Author: The Great One
Keywords: .
Summary: Jenny changes the face of Ice-Hockey forever. (more flap-shots than slapshots!).
"A whole weekend in Chicago, the windy city?!??!" Jenny exclaimed, "Wow, I've never been there before."
"I know," her husband said. "I promised to entertain this important client Friday night. Why not bring you along, I figured. Make a weekend out of it." Jenny smiled radiantly up at her husband. Her eyes were full of love for this adoring man.
"The only thing is," her husband said, "I promised this guy I'd take him to the hockey game Friday night. You might even like it, you never know."
Jenny figured it wasn't too much of a sacrifice. She could sit through one little hockey game in exchange for a weekend with her husband in the city by the lake. How romantic!
That Friday afternoon, they drove into Chicago from their farmhouse. Jenny felt a tinge of nervous excitement at the thought of seeing the city for the first time. She had chosen to wear a long, black silk skirt with a floral pattern on it and a matching pink, mohair cardigan top. The cardigan had a plunging neckline; Jenny was showing just the barest hint of cleavage. She felt reasonably comfortable: her outfit was appropriate for a semi-casual night with a client. It was a little daring for her, but she was feeling amorous toward her husband that day and felt he deserved a bit of a treat. She knew he loved it (though he never said anything) when she showed a little skin.
Dinner that night went well. Carl, the client, and his wife Sue were very nice. After the meal, they drove over to the hockey arena.
"My God," Jenny whispered to her husband as they entered the stands, "I've never seen so many people." Jenny's husband grinned down at her.
"Yeah," he said, "and the place isn't even half full." They took their seats. The first period went rather quickly. Jenny was enjoying things well enough. Between periods the two women went to the ladies room together. Carl and Jenny's husband chatted a bit. Carl commented about how nice Jenny was. Quiet though, he said.
"She's very shy," her husband replied. The ladies came back. The second period went fast as well. Jenny made a comment to Sue about how exciting it all was.
"I've never seen so many people," she said, gazing dreamily across the crowded arena. By now, every seat in the house was filled. The players vacated the ice. The announcer came on the PA system.
"And now ladies and gentleman, a few lucky fans will be chosen at random to compete for dinner for two at Callahan's Steakhouse in a Penalty Shot competition." The announcer proceeded to call out a couple of seat and section numbers. Jenny watched the surprised expressions of the lucky fans on the arena's big screen TVs.
Suddenly, she saw her own face up there. She hadn't even heard the announcer's words. She felt the heat rise in her face, her ears pounding. Her husband, Carl, and Sue were all staring at her, grinning.
She'd been chosen. She hadn't even heard her seat and section number called out. An usher approached, walked into her row and up to her seat.
"But...I..." she stammered as the usher took her hand.
"Go ahead honey," her husband said. "Show 'em all a thing or two!"
The next thing she knew, she was out on the ice. She was fifth in line behind a group of fans at the blue line. There were three pucks lined up midway between the blue line and the net: left, center, and right ice. Jenny watched as the first guy in line, some fat redneck wearing a Harley Davidson tee-shirt, shuffled up ice and took three pathetic slapshots with the stick he had been provided.
The ice was so cold and bright. She looked up in the stands and saw only darkness. Somewhere up there was her husband. She had no idea where.
Periodic cheers and groans went up from the crowd as the people in front of her took their shots. It seemed to take forever. Finally, it was Jenny's turn. She was so frightened to be in front of all these people. She felt like she had to pee. A man skated up to her and reached out to her with a hockey stick. She looked at him quizzically. She was clutching her hands together at her chest.
"I have to pee," she whispered to the man.
"What?" he said, thrusting the stick toward her. "C'mon lady," he said, "the third period's about to start." Jenny was shivering. She heard a few whistles from the crowded arena.
Without thinking, she reached out for the stick. She began to shuffle toward the right puck.
The crowd roared. She heard whistling, hooting, clapping, cheering. "C'mon honey, slap one home!" someone shouted from just behind the glass. Jenny leaned over the hockey stick. She sighted as best she could toward the net. Her eyes were swimming. Suddenly there was a bright flash. She turned to look toward the glass next to her, on the side of the rink.
"Thanks for the downblouse, sweetheart," she heard some guy shout from behind the glass.
