7 comments/ 22984 views/ 6 favorites A Message to Cane Toads By: Cromagnonman This story is partly auto-biographical, I'll leave it up to you to work our which is fact and which is fiction. * I don't know if the brain of every male of the species Homo sapiens works as mine does but if it does then the species will die out within several generations. The mating urge in my brain is strong, it would need to be given the number of times it has got me nowhere, it urges me to home in on the most attractive female of the species at whatever function I happen to be and move to separate her from the herd. But, as life would have it, as I make my move, the female of choice who, up to that moment has been carrying on an animated conversation with a couple of other females of the species, catches my eye and her expression changes and, in that instant that heralds my doom, in her eyes I now have the looks and personality of a cane toad. Maybe I set the bar too high given the impediment of an appearance that is obviously unattractive to women. Tonight was no different to any other (Friday) night so I retreated to the bar and got myself something strong. "You blew it again didn't you?" I looked around at the source of the interruption to find myself confronted by a mid-bar female. I should explain the bar system, the object of my desire is definitely 'high bar', your supermodel or film star while at the other end of the scale are the 'low bar' and they just are too horrible to contemplate, what is known to the less sophisticated of the Aussie male population as a 12 beer shiela (girl), in-between are the 'mid bar' and they make up the vast majority. "Why is it that every male heads straight for the one female that he has no prospect of catching and in the process succeeds in pissing off every other female?" "Was I that obvious?" "Jesus effing Christ you might just as well have had a flashing neon sign over your head that said 'Warning incoming cane toad'. Yes you were that obvious." Had she been reading my thoughts? How else would she have known about me and cane toads? "Men like you should target women who just might be interested in them, not some drop dead gorgeous female who has her choice of what's on offer." "So you're saying that I should concentrate on someone like you for instance?" Let's see where this leads, she looks interesting enough. "Well I wouldn't go that far just yet but get me a drink and we'll see, but I'm definitely not what you guys consider a twelve beer girl." This is in reference to the saying that after twelve beers any girl is attractive. "Before I get you a drink I think I should at least know your name, I'm Maurice Allen." (Not my real name by the way.) "Pleased to meet you, I'm Rebecca Courtney. I got her a drink. "So, do you make a habit of confronting men at functions and expounding your behavioural psychology theories on them?" "Not really, I just observe behaviours at shows like this, it's interesting and you learn a lot about humans, men in particular." "I know what you mean, I do a similar thing myself but in a different way for a different reason." "How so?" Now she was curious rather than dismissive. "Well I look at people and make up scenarios about them, take for instance the woman you thought to be the object of my lust. I would picture her as a sad and lonely person, maybe not now but in the future." "Go on, I would disagree with you but I'm intrigued to hear your reasons." Intrigued is a jump up from curious. "Okay, to look at her is to look at perfection personified and the problem with that is that she will always be looking for the perfect partner hence the 'don't even think about it' look she gave me. She's and egoist and because of that if the chosen one doesn't live up to her high standards she will say to herself, 'I don't have to put up with this, I can do better.' And she will end the relationship. For me the success of any relationship is compromise, I know that I'm not perfect so why should I expect my partner to be perfect, but for her that isn't the case, she'll probably go home with some lucky guy tonight but in the morning something will be a turn-off, his morning breath or he farted in bed, it doesn't have to be a major turn-off for her to want nothing more to do with him. End of story." "And what do you do, if anything, with these fantasies?" "I use the observation in a story, sometimes it's just a thread while at other times it is the story bridge, it links the elements of the story just as a bridge in music links the elements of a song." "What sort of stories do you write and have you had any published?" Now I really had her interest. "I write erotic romance stories, I'd hardly call them porn, and I post them on a porn website. I don't get paid for them but it helps to develop me as a writer." "Have you ever thought bout becoming a serious writer and getting work published?" "Of course, in fact I have actually written several novels but I've never actually had any published, oh I did try at one stage, I submitted a novel to a publisher who told me that it would be successful and that I was a great writer but the bottom line was that