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Message-ID: <30753asstr$992167802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Desdmona22@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} "County Fair" by Desdmona (MF, caution)
Date: Sun, 10 Jun 2001 06:10:02 -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


The following is intended for adults. If you're not suppose to be reading 
this, then DON'T!!!


County Fair by Desdmona
Copyright June 2001



Victor slipped unnoticed through the throng. All around him couples were 
smiling and holding candy apple stained hands together. Laughter from 
ride-crazy children bubbled up, mixing with the billowing smoke from the 
barbecue pits. The verve of the crowd jostled him forward with its momentum.

For now, he was alone. There was no one to win a stuffed animal for, no one 
to joke with about how cheesy the prizes had become. There was no one to 
stroll along the grandstand with just in time to see their horse win. There 
was no one to sit inside the photo booth with and make faces at the camera as 
the four pictures were snapped. He was alone. But he meant to change that. 

The mass of people kept moving, on past the Ferris wheel, past the 
Tilt-a-Whirl, past The Scrambler. His gut wrenched from the sudden stench 
from the livestock barns, a pungent mix of wet animal and manure. He buried 
his nose in the crook of his arm, preferring his own aroma masked by his 
spicy cologne. He rushed forward, leaving the elbow-to-elbow mass wondering 
who had upset the delicate balance of motion. Disgruntled faces stared at 
him. He ignored them.

He caught the sight of her red shirt as she entered the food tent. He knew 
she would be tied up in there awhile. He had a little time.

He walked on past until he came to the cane booth. The hawker offered three 
rings for a dollar. 

"Hey buddy, three chances to land the ring around a cane. Care to give it a 
whirl?"

Victor remembered in his youth when his parents took him to the county fair. 
The cane booth was the first stop. They stood, their feet shuffling in the 
dust, until his father won himself a cane. It took him twelve tries, but he'd 
finally done it. 

His father had been dead twenty-five years this summer.

He reached into his pocket and held out a five-dollar bill. Like a 
slight-of-hand artist, he quickly snatched it and secreted it away in his 
tattered pants, then fumbled with crumpled bills for change. Victor tried to 
smooth out the wrinkled money before adding it to his money clip. Then, with 
deftness that shocked the hawker, Victor tossed up the first ring. It landed 
perfectly around a red and purple cane. The hawker grunted.

"Gee, Mister. I reckon there ain't no reason to use them other two rings now, 
is there? Give 'em here."

It was obvious the hawker did not care to give up any more of his canes. 
Victor flipped the two extras in the dirt, and the hawker scrambled after 
them as if they were gold. Victor wasn't interested in taking advantage of 
the filthy man, even though he did not care for his sour disposition. 

The hawker begrudgingly handed the cane over. Victor was disappointed in the 
flimsiness of it. The cane his father had won was something you could lean 
on. You could display in front of you with pride and use it well after the 
fair was over.

And his father had used it. For many things. 

This primary colored piece of wood was merely a slender dowel rod that would 
snap beneath the weight of an average sized man. But it gave Victor something 
to hold on to. It wasn't a hand, it wasn't warm, but he could feel a tiny 
vibration of something when he grasped it. He could still use it.

Victor returned to the food tent. She was still there, sitting alone. She 
ignored the tray of food in front of her. She fiddled with a paper napkin, 
working it in one hand, while she took bored puffs on a cigarette with the 
other. Her honey-colored eyes darted back and forth, watching the people 
around her. She wasn't waiting for anyone in particular, Victor was sure of 
that. He'd seen her leave the motel on foot and walk to the county fair. She 
was not in a hurry.

Victor became anxious. He had to tell himself to take it slow - he didn't 
want to scare her off. It would be so easy to ruin it, just like he had other 
times. He refused to think about his failed attempts of the past. His heart 
sped up with the rush of adrenaline that takes over in a new, promising 
situation. 

He watched her between passing blurs of people. He guessed her to be in her 
mid-thirties. Her medium brown hair was finely teased in an obvious attempt 
to give it fullness. She wore jeans that were a size too small. She didn't 
realize when she sat down that the force of her too-tight jeans squeezed 
everything upward, forming a slight, doughy pouch that rested above the 
waistband. Her red, tucked in tee-shirt molded across her average-sized 
breasts. 

