Message-ID: <30009asstr$988143005@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <empath69@my-deja.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <200104241255.FAA01881@mail14.bigmailbox.com> From: "Deja User" <empath69@my-deja.com> Subject: {ASSM} "Alphabet Game: Au Couvert"{Dancer}(MF viol snuff?) Date: Tue, 24 Apr 2001 16:10:05 -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/Year2001/30009> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly ------------------------------------------------------------ <1st attachment, "Acouvert.txt" begin> SUBJECT LINE: {ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Au Couvert"{Dancer}(MF viol snuff?) ------- Admonition: This story contains explicit descriptions of people engaging in careless and unprotected sexual activity. PLEASE do not emulate these people since they are fictional characters existing in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted disease and unwanted pregnancy don't happen. You don't live in such a world, so "let's be careful out there." Oh, and minors shouldn't be reading this stuff - if you can't place the quote I just made in the last paragraph, you probably aren't old enough to be flipping through ASS*. Bugger off and watch 'TV Land' instead, so you can bone up for little age-testing quizzes like this! :) Copyright notice: Dancer, the author of this smutty little opus, holds all rights of reproduction. Private copies for personal perusal and archives for NON-commercial distribution are permitted by her. Plea for attention: The only reward ASS* authors can expect is the joy of sharing their creation with the rest of humanity. But wait - how does that author KNOW if people are reading and enjoying his story? Yep; if you like a story posted to alt.sex.stories.*, the fair thing to do is email the author and tell them so. I promise that it'll make YOU feel good to send them kudos, after all, Mark Twain said, "The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer someone else up." As always you may contact me (and my wife Dancer) through my 'legacy' Deja News email account: <empath69@my-deja.com> (Wow, I'm not just an author, now I'm an AGENT, too! ;) Editor's Note: Here it is - part one of Dancer's 'Alphabet Game'; twenty-six hot, little vignettes she whipped out in something like a week or two - Lord Malinov eat your heart out with this semi-annual 'story-a-day' run I remember *way* back in the 20th century! ;) (Is he still around?) And relax - these stories are all self-contained - you don't HAVE to read them in order, or read any of the ones that might squick you... ============= I'm sure this type of story has been written on ass* before, by some guy whose name eludes me at the moment. {Empath: Ahem - Mark Bastable is one such chap, dear.} While looking through my archived stories, I decided to fill in all the letters of the alphabet. Done to death, I'm sure. Completed, I don't know. Anywho, here's my first offering of The Alphabet Game (as I call it). Apologies to Ian Fleming. ------- The Alphabet Game (1/26) Au Couvert (French - under cover, secure) {"A Couvert" is the phrase she originally had; I've checked a bilingual dictionary and found that the noun is masculine, thus requiring the appropriate article: 'au' instead of 'a'. Strangely, my reference translated this to 'cutlery' or 'cover charge' - maybe she's got the literal translation and I have the French *idiom*? Any francophones want to clear this matter up for us?} Copyright Dancer 2001 ------- "Dun, dun, dun, da-dun, dun, dun, dun, dun, da-dun, dun," I sang quietly as I waited for the assassin to show himself. I couldn't help it. 'Mission: Impossible' was my fave show and the theme song popped in my head whenever work got tense. Like right now. I readjusted the rifle against my right shoulder. "C'mon, you motherfucker," I whispered along the cool metal barrel. The sun glinted off something on the roof opposite my position. "Bingo." I looked through the scope. "Gotcha, asswipe." I lined up the target marker on the assassin, centering the crosshairs on his forehead. "My mission is to blow your fucking brains out," I chanted. Inhaling deeply, my index finger slowly squeezed the trigger. PFFT. A small hole appeared on the man's forehead and blood trickled down his brow. He slumped forward over the ledge and plummeted casually to the cement sidewalk. I grinned at my handiwork. Quickly, I disassembled the rifle and slipped each piece in its velvet-lined depression. With that done, I snapped the case closed and locked it. I placed it on the nearest side table and heard the voice of my lover. "Jaaames? I need you, James," she called out from the bedroom. I walked in and stared at the gorgeous, blonde bombshell reclining across the linen sheets. "And who are you today?" I asked, leaning against the doorjamb. One red-nailed hand slid into her hair and she pouted at me. "Pussy, I think." She darted the tip of her tongue out, moistening her lips. "Do you like Pussy, James?" Back to the 007 game. I smiled wolfishly and sauntered over to the bed. "Yes I do like Pussy. I like her so much, I'm going to give her a pretty pearl necklace." When I reached the bed, I gave her a gentle nudge and she fell onto her back. I removed my shirt and khakis and climbed up, straddling her tummy and stroking my raging boner between her voluptuous tits. Her skin contrasted sharply with mine, rosy-hued whiteness cradling a richly tanned, olive-shaded shaft. I cupped her breasts, kneading them slowly as I put my bat in the upper deck. The blood descending to my loins made me harder as I slid my dick along the rounded slopes of Pussy's boobs. Her fatty flesh did wonders to my hot rod and I squeezed her tits closer together, thrusting frantically up and down her cleavage. "Hurry, James, hurry," Pussy cried. "Cum on me. I -love- it when you cum on me!" Always happy to oblige a lady, I fucked faster and felt the friction of our dry skin begin to burn. She helped me shove her magnificent knockers closer, almost painfully, together as I humped towards release. The heat of the friction became too much and I pulled out, then masturbated myself to an immediate climax. The stringy fluid shot forth across her bosom. I aimed lower and jerked a few shots along the hollow of her throat. Some of the jism landed on her lips and chin and she lapped it up with great relish. Almost spent, Pussy clamped her mouth over my softening cock and sucked me down to the dregs. She cleaned me well and let me go. I dismounted her upper body and bent to rummage in the pocket of my pants, withdrawing a stick of chewing gum. After unwrapping the foil, I stuck the gum in my mouth and gnawed it into a compact bundle. I redressed quickly. "Where are you going, James?" Pussy begged and rolled onto her side to face me. "Sorry to do this, love, but being in Her Majesty's service makes it a necessity," I replied and tucked the gum wad back in the foil. I gave it a twist and tossed it between the blonde's plump thighs. She glanced down at the paper tangled in her pubic hair. I stepped out the door, closing it firmly behind me and collected my weapon case. The explosion blew the door off its hinges and black smoke belched from within. I didn't bat an eye as I hefted the bag and exited the motel room. I took the elevator down to the lobby and checked out, paying my bill in cash. Poor Pussy, I thought. Ah well, that's how it plays in the spy game! End part 1 ============= Editor's Postscript: Jeez; this one's a bit of an ass - truly a 'wham-BAM-thank you, ma'am' kinda guy! Oh, and would this count as 'snuff'? Someone kills someone else and both parties involved in the killing were also involved in a sexual encounter, but I doubt the killer got any pleasure from it... <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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