Here’s a new thread about lovers, paramours, what have you–everything but contact between married couples. Use real or fictitious characters, your own or someone else’s; and they may be as connected or unconnected as you see fit.
Incredibly smug, the blonde, bespectacled Phoebe Atwood sauntered out of the park. She was wearing a clinging print dress, covered with little female symbols–the circle with the cross. As she passed a phone booth, with a man inside it, she exuded a trumphant air and happily exclaimed, “I Am Woman!”
The man in the phone booth, by contrast, was haggard and exhausted–ready to drop. He had jumped on Phoebe a few minutes before–and she obliged, and wore him out. He had had enough and called the local police station. He gasped, and cried into the phone, “I’m turning myself in. Phoebe Atwood ain’t no police plant but she’s hell on rapists!” Then he passed out.
The ambulance came and took the man to Bellevue. Meanwhile, Phoebe, still not satisfied, headed for…
…a barnyard, sipping straw in hand…
…a barnyard, sipping straw in hand…
…where she saw a farmer, about 50 years old, at work doing farmer stuff. Phoebe’s smug air made the farmer back off; his three sons, in their early twenties, saw her and scooted off to the high timber. Phoebe approached the farmer and thrust her hand into his overalls, and commented…
…and commented, “nice fabric. I’m part owner of a denim wholesaler and we’re planning our IPO next month. Were looking for investors. Would you be interested?”
The farmer began discussing the difficulty in raising capital for such a venture considering the economic climate and, in particular, it’s effects on the agricultural industries.
Phoebe said…
The farmer began discussing the difficulty in raising capital for such a venture considering the economic climate and, in particular, its effects on the agricultural industries.
Phoebe said…
“Damn! I am pissed off with dougie_monty for taking so long with this. Anyway, I know some investors where I work who have been wanting to set up a denim manufactory.”
The farmer asked, “What kind of denim product?”
“Just women’s jeans,” she answered. “Much like the ones I am wearing in this photo.” She produced a snapshot of herself wearing tight black jeans–and nothing else.
“Did you make them yourself?” he asked, though he knew she was causing him to pay another kind of attention to her.
“In fact, I did. But this is a different style from Levis or those designer jeans, and they should be more customized.”
“I bet you had to draw your own pattern–as shapely as you are!”
“Whay thank you kind sir!” Phoebe said as she quickly undressed the farmer and, oozing with passion, humped him like she did the attacker in the park!"
After he caught his breath, she handed him her card, with her e-mail and web addresses on them, and sauntered off, looking for more men to conquer.
Meanwhile, the farmer resolved to give his wife the screw of her life when they went to bed that night–and they’d been married 25 years. So he…
…woke from his dream, having almost forgotten the first line of the OP, and realized that, yes, he was still the only remaining human on the planet.
Still, he could dream, couldn’t he? It was dreams that had kept him alive all these years since the day his penis was torn off in a freak combine accident, and yet…
Still, he could dream, couldn’t he? It was dreams that had kept him alive all these years since the day his penis was torn off in a freak combine accident, and yet…
…in all this time since the nuclear holocaust, he had been very stoic about it. He had managed to stave off untold pain by chewing the leaves of a convenient coca plant.
All of a sudden the farmer heard a loud whirring sound. A large space ship landed, and out came four purple tubes that metamorphosed into Dick Solomon and his family–and about fifty humans who had escaped with the Solomons just before the button was pushed. The farmer was relieved to recognize his wife as one of these survivors–and another was the very same Phoebe Atwood, wearing her form-fitting black jeans and nothing else. And when the farmer’s wife approached him, he felt a familiar bulging in his crotch; and he figured the Solomons had done something else for him. 
Still, the farmer was relieved when Phoebe merely waved to him, and seemed interested only in one man:
Jesus Christ, whom she now accepted as her Lord and personal Saviour, and for whom she swore a lifetime of celibacy in order to spread the Good News, and to witness the heavenly miracles like the return of the farmer’s socks from the Solomons.
Phoebe, with tears flowing from her eyes, praised Jesus and…
Phoebe, with tears flowing from her eyes, praised Jesus and…
…vowed that she would peruse the Bible thoroughly, to ascertain whether celibacy was indeed a requirement for an evangelical Christian.
Meanwhile, two of Phoebe’s old friends, the brunette Vera Tedson (of Slavic ancestry), and the pert, blond Olivia Short, went hunting for male conquests themselves. They knew they would have just as much sexual satisfaction as they wanted when they…
when they…
approached Luigi Cortese, the tall swarthy heir of a Italian-Argentine hydroponic coffee plantation before the planet-shattering cataclysm.
Now, without a market base of terrestrial consumers, the Cortese organization was trying to turn on the nations of the galaxy to coffee. The “Cortese organization” was now mainly Luigi and his partner Beverly Parke. She had escaped the planet with him, and he later would convince her to share his business, though not a bed.
Luigi was stroking a small…
Luigi was stroking a small…
…area of skin, which turned out to be Olivia’s left elbow.
Before he could react, she twisted him to the ground, pulled his clothes off, and screwed him harder that she had anyone in her life! As she rolled off him and panted for breath, she heard him making a strained gagging sound and then fall to the ground, his eyes wide open: He was dead.
A moment later, Olivia, Vera, Phoebe, and others saw some more space ships landing–looking just like the one thr Solomons had landed–and concluded:
…that the aliens might be upset that Olivia had crucified Luigi with several large wood screws in a moment of religious passion. It looked like their plans of galactic conquest had been thwarted, as Luigi’s death certainly meant the IPO was off.