But mostly, she was alone. The rest didn't matter.

Small beads of perspiration formed at Victor's hairline. He was always this 
way when it came to first introductions. Excitement would pump through him, 
and Victor imagined the moisture on his forehead was adrenaline spilling out. 
The rush could be maddening, if ignored. 

He weaved his way across the crowded walkway, as if in a pinball machine. 
Bumping from all sides, dodging in front of some folks and waiting for 
others. The foul mix of body odor and stale breath assaulted him. Smiling 
faces turned to annoyed scowls as Victor walked against the flow of traffic. 

He approached her. She remained seated but turned cautious, lonely eyes 
upward to look at him. Victor understood the murky look of caution. He 
understood the melancholy of aloneness.  He was drawn to it, sucked it up 
like sustenance.

"May I join you?"

She averted her eyes and warily nodded. It was all the encouragement he 
needed. He sat across from her and let his knee causally bump hers under the 
table.

"Hello, my name is Victor. I was walking by and saw you sitting here. Are you 
by yourself?"

She hesitated for a moment. She must have been considering the wisdom of 
talking with him. He felt a slight tic in his eye as he waited for her 
answer. Yes adrenaline could be maddening in waiting moments.

"Hi, I'm Julie. And yes, I'm alone." 

He relaxed. She wasn't going to lie to him, or brush him off.

"Do you like the county fair?" he asked.

"Yeah, I like it well enough. But mostly I'm just looking for something to 
do."
 
Victor liked her voice. It was gentle and child-like with a whisper of 
breathiness that denied innocence. He imagined her in the heat of passion, 
losing the gentleness and letting carnality take over. 

He was rushing again. The adrenaline was provoking his thoughts. He tried to 
sound casual when he asked, "Would you like to walk a while?"

She shrugged. "Sure, why not?"

She snuffed out her cigarette and carried her tray to the trash. Victor 
watched her walk away from him. Her jeans were too tight, definitely, but he 
liked seeing the ridge of her panty line pressed into her skin. And when she 
walked back to him, he liked seeing the way the seam of her jeans was pushed 
up in the "V" formed at the top of her legs.

They made their way into the crowd.  Their shoulders were forced together. 
Victor felt her smooth, hairless arm bump into his, over and over. Tiny 
shocks of life, of glorious warmth, zipped through him with each contact. 
They walked as a pair but without the exuberance of familiarity. 

"Do you come to the fair often?" he asked.

"Oh, I used to when I was younger, back home.  I'd go with school friends or 
something. One summer I had a boyfriend my parents didn't approve of. I'd 
sneak away and meet him at the fair."

"Why didn't your parents approve?

"Oh, he was twenty years older than me."

Victor had wondered why she was so willing to have his company without more 
effort on his part. Maybe she was feeling some nostalgia. Maybe that's why, 
when he approached her, she never even balked.

"So you don't live around here, Julie?"

"No, just traveling through."

"On your way to somewhere?"

"No where in particular. Just seeing the world, you might say."

"My parents brought me to the fair when I was younger. I remember a time when 
my father was determined to win a cane." He looked down at his own recently 
acquired cane. She followed his gaze.

"Following your father's footsteps, huh?"

"It would seem so. But it only took me one try to win mine," Victor added 
triumphantly. "It took him twelve."

She smiled.

An edgy silence fell between them. He kept his gaze forward but could see her 
looking up at him, once, twice and then a third time. He saw her hesitation, 
as if questions lingering in her throat were going unasked. 

She lit a cigarette.

"You don't mind if I smoke, do you?"

He wanted to say yes, that he abhorred the smell of cigarette smoke. But 
instead he just shook his head no.

"You don't mind if I stop for a funnel cake, do you?"

She smiled and shook her head.

"To be honest, Victor, I'm not sure which is worse for you, my cigarette or 
your fried pastry."

"Well, if you'd like, we could get odds on who will die first and from what."

She stood at his side while he waited in line. She was courteous with her 
smoking, always minding to face the other way when she exhaled.

