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Like Minds

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A note to readers… I have a constant source of inspiration for both words and deeds, and it is form that source that I normally drink (so to speak), but Like Minds was inspired by someone different, new, and most welcome. He has been a beacon, although maybe not the sort that me ‘hero’ calls upon, and this is for him, for Lee…

*

It was, of course a duty more than anything else. There was all too much laxity these days — slack morals, bad grammar, no attention to detail, and far, far, far too much lasciviousness.

Even the thought of that word had Kevin Adrianne licking his lips. He wiped them with his left thumb for good measure and opened up the favourites menu of his browser. Inside the admittedly small confines of his mind, he focused on the outrage that he knew would soon be forthcoming. He nodded to himself as he clicked on the second entry in his poorly named favourites list: ‘Erotilitera’.

It was time, Kevin told his attentive audience of… well… himself, that he deigned to provide the would-be artists who infested the site with a little dose of reality, a taste of moral rectitude and decency. It was, in other words, time for some kind but firm home-truths.

The site’s home page loaded its main menu and, Kevin noted with disdain, a handful of new images which seemed at first glance to indicate that there was some sort of special offer on a new DVD featuring so-called amateurs behaving in… Kevin looked closer, behaving in manner that really was no one’s business but their… his nose bumped the monitor and he sat back with a start. From that range it was almost possible to see right up… no…it couldn’t be, surely?

Kevin glanced around to make sure that no one had broken into his third floor, flea-bitten apartment to spy on his moral crusade, before leaning closer to the monitor once more. After a few seconds he let out a low whistle, quickly changing the exhalation to a ‘pah!’ of apparent disgust. Obviously the picture editor had been in a disgustingly lax and lazy mood when that particular photo had been loaded onto the page: from where Kevin sat it was easy (well, easy if you didn’t mind your nose being bent that way…) to see that the woman was wearing next to nothing under her skirt!

He sat back with a determined look on his face, his cheeks slightly flushed with… well, with outrage, obviously… What if an innocent got to see that flash of cotton? It didn’t bare… that is, it didn’t bear thinking about! And that was just the home page!

Suitably armoured against the degradation he knew would follow, Kevin clicked on the ‘New Stories’ icon and prepared to sacrifice his own values and morals in order to bring his wisdom and caution to the… well… the pretentious idiots who daubed this site with their desperate and depraved cravings.

He took a few deep breaths, waiting for his heart-rate to settle a little, ensuring that his robe was properly closed, before scanning the list of titles. His head shook sadly at the topics presented to him, his fingers shaking slightly more as he scrolled the mouse cursor down the list. Some of the entries had been totally meaningless to him until he’d looked them up and… well… suffered the indignities of having to view the text and pictures that taught him what he needed to know for his crusade, but they all had one thing in common — they were all to do with the most vile practices imaginable. Especially that BDSM one… well, he’d suffered indignities for that one all right…

Kevin adjusted his robe again, making sure that his ample belly was well covered while at the same time trying to ensure that cool air from the open window would provide some degree of … well.. temperature regulation a little lower. He focused on the new story list and gave a tired sigh when he saw that the third entry on the list was from a woman. Didn’t these types of people — females, for heaven’s sake — realise that they simply demeaned themselves just by putting their name to a story like this, let alone by actually thinking the sort of things that no doubt darkened the pages? And that title ‘Julie Comes Out!”… well that was just so… Kevin adjusted his robe again, shaking his head at the nastiness that was causing him such discomfort… that was just so full of innuendo. He paused, a momentary image of the story’s heroine, or possibly even the author, flashing through his mind… the little skirt, maybe even a flash of…

He let out a loud sigh. It was his duty to check this one out… to make whatever appropriate comments were needed… to ensure that this author, this Jessica, learned her lesson. After all, there was no chance that it was any good anyway. Kevin clicked on the story link and picked up his pencil to make notes.

