Tales from Snippettsville Issue 07bySnippettsville Group©
Hello, and welcome to the seventh issue of Tales from Snippettsville, Short Stories From A Small Town.
If you want to know what it's all about, go to Snippettsville Group
If you have any feedback, and let's face it, as writers we all love feedback, just click on the author's name, in blue at the head of their piece. If you want to make a general comment on the group, click on the group link above.
Contents of Issue 7
Liz by wildsweetone
Hopes for Greens by Quasimodem
Abbreviated Shower by Champagne1982
Packing The Post by Wantonica
Header Picture, (c)Quasimodem, 2003
Footer Picture, (c)Perdita, 2003
Now read on...
* * * * *
Liz by wildsweetone
Liz looked around as she stepped down from the bus. The choking cloud of blue smoke smothered her as the rickety bus continued its long journey westward.
She picked up her backpack, slung it over one shoulder then walked towards the nearest building. The nearest building just happened to be the only pub in town. The smell of stale smoke, beer and steak seeped through the double doorway but she snorted the stench from her nostrils as she walked into the bar.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior. The only lighting in the place seemed to come from the bar at the back of the building and was reflected back towards her in the mirror that covered the back wall.
A couple of people stopped talking as she trudged to the bar. One, an older man, wolf whistled low under his breath. Most probably because her high-heeled boots did look great with her skin tight stretch jeans and skimpy white cotton and lace top. Or it could have been because he'd not been with a woman in the last year. But Liz didn't really think it was the latter, after all, his wolf whistle sure managed to ruffle the fine hairs on the nape of her neck.
She dropped her backpack onto the floor beside the stool at the bar, lifted one lean leg over the seat and sat down gingerly. The bus ride had been a ride from hell, she'd almost left the bus at the last town, but decided to hang in with it until Snippettesville. After all, Snippettesville was where she needed to be.
"Gin and tonic," she told the bartender as he slipped on drool along the length of the bar towards her. She didn't encourage his obvious interest. Instead, she turned and eyed the other occupants of the bar.
The wolf whistler was deep in conversation, with what appeared to be his dog. And the dog, to all intents and purposes, appeared to be answering his Master back.
The only other people in the building were a young couple sitting in the darkest corner of the bar. The young girl sat forward on her seat, her hand in the hand of her lover. Their eyes never left each other's faces, not even for a moment. They whispered softly, secretly.
"Here ya go sweet thang." The bartender's twangy accent grated along her backbone.
"Thank you," she turned around but did not meet his eyes. "How much?"
"The first one's on the house honey."
"Oh, but that can't be ri…"
"Nope, I'm not taking your money honey. Like I said, the first one's on the house. Enjoy it." He wandered off with his lecherous eyes almost concentrating on the cloth that wiped the already polished bar free from stray droplets of water.
Shrugging her shoulders, she picked up the glass and drank deeply of the icy liquid. The lemon slice bobbed up and down tapping her slightly upturned nose. The tonic's bitterness slipped down the back of her dry throat and she sighed in pleasure as she placed the wet glass on the cardboard coaster.
Through the mirror, she watched the young couple. They were still talking in low voices. The man with the dog seemed almost to be falling from his chair. He was staring across at the young couple. It took Liz a few moments to understand. When she did, she laughed loudly.
The man's eyes were in a direct line with the young couple's knees. He was not looking at their knees though.
* * * * *
Hopes For Greens by Quasimodem
Wisteria wished Wilberforce would gather up his manhood and pop the question. Playing a waiting game had never been her forte. If only they were alone!
"Ante up, Wilberforce," Arthur directed. "This is another hand."
"This isn't a hand," Wilberforce objected, "It's an unlikely organ. I think I'll just fold."
"Wilberforce has folded his organ," Arthur announced to the room at large.
Wisteria hated when the boys played stud, they became so unruly.
"Come wiff me Will-Burr," Beatrice commanded boozily. Grasping Wilberforce's elbow, she dragged him onto the dance floor. "We can waltsh to your or-gone music."
"It'll be The Minute Waltz," Wisteria sniffed. "Any bets?"
Arthur merely observed the half-drunk couple's perverted display.
"Damn all women to hell!" Arthur exploded. Lightening his scowl, he added, "Wisteria, dear, let's get some fresh air."
