Message-ID: <30011asstr$988146604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <empath69@my-deja.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <200104241256.FAA02028@mail14.bigmailbox.com> From: "Deja User" <empath69@my-deja.com> Subject: {ASSM} "Alphabet Game: Civvies"{Dancer}(MF oral) Date: Tue, 24 Apr 2001 17:10:04 -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/Year2001/30011> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly ------------------------------------------------------------ <1st attachment, "Civvies.txt" begin> SUBJECT LINE: {ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Civvies"{Dancer}(MF oral) ------- 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 three 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 that 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... ============= The Alphabet Game (3/26) Civvies (civilian clothes, as distinguished from Military uniform) Copyright Dancer 2001 Joe Preston was tired of the women pawing him every Saturday night. Maverick's was a great navy bar - owned and run by ex-naval officers just off-base - but it was wall- to-wall women, horny for a uniform. Joe actually anticipated his six-month stint back in the can*! This weekend would prove different because he'd dress in his civvies instead of the uniform and maybe, just maybe, meet a woman who wanted -him- and not the stinking uniform. Dressed in a blue polo shirt, denim jeans and black sneakers, Joe got a ride to Maverick's from his buddies. They ribbed him about his clothes. "Hey, I get tired of beating the ladies off with a stick," Joe told them casually. They arrived at the bar, parked and went inside. Of course, the place was packed with people (60% female civilians) and Joe had to wind his way through the crowd to the bar itself. He wedged between a wall and a woman, calling out his beer order. The bartender passed him the longneck. Joe stood there and sipped his drink, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. So far, none of the women were accosting him and he was grateful but disappointed. A hint of vanilla wafted under his nose and he sniffed briefly, wondering who was wearing the fragrance. The lady next to him jostled his arm and murmured, "Excuse me." She dug in a pocket of her sweater, pulled out a five spot and waved it in the air at the bartender. "Hey, Bill! I need another one!" Vanilla drifted up, telling Joe this was the one who smelled so delicious. Her drink was set in front of her and she took a healthy swallow. As The King once said, 'It's now or never'. "My name's Joe Preston," he spoke above the din. "What's your perfume called?" She glanced up at his face, warily replying, "Vanilla extract." Joe felt her beauty like a punch in the solar plexus. Her hair was a rich coffee color, offset by auburn highlights, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean, a pert little nose, thin, pink lips begging to be kissed and the face of an angel. The blood pooled in his groin as he imagined her swollen lips circling the head of his cock and he groaned. "Do you have a name?" Joe asked, trying to settle his brain on hockey stats. "Elaine Sherlock." "Any relation to LJG* Adam Sherlock?" "My ex-husband," Elaine said unhappily. He stared down at her as she leaned closer and confided, "Adam thought the uniform gave him carte blanche for affairs. The divorce has been final a few months now. I just haven't gone back to my maiden name yet." "I guess this means a blowjob's out of the question," Joe whispered near her ear. "Why?" "I'm a navy ensign on six months shore duty." Elaine pressed her mouth against his jaw. "Meet me at the red Taurus sedan outside. Plate number BBK 411." She put her drained glass on the bar and left. Joe waited five minutes, finished his beer and went after her. He found the car, climbed in and she drove them to a secluded area away from the base. She turned the ignition off and got out of the car. Joe watched her walk around to his side, open the door and maneuver his legs out. She pushed him backwards and unzipped his fly, releasing him from his underwear. He sprang free, the thick member swaying slightly until Elaine wrapped a hand around it. "Mmm, Joe, you remind me of the big guns on the Iowa; fully loaded and ready to fire." She licked the tip of her tongue along the underside of the cockhead. Joe sat up on his elbows so he would be able to see everything. "I don't have the same recoil, though." Her lips closed over the blushing cap, sucking just enough to taste the precum oozing from the hole. She went down halfway and sucked hard, rolling her tongue in a wave-like motion over his length. That lasted for a while until she drew back and began fucking her mouth with his fat prick. Joe let his eyes fall shut, enjoying her ministrations and thinking he could go all night. Then, she started humming. His eyes shot open and he cried, "ELAINE! HOLY JESUS!" She paused briefly. "Don't stop! Please God, don't stop!" A gleam appeared in her eyes, her mouth smiling around the solid dick between her lips as she really went to work. All her moves played together as she sucked, tugged, swallowed, licked and hummed Joe's love stick to a quick and messy orgasm. Cum shot out the tiny opening, filling Elaine's oral cavity to capacity, eventually overflowing as she drank the tangy stuff down. It leaked out the seam of her lips and dribbled across her chin as she swallowed as much as possible. Joe plunged his entire length past her gag point and down her throat, burying her face in his crotch hair. The annoying beep of his watch's alarm warned him to return to base ASAP. Elaine heard it, too and hurried to finish her blowjob. His hard- on softened soon after cumming and he felt her hot mouth leave him. She lapped at the abating flesh, cleaning it thoroughly and running her tongue against his pubes to eat up the jism that nested there. Joe set himself to rights and Elaine sped the car quickly towards the base. She drove to his barracks, tires squealing as she stopped. "Can I see you again?" he asked. She gave him a coy grin and nodded. He stepped out of her vehicle, waving goodbye as she pulled away. End part 3 Postscript (and glossary:) ---------- * can is a nickname for a submarine * LJG - Lieutenant Junior Grade <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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+