Message-ID: <31864asstr$997089003@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <raven_soule@c4.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <20010805142519.19938.qmail@ninelives.chek.com> From: "Karen Souleman" <raven_soule@c4.com> X-MASSMAIL: 1.0 Subject: {ASSM} NEW - Karen 8 - Little Rich girl (MF, Mf, Ff, con, inc, , Pedo) Date: Mon, 6 Aug 2001 05:10:03 -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/Year2001/31864> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, newsman, dennyw -------------------------------------------------- Totally Amazing Search Results - Just C4 Yourself! http://www.C4.com - Total Search Technology <1st attachment, "Karen 8 - little rich girl.txt" begin> KAREN 7 - POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL (MF, Ff, fg, anal) We sat around the table in shock. A pile of documents lay between us. Occasionally one would be picked up and looked at by one of us. Looking without seeing. Reading without comprehending. The shock was still too great for us. We had just returned from my appointment with Miss Jamerson, the solicitor handling my mothers will. The day had started normally, or what passed for normal in our family. Breakfast was enjoyed by Rae, Leslie and me, while Paul and Gail were making love in the hall, well - they couldn't wait until they got upstairs, randy little pigs. When they had finished, Leslie and Rae collected the dishes and put them into the machine, while I helped cleanup in the hall. Paul always shot so much semen into his ladies that it would have been all over the floor had I not volunteered to lick Gail clean. Giving her yet another orgasm before breakfast - I think that woman's being spoiled. Our family life is based upon love, trust, and openness. Rae and Leslie often watch the lovemaking, whoever is involved, and don't think it's unusual. People, who love each other, make love to each other. That's the way it should be. Gail, Paul, and I love each other. We will make love to each other separately or together, while Leslie will only join with me. After her life at Bloody Beeches, it is a wonder she will lie with anyone. Rae has not yet decided to join us. When she does, she will be treated with the love and respect that we all give to one another. Gail dressed Leslie and Rae, while Paul returned the favour for me, licking and nibbling me into a crashing climax. No reason really, he wanted to, I wanted to, so we did. It was great! Paul and I then showered and dressed while Gail, Rae, and Leslie complained loudly about randy sods that couldn't keep up. We refrained from beating them to a pulp and Paul drove us all to town. We were to meet Miss Jamerson. She was to tell us about my mother's estate. I didn't expect this to take long, considering my mother and I had lived in virtual poverty for as long as I could remember, existing on state benefits and handouts, charity shop clothes and free school meals. I had had the whole nine yards worth of poverty. Nor did I expect my situation to change very much either. Paul drove us through town (ignoring our comments about running over traffic wardens) until we entered the High Street. Then we all started looking for the solicitor's office. Paul found the place and noticed a large sign, 'RESERVED - Ms SOULEMAN' by a parking space immediately outside the office door. "I'm not sure I like this," Paul said as he parked the car in the more than adequate, space. We got out of the car and became the family perfect (Stepford Wives eat your hearts out). Paul led us into the office where the staff treated Gail like royalty. She was shown to the solicitor's office and offered tea, while we others tagged along, just for the ride. A middle-aged woman introduced herself as Miss Jameson and began: "Well Miss Souleman," she said to Gail. "She's Miss Souleman," Gail said, pointing to me as I sat in a back corner of the room. Miss Jamerson blanched, noticeably paling at the mistake. She hurriedly ushered me to the chair Gail had been occupying. I don't think that she actually kicked Gail out of that chair, but it wasn't by much. When seated, I was obviously the centre of attention. "Well Miss Souleman," she said smiling at me. I hate insincerity: she oozed it. "I have finished tidying up your parents' estate, though your father was a very tidy and thoughtful man." Another crocodile smile. "You have the sum of four million, seven hundred thousand, four hundred and eighteen pounds, twenty-seven pence in cash in the bank. There are also shares in British companies worth approximately 3 million pounds." There was obvious pride in the fact that these shares were British. Long live the Empire! "The problem has been with your American shares." She must have practised that expression by sucking lemons. "You have half a million shares in APPLE, which, apparently, make mackintoshes. Though WHAT the Americans know about making raincoats is beyond me. I've found that Burburry is fine if you want off-the- peg clothes, but for REAL quality, Gorton and Watts of Edinburgh are the best." She smiled again, proud in her knowledge of the international raincoat industry. Even I knew what Apple made. "These shares are worth, at today's exchange rate, about eighteen million pounds." THAT she liked. "These shares have been lodged with your bankers, Barclloyd's, in the Corn Market." She smiled again. "Oh shit!" said Paul quietly. The period of silence stretched on. Miss Jamerson leaned a little closer. "Can I get you a glass of water?", she asked. I nodded dumbly. While she was out of the room, I turned to Paul. "She's joking isn't she?" I asked. This was too much. "Oh no, my dear. I never joke about money." Miss Jamerson said, overhearing my remark as she returned. Looking at her, I could believe it. She gave me