That was the trouble with stud, Wisteria thought. Even a nebbish like Arthur Drutts might suddenly turn macho.
Without knowing how it happened, Wisteria found herself trotting through the brisk night air in the Snippettsville Country Club parking lot. That did not last for long.
Without warning or permission, Arthur grasped Wisteria and tossed her lightly onto the hood of an adjacent Ford Mustang. She barely had time to notice the waning moon, before she felt Arthur pluck her undersized breasts from her oversized brassiere.
A second later Wisteria's hem was hiked up past her waist and her panties skinned down below her knees.
"Funny," Wisteria stated calmly, "I never thought it could be like this, Arthur. Not in the Country Club parking lot, and especially not on Carl Witherspoon's Mustang."
For a moment, Wisteria's world rocked, the moon danced crazily to the beat of Arthur's boney shanks against Witherspoon's Turtle Wax shine.
You could not call it love. You could not call it passion. Rather, it was the worn condition of the shock absorbers on Carl Witherspoon's Mustang.
At last it was over. The zipping sound of Arthur's fly being closed was immediately followed by a tentative beep from beneath Wisteria's body.
"Well," Arthur questioned icily, "are you going to make Carl wait all night before he can drive home? He has to work tomorrow, you know."
Wisteria leapt from the Mustang's hood, drawing her dishevelled apparel about her. Before she was prepared for public viewing, Arthur had re-entered the Country Club. In the distance, a thump could be heard as Carl bottomed his Mustang passing too quickly over a speed bump, whilst making his escape.
With Arthur's ire unresolved, he launched an attack upon Wilberforce, in the Snippettsville Country Club.
Wilberforce had wearied of keeping Beatrice at arm's length. Arthur was in no condition to entertain the sight of Wilberforce oozing suggestively in a half-drunken rumba against his fiancee.
Pulling the drunk half of the combo from Wilberforce's arms, Arthur cold-cocked his friend with a sledgehammer blow behind the ear.
The festivities were over, the merry-go-round had come unstuck.
That night, Arthur stayed at Beatrice's apartment, but he permitted himself no sleep.
He was determined to prove his love to his wealthy fiancee, for several agonizing hours. He planted this love in expectations of a future bumper crop, but the portents were not promising.
Boring away over Beatrice's naked body, Arthur pulled every trick that he knew, or vaguely suspected. Beatrice obviously enjoyed his amorous toil, but not enough for the silly bitch to stop humming the damn Latin song, to which she had been dancing with Wilberforce.
Arthur's carrot grew greater, to deeply goad the moist earth of Beatrice's fertile desire, while the shadowy bunny of jealousy nibbled perniciously at his hopes for greens.
* * * * *
Abbreviated Shower by Champagne1982
Cheri walked up the flagstone walk, turning to wave at her three friends as they pulled away. "See you at eight, you guys! Don't forget me!" she shouted as the blue Cherokee sped off. She was smiling as she walked past a local contractor's pickup truck. Who'd have thought those guys would still be here? Her parents hadn't mentioned anything about work still needing to be done.
Shrugging her sunburnt shoulders, she hurried inside the house. Right then she could only think of showering and sitting back with a cold soda. She looked for the workmen and heard the buzz of a saw downstairs, satisfied about their location, Cheri went directly to her bedroom. She untied her bikini, releasing her breasts and frowned as she saw exactly how pink her skin was despite the judicious application of sunblock.
She moved through her bedroom, into the newly decorated ensuite. After turning on the water, Cheri stood on tiptoe to adjust the spray. There were several things about her body Cheri didn't like, being short was just one of them.
She wished she were a little less full chested since her bust always seemed to want to spill out of whatever blouse she wore. Her waist, flat as her tummy was, could, in her opinion, have been just a little narrower. Her ass would be okay, she supposed, if it were on someone about four inches taller.
Even the fine shower spray was stinging her burn! Cheri quickly shampooed her auburn hair, she was rinsing as the water slowed to a trickle and then stopped. "What the hell?" she cursed. Fiddling with the taps brought no result so she wrapped her hair up and pulled on her bathrobe.
She stormed down the stairs, coming up short when she saw him stretched out beneath the sink. "Hey! What's going on?" Cheri drew up indignantly, "What happened to the water?" breathing heavily, she continued, "You could at least tell someone you're gonna do shit like that!"