But Beverly Parke was not dismayed; coffee was her life, and this was only a minor setback. She took her vorpal sword in hand…
…and thrusted it repeatedly in to the stuck coffee grinder. “Damn,” she thought. “First the aliens, then Luigi and now this.” She was starting to lose her cool.
With perculator in she turned around and…
With percolator in she turned around and…
…came face-to-face with Mrs. Olson, El Exigente, Juan Valdez and the old guy in the Oriental robe, who originally drank Hills Brothers coffee. Valdez held Beverly down and Mrs. Olson took her sword out of her hand. The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!!
Within minutes the earth reverted to its previous state and turned out not to have been devastated by nuclear attack after all. The surviving people went galumpthing back to the original site.
“What happened?” asked Valdez, Olivia Short, and Cecil Adams.
“It was the same power that turned Sally, Harry, Tommy and me from purple tubes to human form,” answered Dick Solomon. “It was the Big Giant Head all the time. But you, Mr. Valdez, have killed the Big Giant Head’s evil agent. Once that was done all of your minds were no longer clouded.”
“Absolutely,” replied Lamont Cranston, as he prepared to hump Margo Lane for all he was worth. He also repudiated the claim by Harvey Kurtzman and Bill Elder that his last name was “Shadowskeedeeboomboom.”
Meanwhile, Phoebe joined Vera, Olivia, Sally Mears, and the precocious Betty Idelson in prowling around for horny men. They were also joined by Lucrezia Cortese, Luigi’s sister, whom he had cruelly abused during her childhood. She was as glad to see him done in as Jenny was to see Forrest Gump’s effort to have her childhood house bulldozed.
The 6-foot Sally Mears, now frightfully imbued with chutzpah and lust, started walking about stark naked, knowing what reaction she’d get. The first man she turned on after this was…
…Cmdr. Data, who had been sitting, deactive(?) in a corner. Data promptly ordered the Transporter Room to beam Mrs. Olson, El Exigente, Juan Valdez, the old guy in the Oriental robe, Beverly, Olivia Short… [singing] and all the rest [/singing] (except Cecil) aboard the Enterprise, as there were just way to many characters to deal with.
Data began debating Uncle Cece about whether transporter technology might actually be real, and not just a cheap plot device. Cece replied…
Data began debating Uncle Cece about whether transporter technology might actually be real, and not just a cheap plot device. Cece replied…
“Do you realize what that means?” Unca Cecil was really agitated. "Didn’t you see that episode of Second City TV [from 1979] wherein Dr. Chekov and his entourage got beamed aboard The Enterprise? Capt. Kirk hollered, “We’re losing control of the ship! Scotty, get these people out of here!”
Scotty did as he was told, for once. All the people who were beamed up were returned to Earth, except for the Solomons.
Harry went into his spaz attack signaling “Message from The Big Giant Head.” Capt. Kirk had been worried, but now he slipped off and did a Frank Morgan. Seeing someone watching him, he hollered, “Pay no attention to that man behind the screen!”
Harry finished his message and sneezed into his hand, with Mary, Don, August, and the young Miss Dubcek looking on–just before they were beamed back down.
“It would appear that the statuesque strawberry-blonde Sally Mears continues her quest for lustful men,” observed Lt. Spock. “She is swaggering about, knowing men who see her ‘jiggle’ so wildly cannot resist her!”
“Scotty, beam us down!” hollered Capt. Kirk, Ensign Chekhov, Mr. Sulu–and Lt. Uhuru.
“Why are you going back down to Earth, Lieutenant?” queried Spock.
She purred, “There’s a member of the Teeming Millions who has caught my eye.” She doffed her clothing and beamed down to Earth naked.
She joined Sally, Phoebe, Vera, Betty, Olivia, Lucrezia, marching about–‘Males beware; the earth’s horniest women are on the prowl.’
Within a few hours this band of sex-mad females had succeeded in…
…completely alienating the male population of the South Side of Chicago…
…a population composed primarily of happily married men, who resented this intrusion of free-spirited women in their lives. The women, all stark naked and brimming with lust, left Chicago altogether and concentrated on Oak Park, Schaumburg, Skokie, and then Hammond, IN, where they concentrated their efforts on a local building which turned out to be the local office of the Teamsters Union.
Or at least, it looked like the teamsters union. Upon entry, they’d found they discovered it was really a portal to the sexiest place on earth…
…and, within avbout twelve hours, thirteen stark-naked couples of the happiest people on earth staggered out, sexually drained and indescribably ecstatic. Standing in a group, they came face-to-face with five other couples, fully dressed and of calm demeanor.
One woman, dressed to the nines and wearing about $30,000 in jewelry (and also having taken $6,500 in karate lessons and carrying a top-of-the-line .357 Magnum), exclaimed, “What the hell is this?”
Olivia Short purred, “Why Eloise! Fancy meeting you here! This is the sexiest place on earth! We just spent twelve hours of pure delight!” (Olivia Short and Eloise Sharp had been mortal enemies for years.)
The fully-dressed men and women gave each other knowing looks.
Then they rasied their hands to Olivia and the other naked women, showing their wedding bands. As the nude women walked off, the five couples–all legally married–high-fived each other and started pawing each other in places only husbands and wives should do with each other, as they entered the sexual pleasure dome.
Sally, Olivia, Lt. Uhuru and the other naked, unmarried women decided now was the time to…