been working on for weeks. He had poured the full measure of his erotic imagination into his creation, inspired by lust and self pleasure as he wrote. It had been difficult work, crafting his phrases to provide maximum sexual excitement for his readers, and he smiled to imagine the sessions of sweet masturbation he sincerely hoped his work would lead to. It afforded him great satisfaction to be able to excite and give pleasure to other men -- and perhaps women as well -- who enjoyed the same kinds of wicked fantasies that aroused him.

Logging into his favorite story site, "Excitica!" he sent off his latest literary baby: "The Gift of Tongues: how pretty nurse Missy found the perfect birthday present for shy Dr. Tim", by Noam de Plume. When the upload was complete, he repaired to bed, and resolved to be patient while waiting for responses to his newest offering. He fell asleep while pretending to be Dr. Tim...

Some time later, elsewhere in the world, a man named John came upon "The Gift of Tongues." The title excited him, and his heart beat rapidly as he downloaded the story. He began to read and his excitement grew, as did his erection, which he stroked and fondled gently, imagining nurse Missy's bedside manner. Every sentence stirred him, every erotic image deepened his arousal, and he masturbated with sweet abandon until, having held out quivering on the edge to the very end, he exploded in orgasmic bliss at the very moment when Missy and her friends brought lucky Dr. Tim to the same point of release with their clever, naughty mouths.

"Oh my God!" gasped John. Overwhelmed with pleasure and gratitude, he immediately penned (well, typed, actually) a response to the author, detailing the excitement and pleasure he had derived from his work. It was only fair to do so, he felt, and he sensed intuitively that the writer might share somehow in his own pleasure and arousal. He hoped so, at any rate, and he hoped, too, that a correspondence might arise between them -- and in fact such a correspondence did develop, one mutually exciting and enjoyable to both parties.

In another part of the world, Bubba downloaded the same story. "Oh yeah!" he said upon reading the title; and, taking another swig of beer and wiping the fried chicken grease off his hands onto his shirt, he began to jerk off, rapidly and mechanically. He came before he was half through -- he could jerk a lot faster than he could read. When he was done he looked at the invitation to send a response to the author, at the bottom of the page. He squinted and scowled, confused. "Fuck that!" he belched, and reached for another beer.

In yet another place, Jerry downloaded the same story after having skimmed through a dozen or so others. He began to scan it quickly. "Huh!" he said. "No bra size! The hell with that." And without even reaching for his zipper he was off to download another. He barely noticed the request for a response for the author, who, it was pointed out, was not paid for his work. "Sucker!" Jerry sneered to himself.

And then there was Louie. Louie stared balefully at the screen as he read about Missy, drooling and muttering to himself. At the end he leapt up enraged, and smeared his ejaculating penis all over the computer monitor, bellowing, "Bitch cunt cunt bitch suck fuck!" at the ceiling. He didn't notice the response section following the story. He just went to sit on the floor in a corner, and stared at his penis until it stopped oozing. Then he lurched back to the computer.

Time went by. Every so often Noam went to the "Excitica!" site to examine the download statistics for his story. Initially the results were encouraging -- hundreds of people had read his story! As the days went by the numbers decreased, but still -- hundreds! Surely, this time, he will hear from readers. If only one percent responded, well, that would be dozens!

But no -- out of hundreds of readers: one response. It was good to hear from John, but -- just one? Noam was depressed. It took a lot of time to write that story. Maybe it's not worth it. Maybe I'll write another -- maybe not. Oh, well.

Some time later Bubba was arrested when he got drunk and exposed himself to all the women in a crowded subway car during rush hour. He was sent to state prison, where his ample buttocks became very popular with good ol' boys whose bellies were even bigger than his. He stayed popular until his anus gave out, which didn't take very long, actually. Couldn't get an erection after that, either.

Jerry had his fifteen minutes of fame one day when he was at a nude beach, clothed, watching the naked teenies go by. Onlookers said that even though it was broad daylight, they could see the tiny meteor as it streaked out of the sky straight into Jerry's crotch, where it neatly and explosively vaporized his penis and testicles ("Smelled like a cookout!", observed one witness). It made all the papers -- maybe you saw it.

As for Louie -- well, Louie is still Louie, and you can't get much worse than that.

And John? Well, Noam is now encouraging him to write a story of his own, based on an experience he had shortly after they began emailing each other. It seems that one day a pair of nursing students came to John's house soliciting donations to their Candy Striper Nurse group, and they were so overjoyed at the generous donation John gave them that they ... well, you'll have to read the story when it's finished.

The moral:

Beware! and take care to observe How the Gods their fair justice will serve: Oft those who are mindless Of generous kindness In the end will get what they deserve!