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253 lines
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| | c o m m u n i c a t i o n s | |
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| |________________________________________________________________| |
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|____________________________________________________________________|
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...presents... A Day in the Life of Debbie G1bs0n
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by The Madwoman
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>>> a cDc publication.......1993 <<<
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-cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc-
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____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____ _ ____
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|____digital_media____digital_culture____digital_media____digital_culture____|
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The stories, characters, and incidents mentioned in this file are entirely
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fictional. No similarity between any of the names, characters, persons, and/or
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institutions in this file with those of any living or dead person or insti-
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tution is intended, and any such similarity which may exist is purely
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coincidental.
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______________________________________________________________________________
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A silver tear rolled down Debbie's perfect cheek as she slowly lowered her
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sleek young body into the white marble bathtub. When she was younger, a nice
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hot bubble bath was all she needed to raise her spirits, but now it seemed that
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nothing would calm her troubled soul. Life wasn't easy for the teenage singing
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sensation. It seemed that no matter what she did, no one would take her work
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seriously.
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"Trite," the critics had called her last album. "Trite, cheesy and
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sappy." Debbie shuddered and began to weep harder. These were her innermost
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feelings they were poking fun at. If "Lost in Your Eyes" and "No More Rhyme"
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weren't heartfelt reflections of the depth of the human soul - she didn't know
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what was. And surely "Electric Youth" was the most inspirational song about
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youthful potential since David Bowie's "Changes." But still her finest works
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were ridiculed by those too emotionally and intellectually immature to fully
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understand them.
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But Debbie's musical career wasn't what was bothering her, and she knew it
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all too well. Her real problem was that she could no longer go on ignoring the
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feelings that were swelling inside her body. She was blossoming into woman-
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hood, but could not realize her fantasies in fear of tarnishing her image as
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the fresh, innocent pop starlet. It wasn't so much to preserve her career -
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she knew in her heart of hearts that she could make it on her talent alone -
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but she felt she owed it to her fans. She wanted to be a role model to young
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girls, to tell them that it's cool to just say no to sex and drugs - to follow
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their dreams and to be individuals. But at the same time, Debbie was finding
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it harder and harder to resist the powerful desires coursing through her veins.
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Yes, Debbie was a virgin, but it was more by circumstance than conscious
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choice. She was curious, but didn't want to just hop into bed with the first
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guy that came along. And since her busy career prevented any kind of real
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romance from developing, it seemed that she was doomed to chastity forever. It
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had been months since the last time she had been touched in a sexual manner. A
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smile crept across her face while her mind replayed once again that delicious
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evening.
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She washed the tears from her face while her slender toes slipped around
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the tiny chain on the rubber stopper in the tub. A gentle tug and the water
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began slowly draining away. Debbie began gently caressing her taut young body
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as the water lowered, exposing her soft flesh to the cool air. Bubbles
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crackled and popped on the delicate surfaces of her small, pert breasts -
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sending tingling pleasures from her tiny pink nipples to her moist womanhood.
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"Kirk," she whispered to herself. "Oh... Kirk...."
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To most people, Kirk Camer0n was just another television star. He played
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Michael on the popular sitcom "Growing Pains" - a winsome youth with an
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irresistible smile and a keen wit. But he was more than this to Debbie. Much
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more.
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By now the water had reached the floating curls of her soft blonde pubic
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hair. Debbie ran her slender fingers through the tiny locks and remembered
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that night at the Emmys.
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By mere chance they had been seated next to each other. They talked a
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little, mostly about being mobbed by hordes of twelve year old fans whenever
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they went out in public. But while they spoke, Debbie could feel Kirk
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undressing her with his eyes - tracing her curves and taking obvious glances at
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her tight skirt. He had an air of hungry confidence about him, and she felt
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desires welling up inside her that she had never felt before. The lights went
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down in the room, and the ceremony began. Kirk took Debbie's hand and began
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gently stoking it. Then he suddenly let go, and instead put his hand on her
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knee. Slowly he began to move it up her leg, stroking and caressing her inner
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thigh; making Debbie swoon in shameful anticipation.
