Do Not Read This

Painless Extraction

    In the early twentieth century Joe Smith and his wife, Sandra
  journeyed to the rocky New England coast. With true Yankee
  industry and cleanliness, Sandra saw her trailer park neighbors to be
a shiftless dirty lot and refused to have anything to do with them.
Joe, however, made friends quickly and had invited a family to dinner.
    Sandra sat watching her dinner devoured by the Cravens.
Little Peggy the neighbors daughter flirted with Joe. She could be
sixteen, Sandra thought. Sandra's fright quickly gave way to anger
as anyone could see Peggy's hand on Joe's lap. "I think there is
something burning in the kitchen." Sandra said to Joe. "Oh? I'll
go check on it." said Mrs. Craven. Sandra stood up with a stern look
at Joe, "I'll get it." Sandra stood in front of the kitchen sink, looking
out the window at the night.
      "Well, I don't smell anything burning." said Mr. Craven. He walked right
up behind Sandra and wrapped his arms around her . . There wasn't
anytime to think. She tried to break free. "Joe!" Sandra shouted. Joe answered
the call and smiled at Mr. Craven, "This is the Principle at Marshwood." Joe slapped
Sandra on her butt. "I hope you treat your students with more respect." Sandra
said and pushed Joe away. "I take good care of the little darlings." Mr. Craven
chortled. "Mr. Craven has a teaching position for me. Just keep him happy."
Joe slapped Sandra's butt and left. Sandra bit her lower lip. Mr. Craven was there
only hope of employment. She could hear Peggy laughing with her husband.
Sandra ran her hand up Mr. Craven's crotch.
      "And is my husband the dessert?" Mrs. Craven said. She was standing
directly behind Sandra. What could she do, but turn away quickly. The Cravens
laughed. Joe and Peggy entered laughing. It was a cruel joke. "Okay. I'm the
turkey." Sandra said red faced. She began a little crazily to sing with the hope
it would make things alright. But, the silence was doubly embarrassing.
Peggy's stare gave her a chill. "Let's have a strip tease!" Joe said
with a clap of his hands. Sandra started again to sing and sway about the kitchen,
holding the corners of her skirt slightly up. "Oh, come on! Take it off!" Mrs. Craven
shouted. The skirt dropped off under the tip of Sandra's toes.
      The guest sat down on the metal chairs in the kitchen and gazed at the
performance. Much as she dreaded it, she had to strip. She needed too.
And yet she couldn't keep her mind on them. She looked about the kitchen for
something to clean. What did it matter anyway. Sandra didn't care what these
hicks thought about her. Peggy giggled and pointed, "She's got a bikini wax."
Joe and Mr. Craven munched on crackers and watched intently. "I'm afraid I've
run out of things to do." Sandra said in her most proper english. Mrs Craven
walked up with a frightening smile. She had the dish scrubber and handed
it to Sandra. Sandra took it and gentle ran the sponge on a stick over herself.
Her left hand extended like a ballerina.
      "Stick it!" Joe shouted. Sandra's face dropped as she rutted with the sponge.
"Awright!" said Peggy, "Take it all the way down." Mrs. Craven slapped Sandra on
butt until it was beat red. Sandra was cumming gobs. Joe and Mr. Craven hooted,
"Sew-wee!" Before the evening was over Sandra was servicing both of them. She
felt so free, even Mrs. Craven and her daughter came too. She was covered
in cum. "I know just how to clean this up." Mrs. Craven said with a smirk.
She walked her giant poodle Howey in from their car. Howey's tongue was hot
and ruff, but so exciting to Sandra. "This is the best party I've ever had." Sandra
screeched. "Gag. What a tramp." Peggy scowled. Mrs. Craven pulled Howey off
and the guest left abruptly. "But-I?" Sandra stammered, stumbling up on her feet.
Joe smirked and piled the dishes in the sink, "Just clean up this mess."
He said and smacked her naked ass.


          Question: According to behaviorist no autonomous standard of good and evil
                          survives outside the needs of individual growth. Community and
                          attachment come not from the demands of tradition, but from the
                          need to belong to a group. Can Sandra be judged guilty of moral
                          depravity? Or, was she trying to be loved?



  "Do not judge. Lest ye be judged." Jesus Christ.+

                          Why are you still reading this?