"Tsk! Tsk! Nice talk, lil lady," his deep voice drawled. He lifted his head to look at her, "I'll just be a second. Doctor Jessop ordered a sink for the bar in here" he explained, "and I thought I'd install it while everyone," he grinned, "was away."
"Everyone, obviously, is not away!"
He finished tightening the pipe and slid out. "Obviously not." he agreed, standing straight.
"You'd better hurry up and turn..." she swallowed, her voice fading meekly as she looked up into his eyes.
He was a foot taller than her, at least and had the biggest hands, she watched as he wiped them on a worn towel. She felt her stomach flip as he walked away from her to the utility room. Thinking that was one plumber's ass she could watch all day Cheri was almost disappointed when he returned and told her the water was back on.
"Yes, well," she stammered, moving to the stairs reluctantly, "I guess I'll go finish my shower."
Deliberately, she raised her foot to the bottom stair, her leg flashing into view, "I am sorry I was so rude."
"I should be the one apologizing, I just didn't realize anyone was here." he looked so contrite, she had to smile. "You have an amazing smile!" He held out his hand as he stepped closer, "I'm Randy McCrae."
Suddenly, Cheri was embarassed by her blatant display, she pulled her robe belt tighter and shook his hand, "Hi, Randy. I'm Cheri Jessop. If you give me ten minutes I'll be right back to start again."
"I'd like that," she could almost feel his look caressing her skin, "Very much, Cheri Jessop."
* * * * *
Packing The Post by Wantonica
Maggie would send her assistant home early. She decided as soon as the mailbags arrived.
Maybe this time she wouldn't rewrap Doreen's package after opening it. She might keep the plaything, if it worked as well as the last one. The thought made her so excited, she could hardly concentrate on sorting mail.
It would serve the bitch right, she assured herself. Doreen pranced around town wearing short skirts and letting her cleavage show. She thought she was grand, but she had her dirty little secrets.
She watched the clock creep slowly toward 12:00. Finally, she turned to the young girl working with her for the summer.
"You can take the rest of the day off." It was a demand.
The girl looked confused; this was out of Maggie's character. She didn't complain though, just shrugged and left.
Maggie turned the Out to Lunch sign, locked the doors and turned off the lights. She returned to the sorting room and took the package from its spot on the shelf. With every intention of keeping whatever was inside, she tore into the box. Going through the paper inside, her eyes grew wide. A dildo. A big phallus, with veins and a head and balls. Maggie turned it over and over in her hands. She had never seen anything like it. She had never seen a real penis.
The little vibrator she tried the last time, before washing it and wrapping it back up, was nothing compared to this. She was afraid to try the new item until she saw the small jar of Slippery Stuff. That would help. The rubber cock had suction cups on the testicle end, and Maggie stuck it on her metal folding chair. It looked so ominous, sticking proudly into the air. She pulled her slacks and panties off and picked up the bottle of lube.
Circling the chair, she appeared to be faced with a wild animal. She squirted a glob of clear gel on her palm and went to the massive erection she was about to have inside her. She rubbed it on, relishing the smooth hardness of the imitation man. This toy would be perfect practice for the real deed, she thought.
Maggie stood over the dick, a leg on either side of the chair, and ever so slowly lowered herself onto it. She spread herself open with one hand and guided the cock in with the other. When it was an inch or so inside, she let her body settle, and deeper and deeper it went into her private depths. Oh, it felt so painfully good, so filling. Maggie grabbed the desk in front of her and slid up and down on the shaft. It still hurt, but the discomfort was not as intense as the pleasure she felt. She rubbed her clit while she banged herself on the huge cock. Her juices mixed with the lube and pain became nonexistent.
The feeling inside her was wonderful. She took almost the entire length of the massive thing; her ass hit cool metal on each down stroke. Her fingers moved faster as she felt the tingly beginnings of her pleasure surface. With a cry of glee, she led her body to quivering, shaking spasms that pulsed around the toy. She came harder and longer than ever before. She was already addicted to this delightful gift.
When she was finished, Maggie put away her new friend and went out front to unlock the door. There, waiting to collect her mail, was Doreen. For the first time in their lengthy acquaintance, Maggie smiled at her.
* * * * *
Feedback is welcomed