Message-ID: <33824asstr$1007413805@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <http@lara.pathlink.com> X-Original-Path: extra.newsguy.com!newsp.newsguy.com!drn From: DrSpin <drspin@newsguy.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <9ug7jt0m27@drn.newsguy.com> X-ASSTR-Arrival-Date: 3 Dec 2001 08:01:01 -0800 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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/33824> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, dennyw 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+