T H E H O M E R V A R G A S S T O R Y A R C H I V E
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Author: Homer Vargas
Title: Celeste Withdraws
Keywords: NC, MF, FF, cheat, preg, postmodernism humor
Summary: The of Celeste's temporary withdrawal
for reviewing internet erotica
Redistribution: No restriction except that the may not be changed/edited and the title, author's name
and email, and request for feedback must remain
First Posted 12/?/99
Last Edited 12/15/02
Celeste Withdraws (NC, MF, FF, cheat, preg,
by Homer Vargas
This text was submitted for a contest held a few years
ago to explain Celeste's temporary [alas, now
permanent] absence from Celestial Reviews on ASSM.
Some readers have become confused between the author,
the narrator, and characters in the story. One reader
even suggested there may be some autobiographical
reference involved. This is naïve, but understandable
for several reasons. First, the name of the putative
author, Homer Vargas, is also the name of a character
in the story. Second, although the is written
in the impersonal third person, at various points the
narrator speaks to the reader as "I," seeming, thereby
to pierce the veil between author and narrator.
Finally, the character "Homer Vargas," also claims to
be a writer of erotic as the putative author
would appear to be.
Readers should not be distressed by these shenanigans
as other writers such as Phil Roth, Johnny Updike,
even Homer's own cousin, Mario Vargas Llosa, have done
the same. Nor is this a new literary device. You
probably remember that Mickey Cervantes in Book Two
explicitly poo-poos any correspondence between himself
and the author of Book One of "Don Quijote." Doubts
have even been expressed about the authenticity of
Homer's own namesake, although most scholars now agree
that both The Oddessy and The Iliad were written
either by Homer or by someone with the same name.
Professor Gail Myrthwright has an excellent treatment
of the problem of subject/frame interaction in her
recent thesis, "Exhibitionism and Self Reference in
Internet Erotica." In her paper, Professor Myrthwright
cites dialogue of Mercedes Cortez a character in "A
New Infection," also by Homer Vargas (or someone with
the same name) to explain the phenomenon:
"But, Vivian, can't you see, deconstruction of a text
ALWAYS requires attention to the semiotic conventions
of time and place. I find your attempt at
a-historical analysis futile, at best. A deeper
analysis . . . uuh, yes, a little deeper. DEEPER,
Darling. You KNOW how likes it! Oh, oooh,
While holding in tension the dialectic so well
expressed by Dr. Cortez, Ms Myrthwright also presents
us with the contrarian view which Vargas puts in the
words of Vivian Wu in the same story:
"Mechas, my dear, you simply fail to recognize the
importance of STRUCTURE. A hermeneutic exegesis of a
messages can no more be disguised by convention than
can the language in which it is transmitted. With a
little more time I know I can explain it to you. I'm
really so close. YES! So CLOSE. Work that tongue,
you bitch, ...AYYYYY!"
Those interested in a broader, if somewhat popular,
treatment of issues of self reference, should see
"Godle, Escher, Bach" by Douglas R. Hofstadter. The
rest of you, who may be tiring of this postmodernist
horseshit by now, can go right on to the below.
by Homer Vargas
I know a lot a people have been wondering why Celeste
has withdrawn "temporarily" from publishing the
Celestial Reviews. I don't suppose anyone actually
believes the phony explanation she put out in CR 310.
Hard disk crash. Haa! The is a lot more
complicated. Incredibly, it started with the marital
problems of a minor pornwriter, "Homer Vargas," thus .
. . .
Homer loved his Angela.
He loved her deeply, totally. She was his light, his
life. Even after thirteen years of marriage, she
still had the smashing figure of a woman in her
twenties. People constantly expressed amazement that
she was enough to be and even more that
she could be the of a twelve year daughter.
His Angela was just beautiful. Every day at work,
Homer yearned to get home to her. She filled his
thoughts and she filled his dreams. Unfortunately,
she did not fill his arms.
