index


Message-ID: <33824asstr$1007413805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: DrSpin <drspin@newsguy.com>
Subject: {ASSM} First Time Repost (2): The Great Jacko ~ by DrSpin (MFF)
Date: Mon,  3 Dec 2001 16:10:05 -0500
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 Great Jacko (MF)
by DrSpin (aka Neil Anthony)
(first ever repost - originally posted November 1999) 

---------------------------------------------------------
* The author welcomes comments and opinions from readers 
and is invariably motivated to respond. Write to:
drspin@newsguy.com or neil@ruthiesclub.com

* DrSpin's Standard Disclaimer: 
I write and you read, if you care to. That's all there is 
to it. Any reader is offended should not have been here 
in the first place.
---------------------------------------------------------

She finally got to meet the notorious Phil Jackson, universally 
called Jacko. The man's reputation was awesome. She'd heard it 
from men and she'd heard it from women. He was, according to all 
accounts, a world-class womaniser. His exploits were legendary. 
He was an all-pro pants man.

She was disappointed. This was him? This not more than 
reasonably good-looking man carrying the unmistakable signs of 
the natural ageing process? This was the sort of guy she'd see 
most days of the week. He didn't even have a woman with him.

"Phil Jackson," her husband said by way of introduction. "The 
man himself." Trevor had spoken about him for years in hushed 
tones of respect. 

Jacko smiled at her, his dark eyes crinkling and the crow's feet 
apparent. He had a nice open smile, at least. "Call me Jacko," 
he said, his voice deep and regular. He had a nice voice, at 
least. "And please disregard Trevor's old stories. He was always 
a maker of myths."

That was nice, at least. He could be self-deprecating. "Well," 
she said, her initial antithesis beginning to fade, "I've 
certainly heard some stories about you. Not all of them 
complimentary, either."

He shrugged, and the hair straggling in a loose fringe on his 
broad forehead flicked with the movement. There were pepper-and-
salt tinges of silver-grey in it. His hair suited him well. He 
had nice hair, at least. "We were all entitled to be young and 
foolish when we were young and foolish," he said. "Then we grow 
up." He smiled again. He certainly had a nice smile. And good 
strong teeth. And a little dimple in his chin. Trevor was 34 and 
she knew Jacko was a little older; 35 or 36.

She could examine him dispassionately. She wasn't the sort of 
woman to remotely interest Jacko the folk-hero. She was, she 
knew, a woman of ordinary appearance with as many faults and 
flaws as good points and features. She was, she knew, smarter 
than most, better educated than most and more well-versed and 
cynical in the ways of the world than most. Having reached the 
age of 31, she was relatively content with herself and her 
circumstances.

Jacko had come back to town after some years. He and Trevor had 
been friends since adolescence. She and Trevor had been married 
for nearly three years now. Jacko was back and Trevor was happy.
He was, she decided over a period of a few weeks and when you 
got down to it, quite a pleasant man. In fact, she liked him. 
She'd had reservations. But he was good company and good for 
Trevor. Despite his reputation, the scales had come down in his 
favour.

She discovered accidentally another of his assets. He and Trevor 
had planned a morning fishing expedition and because of the 
early start it was decided Jacko would stay the night in the 
guest room. 

She woke in darkness when Trevor did but drifted back to a semi-
sleep. Eventually she rolled out of bed to check that all the 
plans were working, because that was what she was accustomed to 
doing with and about Trevor. She heard noise outside the house 
and went into the bathroom to look through the window. She saw 
Trevor, illuminated by the lights of the vehicle, packing and 
storing and she assumed everything was in order. 

She was about to return to bed when the door of the guest 
bedroom opened. Jacko stood in the doorway, scratching his head 
and yawning. The little bed lamp was turned on and she could see 
him clearly. She was hidden away in the darkness of the 
adjoining room and he couldn't see her, which was just as well. 
He was wearing a singlet and nothing else. His penis dangled, 
longer and thicker than any she'd seen. He disappeared back into 
the room and she slipped noiselessly around the bathroom door, 
down the hallway and back into her bedroom.

She watched the morning light gradually pick out the patterns on 
the ceiling above the bed. The vehicle started and departed. 
Comparisons were unavoidable. Trevor's penis, she thought, 
looked like an instrument for effective urination. Jacko's 
looked like an instrument for effective sex. There was no 
getting away from it. The man had a convincing cock. She 
wondered what it would look like erect and her hand was straying 
on her thigh, fingers feathering. She sat up suddenly, got out 
of bed and pushed all such thoughts from her head.

Trevor was an accident waiting to happen, and it happened a week 
later at an intersection when he tried to squeeze through on a 
traffic light turning red. He came out of it well, considering 
the force of the impact - a couple of smashed ribs, a broken 
wrist, head contusions and lots of blood; but the worry was 
about possible internal injuries and the capacity for floating 
ribs to cause further damage. He'd have to stay in a hospital 
bed for some days. She was concerned and so was Jacko. They 
talked about it later, after they'd left the hospital for the 
night.

"He's hopeless," said Jacko, sitting opposite on the sofa. "But 
in the nicest way, and I think that means he'll be fine. He's 
too good a guy to be damaged long-term."

"Maybe you're right," she agreed. "We can't do anything anyway 
until the tests come in tomorrow." 

She sighed with the worry of it, and all of a sudden the idea 
popped into her head that Jacko had found himself in the ideal 
situation to attempt one of his infamous hits. But there was no 
sign of it and there hadn't been any sign of it for four months. 
She wasn't his type anyway. But did that matter? Was opportunity 
everything for him? Was he going to try something or was he not? 
She looked across at him, her brow furrowed. He sat there, calm 
and relaxed. But she was edgy, twitching with the uncertainty of 
it.

