LIFESTYLE Newsletter Vol. 1 SPECIAL ACTUAL
THIS IS AN INTRODUCTION
Hello again everyone. This is the ACTUAL LIFESTYLE Newsletter Vol. 1 SPECIAL.
- Thank you for sticking around for this one.
- This issue is all about celebrating my friend and famous big time author, Mindy Mejia. Her new book, Leave No Trace, is coming out very soon. BUY HERE —> http://a.co/hf1HekH.
- I hope to see ALL OF YOU at the book launch event, 4 September at 7p at Once Upon a Crime. I’ve been to many Mejia book events and they are all a good time.
- As noted in the prelude, there is significant NSFW content in this. If you want to opt-out, please stop when you see the AMAZING BOOK COVER my wife made for me.
- The next LIFESTYLE newsletter will be significantly more SFW.
- I would also like to thank Mindy for taking time out of her day for this interview.
Pounded in the Butt by My Interview with 20XX LIFESTYLE newsletter award winning Author, Mindy Mejia.
If there is one thing I hate doing, it is transcribing interviews. When you are working the reporter beat, you are bound to spend a lot of time transcribing interviews. From PTA meetings to interviews and the big car shows, there is a lot of transcribing involved so you can turn out the high-quality community based journalism your readers demand. I’m just a few years out of school, a graduate of the excellent journalism program at DeVry University, and landed my first job at the local LIFESTYLE newsletter. Many people work their whole lives for such an big opportunity but I landed it right out of school.
My first article, “Local Librarian Finds $20 Bill in Returned Tingler,” was published soon after I was hired. Imagine me, opening up my email from Mailkimp and seeing the latest LIFESTYLE newsletter and my name, Narf Lovely, on the screen. I printed a copy and framed it in my office, a tribute to my achievement. With all the fame of writing for such a high-quality community based email newsletter came all the trappings of fame and success. The parties. The mingling with celebrities. The late nights away from my trusted companion animal, Yabbi.
It was a late night and I was still at the office in front of my computer with all the lights out to save energy. I had recently met up with a big shot local author, Mindy Mejia, who was just about to put out her latest book, /Leave No Trace/. I was a big fan of her earlier works and was nervous and excited for this opportunity. I used to manage circulation for the newsletter, so I knew she was a reader too. The pressure was overwhelming. We agreed to meet at a local Japanese restaurant. I prepared 10 questions for the interview so I wouldn’t take up too much of her valuable time. The interview went well and we even spent some time after having casual conversation. I recommended my favorite podcast to her and she recommended a book for me. I recorded the interview on my Pear mePhone and was playing it back, typing notes diligently.
After hours of work, late into the night I was just wrapping up, responding to emails and texting Yabbi to let him know I would be home soon. “Hey there!” A voice suddenly rings out. I jump from the shock since I thought I was alone. I look around and don’t see any signs of movement. “H-H-Hello?” I nervously question the air around me while I move towards the lights to turn them on. “Over here!” The voice sounds like it is coming from my desk. I look over and notice in the shadows in the corner of my office is a figure. I recognize him immediately, a physical manifestation of my transcribed notes that swirls and dances in the air, a handsome twister of accuracy and hard work. “I know how hard you worked on me all night, and I’m always watching you work hard trying to be a better human and bring joy in your strange way to the people in your life,” he says. I am uncomfortable with the complements, but still confused if I am awake or dreaming. He leans over to me and wraps his muscular arms around me, reassuring me with a thunder hug. As our bodies are in close proximity, I feel something poking me in my stomach. I put a little distance between us and look down and see a massive bump coming out of the swirling mass. “You’ve worked hard for so long on these newsletters.” he says as he rubs my shoulders and tries to relieve some of my stress. I reach down and remove his fully hardened cock from the swirling mass of transcription. He slowly pushes my head down towards his throbbing man meat.
“Remember when you asked the big time author about why her books have a strong connection to Minnesota and why it is such a great place?” He whispers as my body moves down. “She was taken aback by it and said that it was understated and referenced our friend Tomo saying it is ‘a place where you never want to go and when you are here you never want to leave’” I let out a boyish laugh as I remember how our interview began. Eventually, I reach his cock with my mouth and begin to move my lips across the length of his shaft. My transcribed notes let out a satisfied moan.
