Tales From Snippettsville Issue 13

Hello, and welcome to the thirteenth 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 13

MILF

by Soupwarsproject

Shortened Breath

by Champagne1982

Swan

by Alex de Kok

Something About This Crime

by PierceStreet

Illustrations

Banner, (c)Quasimodem, 2003

Header Picture, (c)Perdita, 2003

Footer Picture, (c)Perdita, 2003

Now read on...

* * * * *

MILF

by

Soupwarsproject

“Can we go swinging?”

“No.”

“Will you give me a fake gynecological exam?”

“No.”

“Will you spread food all over my body and lick it off.”

“No.”

“Will you whip me?”

“No.”

“May I whip you?”

“No.”

“Want to fuck my ass?”

“No.”

“A threesome?”

“Good luck.”

“Want to have normal sex?”

“I’m tired. Let’s sleep”

“You’re no fun anymore.” Penny loved her husband, but she couldn’t deal with the boredom. She loved Snippettsville, but the small town thing was getting to her. Church activities, dinner at Hannah’s and quiet afternoons by the lake were dandy, but Penny wanted more. The fact that everyone knew her by name drove her mad. She needed amusement, but she feared this indulgence because of the pernicious rumor mill that monitored everyone like a creepy Orwellian surveillance system. This is what motivated the ordinary housewife to wear her oldest daughter’s clothing and, become the seducer of two moronic high school students held back by at least two grades.

She drove a blue minivan when she spotted the skateboarders passing a joint. It was 11:47 at night in the high school’s parking lot. Her van nearly scared them off. Fortunately, her low-rise skintight jeans, a pink t-shirt two sizes too small and, the question, “Are you guys legal?” prompted them to stay.

“For smokes but, not beer…” replied one of them.

“Want a blow job?”

“Hell fucking yeah!” The young men screamed in unison.

Her suede jacket with sheepskin trim didn’t detract from the view of her wondrous belly button. “Get in the van.”

“Dude, this isn’t one of those things where the chick tricks the dudes into fucking a tranny is it?”

“Will, don’t be a fuckhead. That’s Halley’s mom.”

The guy with the ICP t-shirt screamed, “No way!”

Penny seemed alarmed. Her gig was up. Her reputation would be ruined; or, would it?

“Dude, Mrs. Hecker, you are, like, the biggest milf in this town.”

“No shit, you are totally hot.”

“You promise to keep quiet about this, guys?”

“Will you fuck us all the way if we don’t say anything?”

Penny grinned. “Yes, but if you talk, don’t be surprised if you get arrested for drug possession.”

The boys looked at each other. “Dude!”

“Theo, this is going to be the best night of our lives.”

“We’re going to bone Halley’s mom.” The two stoners in flannels and baggy jeans exchanged a high five. They hoisted their skateboards and hastily inhaled the remainder of their shared joint. She drove them to a secluded spot by Green Lake. That’s where the trio performed their dirty deed.

Will and Theo stood side by side. Their dicks weren’t the biggest or the best, but they were just the right for Penny. She gulped Will’s five inches with the greatest ease. He clenched his teeth as she sucked him. Her dainty fingers stroked Theo’s “lefty” curve. She pushed Theo to the grass and let him have a turn in her mouth. Will took out a rubber from a mint tin in his back pocket. A g-string thong that poked out of her pants mesmerized him.

Officer Archie McDougall recognized that secluded spot as the lover’s lane. He usually shone his flashlight at horny kids to foil their hormonal adventures. However, the situation was different tonight. Mrs. Hecker was a pillar of the community, and a beautiful woman. Her idiot husband obviously didn’t care about her. The policeman didn’t want to ruin her reputation. He quietly sat in his car and enjoyed the show.

* * * * *

Shortened Breath

by

Champagne1982

When the curvy, little redhead came down the stairs toward him, Randy's mind went blank. Cheri Jessop seemed oblivious to the effect she had on him. Her breasts didn't really bounce as she skipped down, but they looked as if they were about to and it was all Randy could do to look up into her pretty, brown eyes. Mesmerized, he watched her, all of Cheri's rounded parts seemed to sway, rhythmically, with her walk. She turned toward the bar fridge and looked back at the entranced Randy. He was staring at her heart-shaped ass with predator-like eyes.