Within five minutes it was clear that it was an autobiographical tale. After all, this Jessica woman obviously knew every inch of her heroine, Julie — including every inch of her thoughts. But… but no woman could be quite that attractive — attractive in an obviously escort ataşehir fake way, of course — and no married woman (the character was supposedly ‘happily’ married) could ever really behave in such a provocative manner. Not in real life. Kevin let out a little whimper… no woman could possible dare wear a plunging dress like that and then walk into a room where her guy was talking to his friend — his male friend! — and then … Kevin took a deep breath, his left hand pressing into his lap where his small but evidently determined body part was twitching and making its presence felt through his robe.

‘Oh my god’, he muttered, she… this Julie character… she leans forward and… ‘oh the dress has slipped and…oh she wouldn’t dare, not a decent nice woman like that even if she has ti… breasts that are so…’ Kevin’s left hand was moving now. No decent woman would ever… oh my god the friend can see them! And now… oh that’s just disgusting… he’s reaching out an… oh hell he’s actually touched her! And that proves it’s all lies because her guy loves it and … oh my god she loves it… oh she wouldn’t dare write it… she wouldn’t dare… oh my… oh god no she’s had her.. her things pulled down and now.. .see? Lies! She… she’s saying she wants… anyway they wouldn’t…. her guy wouldn’t let.. oh my GOD! The friend’s co.. di… member.. it’s out and he’s… oh.. oh there’s no rubber but.. oh my good lord! She helped! Ah!’ Kevin gave a squeak and a loud whimper as hot white fluid splattered the back of his hand, his keyboard…even the monitor.

A few minutes later he had wiped up the worst of the mess and was still shaking his head in disgust at what this vile woman had made him — forced him — to do. No right-minded woman would ever do such nasty, dirty, horrible things, would ever bare… He stopped and took a few deep breaths, willing the sudden re-emergence of his earlier tumescence to quieten. A few more deep breaths were necessary before he clicked the story open again and scrolled quickly to the bottom of the document, his eyes closed in case he glimpsed her bare breasts again, or a sight of her being touched like that, or the eagerness in the guy….

‘Oh you nasty woman! Disgusting’ Kevin opened the ‘Feedback’ box and began to type, drawing on this disgust and the righteous anger it generated. He told this ‘Jessica’ in no uncertain terms how vile she was to think such dirty things — how reckless her unprotected cun… sex was, how no true loving husband would ever let another man see how gorge… how his wife looked exposed and shamed… how her use of fancy English just masked the fact that she was nothing but a cheap, daring, ruinous, highly fu.. that is, slut. Oh he was going to tell her exactly how she was such a bad influence! Just because she could string a sentence together … well there was no need to take such a vicarious thrill in … I mean she was actually telling the whole damn world that it was okay to explore such dirty, nasty habits! She had let another guy put his… thing in her! ‘Disgusting!’ Kevin finished with a muffled yelp, closing the feedback box and spraying his monitor again.

Two hours later he logged back in to Erotilitera and, avoiding looking at the story’s contents, scrolled down to the feedback are to see if his justifiable anger had met with the deserved approval of his peers. In truth, he bore little hope since, unless he was very much mistaken, he was the only morally upstanding person who ever bothered to comment on the filth that people pretended was art.

He sighed and nodded at the two reviews immediately underneath his — both offering five stars and unashamed praise for the drivel. The third one also started with nice words about the writer’s style and Kevin gave a groan of disappointment-

‘Hey, hang on…’ his eyes scanned the reviewers’ comments as the faint praise he had started with soon took on a more realistic tone. “The author clearly has no moral compass…” Kevin read, his heart beginning to soar, “… no self-respecting woman would ever demean herself in such a morally bankrupt fashion…” Kevin raised his coffee mug, ‘ I like this guy!’. He made to read on and then spluttered coffee across the desk… “And when I say no self-respecting woman would do such dirty things, I speak from the point of view of a self-respecting woman…”

Kevin scrolled down the bottom of the feedback section and, sure enough, there was the critic’s name — Annabelle456. Not only was there someone out there who had a decent moral balance, but she was a woman! Kevin wasn’t sure whether this was a more likely gender assignation or not, but — given that this was the first time in three years that he’d seen anyone else agreeing with his righteous views — he didn’t care. What he did care about was that he acknowledged the common high-ground that they shared, and for the first time in those thirty-six months of membership, he set out to send a personal message to someone.

