Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ENGLISH/KAREN.LZH/KAREN_ELL.TXT

Text File | 1993-07-17 | 24.7 KB | 426 lines

                Karen Eliot's Excellent Adventures #2

                       by Jim and Meg Norris




     Karen sat at her bar in the small pool of light cast by a desk
lamp.  She keyed the remote and was immediately jolted by the
intense volume in her headphones.  She quickly adjusted to the
digital rock'n'roll.  She extracted one of the two sugar cubes from
the small ziploc and dropped it into the clear water which about
half filled the blue crystal glass.  Karen watched the thin tendrils
and bubbles climbing upward from the dissolving cube.  When only a
vestige of the cube remained, Karen stirred the water.  The painted
Emperor penguin atop the glass stir stick turned and spun.  Clasped
lightly in Karen's regal fingers, it completed the ceremonial
preparation.  Karen raised the glass and drank the water in several
unhurried swallows.  With a phrase, she invoked her hypnotically-
installed interface metaphor and prepared to enter the always open
playground of her mind.
     Karen closed her eyes.  As always, the first effect to hit was
the intense joy.  Beyond euphoria, she was lit by the electric
pleasure of cognition.  The acceleration of her awareness took
Karen's breath away.  She was filled with a sense of vibrant energy;
restless, resisting confinement, awaiting purpose.  Karen waited,
still and receptive, enjoying her most powerful and balanced hit of
L+ yet.  Her face was transformed by a wide grin.  Everything that
she experienced seemed hilarious.  The boundless soul laughed at
every aspect of its voluntary earthly confinement.  The joyous
feelings mellowed and Karen could feel the visual effect hitting.
     She opened her eyes.  Her will twisted the perspective of her
view.  With slight effort, she could see the framework of points
underlying her previous perspective.  Karen loved to come to the
grid of brilliant spectral colors pulsing on a background of the
deepest black.  She shifted her perspective further into the grid.
The perception of her immediate surroundings become masked by the
perspective switching.  With the underlying grid mostly in violet
with some green, she could see her world alongside.  With the grid
shifted to yellow and blue, her world became a fading afterimage.
The final displacement was to orange and red grid lines.  The
delicate flows between the white node points connected by the grid
lines were clearly discernable.  Karen relaxed, her mind still.
When she felt totally cleansed, Karen twisted her perspective back
to her physical circumstances.
     The point framework faded, but the clear joy remained.  Karen
tamped the last of her Mendocino purple kush into the bong bowl.
She smoked several hits of the famous one-hit shit.



     Karen piloted her 16-valve yupster through the thickening early
morning traffic.  She drove to her favorite regional park,
occasionally playing with the shapes of the fluffy clouds to the
sounds of blasting rock'n'roll.  The promising gusts of wind earlier
had picked up to a steady breeze.
     She was easily able to fit into the street side parking space
left by a suit driving a boat that didn't quite look like his
father's Oldsmobile.
     Karen removed the two bags with her gear from the car and set
off on foot.  Her favorite visual hallucination was immediately
operational; the clouds were false colored.  The resolution improved
as she watched.  Horizontal and vertical movement was highlighted to
the degree of magnitude.  Movement tails were plotted against the
latlong grid on the sky that suddenly appeared.  Her left eye
displayed additive color mixture and her right showed subtractive
mixture.  She blinked rapidly several times before establishing gray
scale; positive on left, negative on right.  With several more
blinks she tested the binocular gray of her shaded object view mode.
     She switched the tactical overlay on and enjoyed the instant
replacement.  Dense monochrome axial and edge lines defined the
plotted objects in her wireframe view mode.  She blinked rapidly and
switched the representation color; red, orange, yellow, green, blue,
violet.  Trees moving in the breeze appeared as fractal fluff.  She
toyed briefly with switching visibility of the hidden lines before
halting on the small hilltop that she'd walked to.  The position was
ideal for kite flying; an unobstructed hilltop with a comfortably
calm lee side.  Karen willed the visual hallucination suite off.
     Once Karen had unpacked everything that she needed, the special
components of her custom kite were arrayed about her in small
unitary bags.  Moving lithely, she fitted the machined alloy tubes
through the fabric.  With some flexing of the frame tubes, the
assembly locked into position.  The dihedral looked perfect to her
practiced eye.  She quickly attached her toys to the kite.  This was
to be the final test of the digital camera.  The stoner-friendly
components were a cinch to connect and test.  The kite ready, Karen
swiftly connected the signal processor and the display to the power
pack.  Her nipples hardened as she stood facing the oncoming chill
wind with the black shark kite.  Once she released the two meter
long kite, it tugged aggressively to achieve altitude.  The ratchet
on the reel of line stopped clicking at full extension.  Karen
hooked the reel to a concrete-anchored barbecue grill.  The kite
would easily stay aloft all day, given wind.
