Message-ID: <23892asstr$956887836@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "joseph_lawrence " <joseph_lawrence@my-deja.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <EBPEOKPMEOKMHAAA@my-deja.com>
X-Sent-Mail: off
Reply-To: joseph_lawrence@my-deja.com
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit
Subject: {ASSM} Going Metric: MMF
Date: Thu, 27 Apr 2000 22:10:37 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2000/23892>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: Vulpine, Lambchop
<1st attachment, "going_metric.txt" begin>
All rights remain with the author. Possession of a copy of this text
does not imply permission to distribute it, other than for no fee and in
its entirety, including this notice.
This story is fiction. The names and characters are fictional and bear no
intentional similarity with any persons known to me. Some parts of
some of the situations the characters find themselves in are not
fictional in the sense that in order to write I draw upon my own
experience. Though I have written it in the first person the protagonist
is not meant to be me is any real sense, he's as fictional as practically
everything else in this story. The style is very different from my last
piece! I hope you all enjoy it.
This story is for adults, however that might be defined in your
country. In mine everything recounted below is legal.
Joseph Lawrence, Copyright 2000
Story: Going Metric
or "A Quick One at Lunchtime."
She smiled at me. "Is that big enough?"
"Yes, that's more than enough," I said, smiling back. The
smells that surrounded me were glorious, a melange of rich earthy
scents that swirled around me.
"Do you want anything else?"
`Would there be anything else?' I thought. `Oh, that there
could be, but no, not today.'
"No thanks, that'll be fine," I said.
The plastic rustled as she reached out to give it to me. It felt
cool as she softly placed it in my hand. "Ok, there you are; five
hundred and six grams."
"Thanks," I said as I took the square lump from her. "What's
that in old money?"
"Oh," she looked down and pressed a button on her scales,
"Almost one pound two."
"So even the lumps are getting bigger now."
"Oh no. If its too big I can cut some off for you."
"No, it's fine as it is," I said with a comical wince, " you
can't have too much good cheese."
After paying at the checkouts I dumped the groceries on
passenger seat of the car, covering the receipt for the 43 litres of petrol
I had filled the car with only ten minutes before. I looked at my
watch, `Hmm, just enough time for a quick one.'
One by one things here have changed. I can barely remember
when our money went decimal. Later came the creeping loss of our
traditional weights and measures. Out had gone pounds and ounces to
be replaced my kilograms and grams. Then our petrol only came in
litres, and wood, metal and cloth and the like, in metres. Step by step
the old and familiar had gone, now it seemed that there were just two
places were the ancient still held sway: our road distances were still
measured in miles and our beer still came in pints. At least women
still came in bed, at least until the next European laws were passed!
I bought my pint; a real pint, served in a real pint glass with
as little froth as possible. I sat down at a table near the bar and supped
contentedly and slowly. Even a quick one couldn't be rushed.
The gentle bustle of a pub at lunchtime carried on around me.
A pair of young women, girls really I suppose, came in, ordered and
sat on the stools at the bar. In the days of real money they'd never
have dared even to set foot in the pub without being on a man's arm,
for fear of being branded as `loose women'. Other, more welcome
changes had been occurring too. One, in tight pair of red-dyed jeans
sat perfectly on the stool less than two metres from me. She chatted
easily to her dark-haired friend. She overhung the top of the stool
beautifully. The roundness of her buttocks called out to be stroked and
caressed softly. They shouted out to be parted, they spoke to the men
present saying, "Slip between us, deep and long." I didn't look at
much else of their owner who chatted on unaware of me and my
lustful eyes. I sipped on my pint. It slipped down easily, but failed to
distract me from the pure perfection enclosed by those jeans. It was a
good thing I was sitting at a table.
The Bum left with her friend. They brushed past a black guy
in the doorway. They, the two cheeks and their owner, were gone,
only a warm memory and a partial erection remained. As they passed
the guy took off his sunglasses before walking to the bar. The barman
went to him. Before either could speak Beethoven's Fifth began in the
guy's back pocket.
"Hang about mate."
The barman smiled and walked off, running his towel of the
brass tap-work atop the bar.
"Denzel `ere." Denzel nodded. "Yeah Di. No problem. I'll be
there as soon as I get out of this traffic. Its murder, it is." He nodded
again, stepping closer to the door. "Where am I? You know, those
roadworks on the bypass. Yeah, there. Tell `em I'll be there in ten, got
it?"
"Roadworks?" I said out loud as he pressed `end'.
"Yeah, well how else is a bloke goin' to get moment's rest.
Bleedin'ell she don't half natter. Not a moment's peace I tell ya."