Homer had met Angela when he was working in South
America. They had been virgins when they married;
Angela because of very traditional, protective and convent education; Homer because Anglo in
his small Southern high school just didn't find big
brown with funny accents very attractive. In
State University, even the few Latina women were more
interested in the Black and WASP "jock" types, so he
had been very frustrated. When Homer met Angela and
she let him hold her hand on the very fourth date, he
was in heaven. No other had ever let him take
such liberties with her body. Within a month or two,
Angela was letting him feel her titties. She was
beautiful, intelligent and she had shown she really
liked sex. What more could he want in a wife?
The problem seemed to start when they came back to the
United States and had Cindy, bang-bang, almost as soon
as they were married. Angela hadn't really planned to
have a baby so soon; it just happened. Homer guessed
she became frightened by her own fertility. Angela's
mother had had thirteen children; Angela must have
wanted to avoid anything like that. She was
determined to finish her degree and to have a career.
Cindy was a setback and she said they weren't going to
have any more babies for a while.
Angela was one of those women who could not take the
pill, so they had to use the rhythm method. (They
tried using condoms a couple of times, but by the time
Homer got the damn thing on, he'd lost his erection.
This did not seem to upset Angela.) Unfortunately,
Angela's period was pretty irregular. On average it
was short, but occasionally she could go thirty or
more days. Those of you who know about how the rhythm
method works know that means they had a very narrow
window of "safe" days each month.
After Cindy was born Angela decided that to reduce the
risk, they would have to stop having sex so
frequently. They hadn't been having sex that
frequently, anyway. Homer took it badly. Sex was
very important to him. He thought was the ultimate
way of saying "I love you" to the most desirable woman
in the world. Maybe it was difficult for Angela, too
at first, but through some kind of internal
discipline, she seemed to convince herself that she
didn't really want sex that much. Once or twice a
month seemed fine with her. Once or twice? Many times
they were (Homer was) still eagerly awaiting the
"safe" days when Angela's period showed up
unexpectedly early and he had to start counting all
The standard advice for couples using the rhythm
method is to use "other means" to express love and
affection during those days. Angela, however, was
very conservative and reacted with disgust when Homer
tried to pleasure her with his fingers or -- worse --
with his mouth on her pussy. He got them a copy of
"The Joy of Sex" and once or twice after reading it
Angela brought herself to place her lips on tip of his
penis, but she just couldn't force herself to put it
in her mouth. Thus, for most of each month they ended
up not having sex of any kind.
Don't get the wrong impression, Homer was sure Angela
did love him, but she began to think that love didn't
need to include sex. They had much in common in
addition to their daughter. Angela was a great cook
and they enjoyed reading and listening to classical
music together. She did all those sweet "wifely"
things like straighten his tie, tell him when his
socks didn't match, and keep an eye on his weight.
Homer knew that if he looked a lot better than most
guys his age, it was because of Angela. He didn't
think she meant to be cruel in denying him sex; he
suspected that she really did not understand just how
much a needs it.
Since she was intent on their not "doing it" most
days, Angela became reluctant to let Homer be too
"lovey-dovey." Over the years, she began to reject his
kisses, took a dislike to being hugged or cuddled, and
would seldom let him even touch her beautiful tits,
which she was constantly complaining were "too big."
"What's got into you, Homer?" she would protest if he
forgot and tried to take her hand or slip his arm
around her waist. She probably felt (maybe with some
justification) that he was trying to seduce her.
Perhaps she feared that if she allowed herself even a
little sexual pleasure, she would loose control and go
"all the way" and another trip to the maternity ward
would be the result.
Homer was going crazy. He tried doing all those
things that are supposed to make women melt. He sent
her flowers, but she berated him for being silly or
thanked him because they made "the house" look nice.
He asked her to go out on romantic evenings for
dinner, but she thought it was a waste of money.
