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Message-ID: <31610asstr$995861402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Desdmona22@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} "The Pussy Pact" by Desdmona {MF, exhib, oral, humor}
Date: Mon, 23 Jul 2001 00:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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The following depicts sexual acts between adults. If you're not supposed to 
read this, then don't.

As promised this is is the third in a series that follows Kathy and John in 
their quest for sexual awareness.


******************************************************
The Pussy Pact
Journey Into Sexual Awareness III
By Desdmona
Copyright July 2001



I don't always drink. In fact, I only drink on special occasions, like 
weddings, funerals, reunions, bridal showers, birthday parties, picnics, 
barbecues, New Years Eve, Groundhog day, summer solstice, or any occasion 
where every gossiping aunt, redneck uncle and third cousin twice-removed 
converge to tell you how you've aged, how much weight you've gained, and 
generally how much better off they are than you. Tonight's occasion happened 
to be a bachelorette party for my friend Bambi. Her name is really Barbara 
but we call her Bambi because she could be Playboy's playmate of the year. 
She is gorgeous in a young Elizabeth Taylor kind of way. She has great hair, 
great skin, a great body, and a great smile, and her hobbies include making 
balloon animals and solving world hunger. By all rights I should hate her, 
except she's the nicest girl you'd ever want to meet. She'd finally found 
Mr. Right, so it was a good cause for a celebration. 

When I left home earlier and said goodbye to my husband, I had no idea just 
how celebratory we would get. I'd told John that Jenny had arranged for a 
stripper and I was responsible for getting everyone smashed. With the 
combination of booze and a mostly naked man, the promise of decadence was 
nearly guaranteed, but I don't think any of us knew how far things would go. 

Like I said, I'm not a drinker, but I'd found a recipe for a drink called, 
"Code Blue" which sounded perfect for our group. It was part every clear 
liquor in the cabinet, part Blue Curacao (for color) and a dash of soda to 
slightly temper its proof percentage. After two drinks, everyone was feeling 
pretty good, by the time we'd hit four, we were numb. I don't remember if 
anyone had a fifth.  Afterwards, none of us were fit to drive, including me, 
so we'd called a cab to escort us home. I was the last one on the route. The 
driver, Beelzebub, as I affectionately penned him, seemed overly grateful to 
be finished with this call. I'd barely stumbled from his cab before he 
screeched away. 

I looked around just to make sure it was my driveway. It was late and very 
dark, but I recognized the flowerpot by my front door. It stood like a 
centurion, guarding my house in a colorful, perfumery sort of way.

I serpentined my way up the lawn, avoiding dangerous sprinklers and 
threatening landscaping before heading for the flowerpot. It seemed as good a 
focal point as any. Unfortunately, when I approached, it charged me, and I 
tripped. My keys went flying out of my hand. It must have been a guardian 
angel that directed them to the porch. I quickly apologized to the flowerpot 
and found my way to the front door. I fumbled with the keys, which were 
intolerably loud, and I  "shushed" them several times. The damn key just 
wouldn't fit properly in the hole. "Don't you hate when it won't fit in the 
hole?" I said to the centurion flowerpot and then sniggered. Exasperated, I 
tried the doorknob; it was blessedly unlocked. I offered up a silent prayer 
to John, "Thank-you husband for being so wise and brave and for having the 
foresight to leave the door unlocked."

My mouth was dry and my head was starting to ache. I found my way into the 
kitchen and grabbed the aspirin out of the cabinet. The bottle must have been 
magnetized because it brought down every other pill bottle in the cabinet 
along with it. After three swallows, the bitter taste of soggy aspirin stuck 
in the back of my throat like sludge in a clogged drain. If only I had 
another Code Blue to take the taste away!
 
In stealth mode, I tiptoed back to the bedroom. I wrestled with my blouse a 
couple of minutes, grunting as I tried to get it over my head. I had 
forgotten it was a button-down, but I finally won the battle and tossed it in 
the direction of the chair. I unsnapped my bra with mild success, success 
being gauged by uttering, "Oh, fuck," only once. I threw it in the same 
general direction as the blouse. Next, I wiggled out of my jeans, letting 
them lie in a heap at my feet. Stepping out of them was an achievement I 
should have gotten a plaque for: "And now presenting to Kathy Jacoby for 
effort beyond human capability..." I slapped my hand over my mouth to stifle 
a laugh.

