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Message-ID: <30009asstr$988143005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
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
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d




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<1st attachment, "Acouvert.txt" begin>

SUBJECT LINE:
{ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Au Couvert"{Dancer}(MF viol snuff?)


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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.


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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>


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