(Even then his company was starting to take off and
there was always enough money for entertaining members
of her family.) Angela didn't like to drink, so
sharing a bottle of wine over a quiet dinner at home
was out, too.
Homer had the idea of their taking dancing lessons
together, but that was another disaster. Angela hated
it and constantly criticized the other women there for
wearing short skirts and heels (the things Homer has
always wanted Angela to wear) to "show off their
legs." He began to leave those women's magazines with
articles on how to keep the "spark" in your marriage
lying around. Angela wasn't buying. She was
determined to make sure that no sparks led to no
More and more Angela dressed to minimize her innate
attractiveness, although she could never be
unattractive to Homer. She would never wear high
heels; deciding they her feet. She wouldn't wear
earrings; the clip ons pinched and she was allergic to
the wires in the pierced kind, so she said. She
preferred the triple protection of baggy slacks with
pantyhose over panties. When Angela "had" to wear as
skirt, it was always loose and a little longer than
the fashion -- never with a slit and never above the
knee. Homer tried buying her shorter, tighter skirts,
but Angela wouldn't put them on. The sexy pajamas he
got for her birthday or anniversary or Valentine's Day
languished in the bottom of some drawer. Bangles,
bracelets, and necklaces she found gaudy. Homer
didn't even bother asking about an ankle chain or
Homer had grown up as an only child and had always
wanted lots of children. One, admittedly pretty
perfect little girl, was not enough for him. Angela,
however, just fawned over dozens of nieces and nephews
and seemed content with Cindy. Homer, too, thought
their nieces and nephews were cute, but cursed his
fate that while all of Angela's sisters and
sisters-in-law were having three and four kids for
their husbands (one in law had eight!), Angela
would give him only one. And not all those marriages
were happy ones.
Angela's Margarita, for example, was to
an alcoholic who beat her and Consuelo's husband spent
all his money on his mistress with whom he had a
child. Yet Margarita had had two and two for her man. Consuelo had given her SOB
three and a and was pregnant again. Even
worse for Homer was putting up with Angela's relatives
who wondered aloud why they didn't "go for a boy," as
if he wouldn't be just as overjoyed to have four or
five more little competing for their daddy's
Little by little having more kids and the resentment
that Angela refused to let him make her pregnant again
got to be almost an obsession with Homer. Everywhere
he went he noticed pregnant women, women nursing
babies, women with a brood of kids. When he saw an
attractive woman with a man, Homer wondered how long
it would be before the guy had her pregnant. He
looked at balding, pudgy with three or four kids
and ground his teeth. What had he done to deserve
All this was mixed up with sex or the lack of it. At
night Homer would lie awake next to his sexy wife,
yearning to reach over and touch her and knowing it
would only anger her. Outwardly he looked like the
luckiest alive -- a beautiful wife, his company
doing better and better, a pretty, intelligent
daughter -- but he wanted more sex and more kids.
Life seemed so unfair.
Why didn't Homer have an affair, you ask? I told you
already; he loved Angela. He wanted her, not another
woman. He wanted Angela to be the of his
children; look at their success with Cindy. For the
same reason he never seriously considered divorce.
At last he decided to have a serious talk with Angela.
Luckily, Cindy was at a friend's house on that Friday
night and they could be alone. It wasn't easy, but he
told Angela about his feelings, how he loved her, but
how he needed for their love to be physical, too. He
admitted he wished she would dress more like the sexy
woman she was. And finally, could they never have
Angela exploded. "So, that's all you want! To dress
me like a whore and fuck me 'till I'm pregnant!
"No, of course not, Honey Maybe I said it wrong. I
meant ..." Homer collapsed in tears. He couldn't
believe what he was hearing from his wife. Seeing him
cry only riled her more. In the heat of anger she
said that she didn't love him, that he had never
satisfied her sexually and never would!