they probably told that to everyone, the author had to pay for publication and market the book himself. Do you realise what the competition is like out there at the moment? Unless you can attract the attention of a mainstream publisher, and they will only look at your work if an agent tells them that it's good, it will never see the light of day." "You said that you've written several novels, what are they about, are they erotic romances like your short stories?" "Now that's a field that is over-populated. No, nothing like you see in the romance section of bookshops with Fabio on the cover and heaving bosoms inside. No, they were serious books about serious matters." "Such as?" "Well the first one was part of my therapy after the breakdown of my first marriage, the original draft of some sixty thousand words took all of ten days on an old typewriter and this from someone with dyslexic fingers. It was a science fiction novel about this couple from the future coming back to the present to try to stop World War 3 and during the process the emphasis shifted from the futility of war to the futility of trying to prevent war." "That's a defeatist attitude isn't it?" "Not really, what it was saying was that there are forces at play, very powerful forces, whose raison d'être is to keep war happening. The business of war is a very profitable one for a few who see the loss of life as collateral damage. You realise that there are two major causes of war, the first is greed pure and simple, a country has a commodity such as oil that another country wants but doesn't want to pay the high asking price for it, or wants guaranteed supply, so it attacks the other country on patently spurious grounds such as say, weapons of mass destruction, to achieve its goals." "And the other?" "Religion. Most of the world's major religions espouse peace and love but on their terms and if others do not, or are unwilling to, comply with these terms then war breaks out. This dates back to Old Testament times when the children of Israel were wandering in the wilderness, every tribe the encountered they beat the crap out of because this was their land, God chose them to rule over it. Then the Christians arrived on the scene and set up their holy sites Bethlehem and Jerusalem in the middle of Israel demanding free access to these sites. The advent of Islam didn't cause too many problems for this even though they controlled much of the region, what really irked the Christian nations of Western Europe was that the trade routes from the East, India and China, all passed through this region, greed set in and an excuse was found to mount a 'Crusade' the reason for which was to guarantee continued access to the holy land, an access that they already had. Since that time the Christians, Jews and Muslims have been at each other's throats even though they all worship the same God and regard the same man, Abraham, as their Patriarch. Go figure." "That sounds heavy going." "That is the background for what begins as essentially an amusing 'fish out of water' story of people from the future trying to adapt to living in the present of the story." "So you can't stay serious for long, is that it?" "No, although one of my maxims is that the day that I lose my desire to learn and my sense of humour then it is time for me to shuffle off this mortal coil because life has become meaningless. My second novel is a murder mystery with a twist." "Most murder mysteries have at least one twist otherwise they aren't mysteries." "The twist in this one is that there are two murders committed in the same location twenty odd years apart by different people but using the same method. The first murder is not discovered until the time of the second murder but no cause of death is established, the location of the body is the only reason that it was declared a murder. The second murder, and murder it was, was declared an accidental death, the link between the two was, and this is not revealed to anyone other than the readers when there are some, is that the perpetrator of the second murder witnessed the first and used exactly the same method." "And the reader is told how it was done?" "Yes, but don't worry it is highly unlikely that it will happen again." "But you're not going to tell me." "You'll have to read the book if it's ever published." "How about you let me read the manuscript?" "No, I don't think so. One of the reasons that I haven't submitted any of my books to publishers is that I don't know if I can handle the criticism or rejection, my feelings are easily hurt." "I'll accept that but I won't stop trying. What about number three?" "This one required a lot of research, it is based on the bombing of the Hilton Hotel in Sydney in 1978, you see I never believed that the Ananda Marga were involved other than in a very minor role. My research looked deeply into the political climate in Australia and globally at the time, in particular the involvement of the spy arm of a major world power who were alleged to be major players in the world drug trade as well as the attempted destabilisation of various governments, including Australia's. My fear is that