"Yes, I see. How else is a man going to get a pint?"
"Yeah, well, kinda. I want a short me'self." He went to the
bar. That barman looked at him hopefully. "A brandy please mate."
`A brandy? What sort of man has a brandy?' The sort with a
leather jacket, shades and a mobile phone evidently. No doubt he had
a battered white Transit van on a double yellow line somewhere with
`licence applied for' stuck to the window. Even shorts now came in
metric measures, 1/6th of Gills had gone the way if the dodo a few
years since. Pints - they, at least, were pints; even if not all men
appreciated them. I needed my pint. I needed two or three, and then
some. I had the afternoon off, but I had no intention of resting and
relaxing. This courage was pure Dutch, and it came in good old-
fashioned Anglo-Saxon pints. What I was going to do that afternoon,
what I had taken the afternoon off for, was not old-fashioned, though
it would almost certainly involve many Anglo-Saxon words. What the
hell was I doing? This was lunacy. It was trouble begging out to be
asked for, and how had it all started? That was a sorry story, one I
needed another pint to be able to tell. `Hang about, I'll be right back.
Oh, you want one too? Sorry, get your own!'
***
`Ok, where was I? Oh yes, this afternoon. It started years
ago. Or finished, I can never really tell which. Anyway, when we
were first married we would. What's that? What's my wife got to do
with it? Shush, shut up and I'll tell you.. Now then, we used to have
afternoon's off now and again. You know.. What's that, you don't
know? Come off it, you know. Do I have to spell it out.? Ok, ok, to
screw, hump, shag, make love. You know, a good old-fashioned
Anglo-Saxon fuck. One day, during a really good session she shouted
out at the top of her voice.' I took another gulp of ale. `What did she
shout? How the hell do I know, we weren't exactly with it at the time.
She's never had it so good before or since. She just loved every
moment, she couldn't get enough of me if you know what I mean.' I
drank again. `But that was just the once. Since then we've kind of
gone off the boil if you know what I mean.' Glass half full now.
`What happened? I don't know, I suppose we just got stale, there's
only so many ways in bed. When you've done them all a hundred
times you come back again and again to the old faithfuls and stick
with them, safe and secure, but yes, I guess I'm a little boring now.' A
little less full now. `NO! I'm not going to tell you! Other than to say
the oldies are still goodies.'
I looked to the door. `A week ago she said I wasn't enough
anymore. She said she wanted more. No, not more often, she said she
wanted more. No, not longer - Looonger. She said, I mean she
actually came out and said she wanted nine inches, and I just ain't that
big. No, I'm nothing special, I'm just ordinary.. Watch it mate, don't
get cocky!.. So, what's a man to do? I mean I can't stretch it or
anything, and if I don't measure up then I guess I just don't measure
up.'
`I really thought I was going to loose her. I don't you know -
want to loose her. I love her, and it was only a few months ago we
were talking about maybe having a baby. That's when she came off
the pill. Here, do you reckon she might think I'm, you know, firing
blanks or something?'
Nearly empty now, and the pub was filling as the nearby
offices disgorged their staff for lunch. `She's been nagging me for it
day in day out. I've been filling her every which way. I've even had to
fake it a couple of times as she's wrung me out. Thank God she never
seems to check for the wet patch. Faking its less risky for them. Then
she told me she wanted a real man. Christ what had I been for the past
god knows how long? Shagging her whenever she wanted, leaving her
alone when she didn't want it. It was only a year ago that she was
saying how much she missed humping me when I went away. Six was
more than enough then, why not now? Its not as if she doesn't come
when we do it. She does practically every time. Sure, she blames me
when she doesn't come, and she blames me when I don't come, but
we come together practically every time so everyone's happy eh? No.
No chance.'
`Now she says she's just got to have nine or nothing. All I've
done for her and done with her; that's all for nothing.' My glass is
empty. `Do you know how it feels to be told you're no good in bed?
Do you? It makes you feel that tall it does. Told you're nothing if not
a good fuck, and I'm not a good fuck anymore. Oh yes, I was once
apparently. God how she shouted that day! She loved it, she loved me.
She says she still does, but hey, who knows what she really thinks?'
`I've never been unfaithful. Ok, so I look at women now and
again, what man doesn't? But I don't do anything about it. Say, did
you see the arse on that girl who was in here a moment ago? God, that
was the most perfect bum I've ever seen. I mean, really perfect.... Eh?
What did she look like? Hell, I don't know, I only saw her backside,
and it was fantastic - pure poetry in motion, and probably pure lust in
bed. Yeah. Well, I wish!'
No more beer. No more beer. `Even now I wouldn't chuck it
all in to chase even that bum. But she can do anything, can't she?