That's when Homer got mad. *He* -- who had suffered
blue balls 360+ days of each of the thirteen years
they had been because *she* refused to have
sex, -- had not satisfied *her!* Did she think sex
was a spectator sport in which the "performed" to
please his woman? Homer knew Angela had never had an
orgasm, but was that just his fault? She never
allowed herself to try!
Homer knew he needed help but who? A woman, of
course, a good Catholic like Angela, someone
intelligent that Angela would respect, but most
important, a woman with a sense of humor who loved
sex. It didn't take long to light upon the ideal
woman. He thought of the woman who once said that one
of his was "disgusting," but that she had
laughed her head off and then "done the dirty" with
her happy husband. -- Celeste.
Homer decided to track Celeste down. It wasn't as
hard as you think. Have you ever heard of
"iso-logues"? They are lines linguists can draw on
detailed maps marking the way that people in different
regions of the country use words. For example in some
places people say "nobody" in others, "no one."
Generally, linguists can demarcate exactly where more
people use one and where the other. That is but a
very obvious example, but these maps are far more
subtle. Word frequency, word placement, grammar,
syntax, all can be analyzed and, in Celeste's case,
Homer put his company's programmers on it. Every
sentence Celeste had ever written in over three
hundred Celestial Reviews went into a huge database.
Of course Celeste had told everyone some things about
herself that were plausible -- with daughters,
Catholic, English teacher in a high school.
Homer's linguistic map located her to the western half
of a certain rural county in a medium size state. His
private investigators found there was only one sexy
English teacher in the local high school. Guess what;
she was Catholic, married, and had two daughters.
Bingo! Homer had Celeste!
Celeste didn't reply to his first e-mail. He didn't
expect her to. Then he mentioned the name of her
husband and her oldest daughter's best friend and
hinted he would expose her. "What do you want?"
Celeste finally wrote back.
Homer knew what she thought -- that like millions of
other ASSM readers, he fantasized about shagging the
sexy English teacher. But Homer was in love with
Angela. He told Celeste to meet him in the bar of a
large hotel in a medium size city near her home. He
was reasonable about allowing her to find a time that
would not arouse suspicion in her husband, but Celeste
was very apprehensive, suspecting the worst.
Homer had told her how to recognize him, a tall brown
man with a mustache and a cravat. He had the
pictures his private investigators had obtained. They
didn't do Celeste justice. He spotted her the instant
she walked in -- long straight brown hair. slim but
with large and the roundness of a woman who
had borne children. She wore a business suit cut just
a little bit provocatively, heels, large earrings.
Celeste had read his and had decided to dress
to please him.
"How did you find me?" she asked, upset, but not able
to restrain her curiosity. "I though my system with
AOL was foolproof. I'm going to sue the bastards!"
"You'd better not or I won't be the only one who knows
who you really are. Besides, that's not how I found
you." Homer explained how innocent information, a few
lucky guesses and the linguistic maps had uncovered
her identity. Celeste had been drinking heavily as he
explained her undoing. As he spoke, she realized she
was trapped. The combination of the liquor and the
despair was fatal. She broke down in tears.
"Oh God! No, no" she sobbed. "You are going to
blackmail me and I'll have to do anything you say. I
know what's going to happen now. You must be able to
see how wet I am." Celeste was becoming hysterical
"You're going to take me to your hotel room to fuck me
senseless in front of cameras. In the elevator
you will reach up under my skirt and discover I'm not
wearing panties. You're going to finger me to an
orgasm that will leave me incoherent."
"Celeste," Homer tried to break in
"I can't believe this is happening to me. I was a
virgin when I married. I've always been faithful to
my husband," she wailed. "Why is my body betraying me
like this, at the worst possible time of month when
I'm ovulating?. Oh! It's your magnificent cock; it
mesmerizes me. You are going to lay me back and eat
my until I am so hot I can't make you use a
"Celeste, Celeste! You have been reading too many
slutwife stories," he tried again without success.
