Lst3 Ep. 03: Who's Staling Who?

Welcome to another episode of Literotica Sexual Theatre 3000!

Once more into the breach, on a five-year mission, to boldly go where no man in his right mind has ever considered going before! We have contact, and we're hurtling at warp speed toward another cheezy slab of erotic literature that never should have seen the light of day!

Before we get started, though, I'd like to read a couple of letters. Why don't we put those up on sti...

What?

What do you mean that isn't in the budget! Bunch of cheap so-and-sos, I have half a mind to...

Ahem... Err... I guess I'll just read them then?

Both of these come from someone named Annie Anus, I think. It's hard to tell, there's some sort of mixture of Vaseline and cheezy-poof residue all over it.

Why did you bother? A load of excrement par excellence.

Well, Annie, at least you appear to have grasped the concept. Indeed, this story was a steaming heap of unmentionable substances. Now if you could just figure out that whole personal hygiene thing, the world would indeed be a brighter place!

Sorry...could not read the entire thing. Your collective conceit and stupidity obscured all other aspects of the writing. You both should be ashamed.

Err... obscured all other aspects of the writing? Well thank the powers for that! If anything needed obscuring, it was that stinkburger.

Conceit... ashamed... *chuckle* Ah, Annie, Annie, you should have read all the way to the end, then perhaps you might have realized it was my own story we mercilessly slaughtered. Then, perhaps, you might not have proven what a dimwitted little troll you are. Thanks for playing though!

I get the feeling a few people out there are a little worried I'm coming for them next, Hmm? Think you have some truly reekarific little nuggets out there stinking up the stratosphere, don't you?

Rest your sphincters, grasshoppers.

The original author donates every story, and the final spoof is approved by them before it goes live. I'm not out to hurt people's feelings by making fun of their stories, they're asking me to make fun of them.

It's all about fun, and that includes the author who has the self-esteem to know they have written something of less than stellar quality.

Do keep those letters coming Annie. We love the laughs! Why not leave a PC next time so everyone can enjoy the fun in real time?

Just wash your hands first next time, Mkay?

This time around, we have a truly terrifying tale with a plot so flimsy and unbelievable that even people whose only claim to fame is stolen sex tapes would refuse the roles. The grammar is horrible, the editing is worse, and it all wraps up into a neat little package that should be outlawed by the Geneva Conventions as cruel and inhumane treatment to force someone to read it.

Thus, I've recruited

FallingtoFly

to join in the pain again! Everyone welcome aboard Melinda too, bravely jumping into the fray with us, despite the knowledge of the terror to come.

Grab your airsickness bags and your Excedrin ladies and gentlemen!

Turn down your lights.

(Where Applicable)

***LST3K**********

You shouldn't be in here.

Falling: We shouldn't?

You knew that. But you couldn't help yourself. It's not as if you were some kind of pervert.

Falling: We aren't?

You weren't. You'd never done anything like this before. You didn't even try to kiss a girl until the third date, damn it.

Falling: *singing* Janet! I wanna screwww!

Dark: I'm going to regret this. I know it. Here comes the pain, my friend. Endure it.

Falling: So far, it's Rocky Horror Picture Show without the transvestites.

You stand close to the door, staring at the figure in the bed. Your eyes trace over my face, seeing thick fringed lashes resting on softly curved cheeks, pouting lips slightly open in sleep, hair tumbled against the pillow in thick, rich waves. You could see tiny straps of my nightgown over slim bare shoulders disappearing under the comforter.

Dark: Or you could see that the comforter is decorated with My Little Pony pictures, it's up to you.

And that thin covering molded against my body, showing curves slim and long that had your breath hitching in your chest.

Dark: I hitched up my breath and sauntered inta the saloon, Slim and Long at my side, our punctuation left in our saddlebags.

The first time you saw me flashed in your head, the day I moved into this apartment.

Falling: What the hell did she just say?

Dark: If that phrase stumbled any more, it could have replaced Chevy Chase on SNL

You were coming home from a long day at work, had seen the moving van in front of the building and the movers carrying in boxes and some furniture. You grabbed your mail out of the metal box and start up toward the third floor, stepping out of the way of the movers puffing down the stairs.