"I have to admit the smell of your fried pastry is almost decadent."

"Mmm, you're right. Want a bite?"

She couldn't resist when he held the funnel cake to her mouth. She opened 
wide as he held the pastry to her mouth. White powdered sugar puffed out when 
she bit.

"I'd say the odds of me outlasting you are officially in my favor now."

She giggled, a half laugh, with a mouth full of funnel cake. A little 
powdered sugar was still on her lip. Victor reached up and wiped it off, 
letting his finger slide across her lip a little longer than was necessary. 
Her eyes were smoky when she looked into his. He let the moment simmer 
between them.

With extra confidence, he continued. "Look, it's the Ferris wheel, are you up 
for a ride?"

She smiled, a childish grin showing her slightly stained teeth. It was a real 
sign of ease.

"I love the Ferris wheel. I used to ride it over and over as a kid." She 
smiled naughtily. "And once I gave that boyfriend a blow-job at the very top."

He looked at her, expecting to see embarrassment. She only slightly blushed 
and shrugged her shoulders. 

"Took him to new heights, did you?"

This time she really laughed.

The Ferris wheel operator was a replica of the filthy hawker at the cane 
booth. Victor paid the fare, and the Carney hurriedly put the money in his 
pocket. Julie stepped up to the ride and Victor slyly gave the man an extra 
twenty to make the ride last. If Julie had been paying attention, she might 
have seen the salacious wink the Carney had given. Or the look of disdain 
Victor had returned.

Victor took out his handkerchief, and with a flourish, wiped off the red 
plastic seat. He bowed and let Julie sit down first. Her small hand rose to 
her throat, and she tried to hide the little gasp of surprise at his 
gentlemanly act. When she sat and turned toward him, he saw adoration in her 
eyes, as if he'd performed some heroic act. He liked being thought of as a 
hero. He thought of her eyes shadowing over with ardor as his body came above 
hers, as his mouth nibbled a plump nipple. He pictured her lips slackening 
when he entered her, or her eyes and mouth springing open with the last 
pumping of his seed deep into her. 

He breathed deeply and mentally shook himself. He was rushing again.

The ride began, and neither spoke. Victor tried to let the warm breeze of the 
summer evening cool his thoughts. He looked out over the fairgrounds while 
the Ferris wheel circled. It was well past dusk now, and the glittery lights 
flickered around him. But his attention was drawn to the warmth of her hip 
pressed against his. He could imagine his hand splayed across the soft, 
feminine crest of that hip. He thought how his hand could slowly shift and 
move to cup her exposed mound. He imagined trying to capture the last of heat 
escaping between her legs. He thought of her scent lingering on his hand.

Victor gripped the cane, and he gulped at air, trying to slow down the 
images. Julie placed her diminutive hand on his lap. Perhaps she mistook his 
anxiousness for fear. Her hand slid up his thigh, butting up to his crotch, 
and then slid back down again. If she kept this up, she would never let his 
mind slow down.

The Ferris wheel jerked to a halt. The chair rocked back and forth with 
impelling force, allowing momentum to slow and finally cease. They remained 
silent. The words she had spoke a few minutes before echoed in his mind. 
Victor looked at Julie. Her hand was in his crotch now. She was prepared to 
repeat her once-upon-a-teen deed. And he was prepared to let her. 

He didn't direct, he simply watched. He watched as she fumbled with the 
zipper on his navy slacks. He watched as she slipped her hand inside, grabbed 
hold of his semi-erect penis, and pulled it out. And he watched as her head, 
with mousy brown hair, moved over his lap. 

Her mouth was warm and moist. She began to bob up and down. Victor focused on 
the smooth, curve of her naked neck. He could see the musculature tense at 
the valley between neck and shoulder. He thought of his mouth in the same 
spot. First nuzzling and inhaling her aroma, then kissing and tasting her 
flesh, and finally sucking and feeling the throb of her pulse.

His eyes followed down the path of her concave spine.  Her stiff jeans gaped 
at the hollow of her back, and Victor could see the edge of crimson lace. He 
had a craving for possible things to come and a desire to be teased by more 
than just her mouth. He lifted his cane and let the tip lead the way through 
the gap. Julie twitched, stopped briefly, and then continued slurping and 
sucking. Victor eased the cane down, past the waistband, past the lace, and 
slid it perfectly in the fissure between mounds of gluteus flesh. 