"You'll have me in an overpowering rut. I'll spread
my legs for you and beg you to make me pregnant, plead
with you to put a little brown bastard in my white
womb that I can never explain my husband. I'll scream
for you to place your cock at the opening of my
dripping fuck and to slowly ..."
"Celeste, stop it! Stop it!" He shook her a little.
"This is a (Cons. Rom.)." Celeste opened her
eyes in confusion as her fantasy dissolved. Her
breathing began to become more regular. "And even if
it weren't," Homer grinned, "Whatever I was slowly
going to split, Celeste, it sure wouldn't be your
The implication of his words hit her like a tank.
Celeste collapsed in mortification. Realizing that in
the heat of passion, she, ASSM's Goddess of Linguistic
Purity, had committed a grammatical error, devastated
the poor woman. Knowing now she would be putty in his
hands, Homer told Celeste his story.
"So all you have to do is make Angela into a sexy,
cockloving woman like you," he concluded.
Of course Celeste tried to say she couldn't do it,
that she was just an English teacher not a
psychologist, but Homer knew she had done counseling
and insisted she try. It was that or the PTA of
____burg would have some very interesting new gossip
about one of its English teachers. Celeste agreed.
Money was no object. Homer set Celeste up as a
language coach in a house in his city during her
school vacation. Angela's pronunciation really did
need some polishing, so it fit. Homer didn't know
just how Celeste turned their practicing of vowel
sounds and syntax into "girl talk," but since sex is
never very far from Celeste's mind, he guessed it
wasn't too hard.
Celeste was astounded at Angela's attitude and soon
found herself genuinely interested in trying to help
the benighted woman. "You don't know what you're
missing, honey" Celeste told her, grinning.
"You mean that you just let your husband *do it* all
the time?" Angela asked incredulously.
"At least every day, babe, more if I can on weekends."
"But you already have three children and you said you
don't want any more. Why don't you make him stop?
"Because I love my husband and I love getting fucked,"
"But Homer wants to do those - *things*," Angelica
explained, shivering with disgust"
"What *things* do you mean?" Celeste asked, although
she was afraid she knew.
"He tries to put his mouth on my breasts. And if I
didn't stop him he would put his *hand* between my
legs. One time he even tried to put his *mouth* down
"But of course, dear. That's the way gets us
warmed up to enjoy the main event."
"Oh, Celeste, don't say things like that. You sound
like one of those horrible women. The sisters told us
only whores actually enjoyed "doing it."
"Are you calling me a whore, Angela?"
"Oh, no, Celeste. I'm sorry! But I just don't know
what to think."
"The sisters at your school were probably like the
ones at mine. They were feeling guilty about seething
with desire and masturbating in their cells at night
and projected that guilt on us. Sex is supposed to be
pleasant. A few good orgasms every day make you feel
"What is an 'orgasm' anyway? Even when I was letting
Homer do it when I wanted to have a baby, nothing
"The woman has to help make it happen, darling.
You've got to let Homer touch you and feel you up
good. Relax and tell him what you like and don't
like. My husband knows that I like to have him chew
my ear and tongue my neck. Each of us has different
things that turn us on. Don't be in a hurry and don't
let him be."
"You mean I have to just lie there and let him arouse
me, make me 'want' it?"
"Of course you don't just lie there! You are the
director of the orchestra. And don't just tell him
what you like. Moan appreciatively when he hits a
sensitive spot. Kiss him back with all you've got.
Play with his prick. Kiss *his* nipples."
"But why did I never get an orgasm though he always
"It's nature, honey. For a man, having an orgasm is
like learning to walk. Unless his equipment is
defective, it happens. For us, having an orgasm is
more like learning to cook. If you never try, it
never happens. And the more you practice, the better
you get. But Nature gave us something to
compensate for having to work a little harder. We can
have one after another."
"What!" Angela asked in disbelief.
"Maybe I'd better show you." Celeste smirked.