My God, Jenny thought, my top. She looked down. Because she was bent over, anyone on the other side of the glass could see right down her mohair cardigan. She gasped. She spasmed involuntarily in her nervousness and let go with a wild wrist shot.
At that moment, a door in the wall to the right of the net had opened. She was taking too long. The players were skating back onto the ice.
Her wild shot sent the puck sailing right into the chest of one of the first players to come out. She bit her lower lip. He looked over at her. Hockey players are mean, she thought.
Jenny shuffled toward center ice. The ice was suddenly filled with hockey players. She had never seen such huge men. They were like monsters. They swarmed around her, staring at her, as she approached the center puck.
The crowd was laughing. She could barely hear it behind the pounding in her ears. She had never been so embarrassed in all her life.
One of the players skated swiftly past her. She felt the ice kicked up from his blade through her stockings. She glanced up suddenly to see him, but he was gone in a blaze. She felt the same thing from her other side. She turned suddenly and almost lost her balance. That player too was gone in a flash.
She bent down again, forgetting the view she had just afforded the fans behind the glass. The players continued to swarm around her. Everything was a blur. If I can only get these two shots off, she thought, I can get back to the safety of my seat.
She pulled her stick back, aiming for the net.
"Nice tits, honey," one of the players said. She looked up suddenly, trying to see the guy who said this. She felt another player skate past her from behind, but this time something was different.
In the space of a second she felt: a tug; then a pull; something was forcing her backward; a ripping noise; a rush of cold air; her balance regained. She whirled around to see what had happened. And looked straight up at herself, ten feet tall on the Sony Trinitron monitor.
No skirt. Control top panty hose. She had a split second to catch her own startled expression. Then, a sudden zoom into her pale, blonde muff, curly hairs reaching out through the mesh of her stockings. All ten feet tall, right there on the Sony, in front of everyone.
The crowd roared. She had never heard anything like it in her life. Things seemed to slow down. Her face felt like it was about to explode. Her heart was pounding in her chest.
35,000 people have just seen my muff, she thought.
She saw the hockey player she had hit with her first shot racing around the ice with her beautiful silk skirt raised like a flag on the tip of his hockey stick. Jenny tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Without meaning to, Jenny had let go with her second shot. She hit another player in the knees. He stopped dead on the ice and glared at her for a second. Then he skated straight at her.
At the last second, he turned off to the side, thrusting his hip out into hers. She fell onto the ice.
From over the loudpeaker: "HIP CHECK!" The crowd roared even louder.
Jenny looked up from the ice. A crowd of players skidded to a stop in a circle around her. The cold ice from their blades sprinkled across her face, chest, muff and legs. Her chest was heaving. She looked up at their leering faces. Several thick arms reached out and grabbed her.
She was on her feet again. Held up by three of the players. The player she had hit in the knees faced her.
"I've got a bad knee, dear. You just made it worse." Jenny tried to say "I'm sorry" but her mouth was completely dry.
The crowd was going nuts. A mass hysteria seemed to have taken over. From the PA: "Ladies and gentleman, I think we're about to see us some tits. I've watched a lot of ladies in the stands in my years, and if I'm not mistaken those are 38C's."
The crowd roared. Jenny managed to scream as the hockey player reached out and grabbed the front of her pink mohair cardigan. He pulled with all his brute strength. Jenny felt herself pulled forward. Buttons flew everywhere, clinking on the ice in various directions.
Her chest was thrust out. Her huge breasts for all to see in the cream-colored bra she had worn for her wonderful husband's eyes-only that night.
Her nipples were harder than they'd ever been, from the fear and the cold. The crowd roared, she saw herself on the monitor, her 38C's with headlights bright, her pale blonde muff through the sheer fabric of her pantyhose.
In front of 35,000 screaming fans. Surrounded by brute hockey players.
Welcome to Chicago, Jenny. She thought she was going to faint...
Jenny was shivering and swooning on the ice. If it hadn't been for the three guys holding her up, she would have collapsed by now. Through her fog, she could barely hear the announcer on the PA system.
"Seems I'm getting rusty folks. Those cups are deeper than I thought. They look to me like 38CCs!" Jenny opened her eyes and looked up. There she was on the monitor again, her huge chest heaving. Her V-zone had turned red, a gradual blush that worked its way up to her flaming face. Her blue eyes looked watery on the big screen. She was mortified. She couldn't understand what was going on. How could they be doing this?
