Questions That I Don't Have Answers

SusanJillParker has lots of questions but no answers.

Help. I need help. Being that there are lots of wicked smart and/or educated people who read the sexy stories posted on Literotica, I need your help.

I need answers. I have lots of questions that I don't have the answers. In search of answers, I need answers. With all of these unanswered questions hurting my blonde, pretty head, I have more questions than answers.

Can anyone help me? Anyone? Please. I beg you. Give me some answers to my questions.

* * * * *

"First of all, before we get started, this is a non-erotic story posted in the humor category because, tragically, it's funny in a sick sense of the word. Repeat. There is no sex in this story whatsoever. If you are a pervert and looking for a story to masturbate to while reading a sexy story, this is not your story. Go away. Go read someone else's story.

Why are you all still here? Must I repeat myself? For those of you hoping to read sex in a story, please leave the room. Beat it. Scram. Get Lost. Get the Hell out of here. Leave. Just go. Go! Go now. You too! Put your cock away and just leave.

Holy shit. I had a packed room until I told everyone that this was a non-erotic story a story that doesn't have any sex. Now there are only two of you left. Thank you for staying. And who are you?"

"I'm Norma."

"Hi Norma. I'm Susan and you attended my lecture, why?"

"I'm homeless. I have no place else to go and the classroom is warm, there's free water from the faucet outside, and the ladies room is down the hall," said Norma. "I had a job before, a good job. I worked my whole life until there were no jobs but for low paying, part-time service jobs with no benefits."

"I see."

"And who are you?"

"I'm Lester.

"Hi Lester. I'm pleased to meet you."

"I read everything you write," he said staring at her as if undressing his eyes. "I just love you. I'm your biggest fan," said Lester smiling while wiping away a bit of drool from the corner of his lip. "You're so beautiful. You're so sexy. You're so tall."

He stared at her as if he was a starving man and hungry man and she was a seven course meal.

"Thank you, I think," said Susan. "I'm wearing heels today."

He slowly looked at her from head to toe and back up again.

"Your pictures don't do you justice. You're so very much beautiful in person. I'm your number one fan," he said nodding his head as if he needed that extra bit of head movement to assure her that he was her number one fan. "You're a really good writer and I can't tell you how much, um, pleasure you've given me when reading your stories."

Creepy thought Susan.

"Thank you," she said looking out over her tiny class of students. "Well for the record, it doesn't matter how many people are here or not here to hear me, this lecture is being recorded live and broadcast to Literotica."

"Wow," said Lester.

"You can't use my real name," said Norma. "I won't give you permission for that, which is why I didn't tell you my real name. I'd be embarrassed if my family knew that I was homeless."

"When reading this story, if you see anything that you like, anything at all that interests you, or anything that you know the answer, chime in and make a comment to enlighten the rest of us, Norma, Lester, and I or is it Norma, Lester, and me? See? I already have a question and I haven't even started the story," said Susan. "I suspect the grammatical correct answer is Norma, Lester, and I or is it me? I don't know. Anyway, Norma, Lester, and I or is it me, Norma, and Lester will delve into my questions in hopes of finding the answers."

"I have a question," said Lester raising his hand.

"Yes, Lester. What's your question," said Susan.

"Are you planning to take us on a field trip," he said grabbing his crotch, "deep in the woods?"

"No, sorry, there's no need for a field trip with this class," said Susan. "Shall we begin?"

* * * * *

Here's a real puzzler. Do you ever wonder what happens when you die? What do you think happens when you die? Do you go to Heaven? Do you go to Hell? Oh, in the way of late, great Peggy Lee, "Is That All There Is?"

It's a scary thought to think about, dying and there being nothing, in the way that there was nothing just before you were born. It certainly would make me feel better to know that there was a Heaven and that I'd be going there instead of Hell. I've been a good person. I deserve to go to Heaven, if there is a Heaven. When I asked my priest to answer the question of there being a Heaven and Hell, he told me that I must believe that there is.

What the Hell kind of answer is that? Seriously? I've believed for years that I was going to win the lottery and I never have. Now for me to just blindly believe that I'd be going to Heaven, I just may have a better chance of winning the lottery.

What do you think? Is there a Heaven? Is there a Hell? Or is it game over when we die?