"Celeste, no!" Angela protested, but Celeste suspected
that their sexy talk might have Angela more aroused
that she realized. Besides, Celeste had taken the
precaution of spiking Angela's orange juice with
Absolute 100 and her pupil was a bit tipsy.
More than most women, Angela was shy about her body.
She tried to push Celeste away when the teacher
reached over to fondle her pupil's breast.
"Let, me, Angela. You are so gorgeous. You must
torture poor Homer by not letting him do this."
Celeste said, fondling Angeles's through her
blouse. "Your must be beautiful, honey. Let me
see them," she whispered even as she unbuttoned the
blouse of Homer's unresisting wife. Even as she
removed Angela's bra and began stroking her boobs,
Celeste was planning her next move.
"You 'are' beautiful, honey. These titties deserve to
be worshipped and kissed," Celeste said,
demonstrating. Angela moaned as Celeste expertly
tongued the nipples. "Teach Homer how to do this and
let him make you a happy woman," Celeste whispered and
unzipped Angela's skirt.
The sensations of having her by Celeste's
talented mouth prevented Angela from realizing that
Celeste now had her stripped down to just her panties.
Interrupting her work, Celeste gently stood Angela up
and led her to the bedroom where the dazed pupil let
Celeste remove her before laying her on the
Celeste stooped to admire. Angela was as beautiful as
Homer had told her, especially her pussy. Celeste
knew there was nothing that makes a woman more unique
than her pussy. She had seen and tasted plenty of
them. They came in all different sizes, colors and
shapes; some were tucked inside like a little girl's
cunnie and some had luscious lips that come out
to greet you. Some were nested in bushes of fur and
others are covered with transparent fuzz. She
appreciated Angela's wild, unused qualities and told
her, although not in those words.
Women are a good deal more verbal than men, especially
during love-making. Celeste knew that her husband
could almost make her come just by telling her what he
was about to do. Probably that was one of Homer's
mistakes, she thought. "Oh, Angela. baby. You have
the cutest pussy. Let me make it wet for you, so
wet," she whispered all the time she was petting and
stroking her. "That's it, honey, let me love your
Gently Celeste pulled the lips apart and looked at
Angela's inner lips, giving them their first, playful
lick which made her shudder. Next Celeste spread the
tops of Angela's unvisited until she found her
clit. She blew it a soft salute, but avoided touching
her there yet. Celeste would work up to that slowly.
Before she had Angela sufficiently aroused, her clit
would be too delicate to be handled. Celeste stalked
Angela's slowly, knowing that women, even more
so than men, love to be teased. She zeroed in on the
inner part of her victim-lover's thigh, a most tender
spot. She licked it, kissed it, made designs on it
with the tip of her tongue. Celeste came dangerously
close to Angela's pussy, then floated away. Celeste
made Angela uncertain about just when she would
Suddenly Celeste was licking the crease where Angela's
leg joined her pussy. She felt Angela quiver as she
nuzzled her face into Angela's untamed bush. Brushing
her lips over Angela's now flowing slit without
pressing down further excited Homer's inexperienced
wife. Celeste had her! Soon Angela was bucking up
from the bed, straining to get more of Celeste to her.
It was time. Celeste put her lips right on top of
Celeste kissed her, gently, then harder. With her
tongue, Celeste separated Angela's lips and when
she opened up, her seductress ran her tongue up and
down between the layers of Angela's flesh.
Gently she spread Angela's unresisting legs more with
Gently, ever so gently, Celeste began to tongue-fuck
her. Angela's moans of arousal and frustration told
her she was teasing my unmercifully. Now, far
from rejecting the sweet manipulation of her sex as
degrading and perverted, Angela was dying for some
attention her clit. Celeste took a quick look.
