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| Michael Forrester of Ottawa, Canada |
And no wonder! Just look at those meaty thighs...enough to treat more than two people at a party. With thighs that muscular, you have to wonder just how his calves and kneebacks look. My initial guess was probably just as appetizing!
When my brother-in-law Mark dropped me off at Ottawa Municipal Airport, I gave Michael a call on his private cell number. Within a half-hour, Mr. "Meaty-Legs" arrived in his custom-built BMW convertible to pick me up and take me to his home, a mansion just outside Ottawa in the city's ritzy area...attired in a denim windbreaker, knee-length cargo shorts, white below-the-calf socks and sneakers. When I saw him dressed like that, I felt a bit underdressed. After all, I was dressed in a windbreaker, mid-thigh cargo shorts, white below-the-calf socks and sneakers.
"Sasha Kasdan?" he asked. I nodded. "I'm Mike...Michael Forrester". We shook hands, smiling at each other...and admiring what we had to offer each other. "Well...are you ready to have a week full of fun?"
"Sure am!" I said, excited.
Michael lifted my luggage and easily loaded it into the trunk of his car as I opened the passenger door and climbed into the front seat of the BMW. Michael then climbed into the driver's seat, put the key into the ignition and revved up the car, speeding away from the curb and into traffic. As he was driving, we began looking at what we had to offer during the next week...me with my tanned, modelesque thighs, calves and knees; Michael with his meaty thighs and calves. Secretly, we must have been licking the insides of our mouths. Going at the speed Michael was going, we would probably reach his mansion in no time at all.
And what a mansion it was! It looked like something like the mansion Lex Luthor lived in in "Smallville". It was a real gothic-looking place, with parapets and spires reaching to the sky...at least three stories tall, maybe more. I climbed out of the car, my eyes riveted on the height of the mansion, while Michael removed my luggage from the trunk of the BMW. He walked up the steps to the front door, put my luggage down to remove the key from his pocket to unlock the door, opened the door, picked up my luggage and entered the house. I followed Michael through the front door and was almost floored by what greeted me when I crossed the threshold. Inside, the place looked almost like a palace.
How did I feel? I felt like a prince and Michael was the king! We approached an elevator which took us to the second floor. As Michael escorted me into the bedroom which I would occupy, I was equally floored by the look of the bedroom. There before me stood a king-sized bed, a reading area, a walk-in closet where I could put my clothing, a bathroom with a step-in combination Roman bed-jacuzzi.
After Michael helped get me situated, we walked downstairs to the palatial living room. The centerpiece of the living room was a brickstone fireplace with a fire already lit within. On the other side, which I could evidently see through the flames, were a small coffee table, a couch and two chairs facing a 65" television. We walked through the living room and shortly entered the dining room. We continued on to another door, through which was situated a large entertainment room. Through the window I was able to see a large swimming pool full of clear, pristine water.
"This is where we will be playing around most of the time", Michael said to me while my attention was still riveted on the pool outside. "We'll also be using some areas up on the third floor".
When I heard that, I turned to Michael.
"There's a third floor?" I asked.
"Sure is. But, we can't get up there by the elevator. It's motor is located in a locked room on the third floor".
"So how will we get up there?"
"There's a folding stairway with a door in the second-floor ceiling. We pull it down and climb up the steps to the third floor. Come on...I'll show you".
We walked back the the elevator and took it to the second floor. Walking down the hall, Michael reached out and pressed a button on the wall. Down came the stairway to the third floor. We walked up the steps into the third floor...more rather like an oversized playroom than an attic. I looked around. The whole room was luxuriously carpeted in a deep beige shag. The only thing that looked like it should have been in the living room was another wide-screen television on the wall. But nowhere was there a place to sit down.
"Why aren't there any chairs up here?" I asked.
"Because this is where we would watch television while on our stomachs", Michael replied. I looked up at the rafters...and noticed something strange. Dangling from one of the rafters, which were made of thick oak, was a noose. What did Michael intend to do with that? Did he intend to end our week by hanging me to death? I didn't let on to Michael that I noticed the noose.
"Watching television on our stomachs?" I asked, turning to him with a smile on my face. "That's my favorite position!"
Michael returned my smile, displaying perfectly white teeth.
"Let's go downstairs and change into something a little more...comfortable", he said. I looked down at what I was wearing. I was dressed in something more comfortable already. "Or I will".
We walked down the steps to the second floor, heading towards the staircase, stopping by Michael's bedroom.
"I'll meet you down in the living room", he said. "Turn on the TV and see if there's anything you might be interested in watching".
With that said, Michael walked into his bedroom and closed the door, apparently to dress in something "a little more comfortable". I walked downstairs to the living room and picked up a Canadian copy of TV Guide and scanned through it. Finding nothing on the television suitable to interest me, I went over to a fully-stocked bookcase, extracting a copy of George Seaton's "Miracle on 34th Street"...one of my favorite movies. Instead of sitting down on a chair to read the script, I got down onto my stomach. When Michael came into the living room, he looked around, noticing that the television was not on.
"Where are you?" he asked.
I rose to my feet and looked at him. There he stood...dressed now in a tee shirt, very short cargo shorts and the same socks and sneakers. The first thing I noticed were the now-exposed thighs...twice as big as mine. He walked around me and noticed the opened script on the floor. Then, he turned to me, a broad smile on his face.
"So, you're getting used to laying prone on my carpet, eh?" he asked.
All I could do was shrug with a sheepish look on my face.