if this book ever sees the light of day I will have to continually look over my shoulder because of my analysis of the disparate threads led me to reach a conclusion that I believe is very close to the truth." "I think I should walk away now, you're too dangerous to know." "The next two won't change that situation much. The next is a thriller centred on an author who is encouraged to invest money through a broker. He finds that his money has been invested in a scheme to import a large quantity of cocaine and demands the return of his investment. This leads to a couple of murders for which he is the prime suspect, him being beaten up a couple of times in an effort to find what he did with his money, a kidnapping and what is thought to be his death in a car bombing in the middle of New York. The fact that this was unsuccessful gives him the opportunity to take on the persona of 'the Avenger' and provide evidence and facilitate the arrest of several high profile investors and the downfall of several organisations. He even attends his own funeral." "So you've again trod on toes, huh?" "You could say that. My last effort could have even wider reaching repercussions for a high profile branch of the Christian church. A disgruntled member of an evangelical Christian church, one of the 'Prosperity doctrine churches, has had enough with the continued promises of an increase to his wealth in response to his diligent tithing that he sues the church for its failure to honour that promise on the basis that God never made such a promise therefore it is a church promise." "I presume that you're talking about a large sum of money here?" "Let's put it this way, the man in question has contributed a hundred dollars a week for the last twelve years not actually because of a promise of a scripturally based seven-fold increase in his wealth, but he hit on this as a way that he could challenge the church's teachings in an open forum. If you simply multiply what he contributed by seven, the amount in question is four hundred and thirty-six thousand eight hundred dollars, not to be sneezed at. If you multiply his contribution by the power of seven the amount is considerably higher, some thirty five trillion dollars. Now if you calculate the amount on the basis of a seven hundred percent per annum increase, which is what was promised, with the interest compounded monthly the amount goes right off the Richter scale, so yes you could say there is a large sum of money involved. What the people who have been sucked in by the prosperity doctrine don't realise is if God had the money to commit to this promise He wouldn't need to borrow from his followers in the first place." "That is a very large can full of very large worms you've kicked over here, you realise that don't you?" "Yeah, the legal ramifications for these churches are huge and there have been precedents of a sort in the States where people have had their contributions refunded on the basis that the return wasn't forthcoming in the promised time frame." "So I gather from all of this that you're something of a shit stirrer." "If you mean that having a go at a situation that's not quite right makes me a shit stirrer then I suppose I am and I make no apology for that, too many people are so complacent that these people can get away with murder. Hey, enough about me what about you, what do you do?" "You guessed right when you said something about behavioural psychology because that's what I do and the difference between us is that you invent stories around the characters you observe while I try to establish the truth to them." "Okay smarty pants, how would you classify me?" "Where do I start? You're obviously an intelligent man and when you get a bee under your bonnet about something you are very dogged in your pursuit of the truth even though it may take ages. You can string together two or more sentences so I'd say that you're articulate even though you'll disagree with that because of the limited size of your comfort zone and your fear of stepping outside that. You live on your but not from choice and you're afraid of entering into a relationship for fear of rejection which is why you head for the unattainable girls, because you know that you're going to fail it's no big deal to you when that happens, failing when you should succeed is much more painful for you. Until you overcome that fear you'll never find a lasting relationship. How am I doing so far?" "How many years have you been studying me?" She looked at her watch. "About half an hour. Moving on now, you've been married more than once and your view of women is based on those experiences. That you've chosen the subject of the Evangelical church for your last novel suggests that your last wife was a member of that church and she hurt you badly because you revealed to her the truth as you saw it of the business called church as opposed to the Christian religion but she chose to not understand you." "You've got that right, even when I was to show her in her blessed Bible that I had scriptural support for my beliefs she would agree that I was right but then say that she couldn't go along with my