I slipped under the cool sheets, let my head fall back against the pillow, 
and sighed a sigh of great accomplishment.

"So, how was the party?"

I jerked up in a panic. "Oh shit, John! I thought you were sleeping."

"Darling, I would have to be in a coma to still be sleeping at this point."

"I was being quiet," I said with the confidence only a drunk could muster.

"Kath, honey, kids at a carnival would have been quieter." John leaned over 
and switched the lamp on. As he stretched towards the lamp, I stared at his 
naked back, preoccupied by the little dip above his ass, in the small of his 
back. He lay back too quickly for me to see if he was completely naked. 

I rested on my elbow. The sheet had fallen down around my waist, or maybe I 
had pushed it down. I couldn't be sure which, I was burning up, and my 
cognitive powers weren't exactly at peak performance. John smiled at me and 
let his gaze slide down my bare chest. Milliseconds before he spoke, I saw 
the look of horror come over his face.

John's eyes bulged and his mouth gaped open like he'd just swallowed a jar 
of jalapenos, as he stared at my left breast. "What the hell is on your 
tit?" He didn't sound angry, though I did recognize a proprietary edge to 
his voice. I had forgotten about the bite.

"Uh, it's nothing, honey. Thor just bit me." I fingered the bite mark; he 
had actually broken the skin. I remembered it hurting when his mouth clamped 
down, but I hadn't suspected a real wound. 

"Thor? Who the hell is Thor?" John bellowed before relaxing just a little. I 
suppose the idea of being a snack for a Norse God wasn't as threatening as 
being mauled by a simple man.

"Thor is the name of the stripper."

John smirked. "He really called himself Thor?"

"Uh, huh!" I burst into a fit of giggles. John carefully tried to keep a 
straight face but a crack of a smile teased at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm not sure I like a stripper named Thor biting my wife's tit!" The 
proprietary edge was back. I kind of liked it. I fell back to the bed and 
reached out to pat him, missing him by only two inches.

"No need to get all caveman on me, Johnny. It wasn't a sexual bite. I think 
he was trying to punish me." I giggled again, remembering Thor's arrival to 
the party. "He rode up on a Harley. He was dressed in black leather with 
silver chains going up his legs, and blond hair down to his waist. And not a 
single tattoo."

"I'm not feeling better about this, Kath." John tried to look serious, 
attempting a real furrowed brow. He reminded me of an elementary teacher that 
had found me sitting on top of the stalls in the girls bathroom; when she'd 
asked me what I thought I was doing, I'd told her I was mastering peeing from 
the second floor. She'd had that same look of attempting to be stern but not 
quite pulling it off. I was laughing hysterically as I tried to explain.

"John, it was so funny. He brought his own boom box. I happened to be sitting 
by the table when he set it down." I tried to keep from laughing but I 
couldn't get the picture of buffed up Thor struggling with a portable tape 
player as if it held the mysteries of the world within its depths. I went on. 
"He didn't know how to turn the damn thing on. He turned it every which way, 
looking for the on switch. I finally had to show him."

"So he bit you?"

"Well not til later. But I think he bit me because of what I said."

"What did you say?"

"I told him I hoped he was better at turning _us_ on with his strip act than 
he was at turning on small appliances. Can you imagine, John, he didn't think 
it was funny at all? Of course I can't be sure he understood what I meant, he 
did have the look of a five-year-old when asked to explain Quantum Physics. I 
thought it was hysterical," then and now. I was still giggling.

John leaned over and touched the bite mark, then slid his finger down to my 
nipple. He circled it slowly and traced back up to the mark. He idly repeated 
this trail several times, waiting for me to go on with the story. I couldn't 
think about talking just yet. I was thoroughly aroused from the evening, and 
John was managing to stoke the fire that was smoldering. I lay back, 
cerebrally urging John to keep it up, and hoping he understood my mental 
telepathy. My mind wandered as his fingers kept up their diligent effort. 
When he pinched my nipple, it reminded me what Jenny had shown us tonight.