"Would you like something to drink?" her voice weakly penetrated the fog he was in and Randy darted his eyes back up to her face. The hunger she glimpsed, when his eyes met hers, was enough to start Cheri's pulse racing. She'd never seen that in a man before and wasn't sure how to react. "I. . . We have," she corrected hastily, covering up her nervousness, "juice? Coke? Bottled water?"

"Water will be fine, Cheri," his voice caressed her name. "Thank you."

Randy stayed seated on the barstool, forcing Cheri to bring him his drink. She looked around like a trapped deer seeking escape until at last she swallowed and moved to him. As she flowed across the floor, Randy couldn't believe the liquidity of her motion, like syrup, slow and relentless leaving part of herself, her scent, clinging there, in the space behind her.

Cheri tried to move behind the bar, putting something solid between them but Randy swivelled on the stool and then stood up in her path. She lifted the bottle to his hand, he took it and set it down on a coaster. "Wow, Miss Jessop, you are really something, y’know?" his voice was low and breathy, "I think I'd better go before I do something . . ."

Startled eyes looked up at him, "What do you mean?" Cheri tried to step back but somehow his hands had moved and he held her shoulders. She looked up, “Don’t . . . ”

His mouth covered hers. Randy had never wanted a woman’s kiss like he did Cheri’s. Marveling at the sweetness of her lips, Randy inhaled, wanting to have his senses filled with her. He felt her hands pressing against his chest as she attempted to get away. When she turned her face, grunting out panicked protests, he moved his big hands to cup her cheeks and still her head. His mouth covered hers again and he froze when he heard her long, drawn out sob.

“Oh my God!” he despaired. “Shit! God! Cheri– Cheri, please, forgive me.” Randy’s hands released her shoulders and hung by his sides. He clenched them into fists and raised his head to look at her, tension and worry evident in every feature.

“Just go! I can’t think of why you did that!” Cheri’s hand shook as she raised it to touch her lips. She glared at him, anger replacing the fear she’d felt just a moment ago.

“You’re beautiful. I can’t believe . . . ”

“You? You can’t believe it!” her outrage lifted her voice higher in tone. Then she slumped as she caught the anguish in his eyes, “Why did you just think you could kiss me like that?”

“I wasn’t thinking, Cheri– Oh God, I wanted to ask you to dinner, get to know you, but I blew that plan all to hell. I’m so sorry!”

Cheri studied him silently, letting both of them slow down. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d waited until after dinner, Randy McCrae. What time will you be back to pick me up?”

* * * * *

Swan

by

Alex de Kok

It was Julie Trask's idea. The Green Lake Lodge Spring Ball was coming up and Jake Miller and I had both asked her to be our date. I had thought about asking Sally Jansen but she and Charlie Thomson seemed to have become an item.

"How much do you know about dinghy racing?" Julie asked us.

Jake and I looked at each other. "The pointy end is the front," I said helpfully.

"Nothing?" said Julie. We shook our heads. "Okay," she said, grinning at us, "enter the open Laser race in the Regatta on Saturday and whichever one of you finishes highest can be my date."

I almost gave up there and then, but I knew Jake had as little a clue as I did. I was sitting moping when Beth Allan came by. Skinny, mousy, unattached little Beth, everybody's friend, nobody's lover.

"Something up, Alan?" Concern in her tone.

"Yeah." I told her the story.

"Ah. That would explain why Brad Torrens just took Jake out on the lake."

I let myself settle even more into my gloom.

"Hey, come on. I can show you how to sail a Laser," said Beth helpfully.

I looked at her sharply and she flushed. I knew she was one of the best around at handling a dinghy. "You mean it?"

"Of course." Indignant.

That was how I ended up spending virtually the whole of Thursday and Friday out on Green Lake with Beth. She drove me hard, but by Friday evening I was confident that I could at least keep the dinghy going in the right direction

Saturday dawned fine and warm, with a westerly breeze which wasn't too strong. I think just about everybody knew about the race within a race and there was a lot of joshing going on. Eventually it was time for the start. Beth had loaned me her own Laser, far from new but superbly maintained and trimmed.