stance because it went against church teaching and that I should take it up with leadership. I did on a number of occasions and the Pastor that I spoke to on these occasions agreed with the individual examples of where I could justify my position, but when I attempted to lump several examples in one general discussion I was told that no further discussion would be entered into. One example in particular was when I contended that they could not tell me that if I did not worship under their rules I would not get into heaven no matter how good I was, I pointed out that they had no say as to who got a guernsey in the great hereafter and to suggest otherwise was to put themselves above God, I even gave them scriptural validation for my view (Romans 11;34) where it basically 'who are you to tell God what to do." I realised that I was on my soap box again and this wasn't good if I was to proceed this relationship any further and I'd just about reached the decision that I wanted to. "I can understand your passion but even you will have to concede that it's a Quixotic tilting at a very powerful windmill and you will probably never be allowed to succeed." "I don't like to admit defeat but I guess that you're right." "I'm not telling you to give in, what I would suggest is that you seek another way of tackling this. If you continue to bang your head against a brick wall all you'll end up with is a headache and a wound on your head that never gets a chance to heal." "What would you suggest?" "As I see it we have a couple of short term choices, we could totally legless and when we wake up in the morning we'll realise that there are worse things in the world, like a throbbing hangover, the only problem with that is that we have to find our way home in that drunken state, not a pleasant thought, what with RBT's everywhere. (RBT's are random breath testing units that seem to bob up whichever way you decide to drive home and the cops that operate them have no sense of humour and no sympathy for anyone over the .05 blood alcohol limit). "I don't think that I like that." "Another choice is that we could adjourn this interesting conversation to my place where, with the help of copious quantities of booze we'll probably solve all the problems that beset this world of ours and be unable to remember a thing in the cold light of sobriety." "That seems to me to be a complete waste of time." "Or. . ." She looked at me with an interesting expression. "We could adjourn to my place and make mad passionate love into the wee small hours and wake up mid-morning and after a quick breakfast to restore our depleted energy resume where we left off." "That I like the sound of but I must warn you that there's a limit to how much punishment you'll be able to stand from my monster twelve inch cock." "Twelve inches eh?" She grabbed a handful. "More like twelve millimetres." "Oh he'll rise to the occasion when the time comes." "We'll see, come on." Grabbing my hand she headed for the front door and the anticipation of what was to come encouraged me to follow. We made small talk while waiting for a taxi and during the trip to her apartment. Her apartment was not what I would have expected, I guess that I generalised that someone of her profession would be ordered bordering on the obsessive but this was not the case, there were books scattered over the dining table as if she would have an idea and need to investigate there and then and when she finished she moved to the next thought in the progression and the research became a past left standing. "I need to pee, there's a bottle of white wine in the fridge can you open that while I'm gone." I heard her flush but she didn't return straight away, that would be because she had changed from her party clothes to her p-a-r-t-y clothes, nothing more than a robe held closed by a belted tie that looked as if it would it would come apart if I just pulled on one end of it. "Wow! That leaves little to the imagination." "If you need to lighten the load, the loo's down the hall. Second door on the right, and please, if you stink the place out give it a squirt with the deodorant before you leave." After a splash and squirt I returned to find her seated on the 3-seater with her legs tucked up under her and sipping on a glass of wine, the robe parted giving me a glimpse of what appeared to be on offer. I wasn't getting carried away just yet so I picked up my glass and sat. "Now where were we?" She touched my glass with hers and took a healthy swig from her glass, it would appear that she approached life in the same way, taking it in gulps rather than tentative little sips, this could be an interesting night for me. A Message to Cane Toads "Do you always pick up strange men at parties and bring them home so that you can seduce them?" "Are you a strange man? Actually you sound like you might be an interesting man. Tell me, these 'sexy romance' stories you write are they from the male or female perspective?" "Some of both, I try to balance them out as much as possible but that's not always easy, it depends on where I get my inspiration." "I need to know before we get serious here, am I going to