Angela's clit had gotten hard enough to peek out of
it's covering. Angela wailed when Celeste licked it
and again when she licked harder, pressing into her
Gently, Celeste pulled the lips aside flicked
her tongue against Angela's uncovered clit. She did
it quickly. Angela's legs shuddered. Sensing that
Angela was approaching orgasm, Celeste made her lips
into an O and took the clit into her mouth. Starting
to suck gently, Celeste looked up at Angela's face for
her reaction. She could handle it so she began to
suck harder. Angela was responding enthusiastically.
"Typical," thought Celeste. The frigid ones are
always the hottest, once you cracked their shell. She
sucked harder. Angela lifted her pelvis into the air
with the tension of her rising orgasm. Celeste hung
on, keeping her hot mouth on Angela's clit. "Don't
stop. Please! Don't ever stop!" Angela wailed.
Celeste was pleased with Angela so far but she wanted
to do something else to intensify the naïve woman's
pleasure. She began to finger-fuck Angela who was
enjoying her teacher's cunt- licking talents. Celeste
made for the sensitive area at the roof of her vagina.
This is what drove Celeste crazy when her husband
fucked her. Well, there was no cock handy so her
fingers would have to do the fucking.
Wetting them with Angela's flow, Celeste slipped one
then two fingers into her pussy. She slid them
inside, rubbing slowly at first, then a little faster,
massaging her G spot rhythmically with a "come here"
motion. Celeste paid careful attention to Angela's
responses, speeding up only when her pupil did.
Angela's ragged breathing told Celeste what to do.
Sucking her clit and finger-fucking her at the same
time, Celeste was giving Angela far more stimulation
than Homer would be giving her with a cock alone. She
could feel Angela's almost uncontainable excitement.
Homer's aroused turned and began to tremble.
Even when Angela's orgasm broke, Celeste didn't let go
of her clit, hanging on for the duration. When Angela
started to come down from the first orgasm, Celeste
pressed her tongue along the underside of Angela's
clit, leaving her lips covering the top. Gently, she
moved her tongue in and out of her cunt. Her fingers
were still inside and she began to move them a little
too, gently though, knowing how sensitive Angela would
be just now. Bingo! Angela was off towards another
Not content to make her come, Celeste wanted to make
Angela a love-slave. She didn't leave her leave her
alone just yet. She talked to her, stroked her body,
caressed her breasts, pinched her nipples. She
continued making love to her quietly until Angela had
floated all the way down.
"Oh Angela, baby, you come so good! You love it. Why
don't you let Homer do this?" Celeste asked.
"My God! I've never felt anything like that. Is that
what Homer wanted to do?"
"Of course not. Homer just wanted to please you.
That's what *you* wanted him to do, but didn't know
how to tell him. He'll need lots of training. aren't born knowing how to eat a pussy. You've got to
show him. But if he loves you, he'll keep practicing
until he does exactly what you want."
"But if I let him do that, how will I be able to stop
him from ... you know?
"Do you want to?"
"I might not; that's the problem." If I let him make
me come like that, he'll be able to fuck me silly any
time he wants. He'll keep me pregnant from now until
menopause. I'll have a house full of kids, just like
Mamma." Angela had begun to cry.
"Not necessarily, honey," Celeste said holding her
close an comforting her. "Talk to Homer about it.
Let him make love to you without fucking on the days
you're fertile, if that's what you both want. But
what would be wrong with letting him have two or three
more babies?. You are still enough and you know
he can afford it. With child care, having babies need
not interfere too much with your studies."
"I think I'm about to find out," Angela smiled weakly.
A few months later Celeste got another e-mail from
Homer setting up another appointment in the same hotel
bar. She looked a lot less apprehensive when she
walked in this time. Smiling in her short yellow
flock she came over and sat down.
"I've got some good news and bad news," Homer grinned.
"First I have to thank you again for the change in
Angela; she is one hot woman! Now she not only fucks
me like a twenty dollar whore, but afterwards she says
'thank you,' not 'sank you.' Better yet, I have her
pregnant with a little girl. Can you guess what we're
going to name her?"
