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Subject: {ASSM} RP: THE LINDA TALES (Part 1/3 of Chapter 6/6
Date: Wed, 26 Apr 2000 10:10:19 -0400
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Hello, fellow global literature lovers!
Be warned: This story is a work of fiction that contains descriptions
of explicit sexual acts between humans. If this type of content offends
you, or you are under the age of 18, do not read it. It is posted for the
entertainment of adults. If you are below the age of eighteen or are
otherwise forbidden to read electronic erotic fiction in your locality,
please delete this message now. The story codes in the subject line
are intended to inform readers of possible areas that some might find
yukky, but the author makes no guarantees. You should be aware that
the story might raise other matters that you find distasteful.
Ecco: You read at your own risk.
Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended
by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is
illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are
under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you
might feel too.... - stop right now and remove this text from your
computer.
This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions
described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work
of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities
or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my
life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives.
Unfortunately.
You have been properly warned.
I give permission for anyone to share or archive this story.
The story have been written by the person posting them.
If you liked the story, drop the author a line at the e-mail address
below.
********************************************************
THE LINDA TALES (Part 1/3 of Chapter 6/6)
ODE TO THE SEA (M/f/F)
"I spotted a table over there by the trees, just a lonely girl. See if we
can sit there," Linda nodded up ahead.
"All right," I agreed.
We made our way through the crowded place full of noisy people in
bathing suits, sitting around tables munching ice cream and laughing.
A raspy loudspeaker blared the latest pop craze. Maybe I should offer
my acoustic services? Nah, relax buddy...
The bare concrete floor of the beach joint was full of wet sand, and we
balanced our ice cream cones carefully down the rows, dodging elbows
and shouting kids. Thankfully, the only free seats seemed to be these,
situated a bit calmer a few metres away on the edge.
We stepped up to the woman sitting there, scribbling on a note pad.
She did not look up as we approached the table, although she clearly
had detected us.
"Hi!" Linda put on her best smile. "Mind if we sit here?"
The woman lifted her face a bit and said, not unfriendly but not very
enthusiastic either: "Sure, go ahead. It's a free country, isn't it."
She had a sweet voice though. Against her will, her gaze lingered
upon us, trying to evaluate her new tablemates.
Sure, we are an unlikely couple, Linda and I. I could see her working
the scenarios. 'Middle aged man with his teenage daughter - 16? Well
she's a real beauty for sure, I wish I had that body - but wait! He's
blond and fair, and the girl is coloured light brown, that long hair
pitch black - the guy must've married a black woman, or maybe...'
I interrupted her train of thoughts by taking the seat opposite her,
while Linda spread her luscious behind on the chair by her side.
"I'm Steve", I said amiably, "and this is Linda. How do you do?"
Our nice-guys introduction relaxed her some, and she managed a
quick smile: "I'm Beverly". But with that one remark, she returned
immediately to her literary endeavours, the pen flying. A small sip
from the diet coke.
Linda and I enjoyed our ice cream, slowly licking the cold and savoury
sweet stuff. It was a truly hot summer day, sun blazing on a fiercely
blue heaven; the day you dream of in wintertime.
We had abandoned The Diner and chanced a visit to the beach
together. It seemed everyone we knew where out of town somewhere,
including my wife Christina who had gone to Rhodes with a `friend4,
and Linda's parents who were sailing. We did, however, motor a
stretch up the coast. No use being too careless!
While devouring our ice cream we made small talk and discreetly eyed
our neighbour, Beverly the lonely girl writing away a sunny Sunday.
She could not have been more than twenty years old at the most,
probably younger still, her quite plump body dressed not in bathing
attire but in black shorts and a black blouse. Even her sandals where
black and so was her long hair. Her face (what could be seen as she
leaned over the pad, her hair draping) was somehow both sultry and
sulky, clever and sad. There was an amazing mixed air of sulky slut,
misunderstood intellectual and innocent little teenager over her. She
had a very sexy quality about her, once you looked.
None of this was lost on Linda either, and I could see her tongue
dancing lewdly in the cone, then licking her lips thoroughly, while she
looked me straight in the eyes. I imagined that tongue going wild in
another honey pot, working wonders for poor sad Beverly! Linda is
such a sucker for girl candy, and so am I. We exchanged a tacit "OK",
and then I waited to see if Linda already had some nice intro or funny
scheme boiling.
Linda continued to lick the ice cream and then asked benignly: "So
you're writing, Bev. Summer school? Well, you're not the only one."
"Of course not!" Beverly burst out with appalling force. She looked
angrily at Linda. By the way, her eyes were great, especially when
shooting sparks in anger.
"I never missed an exam in my entire life! And also, don't call me
Bev! It's the name for a cow!"
"Well, I'm sorry... Beverly. Whatever you say," Linda purred, ever the
cat. And then she laughed disarmingly. I thought she felt rebuked. In
fact I knew it.