be the subject of your next story?" "That depends on several factors like will what happens between us be inspirational, or will it end up in another disaster for me and most importantly, will you want me to write about this and us?" "Fair enough, we'll discuss this tomorrow morning." She leaned across and kissed me. "Do you want to take the lead or will you let me lead and just follow?" "I believe in going with the flow, if I were to take the lead it would only be to find out what turns you on, love making is a shared experience and should explore the needs and wants of both of us, for me to dominate proceedings to me is an act of extreme selfishness. Having said that I do have one request." "Which is?" "No more questions until we've finished." I had finished my glass of wine and put my glass on the coffee table, she held her empty glass out to me and it joined mine. Our lips met at around the same time as my hand slid inside her robe and found a breast. Her tongue was pushing against my lips so I opened them and allowed it to join mine. With very little effort I had her nipple hard. "I hope that you're not in any rush because I've no intention of moving on to the next stage for at least half an hour." "Whatever, we'll see." She mumbled from about a millimetre away from my lips. Her hand had reached my belt and was undoing it and before I knew it I felt it slide down and grab my already hard cock. "We'll see how long you can hold out." God did she know how to work my cock or what? All of the best intentions that I had looked as if they were going out the window and this was developing into a race to the finish line, I have to do something to slow her down, but what? I untied the belt and opened her robe fully and moved my mouth from her lips to a nipple, my tongue began laps of the nipple at a very slow pace, about one every two seconds and she responded by grabbing the back of my head and pulling me hard against her breast. One hand was caressing her other breast while the other moved to her pussy. Finding it wet and ready a finger entered into her and her hips were moving in time with my strokes, her hand had forgotten all about my cock, I was in control and she was loving it. I moved between her legs and my tongue replaced the finger inside her, but it slowed the pace down to the point where it was barely moving between her lips and up to her clit causing her hips to move faster and faster until with a sob she came. "Will you please put your cock into me, please?" She sobbed. "All in good time." I was teasing her by delaying the inevitable. I removed my tongue from her pussy and began a slow trip up her body, pausing for a moment at her navel before moving to her breasts. While there I had a good look at them from close-up, they were beautiful, not huge but full and firm with perfectly centred nipples. They held my attention for several minutes before I moved to her mouth via her neck. She was building up steam again and as my lips met hers I felt the slide of my zip go down and her hand push my trousers and jocks down as far as they could go. She rolled out from under me and rolled me onto my back, she wanted to be in control and I wanted to let her. Her mouth engulfed my cock in its warm confines as her head began to bob up and down on my shaft. It was my turn to moan with pleasure as she brought me ever closer to my climax. Only seconds before I was about to come she pulled back and my disappointed cock dropped from her mouth, but this was only a temporary reprieve and in one smooth movement she straddled me and fed him into her sopping wet pussy. I have had some experience with women and sex but never in my wildest dreams have I ever experienced the moves her hips made, while not bringing me closer to coming she was providing sufficient pleasure to keep me very interested. From up there above my hands holding her breasts a deep sexy voice drifted down to me. "Are you ready for the finale?" "Whenever you are." I lifted my hips as she came down on me and the sensation just got even more intense until, with a simultaneous cry of ecstasy we both came, and came. "That was even better than I had anticipated." "See what happens when you fuck a behavioural psychologist, she knows what turns you on." She had that smug look of satisfaction on her face. "I don't suppose my experience at writing about sexual pleasure had anything to do with it did it?" "Well, I will concede that you know a little about what turns women on." She had stepped off me and sat down beside me her hand gently caressing my cock. "Actually you are probably the best I've had for a long time." "Why thank ya Ma'am. I have to say that you are the best that I've had for a long time, which isn't saying all that much because, apart from my close personal relationship with my hand I haven't had any for years." "You poor thing, we'll have to make up for lost time, won't we?" She dropped to her knees in front of me and began sucking him. "Mmm, we even taste good together, you should try it." With that she lay down on the floor with her legs wide apart in a clear invitation for me to join her. I lay on top of her, making