"Do you know Jenny has a pierced nipple?

"Jenny Baker? Mike's wife?"

"Uh-huh, she showed it to me and a couple of others. It was sexy as hell, 
John. I think I might get it done."

"Could you wait until you're sober to make a decision like that? Besides it 
might get in my way when I want to do things like this..." John clamped his 
mouth down over my left nipple and sucked it hard into his mouth. His tongue 
managed to fold itself around the tip as he sucked. I thought I would die, it 
felt so good. When I moaned, he let loose and grabbed my right breast, 
repeating the same sucking feat.

"Tell me more about the party," he mumbled around my nipple, vibrating the 
tip as he spoke.

"God, John, I don't want to talk."

"Tell me or I'll quit." John pulled his mouth away to emphasize his threat.

"OK, OK, only don't stop, Johnny. Suck my titties, please?" It was when I 
said the word 'titties' that I knew John was naked.  His penis bounded up 
against my thigh, on full alert, in case we reached Defcon 5. John liked it 
when I used dirty words, and they came easy to me whenever I drank.

"You talk, I'll suck." He latched on to a nipple again and gingerly began to 
suck, nice little tugs that were just enough to keep my nipples stiff, while 
I tried to tell him about the party.

"Well, Thor didn't arrive until nearly everyone was plastered from the Code 
Blues. Great drinks by the way." John grunted. I went on. "We sat around 
the room in a ceremonial-sacrificial kind of way with Bambi in a chair in the 
middle. He started his act, with the canned stripper music. Of course we 
egged him on. Thor was gyrating, and thrusting his crotch into Bambi's face. 
He would remove a piece of clothing and then straddle her again. You know 
those strippers sure are flexible."

John's tongue was pleasantly torturing my nipples and I was having a terrible 
time keeping my mind on track. But when I stopped talking, he stopped sucking 
and licking. So I kept on. 

"Finally, he was down to just a G-string. He pushed away from Bambi and made 
his way around the room, so that everyone could put money in the string. 
That's when he came over to me, straddled me, did a little lap dance, bent 
over, peeked down my blouse, and bit me."

"Like this?" John clamped down and bit. Enough electricity shot through me, 
that I could have single-handedly solved California's blackouts.

"Damn, John, Damn, that feels so good, do it again. Do it again!" I begged. 
I couldn't believe how incredible a little pain mixed with pleasure felt. 
"Oh, it didn't feel like _this_ when he did it." I was nearly panting.

"Don't stop now, baby, tell me the rest." I loved it when John called me 
baby.

"I-I, where was I? Oh yeah, um, well, Thor went back to Bambi, um, did I tell 
you that Bambi was really drunk by then too? Well, she was. Um, so then..." I 
was wrestling with the idea of telling John the truth. With his mouth giving 
its fine performance, I decided to go for excitement, and forged ahead. "Thor 
managed to unbutton Bambi's blouse..." I started to giggle. "Don't you 
think it sounds like a pornographic Disney story, Thor and Bambi?"

"Don't you dare change the subject now, Kathy," John demanded. His cock was 
hard and digging into my leg. I suddenly imagined a coal miner with a helmet 
and a light digging for treasure. I couldn't wait to tell him the rest, just 
to see his reaction, when he hit pay dirt. He licked down my stomach and 
twirled his tongue in my belly button, and I forgot all about the coal miner 
image. He nudged me to continue. 

"Uh, let's see, oh yeah, Thor managed to get Bambi's blouse completely off 
and then he rubbed his G-string covered cock against her cleavage." John 
climbed between my legs and yanked my panties down. He teased all around my 
exposed mound with his lips before finally sticking his tongue between the 
folds of my pussy. I continued my tale like a kind of weird sexual chant.

