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Message-ID: <32159asstr$998568601@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sporkified@hotmail.com
Reply-To: sporkified@hotmail.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 21 Aug 2001 17:30:48 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} "My New Girlfriend"
Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2001 08:10:01 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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My New Girlfriend
     by
         Mr Bungle


The dark living room is warm and still as I slip through the unlocked
window.  The lower floor of the house is deserted; the only activity
here is upstairs.  I see a faint light at the top of the stairway and
hear music coming from somewhere above.  I climb cautiously up 
the steps as my heart pounds a hot rhythm of anticipation and anxiety
in my chest.  I reach the top and take a quick look down the hall.
Light spills out of a half-closed bedroom door, and I can hear a young
feminine voice singing along to No Doubt.  I shudder, but count 
myself lucky that it isn't Britney Spears.  I move casually down the
hall, knowing that any noise I make will be covered by loud music 
and inattention.  Fuck, if this wasn't so easy maybe I could stop
myself.  

I reach the door and peek inside.  I behold a stretch of bare skin as
I see a half-naked girl lying on her bed reading a magazine.  Perfect.
She lies on her stomach with her head toward the far wall, so she
can't see me unless she moves. She is wearing only shorts and a bra.
Her naked athletic legs seem to glow with teenaged radiance, and 
her snug tan shorts seem poured onto the most gloriously rounded
chubby ass in all creation.  Her silky-looking brown hair is pinned
back above her shoulders revealing the creamy smooth slope of her
neck.

I stifle a sob of joy/sadness as I quickly step into the room and
flick off the light switch.  Before she can react, I leap on top of
her.  She utters a surprised squeak as I sit on her back and pin her
shoulders to the bed with my knees, leaving my hands free to bind 
her wrists to the bedposts with the lengths of cloth cord in my back
pocket. As I grab her right wrist, she asks something that sends a
chill through my spine. 

Her voice is somewhat muffled from her face being buried in the
magazine she was just reading, but the words are clear enough.
"Daddy? Is that you?"

I froze as my mind did a sickening barrel roll in my skull.  Daddy?
What the fuck?  What kind of perverted family games did this poor 
girl play that would make her ask that first out of all possible
questions?  I felt a sudden tug of conscience, but I strangled it and
dropped it cold and limp in the gutter.  

"No," I answer. "Its someone better.  Its Mr. Bungle."

Gwen Stefani sang on as I proved it.  God, I love making them come. 
I savor the experience of the punky brat squirming on my tongue as 
she reaches a reluctant orgasm.  Then she squirms again on my fat
cock, uncertain if she's a bad person or not for feeling good from it.
I know that the only bad person here is me.  Her taste; her scent; her
surrounding warmth is everything I've ever wanted.  I fall in love too
easily.

After a soft kiss on the forehead, I leave her violated but not
abused, opened but not tainted.  She might tell, or she might not, 
but she will never forget. 

And neither will I.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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