`Cause she's a woman. I've just got to roll over and take it. If she
wants a big guy I've not only got to get one for her, but I've got to
watch as well.... Yeah, that's right! I've got to get a massively hung
stud for her, and if I want to stay with her at all I've got to watch them
fuck. Christ, what's the world coming too? Humiliation's not the word
for it. This is downright degrading. God I hope her cunt farts all the
way through it....'
`Yeah, I found one all right. Wasn't easy I can tell you. BIG
blokes don't exactly advertise, but this one did. He's black. Yeah I
know! Cliche-ville here we come, but yeah, he says he's got the
relevant inches so he's the one. It wasn't easy to get the afternoon off
either. Di, the company bike,'s got this new boyfriend. He's black too.
Got an old XR3I, poor guy! Thinks he's God's gift he does, but he's
just a pratt. Di reckon's he's good in bed too. She says he's hung like
a donkey too - he made her come ten times last night. She says he just
goes on and on and on - Just like her. Do you know I had to wait five
damn minutes as she went on and on about how thick Denzel's was
and how he stuffed her so full she reckoned she'd burst. God knows
what he looks like, I've only seen his motor, with half a sunvisor
along the top of the windscreen. I reckon he'd only just ripped off the
bit that said `Tracey'!'
`Anyway, she eventually deigned to check the leave register
and that was that. Think of what'll happen when my wife gives birth
this stallion-hung stud's baby? I'll be out of here just as soon as she's
knocked up by him. I don't care what she says, if she gets up the duff
by him I'll be out of here just as soon as you can say `extra large
condom'. That's another thing. Have you ever tried to buy a large
condom? No chance. Forget it, they don't exist. "One size fits all," the
lady in Boots said through her laughter. It felt like the whole shop was
laughing with her. I tell you, all this ain't worth three bloody inches!'
Time to go. Jacob would be there, at my front door. Sniffing
around my wife, feeling her tits, fingering her pussy. Stuffing all those
precious inches into her cunt. Grunting with his big, black arse,
glistening in the afternoon light that filters through the curtains. Up
and down, up and down. One, two, three, four, five black inches all
alive. Six, seven in my wife's heaven. Eight, nine, filling what's mine.
Out comes one, two too, slurping out of my wife aching lust. Three,
four, knocking up her womb's door. Five out, six out, then all in
again. She'd be shouting then, but not my name. It'd be `Jacob, oh
God Jacob, you're so big, you're so much more of a man, you're
huge, you're giving me. oh God, you've. Oh God. OH!!!!!!' Bet
he'd be so big he'd burst every condom. She'd have his boy for sure,
he'd not bang her up with a sissy girl. What would I be then? A
married man with a black bloke's baby? Everyone would know how
big I was then. Damn it! I'm going home to show her how big I really
am! There's no way she's going to have this Jacob. She's mine, and
she's going to know it!'
***
I rushed up the front path and forced the key into the lock as
hard as I intended to force my cock into my wife. Bloody thing
wouldn't go in, would it! That's the story of my life! I ran up the
stairs, hoping the door would close behind me, as I hoped the past
week would close behind me as I slipped into her cunt. Rounded
Jamaicanish tones rolled over me from behind the bedroom door. I
was too late!
"Sorry Jacob, I don't know when my man James will be
back. He just popped out for a few last minute supplies. You know
how it is?"
`Christ, she's not still going through with that? No!' This was
not going to happen. I wasn't going to act out her bloody fantasises
any more. I'd got her a big guy, I'd got him here to our house. I was
even prepared, just, to watch as he shafted her, but there was no
bloody way I was going to do it acting as if I was her fucking butler! I
slammed the door open. That Jacob, the Jamaican, was standing there
by the door.
"Is dis yo'man babe?" he said huskily in a near perfect Barry
White imitation.
"Ah James. Now then get Jacob's clothes, there's a good
chap!"
I stood speechless as Jacob undid his fly. A black trimmed
red posing pouch failed to cover his erecting cock. Even in his half-
erect state he was every inch that he had said he was. Without looking
at me he said, "Come on boy, get my weaves, so as I can give
yo'woman some real big lurvin'"
He shoved his pouch down. Yes, his buttocks shone, and his
cock stood proud; a real specimen of the absurdly stereotypical black
stud. "Come on woman, get your kit off and get ready for a real man."
I laughed. I laughed loud, I laughed long. My wife laughed
too. Jacob stood perplexed for a moment, then his erection wilted. As
we laughed he gathered his clothes and ran out and down the stairs.