"One more shot, honey," the announcer said. "Make it and you get dinner for two at Callahan's. None of the other contestents made a shot. So let's go, we've still got a period of action ahead of us!" The three players skated Jenny over to the third puck, on the left side of the ice. They slowly let go of her. She teetered there for a moment, leaning on the stick for support. Cameras were flashing all over the place.
The PA announcer: "C'mon honey, slap it home. Because if you miss this shot, who knows what will happen..." One of the players leaned into her.
"Miss it, darling, and you're nude," he whispered.
She was crying now. She leaned over the puck. She sighted the net for a moment and then looked down into the ice. The ice was so white and bright. She wished the whiteness would just blot everything out, wished she could disappear into it.
She pulled back on the stick, readying for her slapshot, and the crowd roared with laughter. With a scream, part fear and part rage, she took her shot and looked up to see what happened.
There was a goalie in the net. That's what had the crowd laughing. The puck bounced off his mask. Jenny swore he was leering behind that mask. The crowd went wild. Jenny could hear nothing. Tears were streaming down her pale, cold cheeks.
One of the players hooked his stick behind her bra strap. He yanked, pulling her down to the ice. Her cups pulled tight against her breasts, but her bra stayed on.
"You'll have to do better than that guys," the announcer said.
The ice was freezing on Jenny's back. She turned her head to the side and looked out toward the center of the ice. She noticed that most of the players had dropped their gloves to the ice.
Four hands reached out and pulled her up. The goalie was standing in front of her, gazing impassively at her from behind his mask. He hooked the blade of his stick right between her pale, heaving breasts, under the piece of fabric in the center of her bra.
"No, please, PLEASE!" Jenny screamed through her tears. The crowd started to chant, just a couple of voices at first that built up to a deafening roar.
"TITS, TITS, TITS, TITS, TITS..." Someone reached out behind Jenny and unclasped her bra. The goalie yanked his stick back and Jenny's huge, pale 38CC breasts bounced out from the safety of their cups. The crowd cheered and laughed. Her nipples were rock solid. They felt frozen. She hadn't believed it was possible for her to blush any more, but she did. She was turning purple.
"Look at those fucking tits," the announcer screamed. In a panic, Jenny started to run as best she could across the slippery ice. Toward the door in the wall that the players had come through. As she ran, her breasts bounced from side to side, up and down, all over the place.
"Watch her wiggle, see them jiggle..." the announcer sang. More laughter. Leering hockey players skating around her, grinning mischievously as she headed toward the door. She fell, face first to the ice.Her tits were crushed under her against the frigid surface of the arena.
"Careful girl," one of the players shouted, "don't get stuck to that cold ice. It'll rip your nipples off, aereole and all!" Jenny got up, staggered forward again, and fell again, this time onto her back. On the monitor above, she could see herself sprawled out there on the ice. Her huge, pale breasts were on open display for all to see, their weight displaced to her sides.
She couldn't believe this. She just wanted to be back on the farmhouse with her husband. She closed her eyes and tried to make it all go away. She felt hands lifting her up by the arms and legs. Like a sacrifice, she thought. The crowd was chanting agan.
"PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY." Jenny twisted violently from side to side in the players' arms. There was a player standing on each side of her, at her hips. Someone had taken her shoes off. The players at her hips grabbed the elastic top of her panty hose and pulled them down forcefully. My God, Jenny thought, they're so strong.
She felt the cold in her vagina. She began to shiver uncontrollably. Several players reached out, holding her aloft. They began to skate her around the ice, for all to see. The cheering continued. So did the picture taking. All Jenny could see was a blinding trail of lights in the ceiling. She caught an occassional comment from the stands, but most of it was just white noise.
"Seems like Lord Stanley has a new cup," the announcer jeered. After skating her around the rink, the players passed her around to one another. One player gave her a huge kiss on the mouth and then held her up, on display for the crowd. He passed her along and the next player took a mighty suck from her left tit. This continued until poor Jenny had been passed among several players from both teams.
Factions in the frenzied crowd were still chanting "PUSSY, PUSSY, PUSSY."
"Hey fellas," the announcer said, picking up the thread of the chant, "all we can see up here is muff, which looks wet from all that ice down there. These people want to see more." Jenny nearly fainted again. She felt herself being lowered to the cold ice. One player grabbed her by the left ankle, another by the right. They skated in opposite directions briefly and then stopped.