“Dear Annabelle,” he began, “You have no idea kadıköy escort bayan what a wonderful surprise it was for me to read your wise words! And to discover that you…”

Kevin logged in for the fourteenth time that day a little after eight in the evening before the magical, wonderful, incredible thing happened. He had a message waiting for him in his otherwise perpetually empty inbox! His eyes were tearing so much that he could barely focus on the ‘From’ label… but when he finally managed to make out the name Annabelle456, his heart rose into his throat.

If Kevin had thought that his fingers were shaking when he thought about Julie’s bare.. that is, when he became outraged by that Jessica woman’s filthy story, he was clearly mistaken because he could barely grasp his mouse to click the message open. And if he thought the site of the waiting message was wonderful, then he was once again far from reality, because the words were not just music to his ear, but the finest opera.

“Dear MorallyTrueKevin, I am so happy that my words resonated with you, and what a joy it is to find another decent human being here, bravely swimming in the cesspool of dirt that makes up so much of Erotilitera! — and not only that, but to find out that you are of the male persuasion… well that is doubly shocking!! It has to be the most pleasant shock that I’ve experienced for the longest time, but no less wonderful for all that!!!

I hasten to add that would never normally venture to respond to a message from a person I don’t really know at a site like this — not that I visit sites like this a lot, of course!!! — but I think that in some weird way I kind of do know you a bit because you are like so obviously thinking about things like I do and well I suppose I’m chattering away but that’s okay because even if we do have the same values and things and we’re not such strangers because of that I still feel a bit nervous being so forward with a man and answering his message and I know that I’m not just responding because you called my words wise, but that it’s more because of what you wrote about that awful Julie woman or rather her creator and I guess what I’m trying to say is that if I would like to read more of your views if you’ve written any and if you want to see some of mine then I’ve attached a list of stories I’ve made comments on but I do have to warn you that some of them are really very filthy and belittle women a lot but I think that’s okay with you because I think you and me are not so different, mentally that is!!!!

Oh look I’ve probably scared you away now so I’ll just say thank you for restoring my faith in people and I hope that we can make a difference in our little ways but if I don’t hear from you that’s okay I understand. Annabelle”

Kevin sat back, his heart hammering faster than ever. She was like him. She agreed with him. She was a she! He tried to block out the urgent signals vying for his attention between his ears and his hips, distracting himself by searching for the first of the stories his new friend had listed, suddenly desperate to read more of her musical words.

The first review she had left was meant for a man with the dubious nickname of “BigIsBeautiful”, and her evident indignation was superbly and fully expressed. Kevin flicked to the story itself, expecting a few thousand words of pure filth, to judge from Annabelle’s vitriolic put-downs, and he was therefore unsurprised to read of the debauchery that the author had led his girlfriend into during a card game with a friend. Kevin whistled in admiration at Annabelle’s resolve and determination to uphold everyone’s morals — to berate this sad, sick man — when the author bent his girlfriend over the card table and pulled her panties down in front of the friend, and then — god, how sick — invited the laughing friend to take his c.. member and — god he spread his girlfriend’s legs until her cu.. her woman parts were exposed — my god really exposed and open and clearly wet and shining and pink and then the friend — oh you cannot… oh brave, brave Annabelle… how she must have squirmed when the head of the friend’s member … oh my god it parted her … the girlfriend… parted her and … oh! entered her! Kevin gasped, feeling Annabelle’s front… no, her affront and… The poor, poor Annabelle… having to read such degrading filth, having to read about another woman being stripped and… oh, poor Annabelle’s eyes having to scan those br… those words…. Kevin’s hand moved faster and faster as the woman in the story was impaled, as his mind pictured Annabelle’s suffering at reading such…oh and now the woman was crying for more!!! This was all those disgusting writers’ faults!!! Poor Annabelle and oh that poor woman who was now…oh my goodness she was screaming such vile…oh… oh damn, such a mess, so vile and evil was the story. Oh the poor girl! Oh the mess!