"Thanks, Beth. If I win it will be thanks to you."

"Good luck, Alan," she said, but she avoided my eyes when she said it and I wondered if I'd upset her.

I managed not to get in anybody's way at the start and was pleased to see that I had a slight advantage over Jake, in Brad's boat. The race settled down with the more experienced sailors starting to pull away. Jake and I weren't doing too badly, somewhere around the middle of the field, and I had about a three boat-lengths lead over him as we started the last lap.

I caught sight of Beth on the shore and thought back to our two days together on the lake. Her animation, her unexpected quick wit, her simple joy just in being out on the water. The finishing line was getting close and I let the wind spill from the sail for a moment, before hauling on the sheet and getting back on course, just half a length behind Jake as he crossed the line.

"You could have beaten him," said Beth accusingly when I got back to the dock.

I glanced across to where Jake was hugging Julie. I smiled. "Yes, Beth, I could. There was another prize I wanted more."

"There was? What?"

"Will you be my date for the Ball?"

She looked absolutely astonished for a moment, then flushed. "Yes, I will."

When I saw her slender loveliness in her ball gown I wondered why I had ever thought of her as either skinny or mousy, because she was stunning, but it was when she kissed me that she really knocked me out.

* * * * *

Something About This Crime

by

PierceStreet

Something about this crime, almost non-crime really, seemed familiar to Tom Holt. A young woman had returned home to an empty apartment from a date only to find signs that someone had been there in her absence. A chair had been moved, a light left on and the TV in the bedroom was on. But nothing was stolen or broken.

She’d been fairly sure she’d locked up, but couldn’t be certain. There weren’t any signs of a break in Tom could find. He checked all the locks and walked around and found nothing odd. He filled out his report, told the girl he’d drive by occasionally, and to call if anything unusual happened.

He called her the next night and she was calmer. “I probably just left those things on myself. Really, I wonder where my mind is sometimes.”

Still, Tom couldn’t get over the nagging feeling he had seen this before. He asked Jennifer Tillies. Jennifer ran his office, knew everyone in town and didn’t forget a thing.

“Gina Tulley called and told me about something just like this, maybe six months ago. She didn’t want to do a police report, she said. Nothing had been taken, no harm done.”

Tom stopped by the latest victim’s workplace. He asked Tina Baker who she’d been out with that night. “Zack Allen. It was our second date.” He asked about other guys she’d dated. Then he went and asked Gina Tulley the same questions. The two women had never dated the same man, so Tom ruled out a stalker. There was one oddity. Gina had been out on a date with Joe Kinney the night someone let themselves in her place. Joe and Zack had been best friends since elementary school and they were partners in the locksmith shop.

“Gina, you didn’t call our office until the next morning. Wasn’t it scary to spend the night in your apartment?”

Gina hesitated then explained that she’d called Joe. “He was real sweet, and understanding, and offered to come over and look around. Instead, I asked him if I could spend the night on his couch. He was so nice, he had it all made up for me when I got there. He was a total gentlemen. We’ve been going out ever since.”

“And let me guess?” ventured Tom, “you didn’t stay on that couch all night did you?” Gina’s blush was his answer.

Tom had Jennifer call Tina. He overheard her end of the call. “Just a couple follow-up questions, hon. After Tom came by and took your report that night, did you call anyone? Uh, huh, Zack, yeah that’s right, you’d just been out on a date with him. Did he come by to comfort you? No, you invited yourself over to his place.” There was a long pause, “You did, did you? That would make a girl feel safe alright.”

Tom knew Zack and Joe were at Hannah’s for breakfast most mornings. He joined them.

He sat down at the table and told them about the odd case he was working involving Tina. Tom then mentioned how Gina had the same thing happen a few months before while out with Joe.

Tom almost laughed when he saw the looks on the boys’ faces. These were no criminal masterminds, just two horny lads that had figured out a way to make a woman feel vulnerable, then safe and grateful. Their knowing he knew, would be sufficient deterrent to keep them from doing it again, he was sure. Enjoying himself, he left them sweating and went on about his day.

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