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Put That In Your Comic Strip before/after I've been perusing the comics section of the newspaper more than usual of late. They still have not forced the integration issue with the Family Circus. Or Peanuts, and well, with Peanuts, it'll never happen. They did have Franklin, however. He must have gotten bussed in from another strip. At any rate, I don't read the funny papers too often, or rather, to much of an extent. Mostly, because I really don't see a whole lot of humor in them, which is supposed to be the point of reading the thing in the first place. Marmaduke? Mother Goose and Grim? I think not. It is fun, in a way, to make up your own captions at times for strips like marmaduke, and equipped with a scanner, one can truly wallpaper one's cubicle with tastlessness, the only way a cubie should be arrayed, unless the man wants to snuff it out, and He usually does. [where are you going with that jar of peanut butter and marmaduke, dad? and so on...] I do, however, read two strips faithfully. As faithful as I am to the comics page, that is. I read Dilbert, because on rare occaisions it makes me laugh, and Luann. I keep waiting for Luann to lose her virginity, or something sexually exciting to happen. I don't know why. I just hope it isn't to that gunthur guy. He reeks of bad breath and oily skin, pushing up on Luann, getting sweaty and producing a sickly little batch of sperm, giving her an entirely bad experience, probably knocking her up at the same time. Ain't that how it always happends? Maybe she will discover that she is indeed, gay, and make out with the hot cheerleader. One can only hope, sweet Luann. But it puts me in mind of the time I lost my virginity. I was seventeen. I had been seeing a girl for months. She was blonde with green eyes, and an incredible body for her age, which was young. She was a freshman. We had some time for some reason before some practice or some other bullshit that they corral kids into doing. Sports, fake acheivements, awards, contests. Whatever to kill the time, never teaching us the things we really need to know about how to live. "So...we could go to the seven eleven and get slurpees, or...we could go to my house." I said. "Let's go to your house." she said. And it was on, and we both knew it was on. We were going to fuck. Hoo-fuckin'-ray. I had wanted to wait until I found someone meaningful, or so I thought. I was young, stupid and deluded. I also thought that I would also love this person, and maybe stay with them as a couple, perhaps for the rest of my life. I was so totally wrong. In many, many ways. But I got her back to my place, and we went back to my room, of the squeaky bed springs. She was wearing her track uniform, and jogging shoes. My heart pounded as I got into the bra, while kissing her, and fumbled with it. Luscious D cups, too much, really. "What are you, Polish?" she said sarcastically. "Well, no...I..." I stumbled, a raging font of hormones, very close to just ripping her clothes of and going at her, holding it all in, holding it all back. She took off her bra and was topless. It was a sight to behold, and such an endearing sight, the gentleness that is woman. The softness of curve that feeds all men's souls. Or most men, anyway. I cupped a breast and sucked on a nipple. She made some noise I couldn't determine, something between arousal and frustration. "Aren't you going to take my pants off?" she said. She wasn't wearing pants, she was wearing shorts. This stuck in my mind. She was probably as discombobulated as I, and just taking it out on me. Whatever, man! This is it! Get to it! So I dropped to my knees, and started to pull off her shorts and panties, getting them stuck on her running shoes, and feeling terrifically embarassed about it. I caught a slight whiff of her pussy, and it drove me mad. I stuck my tongue in as far as it could go, and pretty much did nothing with it. Loved the taste, though. She lay back on the bed, and it was just me, her tasty blonde pussy, and her uncooperative gym shoes. Fuck the shoes, I thought. Just fuck 'em. I've got pussy on my tongue. Still not moving it much, other than to pull it out for a taste. Wiggling it a little. Really, no clue as to what I was doing, but knowing what I liked from the get-go. She moaned a little when I pulled it out, and then sensed that I had given up on her shoes. "Aren't you going to take off my shoes?" she bleated. So I stopped what I was doing, and took off her shoes. Double knots and all. Fuckin' hell. Double knots. God DAMN it. I took the shoes off, and the last one fell to the floor with a clunk. And she was naked. Naked. And in my bed. Live naked girl. In my bed. Yesssss! I took my clothes off, and my erection sprang out, a mind of its own, as if to blink its eyes wide and say, "Yeah boss? You actually have some real business for us today?" Yes I do. She laughed nervously as it bobbed up and down, a result of me awkwardly taking off my pants. It almost hit her in the face. [interestingly enough, years later, I would develop a habit of smacking girls in the head with my cock, usually after a good bout of sex, oral or otherwise. And then laugh. (to which one I adored would mock-shout 'Noooo...don't beat me with your cock! Help! Help someone! He's beating me with his cock!) And years after that, I realized how rather rude this is. Perhaps my one saving grace may be that I do learn, albeit at a very slow pace.] "Aren't you going to put on a condom?" she asked "Relax. Of course. I got the best. It has spermicide. Nonoxynol-9" I said. I went to my sock drawer, top drawer of the dresser, and whipped it out of the package, tearing into the box with abandon. I kept the box as a souvenier for a couple of years. As I walked back to the bed, I ripped open the package and proceeded to put the thing on backwards. Whoops. I switched it around and got it right, though. My purple headed warrior had found a raincoat. She lay back and put her head to one side, with her legs spread before me. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. I lay between her legs, and pretty much just thrusted it inside of her. Didn't think, just went on instinct. Between the lubrication of the condom, and her natural wetness, it was rather easy. And as I slid my member inside of her, even with the sensation foully blunted by the latex, I had a sense of it. That this is what I had been waiting for, much of my whole life. This sensation, this pleasure, all the sights and sounds, feelings and odors, this was it, and this was what it meant to be a man. What little did I know. Her pussy was tight, and she moaned as I put it inside of her. This feels great! And this is it! And...and...holy shit, the more I think about it, the more it feels like...uh-oh. I started pumping like an oil well. I can't honestly say how many strokes I got in, but the sad truth of the matter is that I came in roughly thirty seconds. I made a noise that must have sounded like a cross between a rusty hinge and a goose in dire pain, and ejaculated my load into a latex death coffin for sperm. "Are you all right?" she asked, turning her head from the pillow, opening her eyes slightly, as if to peek. "Yeah. I think I just came." I said, embarassed. "You think? You don't know?" she asked incredulously. "No, actually, I know I came." I said. "Oh." she said, "Okay." I sat back and took my condom off, feeling supremely happy. We looked at each other for a couple of minutes, not saying a word, knowing something had transpired, but neither of us knowing exactly what, or what it meant to each other. She sat up and kissed me, with those bitchy lips, green eyes, and full breasts pressing up against me. And I got stiff again. "Just a second," I said, reaching down for a condom, as they came in strips of three. This time I lasted a whole minute. Put that in your Luann comic strip.
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