NetNews Usenet Archive 1993 #3/NN_1993_3.iso/spool/soc/motss/57795

Internet Message Format | 1993-01-21 | 5.9 KB

Xref: sparky soc.motss:57795 alt.sex.motss:2201
Newsgroups: soc.motss,alt.sex.motss
Path: sparky!uunet!cs.utexas.edu!qt.cs.utexas.edu!yale.edu!yale!mintaka.lcs.mit.edu!spdcc!joe
From: [e-mail] (Joseph Francis)
Subject: Tim Chain Porn (Re: High School Athletes (lusher))
Message-ID: <[e-mail]>
Organization: S.P. Dyer Computer Consulting, Cambridge MA
References: <[e-mail]> <[e-mail]> <[e-mail]>
Date: Thu, 21 Jan 1993 17:22:06 GMT
Lines: 102

In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] (Dean Allemang) writes:
>
>In article <[e-mail]> [e-mail] (Tim Pierce) writes:
>
>   I must learn not to read Jojo in public whilst wearing sweat pants.
>
>One wonders why?
>
>I imagine Tim sitting in a public terminal room, work stations in
>half-carels, providing only an illusion of privacy.  He has decoded
>jojo's message, reading away, wondering what the other people in the
>room would think if only they knew what he was reading.  He gets to
>the part where the coach enters the shower room, glad that the table
>hides from view the tell-tale drops of precum soaking through the
>light grey cloth of his sweat pants.  Damn!  Why didn't I wear
>underwear today?  He calculates how long he will have to sit here
>until the spots are dry enough not to be noticed, when he hears a
>voice in his ear.
>
>`We have been having some trouble with our news feed - have you
>had any problems today?'
>
>The systems programmer was looking over his shoulder at the screen -
>how long had he been there?  And from that vantage point, the table
>concealed nothing.  The bulge in Tim's sweats gave a little jump.
>
>This systems programmer was familiar to Tim - he was the one with
>long, blond hair who heated his home with just an old VAX and a
>fireplace that burned wood he chopped himself.  `Let me try
>something-' he said, as he reached for the keyboard, one arm around
>each of Tim's broad shoulders.  Those forearms!  Built up, no doubt,
>from chopping all that wood.  With his right hand, he struck the few
>keystrokes to save jojo's message in a secret system depository filled
>with other hot posts, while his left moved, ever so smoothly, down to
>Tim's sweats, where the stain was growing.

Tim was, of course, suddenly aware of a strange heat behind his jead,
just behind his right earlobe. Turning nervously to the system's
programmer, he found that strangely, he was wearing but whorish cutoff
jeans in midwinter.  One fat hairy ball had pushed its way out, and
the programmer had shifted his leg so the fat rubbery tube of his cock
protruded slightly, the purplish wet head glowering just inside the
thick brownish foreskin. It was radiating heat like crazy, Tim was
surprised it wasn't glowing. he turned back, embarrased. Nope. No one
could see what was going on at that angle.

"See something you like?" The systems programmer said, brushing one
rockhard thigh against Tim's trembling torso. Tim suddenly felt the
system's programmer press his exposed thick joint up against the side
of his nec, and a tricle of precum left a slimy wet path. He was
nervous. He knew if he turned his head the cock would pop in his mouth
in full view of the computer room, but he just couldn't take the
intensity.

What's this you're reading?" the system's programmer said, just as he
encircled the Tip of Tim's cock with his thumb and forefinger, hands
rough and thick from all that woodchopping and VAX system management.
Tim wriggled, the stain now looking li8kke he had spilled an entire
bottle of Evian in his lap, and his arching cock tenting his pants
obscenely while the System's Programmer playfully slapped at it,
reading:

"Then my friend leaned forward, mesmerised by Hick's cock, and closing
his eyes, touched his lips to the tip. His tongue lashed out, and
startled at first by the salty, tangy flavor, he grew bold, and
drooling, pressed his head forward. The fat cockhead lay heavy on his
tongue, hot, alive, and slowly sliding on in, he felt it finally push
against the back of his throat, like a velvet rock. The shaft was
tremendously thick, and hard, like a steel pipe covered with a thin
sheet of rubber. He rolled his tongue around it as best he could,
almost totally oblivious to the circle jerk closing in ever closer on
his kneeling figure.  He could smell the dried sweat in Hick's pubes
as his cockhead pushed back into his gullet and started sliding down
his throat. A vomit reflex was starting, as well as coughing, and he
felt tears streaming as he hungrily sucked and strained against the
sensation. He felt like screaming as he felt stretched out completely,
Hick's root loged deeply in his throat, and hicks reached down to grab
his ears with his hands rough from weightlifting. He started a slow
in-out slide with my poor friend crying and gagginadg and loving every
minute of it, feeling electric heat rising in his loins".

"What kind of shit is that" the manager said, rolling the head of Tims
cock between his fingers while Tim whimpered and felt his hips twitch.
The side of his neck was now drenched with precum, and he felt his
shirt sticky as the obscenely bloated cock of the system manager lay
like a fat salami across his neck and near his cheek, rubbing gently.
He felt that he couldn't even get his hand around it if he wanted to,
to push it away. Getting more nervous, he finally grabbed the
manager's hand, pulling it away, and started to turn around in his
chair. That's when he noticed that no one was left in the lab. It was
4am, after all. The system managers cock strained at the edge of the
shorts, one ball flopped out of each pant leg, and with a big knuckled
hand the manager skinned it back and the huge purple head popped out,
almost steaming. A wave of the sex smell rolled over Tim, and he felt
faint.

What was Tim to do? He stuttered gently, "I want your cock," then
closed his eyes and reached out.


--
US Jojo; damp, slighly soiled, but tasty nonetheless.