sure that I kept my weight off her and buried my tongue in her pussy and began to lick our juices from her. I felt him getting harder and Rebecca working harder bringing her tongue into play and I didn't know whether she wanted me to get off her so that we could make love again or stay where I was. She didn't seem to be in any hurry to let go of my cock so I stayed where I was until in a matter of minutes her juices joined those already in my mouth and I had to admit that we did taste good together. The next I knew she was copping a load of come from me and I could feel her throat working to keep ahead of supply. I rolled off her and we were lying on the carpet, if either of us smoked we would be having one right about now. She had her head on my shoulder and her finger was making feather touch circles around a nipple. "I'd say that was a pretty good effort for a couple of people who haven't had any of late but I don't know about you but this floor sucks as a bed." She stood up and extended a hand to help my ancient body to stagger to its feet. She led me to her bedroom and pulled the covers back. "I'm not even going to bother to have a shower, there's something I find primal and sexy about not cleaning up, as well as that it saves water because we're only going to have to shower again in the morning and with any sort of luck in the afternoon as well." This behavioural psychology must have something going for it because we made love several times through the night and surfaced mid-morning for another session. Feeling the need for sustenance we eventually got out of bed and had a breakfast of muesli and juice and toast and coffee and sex, sex and more sex until we both cried enough. "Now tell me, if you'd been successful and managed to convince the super model to go home with you do you think you would have had as much or as good loving as we've had?" "I have to admit that making love to you has exceeded my wildest dreams and I've loved every moment of it, but now I suppose that you're going to tell me that this was all a part of some scientific experiment and that you're going to kick my arse out of here and you don't want to see me ever again." "And if I do I suppose that you'll write some totally untrue and salacious story about how much of a stud you are and how grateful I should be to have allowed you to have sex with me." "You malign me, if a story comes of this it'll reflect favourably on you and let me tell you, if I had my way, I would do all in my power to keep seeing you because I find you funny, interesting and not a bad fuck." "Not a bad fuck! Let me tell you that if I hadn't been so good you wouldn't have lasted much beyond the first fuck, it was my behavioural psychology experience that was able to keep you interested and aroused, I was looking down the barrel of a boring evening trying to work out how I could get rid of you without hurting your delicate feelings." While this exchange was happening my hand had moved between her legs and my finger had entered familiar territory. "Oh fuck, come on, there's no stopping you is there." Any plans that either of us had for this afternoon were shot to pieces and neither of us gave a shit. My sexual appetite was aroused and Rebecca was happy to go along with it. At around five o'clock we decided that enough was enough and we really did have to clean up the mess we'd made of each other's bodies and she was starting to complain about the beard rash she could feel happening between her legs so we had a long steamy soapy shower and I had a shave with her razor which was pretty rough on my face so she had to kiss it better and there goes our plans for this evening and tomorrow. I would hate you to think that all we did was make love for the next day because we didn't well not all of it, we did discuss what we liked and didn't like, Rebecca liked her job because she met lots of interesting people and felt that she was helping them in some small way. She also liked going to parties although at times she had difficulty in separating work from play like she started out with me on Friday night although she had no regrets as to the outcome. She didn't like pretentious little men who overcompensated by buying powerful cars or show ponies who spent more time posing than doing. Her sexual hang-ups were inconsiderate bastards who came in a minute and thought that was it. I told her that I liked my job although it tended to be mundane at times and my boss didn't have a sense of humour which was a bummer. I also didn't like pretentious little men who overcompensated by buying powerful cars even though I drove a powerful car myself, I drove it because I love fast cars and driving them as fast as I can within the limits of speed restrictions of course (Yeah right! Pull the other leg it's got bells on it). My sexual hang-ups are prick teasers, women send out vibes that convince me that they are interested and even get to the foreplay stage and then change their minds and leave me with a rampant hard-on and only my hand to relieve it. She likes clothes but not necessarily the latest fashions unless the colour suits and it flatters her figure, I told