     Karen plugged her goggles into the display plate.  She tested
the trackball controlled lens movements.  The stabilized lens mount
really cut down on vertigo.  She switched through her visual
hallucination series satisfactorily with the remote device.  The
view was centered downwind from her position.
     Karen started looking at her surroundings in an expanding
spiral from the duck pond directly below the kite.  She tarried
briefly while watching the city maintenance crew loafing near the
lake's pump housing.  Only a single weather-beaten Pinto occupied
the nearest parking lot.
     Karen spotted a boy walking purposefully toward the junked out
ovenmobile where an equally weathered man sat eating a burrito in
it.  The boy had the eager, slightly feral look of someone exposed
to particularly harsh realities of life at too young an age.
     The lad leaned in the passenger side window and apparently
spoke with the driver.  As he walked away he stopped and seemed to
meet another person whom Karen hadn't noticed.  The kid and the
woman walked together toward the Pinto.  Both crowded at the window
briefly.  Karen twiddled the controls to get maximum zoom and the
best angle.  She watched something pass hands from the woman to the
driver.
     Then the woman and the boy got into the car.  They crowded
together in the middle of the car making detailed observation
impossible.
     After a few minutes the woman and boy got out of the car.  It
occurred that the similarities in appearance and expression
suggested a familial relationship.  Had the kid set up a deal for
his mom?
     Spiraling wider, Karen took in the surrounding neighborhood.
The immediate view was a jumble of air conditioners, fireplaces,
antennae, and dilapidated roofing.  The yards proved to be barely
more interesting, with the usual domestic animals and uninspired
gardening.
     Still, things were not without potential as the viewing
mechanism came to rest and Karen watched a woman stroking herself
with tanning oil.  Almost as if she had willed it the elegant
woman's hand was dipping into her scant bikini bottom.  The woman
gave herself over to the pleasure of it and Karen absently licked
the fine sheen of perspiration above her lips.
     Peripheral motion caught Karen's attention.  The Smith's
Department Store delivery van stopped at the curb in front of the
woman's house.  The driver walked up to the porch and waited.
     Karen scanned back to the poolside.  Apparently in oblivion,
the woman had just found the extended nub of her clitoris.  Karen
read her lips, "Oh...fuck...fuck me, Jim...oh...God! Fuck meee...".
Waves seemed to engulf her as she sank her hand deeper into her
cunt, making her shudder with orgasm.  She relaxed on the lawn.
     Apparently she hadn't noticed the delivery man standing on her
porch watching her.  Karen knew that she had something here that was
better than soap operas.  If this followed the hallowed script line,
the coy bitch would play kinda hard to get, yet a hot wench once
coerced into putting out.  Karen watched the woman get up and face
the delivery man.  The cups of her halter dangled, her proud breasts
displayed openly.  The look on her face as she whipped the guilty
hand behind her back was priceless.  She shook her tits and rolled
her pelvis enticingly while upholding the verbal pretense of
fighting off an over-eager admirer.  He approached her and ran his
hand over her breasts.  She raised her pubic mound in horny
response, "No, please, don't.  I'll give you money."  His immediate
reply was, "Keep it.  I'll do it for free!"
     Skip and Barbara introduced themselves once they were satisfied
that they were committed to fucking by the rules of the mating
ritual.  Skip finger fucked Barbara briefly before helping her out
of her sodden bikini.
     Barbara freed Skip's erection from his jeans and began stroking
it.  She kissed and licked his cock lightly and insisted that he
fuck her.  Skip knelt over Barbara, slipped his massive hardon into
her sloshing cunt, and proceeded to pump furiously.
     Karen noticed what must have been neighbor kids atop the wall
at the back of Barbara's property.  As she watched, two boys jumped
down and ran away.  The others, a boy and a girl of about the same
age, stared unabashedly at the rutting adults.
     Karen turned her attention back to Barbara and Skip.  Barbara's
thrashing was either seizures, or she was coming big time.  Just a
moment later, Skip began jabbing his pelvis against Barbara's crotch
with severe determination.