“Then you asked a multiple choice question from the CPA exam to test her accounting knowledge.” He says in a lower voice while being distracted by me teasing him by playing his hard cock like a flute. “I was seeing if she was still in practice, since she is a licensed CPA, and if we could hire her to do the books at LIFESTYLE. She did not get the question correct, but she’s a world famous big time author, so I’ll give her some leeway,” I respond in-between moments where my mouth wasn’t on his cock.
Eventually, I push my head down as deep as I can and take the sentient transcription of my interview to the hilt of his rock hard cock, his length pushing down my throat. I hold him here for a moment, a cathartic moment of the realization of my hard work and accuracy. Even I am surprised at how well I take him, considering I am not gay. While, I have always been a strong ally and fought for LGBTQI+ issues, I never found myself giving this treatment to another person. Maybe I’m still not gay. There’s not really anything gay about a man taking his own manifestation of accuracy and hard work in a deep throat, I remind myself. Whatever label society would put on my for this, I don’t care. This feels so right, I tell myself.
“And to think, she’s never been to Billings, Montana” he says as he tussles my hair. “You were hoping she could introduce you to your favorite buckaroo and big time author, Dr. Chuck Tingle, weren’t you?” “Yes,” I reply as I gasp for air in-between thrusts. “That was such a clever way of asking a question, you coy little fox,” he replies as he grabs the back of my head and pushes it towards him, pushing my mouth to the hilt of his massive erection.
I was running out of breath and my sentient transcription was sensing I needed a little break. He gently unplugged my Pear meMac on my desk and set it down on the floor, knowing I would not stand for a rash destruction of expensive objects just to satisfy our lust. With the desk bare, he sat on the edge and carefully pulled my shirt over my head and laid down in a way so that I could be the little spoon. Being pounded by someone so intimately entwined with your thoughts has its advantages, I thought.
While I laid wrapped up in his muscular arms, he whispered into my ear. “What is the point of fiction, you asked?” “Yes, I don’t really enjoy general fiction. I think it is a waste of time. Although I do enjoy science fiction, but I really read it for the sense of hope. Hope that the world will stop worrying about all these petty and contrived differences and work together to an amazing future where we can live to our potential, free of constraints. A world where love is real.” “She made the point that it is about connecting fiction to your reality as well,” he reminded me. “Yes, that was a great point. Big time authors are so smart,” I reply with a giggle. “I’m still not reading Game of Butts, though!” “Well, why would you? You’re not in the target market!” he stated. “With so many choices of where to get entertainment for a next to zero cost, she really made a good point that part of her job is similar to marketing, where she has to consider her audience and target the content to them. Like she said, if you are creating content for a market, you have to branch out to marketing,” I replied. “You’re so focused on the economics,” the handsome twister says as he gives me a playful pat on the ass.
My brief moment of exhaustion was coming to an end as I regained my throbbing erection and noticed that he never lost his. “The big time author talked about the Minnesota things that she would pair with each of her books. The Como Zoo with /The Dragon Keeper/ and a Four Daughters wine with /Everything You Want Me to Be/,” he said while rubbing my bare chest. “What quintessentially Minnesotan thing would you pair with me?” he asks while I roll into him. “My ass. Shove that big fat transcription cock up into my tight gay ass!” I reply as I moan into his ripped and powerful chest.
My own sentient transcription pulls me off the desk forcefully and positions himself behind me, crouching down to position his rod up against my puckered butthole. He puts his firm and accurate fingers into my mouth and I suck on them before he reaches down and teases me with them. Pushing one then two, then three fingers into my widening butthole. When I can’t take it any more, I yell out, “pound that ass with the verbatim details of that interview!” He pushes deeper and deeper into me, my transcription eventually swallowed completely into my asshole.
“I can’t believe you asked her that typical interview question about naming a difficult work situation or project and how she overcame it. Is this a hard work situation or project? How are you going to over…come it?” He whispers into my ear, holding me close and pounding my ass. “Rewriting chapters and being told that I need to rework my novel sounds like such a drag. I don’t think I could ever write a book. I don’t think I could form these crazy thoughts in my head into anything someone would want to read. I have a hard enough time thinking people actually read my LIFESTYLE articles.” I say in short gasps while being pounded. “Fuck!” My sentient transcription moans. “I’m so fucking close to blowing a huge load.” “Oh, we’re not done yet. We need to go over EVERY aspect of this interview, “ I tell him. I push him out of my ass as he lifts me into his massive arms.