He nudged it deeper into the crevice and then slid it up and down, matching 
Julie's rhythm, letting their movement rock their chair. Her body quivered; 
her jaws clenched slightly in a deep moan. This lush tightening of her mouth 
and the portrait Victor had already painted were enough. His penis hardened, 
filling her mouth, trying to expand even further, pushing upward and outward 
until he was at full size. There was no explosion of fluid, only a steady 
pumping until he was empty. He welcomed his climax for its physical release, 
but also because of the return of mental clarity that came with it. 

He removed the cane as Julie sat up. Her smudged eye make-up darkened the 
circles under her eyes. Her face was flushed. Her lips were swollen, and 
leftover semen was smeared across her chin. Victor brought the tip of the 
cane up under his nose and exaggeratedly sniffed. He enjoyed the nervousness 
in her giggle. The Ferris wheel rumbled, and they began a slow descent.  He 
gave the Carney credit for good timing.

As Victor guided Julie from the chair he handed her his handkerchief, 
suggesting she might want to mop off her face a little.
 
They made their way back into the crowd. Once again part of the herd, only 
this time Victor took her hand in his and squeezed. This time they were a 
couple, like all the others around them. They walked past the games, the 
rides, and the fortunetellers. They ignored the calls of barkers and 
infomercial-like sales pitches.  Julie was docile in her following, and they 
finally made their way into the craft barns. Inside, the din of the fair was 
muffled. Here, people walked more slowly, almost reverently, whispering in 
hushed tones.

Victor led Julie to the judged quilts.  She ooh'ed and aah'ed over each one, 
then added that she agreed with the judges on first place. 

"I think I like the second place winner the best." He whispered. "It reminds 
me of my mother and how she spent hours making a quilt once. And how I helped 
her cut out the squares and the triangles."

"That must haven taken forever. I'm amazed at all the detail."
 
Victor barely heard her. He was seeing his mother sitting in her worn, 
tattered chair while he sat on the floor, counting and cutting. And then his 
father had come home. Yes his father had come home and ... 

Victor closed his eyes to block the memory. When he opened them, Julie's face 
was filled with concern. Had he said too much about his father? No, he didn't 
think so. He'd only told her how his father had _won_ the cane, not the 
things he had done with it. But that was enough. He needed to get away from 
the quilts. He grabbed Julie's wrist and pulled her toward the exit.

"Victor? Victor? You're hurting my wrist, are you all right?"

He let go and breathed deeply. The whirling of faded memories subsided.

"What was all that about, Victor?"

"It's nothing, Julie. I'm sorry. It just felt really stuffy in there. I 
couldn't breathe"

She gave him a concerned look. "It's OK. Don't worry about it. Hey, why don't 
we go back to my motel room? It isn't much, but it's quiet and 
air-conditioned. We can relax and talk a little." Julie looked at him with 
anxious eyes.

Things were progressing better than he had expected. "That's a tempting 
offer, Julie. But you know that if I come back with you, I wouldn't have 
talking on my mind. Are you sure that's what you want?" He watched the 
emotions skim across her face. He fancied the real decision she was 
struggling with was how to agree without appearing too eager.

"Yes, Victor. It's what I want." She managed to keep the hunger out of her 
response. 

Wordlessly, they walked through the exit and across the street to the small 
motel that Victor had seen Julie come from earlier in the evening. It was odd 
how one side of the street seemed to be alive with something to tease all the 
senses while the other side of the street was quiet and lifeless.

Upon entering the room, Victor decided that Julie had been right. It wasn't 
much, but it was clean and it was cool. A queen-sized bed with a garish 
coverlet took up most of the room. The walls were bare with the exception of 
one water-colored floral that tipped slightly to the left. 

Julie turned on the bedside radio. The station was already set to a classical 
station. Victor wondered if that was her doing.

"Like I said, it ain't much."

"There's only one thing I want to look at and think about right now Julie, 
and it isn't the d cor." She lowered her eyes and blushed.