Icy tendrils reached up inside Jenny's gaping cunt. She was spread-eagle in front of 35,000 fans, all strangers except for her husband. She was sobbing hysterically. Players reached down and roughly fondled her breasts, which were slick from the ice. Her exposed vagina took up the entire screen on the Sony Trinitron. The camera kept zooming in and out, showing a full shot of Jenny and then zooming in for shots of her cunt and tits.
One of the players bent down and, with a little bit of work, forced part of a puck into her cunt. He worked it around a little bit. Jenny could feel its cold, rock-hard weight against her labia lips. The player left it stuck there in her vagina. The crowd started to chant again.
"PUCK HER, PUCK HER, PUCK HER, PUCK HER." The player worked the puck again. Jenny was screaming. It seemed to go on for several minutes. Suddenly, she spasmed violently on the ice, her hips thrusting upward. The player was knocked backwards. The puck shot out of her vagina and skidded across the ice into the net.
The crowd clapped and cheered. She could hear the players laughing.
"FUCK HER, FUCK HER, FUCK HER," the crowd started to chant. Jenny thought she was going to die. One of the hockey players skated between her legs and began to drop his bulky pants. She couldn't believe this. She was going to get fucked in front of 35,000 people on an icy rink by God knew how many huge Hockey thugs.
The guy was about to lower his jock when Jenny heard a familiar voice over the loudspeakers.
"STOP THIS, PLEASE." It was her husband, begging for her. She could hear sounds of a struggle in the background over the open mike. He was gone for a while, but finally came back on.
"We know you guys are all tough, heartless brutes. You've given us quite a show. But please, that's my wife down there. Don't hurt her. Let her go." The crowd fell quiet. Jenny thought for a moment that the mass hysteria might be breaking. She almost felt relief. A loud noise screeched over the loudspeakers.
"Hey fellas," said a suddenly sober announcer. "Give her a way out of it, huh?" The hockey players commiserated for a moment. One of them skated forward and faced the press box. He shouted up into the stands.
"She's made one shot," he said. "If she makes two more, that's a hat trick and she goes free." The crowd roared again. The hysteria was back.
The players dragged Jenny out in front of the net, midway between it and the blueline. They inserted another puck into her vagina and manipulated it around in there for a few minutes. About a third of the black rock was inside of her. Despite herself, she spasmed violently again. The puck shot out and into the net. Liquid sprayed in all directions as the puck vacated poor Jenny's cunt.
"My God," one of the players said, "she came all over the ice!" There was a puddle of moisture between Jenny's gaping thighs. The crowd cheered.
They pulled her over to the left side of the ice. The final puck. Jenny was mortified. Her chest was heaving. Her nipples were so erect they could receive radio signals. And, despite the fear and cold, her cunt was a hot, throbbing mess.
One of the players leaned down and began to insert the final puck inside of her. From out of nowhere Jenny heard herself say:
"Fuckers."
The players all looked at her face. Most had been staring at her gorgeous body.
"Let's up the ante," Jenny said. She felt possessed. She had no idea who was talking. "If I miss, not only do I fuck all of you, but I take on the coaches and trainers as well." The players stared at her wide-eyed. "But if I make it, you fuckers, you strip naked and play the third period that way." The players considered for a moment. One of them leaned down.
"You'll never make it honey," he said. "You've got yourself a bet." He turned and relayed this information to the crowd. The announcer repeated it just to make sure everyone heard.
The puck was thrust into Jenny's cunt, a little bit harder this time. The player who put it there stood up and looked down at her.
"Do it yourself this time," he said. "Good luck." The crowd roared.
Jenny's entire head seemed filled with the insane roaring of the riotous crowd. As she lay there on the ice, the insanity of what was happening started to really sink in. She stared up at the lights. Her hair was damp from the ice. Her breasts hurt from too many rough hands fondling them, too many beared faces kissing them. Inside of her was a foreign object that could either save or destroy her.
But there was no way she could get it out of her. No way, without some help from one of her tormenters, for her to work up an orgasm intense enough to shoot the puck from her vagina to the net.
Her whole body was shaking. She began to cry uncontrollably. In a belated, pathetic attempt at modesty she tried to cover her breasts with one arm and her gaping puck-filled cunt with the other.
"Let's set a time limit, fellas," the announcer said. "Give her ten seconds people." The crowd began to chant obligingly. "Ten, nine, eight..." Jenny's sobbing intensified. Her teeth were chattering, she could feel her whole world collapsing right then and there.