I broke in: "Isn't Clara the cow? If you're talking animals, Bev must be
the beaver, right? Little soft thing, but with a tenacious bite?"
Linda sent me a warning glance, but my ambiguous comment seemed
to enjoy Beverly, funny enough. She too laughed, her face suddenly
sunny, and then she announced:
"I'm writing lyrics to the sea!"
"Well, why don't you come down to our blanket in the dunes you'll be
much closer to it," said Linda hastily and a trifle impertinent.
But Beverly, very dignified, agreed. That girl sure needed a friend.
And here she had them, two for the price of one.
A slight breeze cooled the hot sunshine, as we waded through the deep
sand to our little dune hollow where Linda and I had camped. The
blanket was wide enough to accommodate us all nicely.
Linda put her hands on her back and removed the top of her black two
piece bikini, laid her slender body back and offered her stunning body
to the sun, saying: "Goodnight, fellas." Her breasts peaked, nipples
erect in the soft winds. Bev the beaver could not help sneaking looks at
them as she sat down cross-legged beside Linda. Linda had spread her
legs a little and her love mountain also stood proud beneath that flat
stomach.
Bev's thighs shone around her own bulging mons, protruding in the
black shorts. I took the other side of the blanket, removing my T-shirt
in the process. It bore the legend 'Save the Whales' with a picture of a
giant rising from the sea. Bev was quite close, I could feel her warmth
over that of the sun, and I was sure Linda could too. I could imagine
the buzz in her growing clit, warmed by the glaring sun and by Linda's
thoughts of joys to come. Quite soon, if we were lucky and played our
cards right.
"So, you're a poetry fan," I said lightly. "Write a lot?"
"Some. But I write mostly to myself. I almost never show it to anyone.
It's funny with poetry really. There are so many bad amateurs, nobody
will admit to being a would-be poet. We are supposed to just take off
like beautiful butterflies, suddenly whoosh! But in reality, that takes
practice."
"Right. What a poetic metaphor," I said. She eyed me suspiciously, as
if I was somehow taunting her, but I continued. "But of course
everything takes practice, doesn't it, Bev?"
"Please don't..." her record went again, but I broke her off instead:
"Bev's just such a cute name. Told you, reminds me of a soft little
animal, a furry little creature to pet. Now how's that for poetry? Isn't
that part of the famous licence?"
She couldn't help but give off a crooked smile, a little flattered. It
made her face real live and sexy.
"OK, Steve. I just got a tiny bit frustrated before when your
daughter..."
"She's not my daughter."
I did not elaborate on what Linda was to me; I was sure that girl was
cooking up a suitable story right this minute while letting the sun fry
her pussy at the same time. Bev could not see this, but Linda had taken
hold of the band of her bikini pants, slowly tugging on the cloth to
squeeze and tease the little girl down there. Her tits were rubber towers
now.
Linda opened her eyes and assured Bev "No hard feelings, OK Bev?"
and let her other hand lightly stroke Beverly's back. The hand stayed
there. What's a little tenderness among girls?
Before Bev could ask the obvious question about Linda's status, I asked
her to read me her poem of the sea. The girl blushed, as if I had tried
to grab her tit!
"Nonono..." she began, but I kept nagging her, working on that
'practice' angle, until she gave in. I knew that she really longed to
demonstrate those thoughts and feelings to someone (just as she
needed opening up otherwise). It was that simple.
And finally she gave her OK. She even started to rise, but I told her
not to make such a production out of it. I put my hand on her leg.
What a smooth skin!
"Keep it natural."
Well, maybe I'm no real authority of recitations, but I did prefer body
contact with this sweet thing, in order to cater both for her emotional
and carnal needs. And mine. So she stayed put, with both of us
holding hands on her, and started to orate:
First the sea was calm, in those days of childhood
As we laboured and built our castles in the sand
Then with hands tied together, we watched the waves start rolling
Saw the sea gain momentum as the fury grew
And life exploded beyond our weirdest dreams
- And all we had built turned to fragments
And our breath became froth.
Now the gulls cry, complaints all the more accusing as they are
Torn to shreds by storm
And they rain, they rain into the sea, the sea calming
"Awesome," I managed.
"Cool", Linda offered.
In other words, two real hypocrites. Or actors, as it would be.
Linda continued, while massaging her clit in the pants:
"But let me get hang of this thing. It's about sex, right?"
"Nonono!" Bev the beaver countered much to quickly. "However did
you get that idea? This is about the rise and fall of civilisations, how
the strivings of man always must come to an end, no matter how
strong or noble the onset."
You're too bloody right there, I thought to myself, but Linda rambled
on, a bit out of breath:
"But to me, this is a classical case of sexual sublimation. That build-
up, then the creative act, and then the release of tensions. Intercourse
and orgasm. Classical Freudian stuff, I'd say."
Beverly got red, and sputtered: "Yeah, and you're certain of that, little
miss Know-it-all? How can you even talk like that in front of your
father?" She sure had a temper.
