Laura Stone (stoney321) wrote,
Laura Stone

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Mormons and Eclairs and Spike, Oh My!

My younger cousin who, incidentally, is saving her first kiss for the wedding altar (I am not shitting you. She's 23 and has "virgin lips" - all of you naughty girls and boys are thinking of the wrong ones. REALLY virginal, this girl.) and has decided to take her first marriage proposal after dating "seriously" for two weeks.

Background on my family, father's side: they came over with the original handcart companies with Brigham Young and helped found places like Provo and the Provo canyon. Hard core Mormons. For those not in the know, it is common for die-hards to be virgins on their wedding night, and the new trend is to not even kiss until after you say "I do." SOOO much they are missing out on.

So she found a boy as virginal and naive as her (and I LOVE my cousin - she's a sweet as people come) and they are getting married in less than a month. That is true Utah style: date, engagement and marriage in about a month.

So she called her parents to fly out here from Salt Lake City to meet the boy. Her parents, her new beau, my cousin, my parents, our uncle and his wife, and all my brood were at my house for a feast to celebrate the upcoming nuptuals. A prayer was spoken over the food, and I think it lasted as long as it took everyone to eat. My dad REALLY tries to not breathe at all when he prays.

Since they are from the most Red of these our United States, talk (of course) turned to politics, and my lovely husband was able to point-counterpoint all of their Pro-bush (notice that?) rhetoric with facts and got them to stop trying to "convert" us. We purchased Farenhiet 9/11 yesterday and had it prominently displayed, and they made faces at us, as if we had "Cindy Does DVDA!! ALL NITE LOOONG!!" out. Then talk turned to Jesus. And all about repentance, etc. Oh, that was for me, don't you know. Because I showed so much promise as a youth in the Mormon Church, and then just left. Blech!!!! For the record: don't believe in any of it. Religion of any kind. Not a whit.

So my head is pounding, and I see that dovil is back and also my BFNLJL crazydiamondsue, and karabair has completely lied about taking a break (and I am glad!) so I have this for you, to bring on the funny ha ha. The first adventure of Wee!Spike can be found here

More Wee Spike!
Disclaimer: I am high on crack and meth and probably some fish tranquilizers and I drank a whole bottle of cough syrup and vanilla extract. I am not accountable for you not laughing. Are you made of STONE?
Rating: NC-17, or I'll die tryin'

Angel was relaxing on his chaise lounge, completely aware of how sexy and standoffish it made him. He wasn't reading the paper, just holding it in a sexy manner so his muscles rippled and his shirt was opened a bit. He kept looking out of the corner of his eye to see if his Childerere was watching. He was.

Spike walked through the doorway, made a dramatic stop, cocked his head, and did "jazz hands."

"Looking for me, Grandsirererere?" Spike made a sexy path towards his mate-lover-sire, bobbing and weaving until Angel began to feel a little seasick.

Angel growled. Spike growled. Spike picked up the paper and sat down next to him on the chaise, snuggling into his grandaddy-sirererere. Angel smiled to himself and snuggled his lover into his embrace. He's so delicate and tiny compared to me. Sometimes I fear I'll break him.

As Angel pulled Spike closer to his tight embrace, he noticed that Spike seemed smaller. He could now fit his entire lean and, truth be told, albino body into the crook of his arm.

Spike looked up adoringly to his mate-lover-sire-Childrerere maker and said, "I feel so safe with you, love."

As Angel's dead vampire heart swelled with dusty pride, he smiled down on his fragile little granchildrerere-lover-mate and pulled him up to his chest and snuggled him some more. I never cuddled with Darla. Who would have guessed that vampires can have such an abundance of sweet, tender moments? And with that he nuzzled his face into the crusty, pokey hair of his lover.

"Cor! Blimey! And other interjections not appropriate for my background! Angel, Peaches to my Cream! I'm shrinking!"

Everytime I think of how petite and delicate little schmoopy Spike is, he's gotten smaller...

A teeny voice squeeked up to him, "help me! Codswallup! Bloody Hell! I'm no bigger than a gerbil, or some other small rodent like creature!"

Angel picked up his wee little lover and held him in the palm of his hand. "Aren't you just the cutest little devil!"

"Oy! Demon!"

In his sweetest, schmaltziest voice, "Yes. Who's my little demon? Who's Daddy's little killing machine!"

Spike grinned his biggest smile at his lover-mate-granpappy-biter, mainly to convey with his little head his joy at still being loved. And he felt stirrings that would seem impossible...

Angel was stroking his little pokey blonde mousie wousie with his finger, but didn't realize he was stimulating a little more than a dead, dusty heart.

Spike dove to the neck of the black, silk shirt Angel had on and climbed his way down Angel's chest.

Wish he'd stop fucking waxing his chest... Make it alot easier to climb down...

Spike soon found his goal. He stripped off his miniscule denims and climbed aboard Angel's schlong, riding it like a bucking bronco. Angel lay back on the chaise, enjoying the pleasure his Lilliputian lover was eliciting. Spike held onto the slit of Angel's dick, and rode him like a bat out of hell. Spike quickly came, Angel heard a tinny, whirring sound that he later realized was the sound of a shout from his itty-bitty man-lover, and then Spike climbed down further to help his pre-progenitor climaxxxx. (The extra X's are for what he'll do.)

Spike found the wrinkled, greyish-redish puckered skin hole and dove right in. Angel gave a yelp and almost rose off the chaise, but as he had gained a lot of unexplained weight over the years, didn't quite make his ass leave leather.

Spike began digging and clawing his way to his prize. He found it against the wall of his lover's rectum, his prostate. Fortunately, Angel was lying prostrate, so Spike could press on his prostate easily. And press it he did. He started singing "Anarchy" by the Sex Pistols to himself, pressing hard on the emphasized words.

And I am an anarCHIST
And I am an anti-CHRIST...
And I.... WAN- NA- be----YAH

Angel shot his wad all over the room, painting it in his semen, although it wouldn't make a pretty painting as "cream" is more of a tone than a color. He fell back and smiled with pleasure.

"Spike? I don't know if you can hear me in there, but it's a good thing we are vampires. Prostate cancer is the leading cause of cancer death among non-smoking American men. Oh, and it's a good thing I'm not American, even though I sound like one."

Spike poked his head out with a *pop* and replied in his diminutive voice, "Right. It's really sexy to be safe, you know? It's a real turn on to know I can completely trust you, Non-Whelp-Lover-Gramps. Give us a rest, and we'll have another go, yeah?"

Angel popped him out of his poop chute, carried him to the sink, rinsed him off, and wrapped Spike in a Kleenex. He snuggled his baby wee lover-amoeba in his arms, and they drifted off to sleep, safe and content in each others arms. Except for Spike because he was too wee.

Dear god, do I have ANY friends left after this??
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