     Following their mutual orgasm, Barbara began protesting
vociferously.  Skip didn't seem deterred and Skip began licking
Barbara's tits and belly.  Karen looked back at the kids on the
wall.  The kids who had run away were back.  They passed something
rather large to their friends on top of the wall.  It was a
videocam! They got it going just as Skip started licking at
Barbara's pussy.
     While continuing to lick and suck Barbara's drenched box, Skip
straddled her, positioning his dong above her mouth.  Barbara
greedily mouthed his meat with abandon.  Karen watched the two
lovers perform for the juvenile audience.  Eventually, both came
again, but this time they collapsed afterward in exhaustion.
     The sex apparently complete, Karen continued her widening
spiral scan.  Karen was still hot from her shameless voyeurism.  She
unzoomed and tried to chill out.  It was some time before her
consciousness expanded to perceive the coverage area fully, without
effort.  After a period she lost track of watching and just watched.
She felt the cold edges of eternity as the individuality of her
perception faded.
     Thoroughly refreshed, Karen took off the display goggles and
arose.  The ultra-stable shark wasn't as thrilling to fly by hand as
most kites, but was fun nonetheless.  She unhooked the reel from the
barbecue and stood on her local hilltop, anchoring the peeping
shark.  Karen was starting to become bored with the kite when she
noticed a young man approaching.
     The smiling face of don Genaro was pasted over the approaching
stranger.  She hated it when that happened.  The Castaneda clan, who
considered her to be some kind of witch, invaded her lofty highs
periodically.  Karen had to wait out the limited power of the ally
which was reduced by ignoring it.  Meanwhile, in a thought bubble
over her head, an icon-sized Yaqui sorcerers apprentice scribbled in
his hilarious notebooks.
     "Happy Earth Day, Karen", Genaro said.
     "Piss on that", Karen said as she continued to fly her kite.
     "What?", Genaro smiled.
     "Happy Earth First! day", Karen replied.
     "What's it matter what you call it as long as we act together
to save the planet?"
     "You sound like the environmental president.  Let's link arms
across Amerika and pretend.  Let's pretend that someone else will
fix things.  Save it for the yuppie swine."
     "Okay, what're you doing?"
     "Well, let me see.  I'm shipping a crate of special tree
spikes, writing to imprisoned Firsters, and planting trees.  And
that's today."
     Unsure of the man's exact identity, she posed an insider
question, "How's the titty project"?
     "Beautiful! The tiny turbofan was incredible.  We got much
better performance from the zeppelin than expected.  And quiet?
Almost inaudible at altitude.  How's the vid?"
     "It's perfect.  I taped some haus frau fucking a delivery man
in her back yard over there", she said, pointing to the subdivision
next to the park.  "And I wasn't the only one.  The kids next door
are going to make her a local celebrity."
     Still, don Genaro could have been one of several men.  But,
which one?  Another insider question, "And the navware?"
     "Haven't heard, but that was the easiest part.  I'm sure it's
go", Genaro responded.
     With the realization that she was speaking to Roger Wilco, the
airframe contractor, the don Genaro face disappeared, leaving
Roger's craggy, but handsome features.  The figure in the thought
bubble paused and looked up before vanishing.
     "I've got a solid lead on the fundy mentalists", Roger
announced.  "A church that they gather at before descending on
clinics.  An OR organizer flew in for a meeting tonight."
     Used to the short notice which was often involved in
monkeywrenching, Karen pressed for details, "What's their security?"
     "Jesus and the parking lot lights."
     "What're you doing?", Karen asked, her interest piqued.
     "Placing caltrops.  There should be a nearly full parking lot,
and we have enough for all.  There's even enough for the helpful tow
trucks and supportive friends."
     Without reservation, Karen agreed to the date.  She traded
turns with Roger hauling in the peeping shark.



     Karen negotiated the suburban streets according to the
instructions that she'd received.  She found the health spa with
little effort.  She'd passed on several previous occasions, but had
been unimpressed by the lack of business that was evident.  If the
grounds were any indication, the spa wasn't doing any too well.
     She parked under the shade the nearest tree to the door.  The
information desk was right inside the door.  Karen was pleased to be
recognized when she introduced herself to the pretty brunette.
During the time that she waited for her masseuse, Karen watched the
swimmers in the olympic pool beyond the plate glass.  Several men
and a woman played hide-and-seek games enthusiastically.
     Dena, who would her masseuse, was not what Karen had expected.
She was a short, plump, Latina with a kindly but deferential manner.
Dena led Karen to a private massage room.