"Julie, would you consider stripping for me? Slowly take off each item of 
clothing and expose yourself to me a little at a time?"

She hesitated. Out of modesty or lack of self-confidence, Victor couldn't be 
sure.

"If that's what you'd like, Victor, I can do that."

"I'd like that very much, Julie."

Rouders' Violin Concerto No. 2 was playing on the radio She kicked off her 
sandals and stood very close to him with her legs slightly spread. She began 
by timidly running her hands down the front of her on the outside of her 
clothing. She slowly contoured her form, slipping over her breasts and 
stopping to pinch her nipples so they'd poke at her tee shirt. He watched as 
her hands slid over her stomach and down to her crotch. She cupped herself.

When she brought her hands back up, she shimmied the shirt from inside her 
pants and raised it up as she went. Her breasts were slightly bigger than 
Victor had imagined. There was a delicate curve just above the edge of her 
bra. When she lifted up and brought the shirt over her head, he could see a 
slice of breast under her bra that disappeared when she brought her arms back 
down.

She moved on to her jeans, popped the snap and then inched the zipper down, 
one tick at a time. To completely remove her pants took some effort. They 
were practically painted on her and she had to twist her hips around and 
forcefully yank them down over her ass.  Victor enjoyed the way her body 
jiggled with the effort.

Beneath the jeans were the lacy panties that Victor had seen on the Ferris 
wheel. They matched her bra - both were flame red. On the radio, he could 
hear the violinist's passionate gestures on very high overtones, like a tinge 
of fear, as the concerto continued. Victor imagined Julie as an eagle soaring 
over a volcano as she gained confidence.

Julie hugged her arms together and leaned in closer so her breasts nearly 
cupped his face. Then she ran her hands over her bare stomach in the same 
gesture she had done fully clothed. She slid her hand down and cupped her 
crotch. She spread her legs further apart and Victor watched as she did a 
couple of pelvic thrusts against her hand.

"Do you want me to take everything off, Victor?" she asked seductively.

"Yes, Julie, yes I do!"

She reached around and unsnapped her bra but held it in place with her hands 
for agonizing seconds before letting it fall to the floor. Julie's weighty 
breasts sagged slightly. Victor admired her nipples. They were inverted, but 
when she began to play with them, they hardened and poked outwards. Tiny 
little bumps were visible on her ruddy areola.

She slipped her fingers in her panties at her hips. Hips that Victor had 
already fantasized about. She removed them, giving a little tug where they 
were caught up in her labia. And then she was nude. Completely nude.

"Do you like what you see Victor?"

"Give me a better look, Julie. Lie down on the bed and open your legs wide. 
Show me all of you, Julie. Show me what I've been dying to see all night!"

She did as he said. She backed up to the queen-sized bed, fell back against 
it, and spread her legs completely apart.

"Open wider Julie, open yourself up. Use your hands."

She did.

Victor walked over to her and knelt between her legs. Her fingers tugged at 
her outer lips, exposing her soft, pink cotton candy sex just for him. She 
was shimmery with moisture. He ran a single finger down the length of her, 
and she quivered.

"Don't let go Julie. Stay open for me."

Victor noticed her inverted nipples didn't need any tugging to remain 
pointing outward now.

He ran his finger down through her pussy again and then slipped it inside her 
on the way back up. Her clitoris jutted up, and he pushed on it with the pad 
of his thumb. Her legs reflexively tried to close.

"I said hold yourself open, Julie."

"Oh, god, I'm t-trying," she whimpered. He removed his finger and thumb.

"Get up Julie, go sit in that chair. I have an idea."

Julie did as she was told. Victor whipped off the coverlet of the bed and 
pulled the flat sheet up and began to rip it.

"Dear god, Victor, what are you doing?"

"Think about it Julie," Victor said with just a hint of irritation. "I'm sure 
it will come to you." If Julie hadn't been in a sexual haze, she might have 
noticed the slight shift in tone of Victor's voice.

After he ripped the sheet into four long strips, he had her lay back on the 
bed. She did it excitedly. There was no footboard to the bed, only posts at 
the top.