the glass of water; I managed to drink some, though my shaking hands spilt most of it. Miss Jamerson sat down again, picked up her papers, and continued: "The principal and the shares are to be held in trust until your thirtieth birthday, 13th February 2002. You will be entitled to the interest from the cash deposits and one half of the income from the shares until that date." She looked up and smiled again. "On current interest rates and dividend forecasts that should give you an income of about 84,000." " 84,000 pounds a year?" I gasped horrified. I had never actually held more than the forty pounds that Gail had given me on holiday. "Oh no, my dear," Miss Jamerson looked shocked. " 84,000 per calendar month." This time her smile was wide. I also noticed that her nipples were hard beneath her jacket and blouse. I knew just what turned Miss Jamerson on. When we left Paul walked into a door. Gail shook Miss Jamerson's hand and said, "Fuck me," in a quiet voice. Nobody noticed my wet skirt; nobody said anything about Rae and Leslie taking the large notebook which they had drawn in. I'm sure it would turn up on my bill. We walked toward the local public car park, passing through Corn Market Square on our way. We all stared at the huge edifice that was Barclloyd's Bank. The building towered over the square, its very bulk screaming its solidarity and presence. "Do you want to go in?" Paul asked. I looked at the bank, terrified by its imposing presence. "Yes," I managed to say after a moment. We entered the cool, dark interior of the bank. In the cathedral atmosphere, people quietly scurried behind the waist-high wall. We looked around us. "Can I help you?" said a warm, gentle voice, though the young woman's demeanour loudly added, 'though I doubt you can afford my help'. "Y yes p p please," I stammered. "I would like to get some money." Smiling she bend toward me and asked, "And how much were you thinking of withdrawing, Miss?" "F f five thousand pounds," I replied. She almost laughed. "Of course, Miss . . . ?" The question hung in the air. "Miss Souleman," I answered. The effect was immediate. "Of course Miss Souleman. Miss Jamerson telephoned that you may be on your way." She smiled. "Please come this way and take a seat while I arrange for your cash. How would you like the money? Will Twenties do? Would you like a cup of tea while you're here? I'm afraid I'll have to ask one of your guardians to sign for you though." "Er. . . Yes. No. Thank you." I replied, hopefully in the correct places. We sat behind the separating wall. The woman had disappeared to do whatever it is you do when you're arranging for a five-thousand-pound withdrawal. A beaming man came to us and shook Paul and Gail's hands. He was the manager and seemed most pleased to see us. All too soon we walked out into Corn Market Square and the bright winter sunshine. "What would you like to buy?" asked Gail. She nodded to an expensive clothes shop a few yards away. "A banana." I replied. "A BANANA!" gasped Paul, laughing. "Yes," I said, "a banana. I've never had one. As long as I can remember, I've wanted a banana. Mum always said that we couldn't afford them. I promised myself that if I was ever rich I would buy everyone bananas." I looked at them they were quiet now. I knew Gail understood. Paul looked around and quickly found a grocer's stall. I stood in front of the stall waiting until the grocer finished serving the woman beside me. "And what can I get for a lovely girl like you then, me-dear?" His cheery voice, after the insincerity and grasping so evident in the solicitors and the bank, was refreshing. "I'd like a bunch of bananas, please." At last, I was DOING it. I was buying bananas. If you have had a single sausage as your Christmas dinner, then dry bread for Christmas tea; if you've missed a meal because the cupboard was bare - and besides you'd had a school dinner anyway. If bread with marge AND jam was a special treat for you, then you will know what I felt just then, for you no explanation will be necessary. If not, well, no explanation will be possible. I took a twenty-pound note from my purse. "I'm afraid it's the smallest I've got," I told the grocer. "As long as it's the same size as all the others, then it's okay by me." He laughed, handing me my bananas in a brown paper bag and nineteen-pounds-fifty-pence change. The change filled my small purse. Carefully I put it away then took great pleasure in handing out the bananas. Gail, Paul, Leslie, and Rae each took one, peeled them and started eating. Obviously enjoying their bananas, I looked at mine and almost panicked. "Gail," I whispered, tears forming as I looked up at her. "Gail, I don't know how to open it." "Oh darling," she said in a low voice, "here, watch me." She took another banana from the bag and with a quick twist she opened the skin. I tried to copy her and, eventually did the same. No one laughed, nor commented on how long it took me to get inside. Their love and respect for me brought tears to my eyes. Gingerly I took a bite. Never, never ever had I tasted anything so wonderful. This was worth the wait. If I were to die then I would have died happy. Oh, these truly are the food of the gods. I savoured every bite, every morsel. I ate and ate, only realising that I had finished the whole bag when Rae spoke up. "Karen, can I put the bag in the bin for you?" Shocked, I turned to Gail and Paul, appalled at my greed. How could I have been so thoughtless? Looking at them, I watched their faces split into huge grins. Then Paul picked me up and spun me around. "You gorgeous, precious girl. If only you could have seen your face just then. You really, really enjoyed those bananas, didn't you? Held in his strong arms I could only nod. We walked back toward the car. As we