"Bambi managed to get her hands behind Thor, and she slipped his G-string 
down. His very hard dick popped out and fell against her cleavage. Thor 
leaned up against her and his cock slipped between her tits. The next thing 
we knew he had reached around and unsnapped her bra and flung it over his 
shoulder."

John's head popped up like a Jack-in-the-Box that had been wound to the point 
of exploding. "What? Are you telling me she was topless?"

"Uh-huh. She titty-fucked him right there in front of all of us. And damn was 
it hot!" 

"No wonder you're so slopping wet." John knows just how much of a voyeur I 
am. He'd taken advantage of that fact on many occasions, like the time we sat 
in a restaurant, and John picked out a particularly amorous couple. He made 
up a whole story about how they fucked. With the help of the couple, who 
couldn't keep their hands off of each other, I envisioned the whole thing. 
John knew I was wet, but found his way under the table to find out for sure.

"Ooh, John I remembered every detail just so I could tell you. Bambi has huge 
tits, of course you knew that, but I bet you didn't know she's got the 
largest nipples I've ever seen. Her areolas are as big as the palm of my 
hand." I held up my hand, showed my palm to John, then brought it to my mouth 
and licked it suggestively.

John gulped and was speechless. I knew I had him now, so I went on.

"Thor slid his dick up and down, so you could see it pop up between her tits 
and then slip down, hidden between them again, over and over. With our 
encouragement, Bambi finally bent her head down and caught his cock in her 
mouth every time it came up."

John was stunned. He just stared up at me, propped up on his extended arms. I 
could see his engorged cock bobbing up and down between our bodies. He 
finally found his voice.

"She gave him a blow-job?"

"Yep, right there in front of God and everybody."

"Well, I'll be damned! What do you think the groom is going to say about 
that?"

"We weren't thinking about that right at that moment, Oh, but John, you 
can't tell him. You can't tell anyone I told you anything. We made a pact."

"What kind of a pact?"

"We called it a pussy pact." I could see John's wheels turning. He was so 
aroused the vein in his forehead throbbed. In the recesses of his mind, I was 
sure he had flashes of old "B" movies with Amazon tribes and the sacrificing 
of virgins.

"What is a pussy pact?" He could barely get the words out. 

"Um, are you sure you want to know, Johnny?" He gurgled in response, like a 
man choking on a sexual milkshake and thankful for its creaminess. I lifted 
my hips up in a pretense to get comfortable and let my pubic hair tease at 
his chin before I continued.

"We had to reach down our pants and swipe at our pussies. If we were wet, 
which everybody was, we had to bring our finger out soaked, and then we 
interlocked our fingers with one another, and swore we would never tell a 
soul."

John stared at me in shock. He couldn't talk, but he didn't need to- his 
penis was talking for him. It knocked at my leg, like a panicked Avon lady 
trying to make a sell. My inner thigh was slathered with his pre-cum. I 
waited for him to say something, but he kept staring. He stared until I 
couldn't take it anymore, and I burst into laughter. I laughed and looked at 
John and then laughed some more. Finally, he spoke.

"Oh my god, you were lying." He shook his head and laughed with me. "I 
can't believe it! You really had me going. I oughta smack your ass for 
that!" 

John grabbed my hips as if to turn me over, but instead he slid his hands 
over my thighs and spread me open wide. He rose up further. I watched as he 
grabbed his penis, stroking it once for good measure. He guided it to my hole 
and smacked the phallic head against my swollen clitoris before thrusting in 
hard. My pussy was sopping wet and sap spurt out around his cock when he 
jammed inside. He pulled out and then slammed back in. The sound of slapping 
bodies and saturated sex echoed in the room. Neither of us needed much to 
climax. I had been wet all evening and he was hard as stone from my story. I 
wound my legs up around his hips and he ground down against me. We moved 
together in a perfect fuck.

When it was over, he lay down on me, and we rubbed our slippery pudenda 
together, enjoying the gooey mess that was ours. Minutes ticked by before 
John whispered.

"You _were_ lying, weren't you Kath?"

I just laughed.




The End
The Pussy Pact
By Desdmona
Copyright July 2001





The End
The Pussy Pact
By Desdmona
Copyright July 2001


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