"Seven, six, five..."
She tried to bury her face into her shoulder. She could suddenly hear with great clarity. The hockey players were panting all around her. She could almost feel them drawing near. She was stuck nude on the ice in a hockey arena in one of the largest cities in America with 35,000 maniacal fans screaming for her violation. Stuck nude on the ice with a puck in her cunt. And, in a few seconds she thought, God knows what else. In my vagina, my ass...oh God, no, NO! She began screaming on the ice.
"Looks like this pretty little lady is in for one hell of a fucking night," the announcer said. There almost seemed to be some remorse in his voice.
"Four, three, two..."
Jenny was screaming, "NO, NO, NO", her face a deep purple, the chords in her neck straining out. God I'm so scared, she thought. She'd never been this scared since she was a little girl. When she was scared as a girl she used to lose control. She used to...
"One..."
...pee.
Jenny's bladder opened up with the force of a raging river. The puck flew out of her cunt followed by a streaming trail of urine, just as the crowed shouted:
"...Zero"
Suddenly, the crowd noise died. Jenny could hear the sound of water running. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she realized that somehow she had managed to eject the puck from her pussy.
"HAT TRICK!!!!" the announcer yelled suddenly. There was a moment's hesitation, and then the crowd broke into applause. Jenny curled up on the ice into a fetal position, covering her exposed body as best she could.
"The lady got the shot off before the clock counted down, gentleman. And you know what that means. Time for something new in the Chicago metropolitan area. Nude hockey." There was never any doubt that the players would do it. Something strange was definitely in the air in the arena that night, and things were only getting stranger. Jenny, still lost in her fog of fear and humiliation, began to crawl off the ice. Her damp blonde hair hung down at either side of her face. Her pendulous breasts dangled and shook as she crawled wearily across the ice, toward an open door in the wall.
She looked up as she crawled. The player who had first pucked her was already down to his jock strap. He was glaring at her. She couldn't understand it. We lost, he mouthed to her from across the ice. As if that explained it, that was all there was to it. They'd accepted her wager. She'd one. Brutes that they were, they'd still honor the bet.
He took his jock strap off. He had a raging hard on. Jenny couldn't take her eyes off of his huge, veiny cock. She'd almost had that thing inside her. She was repulsed and fascinated by it at the same time.
"That one dear lady," the announcer said, "was probably intended for your asshole." Jenny stared up into the ceiling lights, searching for that tormenting voice from the heavens. She shivered spastically for a moment, slipped to her feet, and began to run across ice.
Most of the players were nude by now. The crowd was cheering and laughing at the same time. Some of the guys were as crimson as Jenny had been. Several had full erections. Some had their cocks dangling between their legs. A few were shriveled up, their dicks hidden in a thicket of pubic hair.
Jenny couldn't believe the muscles and scars in their legs. That frightened her more than anything else. She ran faster, trying in vain to cover her swinging breasts with one arm.
She heard the puck drop to the ice. The clacking of wood against ice. The cold cutting sound the blades made. All around her was a swirl of color. The two teams had faced off and were going at it. She couldn't get off the ice fast enough. She moved closer to the door. The men's uniforms were being picked up off the ice by trainers while they played.
Running, sobbing, desperate to get off the ice, Jenny was blind-sided by one of the players. She felt the cold smack of his naked flesh against hers as she fell hard to the ice. The crowd roared.
Jenny was bounced around out there for a while. She slid to her feet several times, only to lose her footing. She sprawled spread-eagle onto the ice, her cunt exposed once again. All around her were swinging dicks and slashing sticks.
Someone skated past her (how did they get those pants off over their skates, she wondered?) and grabbed her in his arm. He handed her off to another player who skated with her in the opposite direction. She was screaming again. The player who was holding her skated behind the opposing team's net. He was manipulating his stick with his other hand. He had the puck.
Jenny heard a roaring mass of something coming from beind them. Both Jenny and her captor were smacked into the boards behind the net. Jenny went face first into the glass, her tits pancaked against it. She was stuck there for a split second. She stared straight into the lense of a fat man with a camera. Next to him, a young boy stared wide-eyed at her, his little erection betraying him.
She heard the player who had been holding her grunt harshly. It was a deep bass sound, a sudden, violent exhalation of breath. She looked over at him as she slid off the glass.