“Only three questions left. What happens after that?” I ask him. “I don’t know,” he says in a sad tone. “I came to life through you. Through this experience interviewing this big time author that you are amazed by and all of this,” he waves his hand around “is your reward for that work. I’ve been there for every interview. I’ve been around for every LIFESTYLE newsletter. I may be the accurate transcription of those thirteen minutes and we might have this time together, but we both know this can’t last.” “I know. I know.” I’m about to say more things from my heart, but he interrupts me. “We’re not finished yet. I’m going to pound you with these last three questions so fucking hard.” He says assertively. He lays me down on the desk, spreading my legs wide as my cock stands upright to the air. My sentient transcription wastes no time getting back to work, pounding away at my asshole that has been stretched to its limit. I tremble as he fills me up in a way I have never been before. I reach down and beat myself off.
“When you asked that big time author about writing fiction and what it is about the fictional novel format that makes people think they can succeed at writing it, do you remember what she said?” he looks into my eyes, revealing a deep truth anticipating the answer, while still pounding my ass with a fervor. “Yes, she said there is an incredible history with our species of story telling and that there is something powerful about telling stories. That people have a story inside them that they need to tell. People have an impulse to write. Of course, a big time successful author would say that.” I continue, “I have nothing. I am completely drained at the end of my day, living my easy life writing for LIFESTYLE. What story would I possibly have to tell?” “Tell them about your life. Your thoughts, your interests. Things you find. Things you don’t understand. Try to put into words what you feel. I’m just a sentient transcription, but I know you have something inside you. Like me, right now,” he puts up his hand for an expected high-five. “Good one,” I giggle and slap his hand. “Seriously, she told you to go for it. If Staphnie Bliber can write books about sexy mummies, anyone can do it.” My transcript encourages me. “Maybe I start light and make a novella. I hear those Buck Trungle books are all the rage,” I reply.
The sentient transcription speeds up the pounding. My entire body begins to spasm. Tears begin rolling down my cheeks as I deal with the fact that I am creatively devoid but that someone believes in me. The most intense deep anal orgasm of my life rushes over my body and I yell out, “I’m going to cum! I’m going to blow my load all over your accurate transcription and plant this seed for a novella all over you.” “Do it! Use me as the basis of a novella dedicated to all your favorite big time authors!” My sentient transcription commands. Hot white rope ejects from the head of my shaft into the vortex of my sentient transcription. His pounding increases and before long I can feel his milky spunk filling my asshole to the brim.
We eventually collapse in each others arms onto my desk. My Pear mePhone buzzing to alert me of an incoming text. “Just ignore it. We only have two questions of time left,” he pleads with me. “Ok. I’ll just keep asking quirky questions that provide genuine responses, like the big time author recommended and someday I will use those experiences to write something big. Big and unexpected.” I tell him, driven with a sense of purpose. “You’re big and unexpected, Narf,” he giggles, running his hand down my chest.
“I don’t want this to end.” I say, knowing that there is only one question left. “Me neither,” my transcription replies. “What if…What if…” I say, trailing off my words. “I know where you are going. If a big time author had to write erotic fiction, they would base it around an existing concept. Like Butt Wars: Rouge Buns or something in space,” he tells me. “I just feel like I could do something like that. I could take something like you, my sentient interview transcript and turn it into something different. Everyone has read puff interviews in Persons magazine. I can do something different! I can make something so we always remember this night together. I can make a new type of interview. One that people will actually read and the interviewee will read and will hopefully understand the love and care that went into it!” The pace of my speech picks up as I start to formulate a way to tell this story.
I get so engrossed in writing notes for this interview that I don’t even notice my transcription is gone. A few minutes pass and I begin to look around. “Hey, where did you go?” I ask, looking around talking to no one in particular. “I think I have a great idea to move this interview in an erotic direction!” I again look around. “Are you still here?” I start to panic as I’m unable to see or hear my handsome transcript. I start to fumble for my Pear myPhone. I unlock it and notice it is still on the Voice Memos app. I scroll through the list of memos, mostly of cute sounds Yabbi makes, and see the 13 minute interview with the big time author is still there. My heart stops racing, knowing that my interview is safe. I notice that something has changed, though. I see that the name of the memo has changed to “LOVE IS REAL.”
THIS IS THE END OF THE STORY.