From: indexhtml@netscape.net   
      
   Story: Grabbing the Brass Ring   
      
   An Erotic Story   
      
         I always thought of myself as unlucky.  Maybe what   
   constitutes "being lucky" is more your perception of what's   
   happening to you and how you react to it, than external things.   
   I still thank David for showing me that if you take what   
   opportunities you are given, recognize them for what they are,   
   and GRAB them before they're gone, then you CAN grab the brass   
   ring.  It turns out there are many brass rings . . . you just   
   have to recognize them when the carousel goes by.   
         Brass rings . . . I don't think they use them any more . . .   
   perhaps for safety reasons.  They were one of the greatest   
   gimmicks and tricks of salesmanship ever invented.  I remember   
   vividly the very first time . . . .   
         When I was 11, during the summertime, a carnival came to   
   town.  Cheap food, cheap rides, and more ways to separate kids   
   and adults from their money almost painlessly.  One of these   
   rides and ways was the carousel or merry-go-round, as us kids   
   called it.  Gaily painted horses going up and down to cheesy   
   music.  Just round and round.  How could even a carny hope to   
   sell tickets to something as boring as that?  But somebody   
   somewhere was a salesman.   
         I watched for a while; trying to figure where to spend my   
   meager supply of tickets that my parents being farmers could   
   afford to buy for me and my brother.  It was then that I noticed   
   all the kids on the merry-go-round leaning WAY out each time they   
   came around and passed a pole that held a stack of rings like   
   mini-donuts in some kind of dispenser.   
         "What," I asked, "is going on?"   
         My father told me that it was the "brass ring"; and if you   
   managed to shag one from one of the ponies and held onto it, then   
   the carny operator would let you ride "for free" as long as you   
   wanted.  Here I thought you just got a free ride.   
         I spent all 6 tickets trying to get that brass ring.  It   
   wasn't out THAT far.  But each time I'd think I almost had it,   
   the horse I was on would go up or down just enough to make me   
   miss.  Once (about the third ride or ticket) I actually touched   
   one of the rings.   
         The ride operator was smart.  By letting a few kids ride for   
   free, he kept a merry-go-round (basically the most boring ride at   
   the carny) full of kids trying to get the brass ring for   
   hours . . . this on a ride they probably wouldn't have otherwise   
   ridden more than once, if they got all the rides "for free".   
         I never did catch the brass ring; though I had a lot of fun   
   trying; and the kids in town talked about 'Catching the Brass   
   Ring' for weeks.  I never saw that done on a carny again.   
         For years, I felt like I did that one time I ALMOST grabbed   
   the brass ring . . . unlucky; not like those lucky kids who did.   
   I never saw that I probably had more fun reaching for the ring,   
   than they did sitting bored going round and round and round   
   and . . .   
      
      
      
      
      
                                    1   
      
      
         I always kept wondering, "Why me?"  Why did OTHER girls get   
   the brass ring, the handsome guy, the beautiful face and gorgeous   
   body; while I got stuck with a handicap that didn't even show so   
   other people could feel sympathy?   
         Life, love, and the luck of catching the brass ring was for   
   me to see others do; never something for me.  I never realized   
   how lucky I was, until that day I went shopping . . .   
                           . . . . . . . . . .   
         The pain slashed across me like a sharp knife cutting my   
   heart out; leaving me with a dull aching emptiness where it had   
   been.   
         "Oh no, not again!" I told myself; silently hoping that THIS   
   pain would leave like these emotions sometimes did.  Only the   
   empty ache continued and grew stronger.  Oh shit.  This was the   
   very reason I came into town at night . . . to the one   
   convenience store that remained open until midnight.  Long ago   
   the city had grown far to much for me to bear; and the   
   conflicting needs of almost a million people tearing me apart.   
   Here in the country, if I avoided going past the Morton place, I   
   was able to live with a life almost my own.  Nothing had bothered   
   me this much in almost a year since Mike, the last of the   
   Daldridge twins, had finally gotten a girlfriend of his own,   
   under my tutelage.  The aching needs of two excruciatingly horny   
   and somewhat jealous twins had almost torn me apart in the nine   
   and a half months it took to teach the two teenagers about sex   
   and how to attract a decent girl, instead of frightening her off   
   with the sheer intensity of their need for raw sex.  It was a   
   wonder I hadn't gotten knocked-up in those first three weeks   
   before I brought the raging inferno of the two 13-year-old boys   
   down to the steady flame that would probably keep the Martin   
   girls happy and sexually satisfied for years.  With that behind   
   me, I had HOPED to live MY life for at least a few months.   
         As another ache swept across my mind, I almost fainted from   
   the wordless aching, wanting, NEEDING, and yes (as usual)   
   unfulfilled sexual desire.  I figured it was the latter that   
   probably woke the poor guy up and made him realize his loss again   
   in the middle of the night.  Knowing this was small comfort   
   against the aching void that seemed to swell up until the room   
   started to fade, and I almost dropped the few necessities I had   
   gathered.   
         "Are you OK, Lady?"  The warm worried care about ME brought   
   a measure of sanity back.  Earlier I had only been peripherally   
   aware of the warm bumbling boredom of the clerk; slightly   
   intermixed with the normal teenaged horniness and a faint wish   
   hovering in the background that had to do with some kind of   
   erotic fantasy . . . probably having to do with either his   
   current girlfriend, or possibly an erotic book he read whenever   
   he was alone in the store.  When I first arrived, I had been   
   tempted to ferret out the boy's secret stash by the old "hot and   
   cold" method I was so used to . . . only feeling the hot blush of   
   embarrassment of a teenager was NOT the sort of thing I usually   
   sought out . . . unless I was screamingly horny myself.  The   
   affair with the twins had taken so much out of me, it would   
   probably be another week or two before my body insisted on its   
   needs instead of somebody else's.   
      
      
                                    2   
      
      
         "No . . . It's OK," I gasped; staggering upright.  Somehow   
   it was refreshing to feel somebody else worrying about ME for a   
   change.  I resolved to come back some night and help the kid   
   relieve the aching horniness that at present was just a pleasant   
   reminder of how good sex usually was.  The next time I needed it,   
   and IF the kid was still working that night.  He deserved a   
   reward for caring like that.  I felt the worried bubble shrink a   
   little as I "put my face back on" and tried desperately to NOT   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)