"Put our arms out and over your head, Julie!" She obeyed eagerly. He wrapped 
a strip of sheet around each wrist and secured them to the bedposts.

Victor felt that urge to rush again, to move quickly. The site of Julie 
restrained with her arms above her was exhilarating. He reminded himself it 
was better to go slow, to enjoy, and to savor.

He kneeled on the end of the bed.

"Open your legs again. Are you still wet?"

"Hmm-Mmm."

He looked at her thatch of brown hair. Beads of moisture clung to each strand 
of cunt hair. He grazed his hand over her mound and parted her. He put his 
finger directly inside, wiggled it around, and slipped it out. He followed 
her slit downwards until he came to her puckered asshole. He used her juice 
as lubrication as he massaged around the outside of her hole.

"Do you like that, Julie?

"Yes-s-s-s!"

"Would you like more?"

"Oh- oh yes-s-s!"

"I want better access Julie, lift your legs up. Would it help if I tied them 
up?"

"I t-think it m-might."

Victor took the last two strips of sheet and wrapped them around her ankles. 
He pulled her legs up and secured the ends of the sheet to the bedposts, 
forcing her knees to touch her shoulders. 

"Are you okay, Julie?"

"Hmm-Mmm!"

He stepped back to admire her position. Her pussy and her asshole gaped open. 
Her entire perineum was drenched. It was a beautiful sight, Victor thought. 
He kneeled down on the bed, brought his face very close, and breathed in 
deeply. 

"Your smell is more intoxicating than funnel cakes, Julie. Do you think it 
still lingers on my cane?"

He picked up the cane and smelled. 

"Damn, Julie I think the smell is nearly gone."

Victor took the tip of the cane and traced down the path between pussy and 
anus. Her body shook with excitement. He echoed his finger of earlier and 
brought the cane tip back up and then slipped it inside her vagina.

"V-Victor, I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"Of what, Julie? The cane? I think you can take a little more I should think. 
Let's see." 

He pushed the cane in further until he met resistance. And then began to stir 
it around in big swooping circles. Julie tried to raise her hips up off the 
bed.

"Oh! Yes-s-s! That feels so-o-o good!" Julie panted.

Victor was feeling every bit the master now. He pulled the cane out roughly 
and then traced down to her anus. The hole was open enough to easily slip the 
cane in. He pushed it in, further, and further still. There was no 
resistance, so he pushed it still further.

"Arggggggg, that's enough, no more, please Victor! Stop! It's starting to 
hurt." She was pleading now.

He pushed it in deeper and rotated it in small circles.

"_No_, Victor, no more." A fine sheen of sweat blanketed her body. She tugged 
at her restraints without success.

Victor reached with his free hand and thumbed at her clitoris again. She 
screeched and bucked and howled, partly in pain and partly in pleasure. He 
felt the tiny little tremors of her orgasm beneath his thumb and then...

Sir William Walton's symphony No. 1 climaxed with images of a wild and stormy 
sea.
............


He walked into the diner in need of a strong cup of coffee. The room was 
small with a handful of customers scattered around tables and what must be 
regulars scooted up to the bar. The friendly smell of bacon, eggs and coffee 
greeted him. No one looked his way. He was a faceless man, nondescript, just 
an average Joe in for a quick breakfast. He walked right behind the crowd of 
regulars. Snippets of their conversation caught his attention.

"Hey Sadie, I heard about that woman they found dead over at your motel?" 
This came from a man in a Cincinnati Reds ball cap.

"I heard she was buck naked, tied to the bed, and skewered with one of them 
canes you win at the fair." replied a balding, overweight man.

Sadie, a petite fifty-ish woman with plastic fingernails answered, "Yeah, she 
rented a room three nights ago. Apparently the police ain't got any leads at 
all ...." 

The conversation continued, but he'd heard enough.

Victor scooted into the cheap, plastic-covered booth. The plastic crinkled 
with his weight as he sat. He was alone. There was no one to discuss the menu 
with, no one to reach across the table and hold hands with, no one to lean 
forward and share secrets with, and no one to chat over current events. He 
was alone. And he liked it that way.


Desdmona
Copyright June 2001


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