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Message-ID: <50721asstr$1110960602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Kenny Gamura" <turtlemeat69@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Girl Scout Nookie Sale {Gamera} (Mg nosex snack food)
Lines: 212
Date: Wed, 16 Mar 2005 03:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

                         Disclaimer

Sir or Madam or Crap for Brains, whichever applies in your
case. This post consists of this disclaimer and a sex story
which follows. You shouldn't read the sex story. Sex
stories are bad things that will rot your mind and corrupt
your soul (quit laughing; I'm being serious here). Sex is a
wonderful thing that is meant to be between two people in
love (no, this is not satire). Like eating, sleeping,
drinking, and other bodily functions short of taking a nice
dump, it has been perverted into some soulless activity
that more often destroys happiness than creates it (and
quit laughing, damn it!).

I own all rights to this disclaimer AND the story.
Especially, I own those rights that involve making any
income (ie. money, $$$, cash, dough, and even Canadian
quarters), not that anyone would want to buy the story).
Would you like it if someone stole the fruit of your labour
and charged people to buy it or forced them to look at
advertising or close annoying pop-ups to see it?  Of course
you would, provided they gave you a check, too.  So, read
it, but don't sell it or in any way, shape, or form
republish it until the check has been cashed and spent at
the strip club. By the way, I own it because I made it up,
the story and the characters and everything else hereafter.
Praise, hugs, and snuggle bunnies to suzeeq and illion for
reading the drafts of this story.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera
www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera/www
http://storiesonline.net

PS This is the same Kenny as 'Got Beer'.


                      Girl Scout Nookie Sale
                               by
                         Kenny N Gamera

There was a knock on the door.  It was a soft, insistent
knock that sounded vaguely feminine.  I rushed to the door,
sending cats one and two, at first, into a blind panic and,
afterward, into hiding under the futon.  Cat number three,
having moved out, did not get involved.

I swung the door open, and to my bitter disappointment
there were not five naked women with beer and pork rinds.
I wouldn't have complained if there were five naked women
without either beer or pork rinds.  Those particular five
women, however, were also not there.  There was a fully
clothed Girl Scout with a red wagon full of short bread
cookies.

She smiled at me cheerfully.  I smiled back.  It is an
impressive feat to haul a red wagon full of short bread
cookies up an eight step concrete stoop, then up three
stories of stairs, and remain capable of a cheerful smile.
I felt she deserved something for it, even if she weren't
five naked women with beer and pork rinds.

She was cute.  Young cute.  You know, the sort of cute you
would accuse any fourteen-year-old of being, provided that
she was in fact cute.  She was not the kind of cute that
anyone who knew what I did for fun on the Internet would
think I meant if I called her cute.  She was cute, that's
all and you can quit thinking like that at any time...

"Hello, Mr. Gamera."

"Hello, Gina."  I said like I would to anyone.  "How are
you?"

"I'm doing great.  I got part of your cookie order.  I have
another couple wagon loads at home."  She glanced at my
hands and pointed at what I held.  "What's that?"

"Oh, this?"  I threw the book off to the side.  "Just a
thesaurus."

She looked at me like I was a loon.  Then, she shook her
head like I was a loon.

"Anyway, where do you want the cookies?"

"Can you just wheel it inside?  I can unload."

"Wellllllll!  Mom says I'm not supposed to be alone with
you because you write dirty stories, so okay."

She pulled the wagon into the door.  Cat number one peeked
out.  Seeing that a stranger (a stranger being anyone not
me, which is strange because most people think that I'm
stranger than anyone else they had met) had entered the
apartment, he crawled back under the futon.  Gina dropped
the handle and watched while I began to unload cookies,
five boxes at a time.

As I finished the last fifteen boxes, I pointed to what she
had held in the hand that had not been holding the wagon
handle.  "What do you have there?"

"A catalog."

"What sort of catalog?"

"Girls."

She said it in a casual, matter of fact way that people use
to let you know that have something special to say and that
they want you to ask about it.  So I asked.

"Well, every year the Girl Scouts actually have some of us
that can't or won't sell their quota of cookies.  A few
years ago, they began selling those scouts into bondage to
make up the difference."

I choked on a cookie that had somehow slipped into my
mouth.  Gina beat my back.  When I continued choking, she
did the Heimlich maneuver on me.  That cleared my airway,
if not my confusion.

"Bondage?" I squeaked after I had caught enough breath to
do so.

"Yep."

"Bondage, bondage?"

"Yep.  Bondage bondage."  She smiled the same sweet smile
that could sell Do-si-dos to Dr. Atkins (who is dead).  "We
have a nice selection of sex slaves this year.  I think a
few of them enjoyed it so much last year that they didn't
even try to sell cookies this year."

I think she misinterpreted the boggled look on my face.

"Well, you only rent them you see.  For the year.  And you
can't hurt them for real or keep them over a school night
or anything like that."

"Uh... I... Uh..."

"See."  She opened up her notebook to a page in the middle
and showed me.  "This is my friend Debbie.  That little
slut was only one box short and I heard her tell Mr.
Granger at school that she only had ten boxes of Thin Mints
to sell him.  I had to sell him the other twenty he
wanted."

Debbie was dressed in something Victoria would be trying
damn hard to keep a secret.  Personally, I choose to blush
and turn my head at the same time.

"And Cathie actually paid people to not buy cookies this
year."

Cathie made Debbie look over dressed.

"And Sammy lied and turned in her order forms with some of
the numbers changed.

Sammy's outfit will have me in therapy for the next several
years.

"I mean, I could barely miss my quota."

Gina pushed her photo in my face.  I got a nosebleed.

"See anything you like?"  She smiled the sweet little Girl
Scout smile at me.

"Uh... I... Uh..."

She licked her lips.

"Uh... I... Uh..."

She undid a button.

"Erp!"

Now, I'm as perverted as the next guy as long as the next
guy isn't Frank Downey (and if you have seen a few of the
videos I have seen you will understand why I don't do that
by choice very often... I mean, how can you fit that... and
what's with the squid).  I read stories and watch videos
and even dress suzee in a Mary Tyler Moore wig and have her
call me Mr. Grant every once in a while, but there are
places I have to draw the line.

Gina, there are... uh... laws and stuff."

"The DA has already got a bid on Debbie."

"I... uh... I..."

She looked at me, then frowned.  With a snap she closed her
notebook and (thankfully) took the pictures away from me.
Her hand grasped the handle of her wagon, and she began to
wheel her wagon out of my apartment.  A mumble told me she
would be back with the rest of my cookies.

She stopped at the door and turned to face me.

"Those naked chicks were right.  You are lame."

I won't tell you what she told me to do with the cookies.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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