The sun was rising, some eight hours later, before Kevin could finally collapse into his bed, exhausted from the terrible tensions, escort bostancı but happy that he could truly understand how that poor, poor Annabelle had suffered by reading such filth, just so that she could write so eloquently to warn others about the debauchery and the dangers of disease and mental degeneracy. He was happy too, that he’d finally plucked up the courage to respond to her wonderful reply to his earlier message.

Within a couple of days, Kevin and Annabelle had swapped more than a dozen messages, their natural shyness having been washed away by the force of their mutual indignation at the suffering they had been through to shine a light for all right-minded, decent people.

But it was at ten minutes to midnight on the first Friday night when life changed forever. Kevin had already worked out that Annabelle was English — her spelling of words like ‘colour’ and ‘behaviour’ was the proper way, and she was resolutely polite — but an aside, buried deep within a sentence, alerted him to something even more incredible. She had mentioned a large poster she had seen at, “of all places, the message board in her local park near the William Morris museum”.

With fingers that trembled more than they normally did when he was writing to his new friend, he casually asked whether Annabelle had meant the Morris museum in Lloyd Park… As he clicked ‘send’ he looked out at the floodlit edifice not one hundred yards from where he was sitting: the museum itself.

It had been genuine curiosity that had made him ask, with no thought as to what a positive reply would imply — so when a clearly querulous confirmation arrived the next morning it sent him into a state of utter confusion. It meant, obviously, that Annabelle wasn’t just a fellow Englander, but… a local. Shaking his head to block a million confused thoughts, Kevin selected one of their mutually most hated stories as a distraction. By sharing the agonies that Annabelle must have gone through to review this particular piece of shallow smut, Kevin could centre himself. He read of the female softball team’s descent from innocent office girls to cat-fighting harpies who take their struggles into the shower block after a game where they find the janitor cleaning the floors, but don’t actually realise he’s there until after they strip off ready for their showers and then walk in on him totally naked, their ti.. breasts bare, their.. lady parts … visible, bare, some even shaved and then they find their fighting makes them feel … and oh god the debauchery! And that blonde with the soap! And they make the guy… And he puts it… and…

Ten minutes later, in a haze of surprise and tiredness, Kevin found himself composing the sort of message he would never have believed himself capable of, let alone in a position to actually, genuinely, have an opportunity to write. He asked Annabelle whether she might consider — no pressure, probably it was silly of him to ask — whether she might consider that they might, perhaps, just maybe, meet. Somewhere neutral of course, just so that they could acknowledge each other and so that he could profess his admiration for her moral rectitude in person. No strings, no need to worry if she was too reluctant or nervous, he’d quite understand…

Later, he told himself it was the speed of her response that brought forward such wild emotions. When he read that she would be “honoured to meet such an upstanding beacon of moral rectitude”, well he could hardly blame his body for reacting in such an explosive way, could he? After all, this was a woman who had suffered the vile depredations of those stories and had stood tall, who had read of such depraved and vile acts and let the writers know of her outrage, and who was now going to come together with him, Kevin, as his righteous cohort in their mutual, moral crusade! Yes, they were going to come together… oh… oh those nasty so-called authors, those purveyors of bare bodies and depravity…oh how poor Annabelle had to suffer at the sight of them… all that sweat and wailing and… oh yes, they would fight together… they really would come together in…

His engorged member in his hand, Kevin muttered an oath against all those writers who had made Annabelle suffer at their words, and let forth a stream of ejaculate that was copious even by his own standards. That poor girl….

The next two days passed in a blur for Kevin as he prepared for the meeting that Annabelle had agreed to — in the local coffee shop. His mind was blurred with suppressed excitement at the thought of actually meeting a real woman… that is, a woman with decent values… his eyesight blurred from re-reading every message they had shared, and his hand.. well that spent a lot of time in blurred activity as well.

On Sunday evening he finally stood in front of his wardrobe mirror and gave himself a critical once-over. He knew he was no looker, but he’d scrubbed up as best as he could and wore his best… well, only.. suit, his shirt ironed, at leasat where it showed, and a new tie neatly knotted around his warm neck. With a final check that the, er, front of his suit trousers didn’t look unusually lumpy — and still worried that the sock rolled up in his underpants might be misinterpreted (or slip), he marched out of the flat.

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