Maybe when we die, we just die and there's...nothing, absolutely nothing. No sound, no sights, and no thoughts. As if we're suspended in a vacuum with our brains turned off, we no longer exist. Yet, the only redeeming thought is with there being nothingness, it doesn't really matter to you that you can't see, hear, or think anything because you're dead, dead, dead.

I really need to know if there is a Heaven or a Hell. Has anyone been to Heaven or to Hell already? Has anyone died and returned to Earth? Supposedly Dante Alighieri has been to Hell and wrote about his exploit when he wrote his Divine Comedy with the first section being Inferno.

* * * * *

If you can't answer the first question, then answer me this question. Do you ever wonder why we're here? I mean, why us? Why now instead of a thousand years in the past or a thousand years in the future? Moreover, with billions of galaxies that are home to billions of stars, are we alone? How can we be alone? With our world so very teeny tiny, it's not possible that we're the only ones in this vast universe, is it?

Those big brain, scientists, physicists, astronomers, blonde models, and all of those nerds who majored in math and who were too much of a genius to check their flies to see if they were zipped but who received a scholarship to MIT or Harvard, all believe we're not alone. They believe we're not alone because of the billions of galaxies and billions of stars that there's more of a chance of there being aliens than not. Maybe, in fact, we are the aliens. Matter of fact, if we meet anyone in space, chances are we'll be meeting ourselves in the future.

Huh? I don't get that? How is that possible? Anyone? How can we meet ourselves returning from the future to visit Earth again? Just thinking about that hurts my head. Is that how we built the pyramids and other ancient civilizations? I don't know. I'm already confused.

* * * * *

What about reincarnation? Do you believe in reincarnation? Do you think when we die we return as someone else or as us in a different time and in a different place? Starting with Einstein, scientists have been saying that there are other dimensions, as many as nine other dimensions. Their theory is that these other dimensions are parallel dimensions. Only, we're not free to go from one dimension to the other dimension, perhaps until we die, I guess. I don't know and they don't know. It's just scientific theories that can't be proven.

I suppose for anyone to believe in reincarnation, they'd also believe in witches, warlocks, sorcerers, and dragons. Maybe somehow, with reincarnation connected to the mystical, perhaps one is connected to the other. Maybe not dragons, other than prehistoric dinosaurs, but I'd be more apt to believe in witches, warlocks, and sorcerers than in reincarnation.

What do you think? Anyone? Who's out there who knows all there is to know not only about witches, warlocks, and sorcerers but also about reincarnation. This is a time that I'd love to interview JK Rowling to hear what she has to say about witches, warlocks, and sorcerers. It would be funny if she was reincarnated and all of her Harry Potter books are more fact than fiction.

"Wow!"

Who knows? Maybe Stephen King was reincarnated. Maybe he's a warlock or a sorcerer in the way that JK Rowling may be a reincarnated witch.

* * * * *

Speaking of guns. How's that for a seamless transition? Me writing about guns after my last failed essay, Second Amendment Gun Rights are Wrong (lol), ought to garner some unwarranted albeit spirited comments. Just don't shoot me please, not yet anyway. I'm too young to die, especially with me unprepared in not knowing if there's a Heaven and/or a Hell. Okay? Put your gun away and nod your head up and down so that I know you understand not to shoot me.

Anyway, as I was writing, Americans love guns. Maybe from all the westerns and they watched as kids, The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, Once Upon a Time in the West, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Wild Bunch, and High Noon, we all believe we're the good guys. Maybe it's from all the war movies we watch as a kid, Platoon, The Bridge on the River Kwai, All Quiet on the Western Front, The Deer Hunter, Dirty Dozen, Sergeant York, we all think we're soldiers and war heroes.

Guns, guns, guns, the more guns the better. I truly feel bad for the terrorist organization who tries to invade this country. They are in for a big surprise. For sure, we'd go down fighting and would give them one Hell of a fight.

"Say hello to my little friend," said Al Pacino in Scarface, something that would be echoed by all of the gun owners throughout the country should we be invaded.

Yet, imagine a white man, a Caucasian man who was eager to show off his gun.

"Psst, hey lady, wanna see my gun?"

"Pervert. Help! Police! Rape!"

"No lady, I wasn't talking about my cock, I was talking about my gun," said the stranger pulling his handgun out of his pants and proud to flash the woman his 9mm while waving it around.