her I preferred her without clothes and her figure flattered itself. I also like clothes but find it difficult to find any that can in any way be called flattering to my figure, no such clothes exist, she told me that the clothes that I wore were perfectly adequate and that she also preferred me naked because my figure was interesting. I think she meant my cock because she spent so much time pleasing it. "Where are we going with this?" It was seven o'clock on Sunday night and I needed to go home and at the very least get some sleep otherwise I would be going to sleep at my desk. I also needed to do some laundry because I was running low on clean jocks, I have enough to last me ten days so that washing once a week was fine but my laundry day is Saturday and something seemed to have taken my mind off my laundry schedule. "I don't know about you but I would like to progress this relationship further, but if you don't. . ." "I do too, I want to see more of you, much more." "But you've seen all of me, there's nothing more to see." "Not that more silly, I mean more often, I want to see you more often." I took her in my arms and kissed her just to reinforce what I said. "Next time we do it at my place, when would you like next time to be?" "Tonight, or am I being too forward?" "Tonight will be fine." You're joking right? You're totally knackered from all of that love making over the past two days and you know that she's just going to want more of the same, how are you going to get out of this little dilemma? "It's fine on a couple of conditions. I need to do some laundry as soon as we get home and I also need to get to bed early." "I fully intend that we go to bed early." The gleam in her eye left me in no doubt as to her plans. "To sleep. I need to catch up on my sleep." "I agree with your conditions, if truth be told I'm just a tad weary myself. Okay I promise to keep my hands to myself, I'll just pack some things for the morning and we'll be on our way." Rebecca looked around my apartment as I began to put together something tasty and quick for dinner. One of the gadgets I have in my kitchen to save time is an electric pressure cooker, a couple of chicken thighs (better than breasts because they don't dry out) some crushed tomatoes, tomato paste, red wine, garlic and herbs chuck it all into the non-stick bowl, lock down the lid and hey presto twenty minutes later it's done, just enough time to boil up some water and cook the pasta. "I'm impressed, not only are you good in bed but in the kitchen as well." She said between mouthfuls. "Needs must, I had the choice of dining out every night, learning to cook or starve, learning to cook won out in the end." We did the dishes and she helped me with the laundry. "Why don't you use the clothes drier?" Pointing to the tumble drier. "Only in extreme emergencies do I use it, I almost have to ring the electricity providers and ask them to crank up their stand-by generator to cope with the extra load before I switch it on." Laundry done and hung on the line it was time to, hit the sack. We showered, which was fun, and found ourselves in my bed, both of us naked. "Good night my love." I kissed her gently on the lips. "Sleep tight, I'll see you in the morning." "Good night to you my Maurice." She returned my kiss and snuggled against me. "No fair, you promised remember." She put on her sad face and hoped that sympathy to her plight would force me to change my mind. "Roll over and face away from me." "Spoil sport." But she did. At first I thought that she was sulking but as soon as I put my arm around her and gave her a perfectly innocent hug I realised that she had a motive. Taking my hand in hers she placed it over her breast and wasn't about to let me move it, so I didn't move it, I left it right where it was but I didn't caress her or play with her nipple or any of the things that she was hoping for, I just left it there and eventually we were both asleep. It was a bit of a scramble in the morning and we left the apartment after a quick but fulfilling session of love making, an even quicker shower and a hastily gulped cup of breakfast to our respective work and the prospect of another evening together, we had reached the mutual decision to pursue this relationship in the hope that it will become permanent. So my message to all of you cane toads out there: don't set your sights too high or like the cane toad you'll become a total disaster at what you were meant to achieve. Author's note: The cane toad was introduced into Australia to combat the cane beetle something that it was found to be completely useless at. To get at the beetle required the toad to climb up the cane stalk and it simply couldn't do it. But it was good at something and that was breeding and it is now probably the most prolific of the introduced pest species in this country. PS. I'm glad that cane toads are good at fucking because I've never been so happy in my life. I've read this story and even though it's not all true, in fact very little of it is, I am happy with how he tells it so I've let him post it. Signed Rebecca, the future Mrs Cane Toad and mother of little cane toad.