"If you had stayed like that, I would have pounced on you and started tasting your meat and licking your kneebacks", Michael continued. "Would you have liked that?"
"I would have loved it", I replied.
"As you were then!"
Not wanting to disappoint or anger Michael in any way, I immediately threw myself back down onto my stomach and started to read the script once again. Michael, who I later found out was a drill sergeant in the army, immediately squatted down, threw his legs straight out and began doing pushups...with his face over my kneebacks. To my enjoyment, every time Michael brought himself down in a nearly prone position, he stuck out his tongue and licked my kneebacks, savoring their taste as he pushed himself back up. As he did so, I closed my eyes and sighed ecstatically. Up and down he went, licking and kissing my kneebacks with fervor, enjoying it as much as I was.
Then, shifting his position slightly, Michael continued doing his pushups, opening his mouth and fervently biting my thighs and calves with each dip, keeping his eyes on my kneebacks and seeing them crimp with each tasty bite. I fell flat on my stomach, placing my hands at my sides and lifting the front of my knees off the carpet, hoping to tempt Michael again. But, to my amazement, Michael didn't take any more advantage of licking my kneebacks. I propped myself upon my elbows, turned and noticed that Michael had stood up and left the living room, apparently going into the kitchen to refresh himself after all the excitement.
I rose myself onto my knees and backed my haunches upon my feet before rising to my feet and walking into the kitchen. There was Michael, drinking a bottle of Aquafina. He had taken out a second bottle...for me, apparently. I twisted the cap off and proceeded to drink the cold water.
"Man...that sure was fun!" Michael said.
"It sure was", I replied.
"I didn't realize you had such delicious legs". Michael took another big swig of water. "After dinner, you can do the same to my legs".
Michael finished off his water and discarded the empty bottle in the trash can. As he walked towards the door to the living room, I turned and stared at his thighs, calves and kneebacks, licking my tongue with
anticipation. After all, I couldn't wait to dig my teeth into those meaty thighs and calves...and lick those kneebacks! Turning back, I smiled broadly, finishing my bottle of Aquafina before discarding my empty bottle in the trash can and going out of the kitchen.
True to his word, Michael fell face down upon the carpet in the entertainment room, a book in his hands. God, those meaty legs sure looked enticing as those kneebacks faced the ceiling. As he had done earlier, I squatted down and began to do a regiment of pushups, licking his kneebacks and biting his thighs and calves each time I brought myself into a near-prone position. Man, those thighs and calves sure felt good in my mouth with my teeth biting them.
After we had finished having fun for the day and were on our way to our separate bedrooms, Michael walked into his bedroom and returned shortly with a sealed envelope, which he handed to me.
"What this?" I asked him.
"I want you to open this envelope only before you leave on Saturday morning to return to the airport", he answered. "Don't open it before then!"
For the rest of the week, Michael and I enjoyed licking each other's kneebacks and nipping each other's thighs and calves. When Saturday morning arrived, I awoke, showered and dressed myself in my finest spring suit...complete with white short-sleeve dress shirt, dark blue three-quarter dress shorts, black dress knee socks and dress shoes. I then sat down and proceeded to read the note:
"Sasha, by now you are reading this note...my final instructions to you. When I first asked you to come to Ottawa to indulge in leg-biting and kneeback-licking with me, I kept myself from telling you that I only had a short time to live. You see, I was diagnosed with terminal synovial sarcoma, a cancer which strikes the joints. I was always so proud of my legs and couldn't bear the thought of having operations on my legs and scarring my knees. On that first day, I noticed you looking at the noose dangling from the central rafter. I am in the upstairs entertainment room, waiting for you. I know your brother's plane won't be due at the airport until noon. You'll also find the keys to my BMW on the upstairs bureau. You can drive yourself to the airport. I wish I could see how you look in your spring short suit. You must look delicious! Thank you for giving me the best week full of fun I have ever had since finding out my condition was terminal. Goodbye, my good friend".
I put the note in the pocket of my shorts and rushed to the door in the ceiling. Sure enough, it was closed from the inside. I reached up and grabbed the ring, pulling the staircase down. As I reached the final steps, I saw why Michael left this note and his keys for me. There he was...hanging by his neck, attired in a white tee shirt, dark blue mid-thigh cargo shorts, white athletic knee socks and sneakers.
I slowly approached his body. I knew he was already dead, apparently for several hours. His lips and fingernails were a deep shade of blue and his kneebacks were ice cold. I turned to the bureau where he had placed his keys. Beside them was another note. I reached for it and read it:
"By now, you found my hanging body. Before you leave, have some fun. Since my knees are at mouth-level, take some pleasure and lick away. Take some pictures with my SX-70 camera of me hanging here so you can remember your visit to Ottawa with fondness. Leave me hanging here. Don't forget to close the door after you climb down. And don't forget to lock the door before you leave for the airport. We'll meet again in the afterlife, my friend".
Since it was a thirty-minute drive to the airport, I decided to sit in the nearby chair and play with Mike's dead body. I pushed him gently, setting the dead meat swinging back and forth like a pendulum. Michael turned with each pass. I reached out and brushed my fingertips against the dead thighs, calves and, my favorite, kneebacks, snapping pictures until I had developed a total of thirty pictures. At 10:30, I stood up from the chair, gave Michael's kneebacks one final lick and running my teeth against them...and went down to my bedroom to remove my shorts and put on my matching slacks. At 11:00...I was gone.
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