Google 2001 And The Erotic Me

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Want to search Google as it was (and as the Internet was) in January 2001?

Now you can.

UPDATE:  I searched my name to see if I had any Internet presence way (way?) back then. 

I didn’t, really. 

Well, sort of.  My name ("Ken Ashford") appears in this NSFW erotic story that somebody wrote. 

I first appear in Chapter 6, with this unflattering character description:

Karen also advised me about Ken Ashford.  I’d better explain about Ken. Ken was one of the boys in my class. He was small, thin and wore glasses. The other boys used to make fun of him and bully him, and I felt really sorry for him. They called him "The Weed" and "Nerd", and they’d bump him accidentally on purpose, and make him drop his books, then knock him over when he tried to pick them up. You know what kids are like. Nothing serious, just enough to make his life an utter misery. I used to look at Ken and think about how my step-father used to treat me. I felt sorry for him, and I just wanted to protect him.

Ken retreated into his books. He used to get really good grades, which made things worse for him, of course. He didn’t suck up to the teachers, but because he knew all the answers, all the boys thought he was a creep. The girls did too, so when I asked Karen about him, she thought I was insane. "He’s just a weed, Sandi. You could get Tod if you wanted to."

And here’s an excerpt from Chapter 7 entitled "Ken Gets Rescued":

Then I bent over Ken, took him in my arms, and gently helped him stand up. I kept my arms round him protectively as he stood, holding him while he cried hysterically into my shoulder. I stroked his hair, and said "There, there", and cuddled him till he stopped crying. Then I led him into the cafeteria, and bought him a glass of milk, and kept my arm round him while he drank it. He leaned into my shoulder, still weeping slightly. I felt like I’d just won a lottery – I knew that after this, getting off with Ken would be a doddle.

He told me that he couldn’t take the bullying any more, he was planning to leave school and get some kind of menial job. I told him he was much too bright for that, and he should stay in school and go on to college. But, he said, the way the boys picked on him was too much for him, he simply couldn’t go on.

I put both my arms round him and held him close, feeling his soft body trembling against my breasts. We were sitting down, so he didn’t feel as short as he usually did. I dried his eyes with a tissue serviette, and gave him a little kiss on the lips. He didn’t respond, but neither did he shrink away, so I kissed him again. I called him "Little Kenny", I told him not to worry so much about those dumb boys, that I’d take care of him, and I stroked his hair and made reassuring noises. Gradually, he stopped sobbing.

"It’s all right for you, Sandi. You’re so big and strong, everyone’s scared of you. They wouldn’t bully me if I were strong like you, but I’m just a little weed, so they push me around." Ken was just over five feet tall, wearing shoes, and he weighed well under a hundred pounds. As I held him, I felt his arms, and they were like pipe cleaners. There was no muscle at all, and hardly any flab. Just bones, covered with skin. I just wanted to protect him from the cruel world. "Oh, Sandi, you’re so powerful. I’ve seen your muscles; if I had half your strength I’d be happy."

I moved my big strong hands over his small, helpless body, gently massaging his chest with my hands. He winced a bit when I rubbed his body, and I tried to be even more gentle with him. I pulled his head down to my breasts, and let him feel how soft I was there. He turned his head sideways and closed his eyes. I held his head to my bosom, and stroked his hair, and I felt him gradually relax as the terror of the fight drained out of him.

We must have sat there for an hour. I was missing my regular work-out, but I didn’t care. Little Kenny needed me to cuddle and soothe him, and that was what I wanted to do. Eventually it was time to go home.

It gets worse from there.  By Chapter 16 — well, I don’t want to talk about it.