"OHHH! My head! You're in my house and I have no idea where--are these panties yours?" asked Soleil Moon Frye, picking a pair of panties off the top of a lamp.
"Leave those alone," MJH snapped, snatching them out of her hand. She went around the living room picking up clothes and putting them on. "How long have I been lying here?" She had a funny feeling in the back of her mind. A lot of very funny dreams. Not exactly unpleasant but still too uncomfortable to confront. Hmm, bottle of tequila, bag of grass, bottle of pills on the coffee table. Uh, oh. . . . "According to my watch we've been out FIVE HOURS!!!"
Soleil came back into the room. "According to my computer we've been out THREE DAYS and five hours!" She ran upstairs to put some clothes on and run a comb through her hair.
Melissa stumbled to the front door and opened it. There were three days of newspapers on the front steps. Somebody had also left the latest copy of SWANK, which had apparently just come out today. . . .
"Oh, no! OH, MY GODDDDDD!!!!" Melissa screamed. Soleil came running, as gracefully as a woman with F-cup breasts can, down the front stairs. Melissa Joan Hart held out the magazine. "They must've stopped the presses for this! And redone the cover."
"Oh, no, said Soleil, in a very small voice. . . .
CLARISSA AND PUNKY BREWSTER IN SECRET LESBIAN DOPE ORGY went the cover blurb.
OUR LITTLE GIRLS ARE ALL GROWN-UP AND READY
8 WAD-BLOWING PAGES!!!
Soleil took the magazine out of her hand and walked back to the living room with it. Melissa followed. They scanned the pictorial.
PUMPING BOOB-STER read the title. No pair of prefessional erotic models could have done a better--or a more thorough job. It was all, ALL of it, undoubtedly real and actually happening. The glossy photos left nothing, NOTHING to the imagination. In eight pages the two women progressed from teasing, through fondling, through heavy petting, to the most shockingly offensive obscenities. On the final three pages their faces, visibly moist, contorted in orgasmic pleasure, told the whole story. The last page clearly displayed both women's faces, frozen in what must have been wild, uncontrolled, gasping SCREAMS of ecstasy.
Both women, despite their shock, found themselves partially aroused just looking at it all.
Soleil sank to the floor. "We're ruined . . . ruined . . . ruined."
But then:
Thu Nov 30 13:48:49 2000