"Oh, that's so sweet of you, Homer. I'm so happy for
you," Celeste said sweetly, reaching over to take his
hand. "So what is the bad news?" she inquired.
"That's not the only change in Angela. She's become a
real slut. I told her about my and she has
really gotten to enjoy them, especially some I wrote
under a former non de plume."
"Oh, I didn't know you had written under another name,
but it sounds wonderful! What's bad about that?"
Celeste replied, puzzled.
"After reading my other stories, Angela doesn't like
(Cons, Rom) anymore. She thinks they're too tame.
She wants me to make this a (NC, Interr, Wife,
preg)," Homer replied, a cruel Arc Light gleaming in
"Oh god! No, no" Celeste sobbed as the realization
dawned on her.
"Yes, I can blackmail you and you'll have to do
anything I say. Come here with me." Homer could see
how wet the horny teacher was as he led her toward his
hotel room to fuck her senseless in front of the cameras. In the elevator he reached up under her
skirt and confirmed the gasping teacher wasn't wearing
panties. He fingered her to an orgasm that left her
"I can't believe this is happening to me," Celeste
wailed when they got to his room. "I was a virgin
when I married. I've always been faithful to my
husband. Why is my body betraying me like this, at
the worst possible time of month when I'm ovulating?"
"Because of this," Homer explained, fishing out his
enormous cock. Mesmerized, Celeste was helpless as
Homer lay her back and ate her until she was so
hot she couldn't make him use a condom. He had her in
an overpowering rut. She spread her legs for him and
began to beg, "Oh, fuck me, Homer! Make me pregnant.
Please, put a little brown bastard in my white womb
that I can never explain to my husband. Put your cock
at the opening of my fuck hole," she screamed. "I
want you to ... I want you to ... Slowly My
Evil elation filled Homer as he saw how in only
minutes he had corrupted the Erstwhile Empress of
Erotica. Reaching between her legs he expertly
flicked her indirect object with one hand and pinched
the engorged modifier of a large dangling participle
with the other. In no preposition to object, she let
Homer slide his first person singular into a
pluperfect tense conjunction with her direct object.
The horny grammarian was in an subjunctive mood, long
past her interrogation point and her active voice rang
out imperatively, "Fuck me! Fuck me!" Homer had
Celeste where he wanted her, on her hands and knees,
writhing in passion, over-using alliteration and
splitting infinitives right in the middle of her
Best of all he had made her do it doggerel!
The rest, as they say, is history. Celeste's husband
didn't understand how his vasectomy could have
"failed." Since he had never wanted the snip in the
first place, he was too elated at seeing his sexy
wife's pregnant belly to ask questions. When Celeste
gave birth to a baby several shades darker that
either she or her husband, however, he took the and threw Celeste out with her bastard offspring. She
was also fired from her teaching position for
obviously immoral conduct. Unable to keep paying her
AOL bill with her welfare check, Celeste had no
alternative but to invent a bogus reason and withdraw
"temporally" from publishing the Celestial Review.
Don't despair, however. Angela heard about Celeste
and got on Homer's case about her. Angela was
pregnant again herself and she pleaded with Homer to
let Celeste move in with them, saying Celeste could
help take care for their growing second family. Homer
knew Angela really wanted to get between the sexy
ex-teacher's thighs, but thought, why not? There was
plenty Celeste could still teach Angela about
pleasuring and being pleasured. In fact, Home
promised Celeste that if she would let him get her
pregnant again, he would let Celeste have her AOL
account back. So keep an eye out. In about nine
months or so Celeste may be back to writing Celestial
End note: Just about the time this was
published, Celeste, indeed returned to "doing it" --
reviews, that is.
Comments, please, to:
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My are now found on
http://www.storiesonline.net (Thanks Lazeez)
http://www.eroticstories.com (Thanks, Art)
http://www.asstr.org/~Vargas/stories.html (Thanks Kristen)