People are always curious as to exactly how I came up with the idea for the Athena 2100. They are just astonished that a man in his early twenties could come up with such a concept and turn it into one of the world's largest money makers. Actually the Athena 2100 sells itself. As to how I came up with the idea, well that's the real story. I am James creator and genius behind one of the greatest inventions since fire and this is my story.
I was at a time in my life that can best be described in the immortal words of Charles Dickens, "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." My tale begins on a Saturday morning when I awoke with late morning sun light streaming into my face and a pounding in my head. My blood shot eyes felt as if someone had poured a sandbox into them and then pissed in them for good measure. My mouth tasted like a leper stricken troll stepped in dog-shit and then when about soaking his feet in it. A pungent smell made me turn my head. Through squinted eyes I saw a pair of urine soaked and shit stained boxers hanging from my bedpost. What a night. What a fucking night. Oh my god, kill me now. Then I heard it; the bleating of a sheep. What the fuck as I bolted upright to see an ugly dirty cloud with four legs just glaring at me.
I remember getting off work earlier the evening before and hooking up with my best mate, Mike. It was another night of hard partying and trying to pick up girls. While the booze flowed freely the women did not. An ugly fuck like me really didn't stand a chance with the ladies anyway. What a grind that party was. Though the details of last night were a bit foggy, my granite like erection that stirred me from my slumber was not. I was so hard I could cut a sheet of glass with this thing. I need to get some pussy and soon. Six months without a piece of ass. That sheep at the other end of my bedroom was starting to look good at this point.
I stood up and stumbled across my large upstairs room dragging the sheet off my bed. As I did all manner of things spilled from it with a cacophony of sounds that can be best described as raining glass and aluminum. A beer can, a whiskey bottle, a glass pipe, a half bag of skunk weed. It was a rutty cornucopia of intoxicants to be sure. After becoming entangled in the sheet I inadvertently kicked an empty pint bottle of Jack Daniels stubbing my toe. Goddamn that hurt. I looked like a circus clown on a bad meth trip hopping around on one foot while my stiff cock and balls bounced up and down. What a freak show. I finally fell with the grace of an ox into my green suede chair at the other end of my room sending it screeching across the floor. Oh my head, my aching head. Please make the bad man in my skull stop hitting me. The sound of the chair on the floor was just too unbearable. I was only nineteen but if I kept this life style up I knew I wouldn't see twenty-five for certain.
I sat there in the chair for several minutes thinking about what I should do next. My life was nothing but party, party, party with no real prospects for anything meaningful on the horizon. My raging one-eyed snake was looking up at me pathetically and was just begging for attention. First thing on today's agenda was to take care of my poor boner. If I didn't I wouldn't be able to get anything else done. Besides my balls had that oh so familiar twinge. Decisive action was needed here. Batten down the hatches and host the mainsail. It's time for a tug-job. I reached over to my desk and pulled out the small jar of Vaseline that I kept for just such occasions as this.
Lubing my cock like a mechanic greases an axle it soon turned that familiar deep shinny purple. Just as I got into the rhythm of things with my fully swollen member my bedroom door burst open. What kind of betrayal to my privacy was this? Can't I catch a break? I was so startled that I nearly flip over in the chair. I must have been doing a good job of stroking because by some sort of divine miracle the gods of masturbation smiled upon me and allowed me to keep my balance. Then when I realized who had interrupted my hedonistic pleasure fest it was soon apparent that the gods were indeed a cruel lot.
"What the fuck!" I blurted out still gripping my drooling dick that was on the edge of eruption. "What is the meaning of this?"
The imposing figure of my stepmother now filled the doorway. Towering at nearly six-foot-one this forty-eight year old descendant of Norse Vikings was not a woman to be trifled with. She glared at me through her ice blue eyes. The scowl on her blotchy pale complexion spoke volumes. She just stood there seething with disgust at the spectacle before her.
"How dare you use that kind of language in front of me young man." She bellowed back with the authority of a drill sergeant on steroids.
She was every bit as religious as she was strict. Cursing was very much frowned upon by her. Even my father, a former sailor never used foul language in her presence. And then her catching me pleasuring myself, well let's just say that is frowned upon also. Sex is uncivilized in her view after all. Sex is something that barn animals do.
"Mary, Joseph and the carpenter boy what are you doing to yourself?" She said staring at my hand as my cock rapidly shrank from a crimson diamond-cutter down to a harmless white raisin.
"I half expected to find you dead up here. Your car is the ditch at the main gate. There is a pair of rather racy women's underpants hanging from your rear-view mirror and a trail of empty beer bottles leading up here to the main house. Not to mention the scarecrow is out of the cornfield and is draped over my picket fence with his pants pulled down around his ankles. And now I find you up here treating your body as a pleasure palace instead of the temple God indented it to be." She said with a snort of discuss.
Did she just say there was a pair of panties hanging from my rear-view mirror? I wonder how those got there. I hope those were from a girl and not Mike. Mike has been a bit of a freak ever since he was kicked in the head by a mule.