Dark: Exactly how does one puff down stairs, alone or in pairs, and should you make a slinkety sound?

You smile as you listen to the grumble about too "damn many stairs" having thought the same thing many times after a long day at work.

Dark: Listen to the Grumble, for he is wise!

You take the stairs two at a time, skidding to a quick halt at the top of the second floor.

Dark: Does anybody else feel like Wile E. Coyote reading that?

Falling: Meep Meep!

I'm standing there by the door of the formerly unrented apartment. Your eyes look over me quickly as I'm turned saying something to someone inside the room.

Falling: Abandon all hope, ye who enter here maybe?

Old jeans, worn white in spots hug my hips. Both knees are ripped out and when I turn to look back into the apartment, you see a tear just under the left cheek of my butt,

Dark: Wow, those are some serious wounds! Two ripped out knees and a tear under your butt! This town is rough!

Falling: Sometimes I wonder if it's latent sadistic tendencies that make women save that pair of jeans that should have been given a mercy killing years ago.

when I bend you can see just the hint of pale blue silk, that had to be panties. Between the waistband of the jeans and the hem of my shirt, a good two inches of stomach showed. Tanned, toned, with a sparkle that you recognize as a belly button ring. The shirt, as ancient as the pants, used to be a gray tee shirt that had shrunk in the wash. It curved over my breasts, faithfully following ever line of the upper part of my body.

Dark: if only it had proofread every line of the story instead...

Falling: What the hell? Even her clothes are stalking her... is she the nympho version of the Pied Piper or something?

You wanted to see my face. It couldn't be as good as the body. But when I turned and glanced your way, you were stunned. Brown hair, glinting with red and gold highlights in the fluorescents in the hallway

Dark: In a hole in the bottom of the sea!

curved around a face that seemed right out of your dreams.

I see you standing there and smile, politely, before something once more catches my interest in the apartment. I leave the hall, turning into the apartment without giving you another glance. You turn, making your way up the one more floor to your own apartment, feeling a little weak in the knees.

Dark: I think we've established this is an apartment building now. Or should we go for number four?

Since that day, you've been watching me without my knowing it.

Dark: For somebody who doesn't know about it, she certainly knows a lot about it...

Falling: That's because she has ESPN and stuff.

You were working your way up to approaching me, trying to find an angle that would give you an advantage. Little things, like noticing when I went to the mailboxes, or what time I went to work became almost compulsive to you. You noticed who came to my apartment, checking to see if I had a steady boyfriend, and always managed to be in the hallway when I was coming home from work.

Mel: Wow, that requires a great deal of discreet monitoring, to notice all this. I'm impressed. Or maybe she's just totally clueless that you're always standing there watching her – don't you have a job?!

Dark: People are coming to the apartment to see if she has a steady boyfriend? How many people are there stalking her anyway? Maybe I better take a number...

One day, you had to work late. You were running up the steps and automatically looked at my apartment door. My keys were in the door, the door shut. Did you dare?

You took the keys running down to the hardware store a couple blocks down and making a key to my apartment.

Dark: The keys are running down to the hardware store a couple blocks down?

Falling: That's what the lady said.

Dark: Maybe I'm running to escape the run-on sentences.

Then you ran back, put the keys back in the lock and knocked on my door. When I opened the door, on the phone, you politely mentioned the keys and even pulled them from the doorknob for me. I took them from you, thanked you and smiled. Before I can say anymore, you turn and start up to your own apartment, knowing that I was watching you walk away.

Dark: Does anybody have some Gatorade? I'm getting a helluva workout with all this running.

At first it was little things, going in when I was at work, looking at my pictures, shots of me growing up with people that were important in my life. Then you went into my room, smelled the perfumes on my dresser, went into my bathroom and breathed the scent of me, what was left from getting ready for work earlier in the day. Then you got braver, looking into drawers, touching my things.

Dark: She has butter knives, and spatulas, just like me!

Mel: I thought you two were from different planets, yet you have so many similarities – clothes, underwear, kitchen utensils... Thanks, Dark, for clearing this up!

Falling: Touching her "things?" I thought you said she was out of the apartment!

