And so, a parody was born...

Jim's tumnescent member gleamed in the faint light from the moon- struck window. Blair panted as he contemplated the burgeoning phallus before him, trying not to wince as he pictured it shoved up his ass.

"If you for one minute think I'm gonna let you fuck me with that hunk o'salami, you got another think cumming!" he yelled.

"Oh, cum on, Chief," Jim wheedled. He pulled the younger man in for a kiss, using his silken locks as a handle, and shortly tongues were dueling frantically.

Breaking for air with a gasp, Blair croaked, "Still ain't gonna happen, Ellison!"

"Cum on, sugar-pie," Jim whined. Leaning closer, he licked an enticing, earringed lobe. "I'll let you do me next..." he whispered.

"Yeah, but I've only got six inches of man-meat (which is NORMAL I might add)-- not the fifteen you've got!"

terri

Wow. My admiration is burgeoning, my respect for your skills tumescent. Thanks for going the extra nine inches in the interests of servicing the members on this list and meating our needs so well.

GreenWoman
(picturing two tongues, back to back in a misty field at dawn, clutching little pistols ...)

"C'mon, oh Chief my Chiefie," the Sentinel of the Great City coaxed the grad student. "We are Meant To Be. Scribed in stone it is, on the walls of the temple. Now roll over and spread'em."

The anthropology teaching assistant quailed visibly and reached out a wan, pale hand to tentatively touch the ex-Covert Ops's prime operator. It twitched under his hand like a python on the prowl and crawled across the Guide's lap in a game effort to complete its mission.

"Ack!" Blair shrieked.

Somewhere, a wolf growled, a panther moaned, and...

Blair burst into song, warbling "Everything I dooooo, I do it for youuuuuuuuuuu..."

Christi

Jim looked down plaintively at the wilted, shriveled, shrunken, limp, lax, lame, soft, sagging symbol of malehood in his lap. He sighed and gazed forlornly at Blair's inviting, enticing, alluring, hidden, secret, dark, private, intimate, puckered, rosy center of being.

"Ops," said Blair.

wod

Blair blinked owlishly at Jim, his expression mirroring a deer caught in the headlights of sex or a really big buck. He glanced back at his perfect round globes and wondered what all the fuss was about. After all - a butt was just a butt. And who said he was the bottom in this relationship anyway? Didn't that make him the female? Would Jim think him the feminine half of the partnership? Weren't all bottoms denigrated by the experience? And just because he was the shorter - did that automatically make him the bottom?

Okay, okay, he *loved* to bottom, so sue him. And so what if his body shuddered with unbridled passion everytime he became prostrate due to his prostate. That little love button, that nub of deep and endless pleasure, the small zone that coincidentally also made him want to go to the bathroom really bad...

aly