He had been checked from behind by a player with a hard-on. The player's cock was firmly planted up her captor's ass. The checker stared at Jenny with a mortified expression on his face that said to her, "Well, I used to make millions." .She looked up at the Sony Trinitron. Sure enough, there were the two players, joined suddenly in the heat of action.
"That should be a five minute major for forced penetration," the announcer shouted. The crowd exploded in hysterical laughter.
Jenny was tossed naked around the ice some more as she tried to make her way to the door in the wall. By now, things had become even more chaotic. As she slid across the ice, crying and confused by the naked brutality of it all, she noticed that several women had come down from the stands. A group of them were holding down the player who had pucked Jenny. The were violently jerking him off. Hot cum shot geyser-like from his throbbing cock, all over the ice. He squirmed with all his considerable strength but the women were too much for him. He too, had once made millions, Jenny thought.
Jenny finally made it across ice. Through her tears, she thought she could see her husband waiting for her on the other side of the wall, a blanket in his hands. She got blindsided again and found herself on the ice. When she got up, her husband was no longer there.
She ran toward the door. It had seemed so much closer a moment ago, but now she had to fight her way through nude hockey players. Some were being chased by women from the stands intent upon raping them. Others were being chased by other players who seemed to have the same thing in mind. One poor guy even had a ref on his tail. A whistle wasn't the only thing that ref wanted to blow!
Jenny finally made it to the door. She dove for it, her tits bouncing all over the place. She fell face first into a bench. Something slammed shut behind her.
"Two minutes for blushing," the announcer said. She was in the penalty box. Somehow, she had gotten turned around on the ice.
And she wasn't alone. Next to her was one of the players who had ripped her pantyhose off. His tiny cock started to get erect when he saw her. She instinctively covered her tits and cunt.
"YOU!" he shouted. He got up, his cock rising. Jenny tried to cower in the corner. Fans were pounding on the glass surrounding the penalty box. The player bent at the knees and grabbed her snatch in one meaty paw. With all his strength, he lifted her with his one arm. Up, toward the top of the glass.
From the other side of the glass, several hands grabbed Jenny by the upper arms. She found herself in the stands. She was passed upwards from fan to fan. Hands groped her breasts, her ass. A few were audacious enough to stick a finger in her pussy, which was soaking wet from the ice and her own juices.
A spotlight suddenlty trained its gaze on her. The crowd was chanting "PASS HER, PASS HER, PASS HER." Jenny was passed through most of the lower sections. She finally fainted. She barely awoke to realize that she had ended up limp in her husband's arms. Her breasts hurt from all the handling. Her cunt was throbbing. She had red marks all over her naked body.
"Let's get out of here," her husband whispered to her.
And so they left, with Carl. Sue was on the ice, raping some naked hockey stud. The three survivors left the chaotic scene. On her way out, a semi-conscious Jenny barely heard the announcer say, "Can't wait to see what the playoffs bring us!"
EPILOGUE:
Jenny recovered in her hotel room that weekend. Carl called up a friend of his in Chicago who recommended that Jenny see a famous hypnotist. The hypnotist showed up on Sunday, put Jenny in a trance, and seemed to convince her to forget all that had happened to her Friday night.
The management of the arena called an emergency meeting the day after the game. "Fighting is one thing, but that was ridiculous!" someone said. They changed the ventilation system in the arena for fear that some bizarre and exotic toxin had caused the mass hysteris. They fired the public address announcer, for fear that his voice had somehow hypnotized the players and crowd into behaving the way they had. The insanity had extended beyond the arena though: the local cable stations had broadcast the chaos. Hundreds of thousands of people had Jenny's image stored in their brains, their video cameras, their still cameras. She fueled many an erotic dream for a long time. Her image showed up all over the place in the Chicago area: on people's VCRs, in slideshows, photo albums. And, of course, the internet. And therefore the world
Somehow, those pictures never made their way to Byron's Stripping Forum.
Anyway, Jenny's husband drove her back to their farmhouse. For weeks and weeks, the experts tried to figure out what had happened that night. But Jenny's husband thought he knew. As things settled back to normal on their farm, he would relax at night with Jenny on their front porch, a drink in one hand and his beautiful, shy, and blissfully forgetful wife in the other.
Ahhhh, he would think, listening to the music of the crickets, here's to the power of collective fantasy.