You hated what you were doing, hated that you were going behind my back and invading my privacy. But you just couldn't stop. Then came the night you came in when you knew I was sleeping.

Dark: Talk about P.E. - came twice in one sentence there.

Mel: How did you know she was sleeping? You monitored her breathing from the hallway? Talent... introducing, the Bionic Ear...

You stood there, looking at me, before quietly leaving.

Since that day, you've been sneaking into the apartment at night, silently staring at me for hours before going back to your own apartment. I had become your obsession, your passion, your daydream.

Mel: And Little Red Riding Hood here never heard you panting over her nubile sleeping form, or felt you staring at her, which many people can feel even in a crowd, let alone while asleep in their beds...

Falling: Well, we've already established that this is a "special" relationship. Magical, wonderful, and things always happen just as they should for these two.

It was late and you knew you should be going but you kept staring at the sweet face sleeping so innocently on the pillow.

I stirred and your heart stopped beating for an instant. Then I gave a sleepy little moan and rolled, the blanket catching between my thighs as I turned on my side. It pulled off my breasts

Dark: That's gonna leave a mark!

Mel: OUCH!!!

Falling: That's one tough blanket!

and left one long tan leg bare to your gaze. As I shifted, the pale lavender chemise I was wearing shifted as well, pulling up slightly. You could see one cheek of my bottom peeking out from underneath and, in the dim light that I leave lit in the hallway, just the hint of a tattoo.

You lean a little closer, trying to see what it is. It's small and delicate looking,

Falling: Is it pastry? Because a small and delicate pastry would make me very happy right now.

Dark: It's Herve Villechaize! Boss! Boss! Da Plane! Da Plane! I love Tattoo!

some kind of writing. As I shift a little further, you see the word. "Lucky" written in script in dark green. There's more.

Dark: It's not sold in any store! Now how much would you pay?

Falling: Do you really want me to go there?

Curiosity gets the better of you and you reach out and gently pull up on the chemise, exposing the entire tattoo, a small four leaf clover, Lucky on the bottom and the word "Feelin'" on the top. You feel an almost irrational urge to kiss the tattoo and stop yourself inches from my skin.

Dark: I think

irrational

is a given at this point.

Falling: The question is: who the hell wants to kiss a tattoo? Lick one, maybe, if we're talking about Ville Valo, but kissing a four leaf clover is just too... Irish tourist for words.

Just then, I moan and roll back, trapping your hand under my body. I pull at the blanket, covering up your face and part of your back as I shift to get warm again.

Mel: Geez! How soundly does this girl sleep?! She doesn't even feel other body parts are trapped under her, or some pervert's hot breath steaming up her tattoo under the blanket?!

Falling: Shhh! Haven't you ever watched stalker movies? This is where the knife comes in!

It's dark under the sleek comforter and you can smell the scent of the body lotion I use every night after the bath I indulge in.

Mel: For some people, daily bathing is a social necessity, for others it's a luxury...

Your hand is trapped, stuck at the small of my back. You can feel the sleepy heat of my body beneath the thin silk covering my skin, smell my scent in the dark warmth under the covers. I moan and squirm a little against your hand until you flatten it against my back, moving it slightly, caressing me with slow strokes as you try to pull it out from under me without waking me up.

Your heart was beating so loudly you could hear it, and were amazed that it didn't wake me up.

Dark: *singing* Tense! Tense! Sing the praises of tense! It helps me keep track of my place! Where I am in time and space!

If I woke up now, caught you with your hand almost in the "cookie jar" you might as well kiss any chance we would have goodbye.

Mel: Ah, the Master of Understatement... maybe she's being a little harsh though. I'd totally give a stalker I found under my blankets one night a fair chance at love – I mean, he's already showed his devotion, what more do you want?!

Falling: How about... sanity?

Your hand moves a little more, and I give a small moan, feminine pleasure evident at the way your hand feels. The movement of your hand raises the satiny chemise baring long tan thighs, finely muscled, smooth as silk.

Mel: So we've seen her bottom, but not her thighs yet?

Falling: Some men have priorities, Mel.

Dark: And some just need a roadmap.

It moves higher, the purple color evident in the dim light under the blanket as it rose up my legs.