"Gun! Gun! He has a gun! Please don't hurt me. I'll do whatever you want. I'll strip naked. I'll suck your cock. Just don't shoot me. Okay? Help! Rape!"

"Police! Put the gun down and step away from the weapon! Now!"

"Okay," said the gun owner putting his gun down on the ground and putting his hands up in the air.

"You're lucky. If you were a black man, we would have shot you first and asked questions later."

Is there a question to all of this drama? There is. Answer me this question as I really don't know. Why does everyone in this country feel compelled to own a gun?

Generally, it's not one gun, it's an arsenal of automatic weapons. Is it a power thing? A phallic symbol? A little man and/or powerless woman syndrome? Yes I understand that there are lots of women who are proud NRA members but most women don't feel the need to own a gun in the way that men do.

"This little baby will shoot a hundred rounds a second," said Joe to his friend Bob.

"Oh, yeah, my .357 magnum would blow your head clean off your shoulders," said Bob. "Go ahead, make my day."

I suspect the reason why everyone wants to own a gun is not so much for protection, as we're all protected by the police and the military, but because we're brainwashed to think that we not only want a gun but also that we need a gun. The NRA has done a good job to make us all believe that we all need to have guns, lots of guns. Now the reason why the NRA did that and was allowed to do that is because there's lots of money to be made in not only making guns but bullets, not to mention all the money the government makes from permits, licenses, and fees. Guns, indeed, are big, dirty business.

The bottom line is, like everything else in this capitalistic country, guns are about money. Sadly and regrettably, who's ever child is shot and murdered by a handgun is not only justified as self-protection under out second amendment rights but collateral damage to the big business of guns. Do yourself a favor and get rid of your guns. Yeah, sure, if you feel better keeping one handgun and your rifle for hunting, that's fine but do you really need a dozen handguns and a closetful of shotguns along with an AK47?

"Say hello to my little friend."

* * * * *

There used to be a TV show, the Equalizer. The main character was played by Edward Woodward as Robert McCall. This seemingly innocuous looking white, haired, albeit angry and trigger happy, senior citizen righted all the wrongs and took care of all the bad guys with his gun. Supposedly, the premise of the story was that he was an ex-CIA agent gone rogue after they let him go.

In the way that I loved watching Charles Bronson in the fifteen Death Wish series that he made, for some strange reason I loved that show in the way that I loved the old reruns of watching Paladin, played by Richard Boone, in Have Gun, Will Travel. Seemingly, even though he wore a black hat instead of a white hat like the Lone Ranger, another western avenger albeit much grittier than Roy Rogers, he was on the side of the good guy and not the bad guy.

Now there's a new movie just out, with my man, Denzel Washington, called the Equalizer. When he's not taking guns away from criminals, he's brandishing a gun. Granted it hasn't gotten good revues with him being that self-imposed avenging Angel, yet don't we all wish there was a superhero on our side? Don't we all wish we could save the day by pulling out our gun and plugging the bad guy, the villain, and become the hero that we all secretly think we are? Don't we wish it was that easy, the way it's portrayed in the movies and on TV with the good guy getting the beautiful woman? Don't we all wish we were Alan Ladd when he played Shane?

"Shane! Shane! Shane! Come back! Shane!"

God that kid had such an annoying voice, didn't he?

I'm not a gun person. I don't own a gun. Other than at the arcade, I never even fired a gun. Being that I'd never own a gun, gun owners would refer to me as a victim. To be honest, with me still unemployed, I can't even afford the bullets, never mind the licenses, the permits, and fees.

I'd rather use what little money I have to buy food, beans instead of bullets and instead of weapons. Yet, I get three telephone calls from the NRA, every day, with them using three different phone numbers, asking for donations. As if they don't have enough money, can you believe the nerve of the NRA asking me, an unemployed, homeless woman for donations? Their incessantly annoying calls make me want to buy a gun. If I had a gun, I'd shoot them. Yeah!

"Police! Drop the gun!"

"It's okay. I'm registered with the NRA. Other than Cat Woman, Super Girl, and Wonder Woman, I'm the first female superhero. I'm here to stop the NRA from harassing me."

To quote Ben Hur, Moses, and better known as the late, great Charlton Heston, the once president of the NRA:

"I'll give you my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead hands."

"What are you doing?" The mortician looked at his assistant.

"I'm closing Charlton Heston's coffin," he said.