passed the grocer's stall the stall holder called out, "Hey - little lady." I turned toward him. Then, in surprise, caught the package he threw to me. "After this lot saw you eat my bananas, well I've sold nearly all of me stock. Come back again love!" I smiled at him and called, "Thanks, I will. Next weekend." I looked in the bag, yes a BIG bunch of bananas. "Thank you." I called again, as I waved goodbye. In the car again, we sat in silence. I held Leslie tightly, needing her warmth against me. Rae cuddled me from my other side. My thoughts raced as I went over the day's events. Arriving home, we sat at the kitchen table, still in silence, looking at the papers I had been given. The rest of the day passed in a blur. Before I knew it I was in bed with Leslie at my side. "Karen," she said quietly, "Karen, do you still love me? Now that you've got all this money, I mean. Do you?" I saw the uncertainty in her eyes, and now my tears did flow and flow freely. "Leslie, my precious. I truly love you; I would give up everything for you. You are the one you saved me in Bloody Beeches. I owe you my life - everything. I wish I could prove it in some way." I looked at her as she lay in my arms. Lowering my head I kissed her, my lips brushing hers, my tongue slipped along her parted lips and then entered her warm mouth. Our tongues played together as we breathed into each other. Our mouths and noses locked, preventing us from getting any air other than that which we gave to the other. Long minutes we remained locked together until dizziness forced us apart. Eye to eye, we gazed into each other's souls. "Make love to me Karen, like you do to Gail. Please." Leslie asked, begged almost. Her eyes spoke of her desire. Do not be fooled. Even an eight year old has desires; sometimes those desires are ones which we fool ourselves into believing are reserved for adults only. This was one of those times when Leslie needed to be physically loved. I would be happy, honoured, to make love to her. I kissed her again, her small slim body relaxed in my arms and I took control of her. Twisting, I laid her down on her back beneath me. I lifted my leg and placed it between hers, pressing on her vulva, feeling the wetness there. Resting on my elbow, I looked down at her lying under me. Trustingly she looked up at me. "Turn over." I told her. She rolled over onto her stomach, her arms spread above her head. I brushed aside her hair and gazed at her slender neck. Unable to resist any longer I lowered my mouth, kissed and nibbled her neck all the way along her hairline. Twice I went from side to side. I rubbed her back down to her buttocks, dipping down into the crack between her cheeks. I kissed down her spine, each bone was licked and kissed. I tasted the soap she used for her shower, the special taste that was Leslie, her sweat, and her excitement. My tongue dipped between her legs. I hesitated for a moment, her puckered brown anus before me. I had licked and kissed Gail's and Paul's, so I hesitated no longer. Dipping my head, I stiffened my tongue, rolling it into a tube and pressed hard against her back passage. She groaned and pressed back against me, her sphincter relaxed and suddenly my tongue was inside her. Despite the bitter taste, I pressed on and forced my way deeper into her ass, pressing forward until my lips were locked tight against her. My tongue now deeper into her than I ever thought possible. Leslie squirmed in her pleasure, impaled on my tongue. I was beginning to enjoy my position of power. Withdrawing from her, I felt her shudder, then gasp as I thrust hard into her again. I fucked her ass with my tongue until I felt her shuddering. Then I withdrew. I lifted her hips and gained access to her slit. My tongue dipped into this honey pot and feasted on her nectar. I licked the length of her slit. Taking care to nudge her little clit within its hood. Then I snaked an arm beneath her and spread her cunt lips. Lapping now, I set to work on her. Moaning and squirming she surrendered to my mouth, to my lovemaking. With a loud gasp, she stiffened and I felt and tasted a flow of salty nectar wash into my waiting mouth. Hungrily I licked up her spending, her engorged cunt lips full and warm against my face, my nose. I was drowning in her sex, and I pressed deeper for more. I turned her over, now staring directly into her slit. Without bidding, she parted her legs. I had complete access to her. I looked up at her chest and saw the remaining flushed colouration from her orgasm. She'd had a real orgasm. Sex is all in the brain. Leslie had wanted to be loved, to cum, so she did. I parted her cunt lips and gently pressed a finger into her. With her copious juices flowing freely I had no trouble at all pushing my finger completely into her. Another finger joined the first, then another. Three fingers spread her fully and fucked her hard. I thrust into her again and again as she squirmed and moaned below me. I watched as the redness spread down her neck, then her chest. She stiffened again, threw her head back and cried out as her orgasm overtook her. Again I was rewarded with a copious flow of her special honey. I feasted upon her, gladly dipping my tongue into her honey pot. Gently, slowly, Leslie came down from her orgasm. "Thank you," was all she managed before she fell asleep. I lay next to her, savouring her warmth. I nuzzled into her hair, eyes closed, slipping into sleep. This was my true fortune, the love I received from Leslie, Gail, Paul and Rae. All else paled beside that love. I drifted into sleep. What would tomorrow bring? What indeed. Comments please to raven_soule@mailandnews.com Copyright (C) Karen Souleman, 2001 <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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