Mel: WOW, he even has Bionic Vision, all those carrots! In a dark room, underneath a heavy blanket/comforter, he can still manage to make out the color of her nightgown...

Your eyes fixate on the display, watching, barely breathing as you move it higher.

Dark: My eyes are breathing? I really should see a doctor about that.

Mel: Useful skill, makes it easier to breathe if people put a hand over your nose and mouth... Can't imagine when that would happen, though...

Falling: I suppose it would depend on exactly what kind of scent we're talking about here...

You can smell me now, the fine scent of soft flowers mixed with the heat from my body and the scent of rich female flesh. It's intensified under that comforter until every breath you take brings me into you, saturating your senses. You wanted so badly to taste me, to kiss my thigh, let your tongue slide between my legs. Did you dare?

Dark: I double dog dare me!

You listened, trying to catch the sound of my breathing above the heavy beating of your heart. I was asleep, you knew it. What would it hurt?

You move forward, closer and let your lips barely brush my skin. Then again, just a little longer, a little harder.

Dark: The tense is shifting more often than a standard transmission in Chicago traffic here...

Falling: And I've popped clutches through smoother transitions.

"Oh, God," you moan just under your breath. "I shouldn't be doing this." But your mouth moved again to my thigh, this time you touched your tongue to my skin and pulled yourself further under the blanket. With supreme gentleness you let your hands come to rest on the softness of my legs, parting them slowly until you could get between them. Your mouth was on my inner thigh, barely skimming kisses over fragrant skin. You moved your hand out from under my back and pushed the chemise the rest of the way over my hips, exposing the rest of my legs and the soft bare flesh that was between. You closed your eyes for just a second, feeling slightly dizzy at the scent, the sight of me. Your cock was throbbing between your legs in time to the beat of your heart. You'd never known you could want someone as much as you wanted me.

Your tongue flicked out, seemingly of it's own accord,

Falling: That's one...

and skimmed along the seam that separated the top of my thigh from my body. It seemed to arrow down, pointing you in the direction you had dreamed so often of going.

Falling: She has seams? Wtf are you doing stalking a sex doll?

You felt me stir, and stopped, holding your breath. Don't wake up, don't wake up, repeated through your head over and over until I settled back down.

Dark: If you're sleeping through this, I sure won't have to worry about you coming up to complain about my stereo, that's for sure!

You breathed a sigh of relief, and let your fingers skim the smooth flesh between my legs.

Your fingers roam the moist flesh, noting that I became wetter the more daring you got. You opened my smooth bare pussy lips, savoring the scent of me, the way I felt to your touch. My skin was hot, the beginning of pleasure sending aching dampness to cling to your fingers. You slid one finger inside, marveling at how tight I am. You can actually feel my body adjusting for your invasion with the wetness that it brings, to lubricate your way. My body moves under your hand, thrusting upwards slightly pushing you harder against me. Should you stop?

Dark: If I don't want to wake up in a prison bunk with some large hairy guy named Bubba doing this to me, I should probably consider it!

The question gnawed at your mind for a moment

Dark: A moment is about as long as something could gnaw at my mind if I'm not any brighter than this!

and then was banished back to the sanity that had spawned it. Instead you lean in closer, your tongue finding my clit in the sleek folds of flesh. One flick of your tongue has it hardening like a tiny cock, making me moan and squirm restlessly under you. My hand, under the cover, slips down until it's on your hair, pushing you unconsciously deeper into my wetness.

Oh God, heaven, you thought, your tongue thoroughly investigating and finding every place that made me sigh or moan. My hand in your hair is caressing, holding you to me in a way that turned you on even more. Your cock dug at the zipper in your jeans, longing to be free and buried where your tongue was now lapping.

Mel: It longed to be free and buried, huh? I'll call a gravedigger; you call the ASPCA.

Your mind flew, did you dare?

Dark: Where did my mind fly, Singapore? I wonder if I'll get champagne when they extradite it back to the U.S.

Before you made up your mind, your hand was at your zipper. You unbuttoned the metal button at the top of the fly of your jeans and slid down the zipper almost cringing at the loud sound it made. To cover it, your tongue flew back to my clit, stabbing at the hard kernel of flesh until I writhed under your mouth.