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Message-ID: <30020asstr$988222204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Deja User" <empath69@my-deja.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "Alphabet Game: Festoons"{Dancer}(MM toys?)
Date: Wed, 25 Apr 2001 14:10:04 -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


(Last-minute Empath comment: I'll say this for these 'short shorts'; they don't take much time to proof or upload.:)

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

SUBJECT LINE:
{ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Festoons"{Dancer}(MM toys twink rom?)


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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 six 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...like this one, for example.:)  

(Yes, I 'skipped' over it when I was 'reading one-handed' 
through the list - "That's not my bag, baby.":)  But I went 
back later and read everything - this one is up to her 
usual standard; characters you get a feeling for and 
understand just a little more than the usual 'porn actor' 
ASS* stock; even if she just has SIX HUNDRED WORDS to 
develop them in... <grumble - how does she DO that?> :)

=============

The Alphabet Game (6/26)
Festoons
Copyright Dancer 2001

Alex watched me strip off all my clothes with undisguised 
hunger in his eyes. I posed shamelessly, turning this way 
and that to show off my day at the spa. I knew I looked 
good and felt Li'l Willy rise to the occasion. "Casey, you 
look good enough to eat," Alex rumbled in his deep 
baritone, getting me even hornier.

"I know you hate Nature's dental floss so I had Helen wax 
me all over," I replied in my campy gay voice. Pirouetting, 
I proved my claim of hairlessness and stopped with my perky 
ass near my lover's face. I bent over, reaching behind and 
spreading my cheeks. "See? Not one single hair." I tossed 
the luxuriant mass of long, auburn hair with one hand. 
"Except for the mop on this head." Something thick and wet 
touched my rosebud and I glanced back. Alex was kneeling 
behind me, tonguing my backdoor.

With my hands planted firmly on the shag carpet, I let Alex 
part the twin globes and lick along my crack. The tip 
flickered round and round the puckered hole, teasing me 
deliberately until my knees buckled. I fell, crashing to 
the floor, and reclined on my left side. "Naughty Alex," I 
said sternly and shook a finger at him. "Don't make me tie 
you up."

Alex chuckled and sat cross-legged. "Maybe I -want- to be 
tied up. Ever think of that?" He crooked a finger, 
beckoning me to come over.

I crawled on over and squatted above him, Li'l Willy 
dangling freely. I held my dick in one hand and rubbed the 
velvet helmet over Alex's slick rod. "You get yourself good 
and hard while I find the margarine and ribbons," I purred, 
running my tongue up his bearded neck. I dashed away to the 
kitchen, grabbed the butter tub out of the fridge and a 
two-foot length of velveteen ribbon off the sideboard.

Alex was stretched out, pumping a fist along his erection. 
I licked my lips with anticipation of his fat love muscle 
thrusting up my colon. He threw me a full grin and called, 
"I'm ready!"

"Yes dear," I replied with a lisp. I set the tub on top of 
his chest and whipped his boner lightly with the green 
ribbon. He moaned lazily and his dick twitched in reaction. 
I knelt down, circled the base of the shaft with the piece 
of velvet and knotted a cute, dainty bow. I smiled at my 
handiwork. "Reminds me of our first Christmas together." A 
tear dropped from the corner of my eye and I wiped it away.

He leaned up and touched my hand. "You in that faggy Santa 
hat with a garland of plastic mistletoe hanging from Li'l 
Willy."

My arms looped around his muscular neck and I kissed him 
tenderly. "Thank you for indulging me, darling."

The rough beard tickled my shoulder as Alex nuzzled his 
mouth there. "What did you call your fetish? Festooning?"

"Hmm-mm," I confirmed through my closed lips. "'To decorate 
with garlands'. Small 'g'. I'm not referring to dear, dead 
Judy this time." I hugged him tightly with love and felt 
his hands wiggling under us. "What are you doing?"

"Just greasing myself up." A dollop of margarine coated my 
sphincter as he worked the digit inside. "All this talk 
about our first time is making my blood sing." Alex pressed 
his slippery wand against my rosebud and, with a quiet pop, 
sheathed himself deep. He feathered his fingers through my 
waist-length tresses and gazed into my eyes, cerulean 
meeting sky blue. "I love you, Casey, and I'd rather hear 
you sing than dear, dead Judy."

End part 6

=============

Editor's Postscript: Wow - Dancer's almost PERFECT: I 
merely had to change 'dallop' to 'dollop'.  I don't think 
I'VE had that few typos in even a story this short!  
Forgive me Lord, for I do envy my wife. :J

Yeah, they're campy caricatures - Dancer confessed to 
indulging in stereotypes when we last spoke - but I dunno; 
they're just...*interesting* - she gives them little quirks 
and mannerisms that take them beyond the usual flat 
characters you see.

Oh, and for the record: this stuff doesn't *squick* me - 
I'm not really interested, but neither am I upset by it.  
Now rape, non-consensual humiliation, pedophilia - THAT 
stuff churns my bile and makes me want to indulge my 'inner 
sadist' on these malevolent people...

<1st attachment end>


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