"You can't close the lid yet," said the mortician.

"Why not?"

"Because he's still holding his gun in his cold, dead hands. He can't take that with him. Pry that away from him. Break his fingers if you have to and we'll glue them back with Super Glue."

* * * * *

Speaking of breasts, tits, jugs, and boobs, how's that for a smooth transition from guns to something that most men love to discuss? This may be a stupid question, especially with me being a woman but, here goes. Why do women have breasts on the front instead of the back? Before you answer, think about it.

Wouldn't it be much better if women had back tits? Yeah, true, how would women nurse their baby with their tits in back instead of in the front? Yet, what if women had breasts in back as well as in front? I can already see men unzipping themselves and ready to masturbate now.

If you're a man, think about all of the possibilities of women having four sets of breasts, two in the front and two in the back. Wouldn't it be more convenient for men if women had back tits too? I can see all of the subway molesters nodding their heads in agreement now. That way, every time you were kissing, you wouldn't have to reach down to feel her breasts, you could just hug her. What was once an innocent custom, hugging women, would quickly become sexually erotic.

"Right? Am I right? Go ahead, time me I'm not only right but also that I'm on to something. With plastic surgery and silicone implants, we already have the technology to give women another set of tits. Wow!"

"I love you Mom. I don't know why but for some strange reason, I just love hugging you," said Tommy hugging his mother every chance he got.

"Tommy, stop feeling my back tits and behave. Do your homework," said Tommy's mother.

"Okay, just give me a hug first," said Tommy hugging his mother again while feeling her back tits.

Then his grandmother entered the room.

"Grandma, give me a hug. How are you?"

"Tommy! Grandma loves it when you hug her. Can you just finger my back nipples while hugging me?"

Then, Aunt Rose came to visit with Tommy's cousin, Sally.

"Aunt Rose, it's so nice to see you again. How are you? Give me a hug," said Tommy feeling Aunt Rose's back tits.

"Oh, Tommy, give your Aunt Rose another hug. If I wasn't your mother's sister, I'd suck you before fucking you," whispered Aunt Rose in Tommy's ear while Tommy hugged his aunt and had his wicked, sexual way with her back tits.

Then, Tommy turned his attention to his cousin, Sally.

"Cousin Sally. Give me a hug," said Tommy with his arms outstretched.

"Get away from me you pervert. I'm on to you. You just want to feel my back tits," said Cousin Sally.

See? While a man is hugging his mother, his grandmother, and his aunt, he gets to feel their tits. Okay, maybe I just answer my own question but, seriously, wouldn't a woman having back tits be the perfect partner for dancing? I dare say that more men would eagerly get up on the dance floor for the sake not dancing but for feeling back tits.

"May I have this dance?"

Instead of calling their show Dancing with the Stars, they'd have to change the name to Dancing with Four Tits. Huh? What do you think? I may be on to something.

Now that I think more about it, ideally, women should have tits in the front and in the back. Bra manufacturers would double their business. No matter if the woman was coming or going, especially if she was in a bikini, or would that be quad-kini, and especially if she was topless, you'd have a great view of all four of her tits.

"Got milk, milk, milk, milk."

* * * * *

Speaking of tits, another seamless transition, why do some men feel compelled to dress as women? I can understand those women who are trapped in a man's body and wanting to get out by taking estrogen hormone drugs and having a sex change operation but I'm talking about the cross dressers. I'm talking about seemingly normal men who feel compelled to wear women's clothes.

"Are there any cross dressers out there who can answer my question?"

I ask the question because with all the movies that I've seen about cross dressers and cross dressing, unless they're earning money as female impersonators, they all look so sad and tortured. As far as I feel, whatever floats your boat is fine with me. If you want to squeeze yourself in women's clothes, go for it. Not only do women's clothes cost more money than do men's clothes but also women's clothes are not as well made. They don't last nearly as long as men's clothes, especially hose. You'll never hear a woman say that she's had a pair of pants or a pair of shoes for thirty years in the way that men routinely do.

Normal in every other way, except when their alone and feel the need to wear panties, bras, and high heel shoes. Why must men cross dress? I don't get it. I don't understand the overwhelming urge that they must have to dress as a woman. Brave albeit tortured souls, some men take the extra step by wearing a wig, makeup, and shaving their legs before venturing out in public.