Once the door was closed, she withdrew a small pipe and her stash of
Humboldt skunk from her purse.  As she loaded the pipe she explained
to Karen, "It's an excellent high.  No seeds".  The women sat calmly
and puffed the bowl to dust.
     Karen roused herself from her mental fog and stood, gracefully
pulling the pinafore dress over her head.  Her tits jiggled
delightfully when she shook her hair out.  Almost as an
afterthought, she slipped her bikini panties off and stepped out of
her sandals.  She dropped all three articles of clothing on the
chair which she'd just been sitting in and and lay face on the
prepared table.  Dena waited, warming the oil in hands that had
sturdy, practiced fingers.  Karen hadn't taken note of Dena's covert
appreciation of her gorgeous body as she disrobed.
      Starting with a sweeping arch that took in Karen's shoulders
and the upper portion of her back, Dena began.  Her fingers worked
in concert to slowly knead the areas that offered resistance.  Karen
felt the tension retreat as Dena worked her flesh with warm circular
pressure.  Dena used delicate touches to relax Karen's neck and
scalp before turning her attentions to Karen's lower back.
Captivated by the gentle curve of Karen's sweetly freckled ass, Dena
cupped and rubbed the lovely buttocks.  Karen automatically spread
her legs apart as Dena stroked her upper thighs.  Dena thoroughly
rubbed Karen's shapely legs.  As she proceeded toward Karen's ankles
she was overcome by the perfect picture of split tail.
     Dena bent Karen's legs up at the knees and began a detailed
study of her feet.  Her fingers traced every detail of Karen's toes,
arches, and heels.
       Karen rolled over at the easy touch.  Dena intertwined her
fingers between Karen's toes and lightly sucked and licked between
them, the while rolling her fingers along the tender arch.  Karen's
erect nipples testified to her growing excitement.  She arched her
back involuntarily and moaned excitedly from the wonderful sensory
overload.  Dena's expert hands kneaded Karen's calf.  She massaged
Karen's upper thigh and knee.  Karen's legs gradually spread further
apart revealing her moist and puffy pussy.  Dena rubbed the other
leg from the thigh to the knee and ankle.  Finally, she gave Karen's
left foot equal treatment.  While Karen relaxed, Dena moved around
to Karen's side.  She made several applications of oil to Karen's
chest, manipulating her breasts gently.
     Dena lost herself briefly playing with Karen's firm and shapely
tits.  The well oiled mounds conformed to the constantly changing
pressure from her hands, but immediately returned to their pert
contours when released.  Dena concentrated her efforts on each
breast in turn once Karen's nips came up; one hand shifting and
sliding, the other tugging and twisting the sensitive nipple.  When
she could tear herself away, Dena bent over and lightly kissed each
of Karen's coral-colored nips.
     Only the slightest pressure was required to prompt Karen to
reposition herself on the table.  From slender feet to tapered
calves to slim thighs, Dena relished the view of Karen's shapely
legs dangling from the table.  She felt nothing short of adoration
for the flower of womanly flesh nestled in Karen's downy pubes.
     Dena dabbed special spice-scented oil on Karen's swollen mound,
rubbing gently around and around.  She brushed the fleshy inner lips
and saw the first drops of translucent dew.  With practiced strokes,
Dena manipulated the lubricated labia.  She caressed the clitoral
hood with one hand while easing the index finger of the other into
the snug pussy.  She tantalized the hardened pea and the delicate
labial fold.  Dena added more oil and began screwing her finger in
and out of Karen's cunt; slowly at first, but faster and faster in
tempo to Karen's bucking hips and inarticulate moans.  When she got
the track of Karen's approaching orgasm Dena carefully synced her
motions, until the orgasmic waves from Karen's clit and G-spot
cascaded over her repeatedly.
     Dena slipped the amyl capsule from her stash while Karen
relaxed, laying back, breathing raggedly.  As soon as Karen was
desensitized, Dena lowered her mouth to Karen's crotch and exhaled
warmly.
     Dena reamed the point of her delicate tongue into the puckered
rosebud of Karen's asshole.  Karen moaned gently and rubbed an erect
nipple between forefinger and thumb of one hand while she played
with Dena's glossy mane with the other hand.  Aroused by the musky
femininity, Dena began licking the length of Karen's slit with
fervor, occasionally tugging her pussy lips gently, or nuzzling her
swollen clit.  As she licked gentle circular patterns, Dena prepared
to crush the capsule.  She carefully led Karen to the edge of
orgasm; hips gyrating, rolling her pussy wantonly, crazed.  Karen
had just started her hard climax when she smelled the medicinal
odor.  Instantly, the vasodilator hit and Dena jammed a finger in
her ass.  Karen rode the forever acceleration of rocket-boosted-
orgasm nearly to seizures before it faded.  She lay back, spent and
exhausted.