We watched at the window, my arms around my wife as I stood
behind her, as he ran across the road, naked and crest-fallen. When he
had gone my wife took my hands and guided to her tits and pussy.
"I'm ready for a real man now."
She pushed my hand between her legs, opening them hotly.
"Take me. Please take me."
"If you insist..."
She writhed in my arms, pushing her buttocks against me,
heaving her breasts over my arm, pressing her lubricated lips to my
hand. "Take me. Take me now!" She undid her robe, and bending
over presented her rump to me. She fumbled urgently at my zip. I
took my hand from her cunt and brought it round to grasp at her
buttocks and slip into the wisps of hair between. Unzipping me she
reached in and held my cock through the fabric. It held all of me, no
part poked out to be seen. She held me and stoked me eagerly. "Take
me," she repeated, "Take me, big boy." She bent her legs a little,
giving me her fullness, dripping with desire, gaping with heat, open
with lust. "Take me," she said once more as she gripped my cock
tightly. "God you're so big!" I felt it too. I felt it as she undid the
button on my trousers. I felt it as she released my cock from the
tightness of my underwear. I felt it as she pulled me to her. If felt it as
she guided me to her full lips. "Take me, take me. Every inch. One by
one, thrust your glorious cock in me James. In me, take me, fill me,
fill me!" I held her tight buttocks in my hands as our bodies came
together. She was gaping wide, but not so wide as not to part further
as I pushed in. She was wet for me, hot for me, and needed me. I
needed her, I filled her. With my cockhead in her I paused. "Take me
all the way!" she shouted. I pushed to give her my all. She resisted
momentarily, then, as my cock slipped up a little slope within her, I
gave her my all. One, two, three. More still as her wet heat devoured
everything I gave.
"More, give me more!" she shouted urgently, pulling me to
her with arms stretched round my hips. Her tits dangled helplessly,
her hair flailed back and forth, her chest heaved with her exertion.
With her pulling and I pushing I gave her more. Four, five, six.
"More, deeper, more, more" I felt myself harden a little more, filling
and stretching my cockhead within her. She responded with a clench
within. "Now, give me all of it! NOW!!" I gave her all, seven, eight. I
pulled out a little, she shouted again, "Fuck me! Fill me! Take me!"
Her urgency grew insatiably, her lubrication was complete, her lips
full to bursting, her nipples hardened to diamonds, her heat delicious.
She brought her legs together a little, tightening her grip on me. She
felt like I'd rip her apart. I thrust in all the way. A total thrust, nothing
held back, nothing more to give. Six, seven, eight, nine, in they all
went, one by one filling her completely, stretching her within more
than she had ever been before. Ten, and still more to come. Eleven,
twelve, and still she took it. Still she begged for more. Still I had more
to give. In this slow thrust that lasted seemingly forever I gave her
everything I had. Thirteen, more than Jacob and then some, fourteen,
and then with me held tight on her heaving buttocks; fifteen. More
than she'd had from anyone, and it was enough. It was more than
enough for this hot woman who cried out my name over and over
"John! John! John! God you're huge!"
***
Lying in each others arms on the bed with my come filling
her cunt and overflowing onto the sheets she asked me why I'd
laughed at Jacob.
"Jacob? He's not Jacob, he's Denzel. One of those delivery
drivers, from south of the river. All mobile phones and `Wacha cock.'
He's Di from work's new boyfriend. Can you believe it? He turned up
in an Escort of all things! He's a right prick he is!"
"Yes, certainly is that," she said with a grasp of my soft cock.
"He drinks brandy too! And God, that thing's so big he could
stick it up his own arse!"
"Best place for it if you ask me!" She said with a giggle. "I
mean, if his best romantic line is `Get your kit of and get ready for a
real man' then he's got no chance, even if he his that big! Anyway,
he's not as big as you."
I smiled, as she fondled my cock between her fingers. It
stiffened a little. Sat up, and looked at me lovingly.
"Now I've got something special for you," she said as she
bent down to take me in her mouth. I pushed my hips up to meet her
as my cock filled for her. My head filled with her cries and shouts of a
few minutes before as she had risen to orgasm. Her cunt had pulsated
to my thrusts, deep and filling. Even when my come loosened her she
held on to my frantic thrusts, taking everything I had to give. Those
memories now filled my cock, pushing into her, and my tongue into
her as she offered our juices to me. I smelt her glorious cunt, and
tasted our love. She was big on my tongue, hanging above me,
dangling open between her thighs. My cock filled her mouth as it has
filled her cunt. And yes, she had taken all of it, fifteen glorious
centimetres! I think I could grow to love going metric!
Joseph Lawrence, Copyright 2000
<1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format. The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+