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Lying in the bathtub, Debbie's mind played over the delicious image of
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Kirk gently slipping his fingers underneath her silk panties, his manicured
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nails lightly grazing her swollen rosebud - all the while looking into her eyes
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and coyly mocking her obvious passion. She pictured that face, those fingers,
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penetrating over and over....
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And then it boomed over the sound system, "And the winner for best actor
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in a Family-Oriented Situation Comedy is... KIRK CAMER0N!"
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Kirk removed his hand from Debbie's sopping underwear with admirable
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swiftness, only a split second before the roaming cameras would whirl to meet
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his ever-charming smile.
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Debbie began thrashing about in the bathtub, shuddering violently with
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orgasmic tears, but only a second after her muffled cries began to escape her
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ruby lips - the wooden door into the room blew into a thousand pieces under the
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force of a strategically-placed tactical plastique explosive.
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Into the room jumped an unholy trinity of nefarious evildoers. The
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central figure was a fully clad ninja warrior - armed with razor sharp
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precision weapons and dressed in the black eelskin Shinomo garb that only
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outfitted the assassins of kings. The ninja was flanked by a pair of Nazi
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frogmen in gray-green wetsuits and flippers - each carrying a deadly speargun
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whose purpose was all too obvious. On their chests was the unmistakable emblem
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of Adolph Hitler's Third Reich. Without hesitation, the two frogmen advanced
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while the figure in black stood back to survey the carnage. Debbie had the
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sudden feeling that she might be in trouble.
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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What only Debbie's adoptive family and a handful of others knew, however,
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was that this young nightingale was far from defenseless. When Debbie was only
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a few months old, she and her natural family had been in a shipwreck - and
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Debbie, the only survivor, washed up on the shores of a small uncharted isle
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somewhere between the Fiji and Easter Islands. She was raised by wolves for
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the first few years of her life, until she unwittingly came across the only
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other human being on the island, an aging Shaulin Martial Arts Master named
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Bruce who taught her the ways of man and the art of self defense. After ten
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years of rigorous training, Debbie decided to once again rejoin the real world,
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and fulfill her destiny as the best-loved pop starlet of all time. On a
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makeshift outboard canoe, Debbie sailed to New York, where she was soon adopted
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by a nice upper-middle class Protestant family, who introduced her to record
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producer Fred Zarr - and the rest was history.
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*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*
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Debbie leapt from the tub in a flying summersault, barely avoiding a
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forked spear that fiercely penetrated the four foot luffa only inches from
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where her sinewy young form had just been. Even in mid-flight, she was able to
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identify the deadly curare poison coating her opponents' barbed projectiles.
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They were playing for keeps. She spun to meet the evil duo, and remembered the
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words of her master... "The less effort expended, the more powerful the
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connection." An indescribably graceful spinning crescent lunge kick underneath
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the chin of her first opponent neatly severed his head and sent it flying into
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the bidet.
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She ducked a slice from the second frogman's nine-inch serrated hunting
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knife, and with a deafening cry of "WAX ON!" she plunged her open hand through
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the Swastika emblem on his chest - and with a similar yell of "WAX OFF!" she
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withdrew his still-beating heart. As the body slumped to the floor, Debbie
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whirled to meet the stoic gaze of the remaining figure in black.
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"Who are you?" she cried, "And what do you want with me!? I broke a nail
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on your lame-ass frogman's collarbone, and I'm really pissed off!"
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"You have killed two of my finest warriors," intoned the ninja. "And as
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you die, I want you to know who is killing you." The figure pulled off its
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sinister hood, and out poured a cascade of fiery red hair.
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It was T1ffany. Debbie's arch-rival in the musical netherworld of teenage
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pop icons, and the very figure of evil incarnate. Her fans thought of her as a
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quiet young girl with modest dreams of stardom, when in reality she was a
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brazen harlot who would stop at nothing to have the whole of the music industry
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under her wicked thumb.
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"T1ffany!" cried Debbie. "I should have guessed!"