"Like he said, Steve's not my father," said Linda calmly.
"Well he certainly doesn't look like your big brother!" Bev was still
angry.
"No, he's too pink."
"So what is he then, your summer school teacher?"
"To put it bluntly, Bev, one of us is a harlot and the other the seller!"
said Linda curtly.
Oh boy, now she's blown all fuses, I thought! Or was is some sort of
shock treatment?
Both girls were on their knees now, facing each other. "What!! You
can't mean that! Steve, tell me this is not true," Bev demanded in my
direction.
"Are you using this little poor girl? Are you actually selling Linda... to
strangers... for money?!?"
I felt I needed to make an input, opening my mouth but not knowing
what ought to pop out of there, when Linda saved me.
"Nono, Bev, you got it all wrong. It's not for money... and it's seldom
to total strangers - not as we see it anyway."
Beverly was looking at me now, face contorted in anger. "Yeah, but
even so. Even so. You must be a heartless bastard!"
Linda laughed, a sweet teasing waterfall. "No, wrong again. He's heart
is just fine, thank goodness! And as to the emotional side, he's capable
of a lot of love. And empathy. That's why I'm selling him only to
women I like! Those who deserve it."
Bev plopped down on her padded ass. Her jaw dropped. She was, for
the first time, totally out of words. Linda grabbed the opportunity, and
hugged her. One hand rubbed Bev's back soothingly, the other
caressed the back of her throat. Linda whispered softly in her ear.
"Bev, don't be so upset. In reality, people do funny things. That's life,
simple as that. Tell you what. I like you, I really do. You're a sexy girl
and you're tough and you know what you want. You can have Steve.
I'll give you a good price. You fancy him, don't you?"
"You're out of your fucking mind!" Bev blurted.
I tried to look very hurt.
Linda kept on: "Just pretend he's your teacher in creative writing."
Naughty girl! That line instantly made Bev red as a tomato. Linda
continued to caress her all over, and was barely dodging the three key
erogenous zones. Bev seemed to enjoy it, or she was just too distressed
to notice what was happening.
"It's OK if you won't consider me, Bev", I said, very sadly. "You are
such a sexy woman, but I know I'm not a dream prince".
"I... Look, what are you two doing to me? Of course I like you, Steve.
It's just that... I mean... PAYING for sex?" Her face was both horrid
and apologetic.
Linda weaved on: "But it's not like that at all. Steve and I love each
other... yea yea, we know it's hopeless, but what can you do? But Steve
has this little problem psychologically. Ever since his wife left him for
a black man, he's felt this inferiority thing. So he just can't make love
to me, physically that is. He's seeing a therapist, but so far, no
progress."
She looked pleadingly straight into the eyes of Bev, and gave her a
quick little kiss on the lips. The girl shuddered but not from revulsion.
Linda begged.
"Why don't you let Steve be kind to you, and then you can be a little
kind to me? It is a trade off, in vulgar terms, yes. If it means to pay, so
yes. But it will be good for you too, we promise. It's the only way we
can make love. Will you not help us?" Her eyes looked totally forlorn,
mirrors of a soul in pain.
We could practically hear the wheels spinning around in Bev's cute
and not at all dumb head. Her anger had dissolved. She probably never
had a threesome or even girl-girl sex before, but there was no
instinctive reaction against Linda's touches; in fact her nipples
protruded through her blouse and she seemed half aroused already.
And I think the situation appealed also to her romantic side: she as the
noble helper in this rather tragic love story. And getting fucked in the
process. I had seen from the beginning that I was somehow attracting
her.
"I... I..." Bev started.
"Let's go to our place, Bev. Please! I will make a poem to the sea of
love! I will whip up a storm!" I said dramatically.
"All right then," said Bev quietly. "No more commercials. Just stand
by your word, Linda. You two be kind to me. And do me good!" She
winked and smiled.
I'm afraid a little speeding took place as we travelled back to The
Diner. The girls were together in the back seat, rather chaste except
for Linda's hand up under the blouse of Bev, just to keep the fire
burning I guess. I happened to look down, and noticed the slogan of
my T-shirt, and I chuckled. Yeah, we would truly save this cute little
whale. But this time, it actually would involve some serious
harpooning. Have you ever heard a recording of the whales calling in
the depths? Those somehow complaining wails... I vouched not to rest
until Bev was moaning like that. But not from pain.
- End of Part 6 a -
(To Be Continued...)
Send comments to: steve.armstrong@england.com
"The Linda Tales" is my first try at creating recreational erotic
literature. Please give me feedback, be it good or bad, on e-mail. Give
your first name and age, as an indicator how to better judge your
comments. Welcome are also comments on language. (A rather
eclectic use of terms and idiomas from different parts of the world.)
Your efforts may help to improve the continuation of this series, if it
comes along.
Thanks, and hopefully, enjoy!
Steve Armstrong
__________________________________________________________________
Get your own free England E-mail address at http://www.england.com
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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