     Dena slowly arose and walked to Karen's side where she leaned
over and cuddled the redhead gently.  They snuggled briefly before
Dena patted Karen's sweet ass and stepped away to prepare the
shower.
    Karen got up once she heard the water running.  The shower was a
freestanding pipe in the corner with a massage shower head on a
hose.  A tile sill provided a shallow basin around the drain.  Karen
was captivated by the radiant smile which Dena sported as she soaped
a washcloth.  Invigorated by the very scent of the lathered mint
soap as she approached, Karen slipped into the steamy shower.
     Karen raised her arms and intertwined her fingers behind her
head while Dena began walking around her, rinsing her with the
needle spray hot water.  When Dena hung the shower head on the pipe
Karen turned to direct the massaging water on her shoulders and
upper back.  Dena knelt and eased Karen's legs apart.  She gently
yet thoroughly washed the blushing snatch with the stimulating soap.
     Dena turned off the shower and patted a large fluffy towel
against Karen's lightly freckled skin, drying her completely.  The
two women hugged warmly before returning to Karen's clothes and a
final smoke before Karen dressed and left for the swimming pool.



     Roger Wilco had all the equipment set up and tested at the safe
house before Karen arrived late in the evening.  They awaited the
cabal contact who was to direct the signoff mission of the zeppelin.
Hedda Steam was an old friend of Karen's, but Roger only knew her
from construction review meetings.
     Roger answered the knock at the door.  The raven-haired Amerind
was as beautiful, and as businesslike, as ever.  Roger led her to
the back bedroom where the computers and radios were arrayed.  Karen
and Hedda embraced warmly and pecked each others cheeks.  Karen
offered the first hit of red-haired sinse to Hedda, who obliged by
lighting the bong and drawing deeply.  After several passes of the
pipe, the three were relaxed and ready.
     The mischief was about to begin.  Karen and Hedda had watched
Roger transmit the flight instructions that had allowed the zeppelin
to shadow the formation of six Bell 206 utility helicopters.
     With several keystrokes, Roger selected the radio navaids to be
jammed.  It was no small coincidence that the formation was
currently relying on them for navigation.  With a press of the
RETURN key, programming was uploaded to the special pod which was
attached to the zeppelin.
     The chopper pilots became concerned when red flags started to
extend into the faces of their radio navigation instruments.  They
switched through the various VOR frequencies available to them and
found the same static everywhere.
     The cabal mission outline had optimistically projected that the
malathion sprayers would abort their mission and return to base once
they could no longer rely on absolute positioning.  That hope was
shattered when the lead pilot ordered continuing on visual.
"Charlie Mike", he'd called on the radio as he began the final turn,
leading the legal urban aerial poisoning of sleeping families.
     Hedda nodded and Roger selected and transmitted another
program.  The zeppelin began forging the signals returned by the
altitude-encoding radar transponders of the formation.  Roger,
Hedda, and Karen waited a tense few minutes, listening for trouble.
When none came, Hedda nodded again and Roger sent an initiating
signal.
     In an instant, the helicopters all appeared to have been
hijacked.  The air traffic controllers saw the assigned squawk codes
turn to 7500 in one sweep of the interrogating radar beam.
     The nightmare was only starting for the controllers.  Their
calls weren't heard or returned by the formation.  The pilots were
apparently getting somewhat edgy about the loss of communication as
well.  Unable to communicate with one another, the pilots broke
formation according to contingency plan.
     Once the formation began breaking up, the zeppelin changed the
forged squawk codes to 7700; emergency.  The encoded altitude was
rapidly decreased until the signal was completely blanked.  The
controllers believed that the choppers had crashed and began
responding accordingly.
     Roger transmitted the final program.  The zeppelin ceased all
radio interference and turned to its departure path; a secure cabal-
operated landing zone waited in the desert.  The turbofan-powered
zeppelin slipped away, its anechoic coating hiding it from the radar
below and above, where the alerted interceptors snooped.
     Roger, Karen, and Hedda were almost rolling on the floor in
laughter from the conversations between the malathion sprayers and
the air traffic controllers.  It was going to be a very late night
for these lackeys of agribiz.