"I hope you're not going to try anything," she said, and 
immediately wished she hadn't. The words just fell out of her 
mouth, unplanned.

He blinked at her in astonishment. "Sorry?" He sounded genuinely 
surprised. "Oh. I see. My reputation again." He put his hand on 
his heart. "Margie, I swear it hadn't entered my head."

The declaration did not provide the relief she expected. "That's 
probably true," she said. "I'm not exactly the sort of female 
you'd be interested in."

"Really?" His tone was dry. "Is that so."

"My breasts are too small."

"You think so?"

"Yes. And I'm too hairy."

"Hairy?"

"You know," she said. "Down there." Good grief. Was this her 
voice she could hear?

"Is that so?"

"I like it like that but you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't?"

"You wouldn't." She was considerably alarmed. She hadn't 
intended this sort of conversation at all; had no idea how it 
happened.

"Margie," he said slowly and deliberately. "I like you a lot. 
You're the wife of one of my oldest friends and I think he got 
lucky when he met you. So tell me, Margie, what the hell are you 
talking about?"

She stared at him for a long moment. "I don't know," she 
confessed.

He shook his head. "With all due respect, you wouldn't know what 
I like. You think I like those Baywatch babes with their silicon 
breasts and their trimmed and barbered pussies? Margie, I think 
breasts are breasts and they come in all shapes and sizes. And I 
actually happen to think hairy beavers are very sexy."

"You do?"

"I do. Sorry to be blunt about it but you're being pretty 
silly."

"But still I'm not your type."

"I didn't know I had a type."

She rose from the chair and paced around the room, stopping here 
and there to fidget with things. She wound up standing in front 
of him. "My breasts are too small," she said flatly.

"I told you, it doesn't matter."

"It does to me. Look." She grasped the hem of her dress in two 
hands and pulled it cleanly over her head, dropping the garment 
to the floor. She wasn't wearing a bra. She didn't much need to. 
She stood facing him, clad only in her pants.

"Jesus," he muttered. "Why the hell did you do that? What's got 
into you tonight?"

"Difficult question," she said softly. "I don't know. I think I 
panicked."

"Because you thought I might be going to hit on you?"

"Yes."

"But I didn't."

"No."

He cocked his head. "Margie, did you want me to hit on you?"

A long pause developed. She eventually decided on her answer. "I 
do now," she said.

"You are hairy," he said reflectively. She looked down at 
herself. Her pubic mound bulged out the face of her pants and 
stray black and wiry wisps were poking through the legbands.

"I told you so," she whispered. She bent over to strip her pants 
down her legs. She stepped out of them and stood facing him 
again.

"Yes, you are hairy," he said.

"But is it sexy?"

"Definitely."

"Something else you should know," she said. "I have a large 
vagina. Big enough to accommodate even you."

He stood up and effortlessly picked her up in his arms and 
carried her into her bedroom. He placed her on the bed and stood 
back to look at her. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked.

"Yes. I think so."

"You want this?"

She nodded.

He took off his clothes and she watched for his penis to appear. 
It was long, thick, hard and inflexibly male, as she knew it 
would be. 

"Put it straight in me," she said, spreading her hips as he 
climbed on the bed. "I don't want to wait." 

He positioned himself and pushed into her and she marvelled at 
how ready and open she was for him. Soon she had him buried and 
encased. 

"Hell's bells," she said expressively. "I'm full."

They fucked twice, first time slow and easy and second hard and 
fast. There was no kaleidoscope of spectacular fireworks, which 
she had been half-expecting, but she got off strongly and she 
drifted into sleep well-satisfied and replete. It had been good 
sex.

She waited for him to wake in the morning till her patience ran 
out. "Hey there," she nudged him. "It's the morning after and 
it's time to talk."

He opened one eye at her. "Ah," he croaked. "Feeling guilty?"

"Not near as much as I should."

"You started it."

"Yes, but that's behind us now. It's a question of what happens 
next and I have a plan."

"A plan?" He rolled over on his side and looked at her blearily.

"You stay here while Trevor's in hospital and we fuck like 
rabbits. When he gets out we shake hands, stay friends and never 
do it again."

"That's your plan? Sounds a bit sordid when you put it that 
bluntly."

"True," she said. "And selfish as well, but that's what I want. 
Let me spell it out. I've had sex with only five men in my whole 
life. No, six, counting you. I've been an under-achiever. Now, 
for three or four days, I can catch up. I want to experience it 
all and do everything that can be done and you, dear Jacko, are 
the perfect partner. I like you but I don't love you. I do, 
however, lust after you in the baddest way. That's why I behaved 
like I did last night. I know that now, even if I wasn't fully 
aware of it then. So I'll use the next few days to get it out of 
my blood." She looked steadily into his eyes. "What do you say, 
Jacko?"

"I feel like I'm being exploited," he said dryly.

She smiled brightly. "Exactly. That's the plan in a nutshell." 
She peeled back the sheets and exposed his half-fattened penis, 
reached down and held it in the palm of her hand as if weighing 
it. 

"You have such a beautiful cock," she said. "I didn't know they 
made them this good." It swelled and grew. "I know I'm a long 
way from the best looking woman who's held this thing but I 
think we fit together pretty well. And besides," she said, 
stroking it gently, "I'm very enthusiastic and willing to do 
anything you want. What do you say, Jacko?"

"You have me in a vulnerable position," he said. "How can I 
refuse?"

"You're such a lovely man," she said. "I never thought 
otherwise."

ENDS

* DrSpin/Neil Anthony is at http://www.ruthiesclub.com

* also at neil@ruthiesclub.com and at http://www.ruthiesclub.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: <ckought69@hotmail.com> |
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/faq.html>  Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository |
|<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations.         |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+