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"You were expecting maybe Chuck Norris?" quipped back the red haired
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vixen. "I mean, Chuck's pretty hard up - but he's got better things to do than
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nail a prissy little WASP like you!"
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"What are you doing here? What do you want with me?" screamed Debbie,
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falling back into a defensive posture.
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"You ruined my career! I was on the verge of creating a musical empire...
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I'd taken the first few steps to establishing myself as the hottest young thing
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around - when all of a sudden you came around singing those insipid little
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ballads of yours and stealing my thunder! Next thing I knew, I found myself
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classified and categorized as a flash-in-the-pan little tart like you."
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"What?" gasped an amazed and unbelieving Debbie. "You honestly thought
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you could make it big by covering Beatles' tunes for the rest of your life?
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Not!"
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"You untalented little blonde tease!"
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"You plagiarizing red haired slut!"
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"Slicing your throat open is too quick a death for you!" sneered T1ffany,
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dropping her weapons' belt to the floor. "I'll crush you with my bare hands!!"
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She let loose a double reverse snake punch aimed at Debbie's naked torso.
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But Debbie was too fast for her and did a double backwards somersault to
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the other end of the room. As T1ffany sped towards her, Debbie crouched down
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and threw her lower body upwards for the little known Shaulin upside down
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spinning helicopter kick for which there is no known defense - except, of
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course, for the even lesser known Japanese flying supersonic blur-hand in which
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T1ffany had been expertly schooled. The two clashed together in a tangle of
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limbs and flesh, leaving them locked in a strangling embrace - pitting will
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against will in a struggle to the death.
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But as Debbie's hands closed around her opponent's neck, she found herself
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mesmerized by the tender fierceness in her eyes. She suddenly remembered what
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it was that she was doing before this rather startling interruption, and the
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proximity of such a beautiful, healthy young body pressing against hers sent an
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unexpected flash of heat through her loins. This took Debbie completely by
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surprise. I mean - she shaved her legs and had long hair and everything - she
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never dreamed that she might be a lesbian! But her body cared very little
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about her mind's outdated ethics as she pressed her firm young bosom into
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T1ffany's.
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As she did so, both her and T1ffany's grip loosened, and their snarls of
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anger transformed into faint moans of pleasure. Debbie found herself entranced
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with the delicate lips of her opponent, and before she could stop herself she
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was kissing them. For a moment it occurred to Debbie that T1ffany's acceptance
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of this might be a ruse to get the upper hand - but then she felt a soft, warm
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tongue slide into her mouth, and she knew she had a willing and eager partner.
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"I wanted you so bad," whispered T1ffany between kisses. "So bad I wanted
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to destroy you, because I didn't think I could ever have you."
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"Mmmmmm..." replied Debbie. "I never thought it could be like this...."
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T1ffany's hands roamed freely over Debbie's supple body, as Debbie neatly
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removed her black ninja garb. Underneath she wore nothing, and Debbie swooned
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as she uncovered a figure not unlike her own - save for a wild growth of fiery
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red hair between her legs.
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"I never believed you were a real redhead," quipped Debbie tenderly, as
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she slowly kissed down her torso.
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"That's OK," countered T1ffany, gingerly swinging her partner around into
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a sixty-nine. "I never thought you were a real blonde."
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_______ __________________________________________________________________
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/ _ _ \|Demon Roach Undrgrnd.806/794-4362|Kingdom of Shit.....806/794-1842|
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((___)) |Cool Beans!..........510/THE-COOL|Polka AE {PW:KILL}..806/794-4362|
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[ x x ] |The Alcazar..........401/782-6721|Moody Loners w/Guns.415/221-8608|
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\ / |The Works............617/861-8976|Finitopia...........916/673-8412|
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(' ') |ftp - zero.cypher.com in pub/cdc |ftp - ftp.eff.org in pub/cud/cdc|
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(U) |==================================================================|
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.ooM |1993 cDc communications by The Madwoman 04/01/93-#222|
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\_______/|All Rights Drooled Away. SIX GLORIOUS YEARS of cDc|
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