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Message-ID: <36039asstr$1018429808@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: juliancoreto@operamail.com (Julian Coreto)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: 10 Apr 2002 01:52:30 GMT
Subject: {ASSM} {NEW} Alan, Chapter 9: A New Friend
Date: Wed, 10 Apr 2002 05:10:08 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

It was the Sunday night, the last night of spring break.  Alan spent
the day completing his assignments for school, and by early evening he
was done.  He fiddled around on the computer for a bit, surfing sites
and reading e-mails, but by 8 o'clock he was bored.  "The Simpsons"
was a rerun so he had decided not to watch.  With nothing much to do
Alan began to clean his desk and organize his papers, but before he
had made much progress he came upon the ring.

He had enclosed it in a sheet of notebook paper and some tape, and
when he drew it out from the desk drawer it took him half a second to
realize what it was. Slowly he unwrapped it.  It just looked like a
regular ring now, not glowing or buzzing like it had before.  He
examined it closely; it was silver but badly tarnished, unsurprisingly
because it was two-and-a-half millennia old.  He decided to polish it,
and as he put it down on the desk it began glowing and vibrating.  He
picked it up again, and it stopped.  Palming it in his left hand he
went downstairs and grabbed a rag and his mom's silver polish and
quickly returned to his room, closing the door behind him.  He had
never polished silver before so he didn't know if he should apply the
polish to the ring directly or first to the rag.  He scooped out some
polish, a gooey pink substance, and rubbed it on the rag with the tips
of his fingers, then placed the ring in the center of the moist part
of the rag, folded it over, and began to rub the ring through it. 
After a few seconds he stopped to check his progress and saw that the
ring was now gleaming.

"Should I try it on?" he asked himself silently.  He was still new to
his powers, and he didn't know what the ring would do to them.  He put
the ring down again so he could continue to think.  This time the glow
from the ring was intense, so intense that the light was almost
blinding, and when he reached down to pick it up again, in hopes of
stopping the terrible light from damaging his eyes he was chagrined to
see that it was not abated. "For some reason this ring wants me to
wear it," Alan was figuring out, so he slipped it on his finger, the
middle finger of his right hand.  He didn't know why he chose that
finger, but it felt right.

Instantly the light faded, and after a few seconds it had stopped
completely.

"Alan," he heard his mother call from downstairs, "Were you expecting
company?  There's someone at the door for you."

Alan went downstairs and saw his parents speaking to his unexpected
guest.  He wasn't quite sure who this man was, but he was certain that
he had something to do with the ring, the Ring of Ko'un-Zir.

"Ah, there you are Alan," the man began.  He had an accent, European
for sure, it sounded like to Alan.  He couldn't tell if it was French
or British because it sounded like a little of each.  "It's nice to
meet you at last."  His parents were at a loss, and he could see his
father about to say something, but instead he took his mother and they
walked away from Alan and the stranger, and up the stairs.

"I don't want to be rude or anything, but who are you."

"Awfully sorry young man, frightfully discourteous thing to do. Well,
you know, manners were never my string suit.  I am Jean-Pierre
Massimo, and I am here because of you.  Because you are wearing the
ring."

"I've heard of you!  The man at the mus--" Alan stopped short, not
wanting to tell Massimo that he had stolen the Ring of Ko'un-Zir from
the Metropolitan Museum of Art. "You're an archaeologist, that's uh,
that's where I've heard of you."

"And you, young man, you are the vessel of one of the Seeds of
Paishiya'uvada."

"What are you talking about?" Alan bluffed.

"Please don't patronize me Alan.  You are a vessel of the Seed.  There
are five Seeds in existence, and you contain one.  You received it
last month in the hospital from its former vessel, a man named
Grossman."

"I didn't know his name."  A few seconds later Alan realized he had
blown his bluff.

"So, the lies are over, thank goodness."

"How did you know?  Did the ring tell you?  I know you found it in
Iraq many years ago, so you must know something about it.  Please Mr.
Massimo, I know virtually nothing about the Seed, and less about the
Ring of Ko'un-Zir."

"Patience my son, all in good time.  And by the way, it's `Dr.
Massimo.'"

"Sorry."

"Call me Jack.  Everybody does."  He laughed.

They went into the living room and sat across from each other.  Alan
noticed that Jack was also wearing a ring identical to his own, but he
held his tongue, wishing for Jack to tell him more.

"Just out of curiosity, do you know which of the Seeds you contain?"
Jack asked him.

"Uh, yeah.  My Seed is the Seed of Hyrcanus."

"Really!  Well I'll say!  Excellent, excellent." He clapped his hand
on his knee.  "The first of them all, well met!"  He paused before
continuing, leaning closer to Alan as if to confide, "I am the vessel
of the third Seed, the Seed of Cyaxares."

Alan had a million questions, and Dr. Massimo could see him chomping
at the bit to ask them.  "Right, right.  You are dying to ask me some
questions, but please, all in good time.  I am used to lecturing, so
you'll have to indulge me.

"So, about a month past you became the vessel of the Seed.  And
earlier this week you `acquired' the Ring of Ko'un-Zir at the museum
in Manhattan, correct?"

"Yes, how did you know?"

"After the firing and arrest of Dr. Swindon-Smythe I realized that
someone had found my ring at the museum, and I had to rush there to
rectify the situation."

"Oh Jeez! He was arrested? That's awful."  Alan dropped his eyes,
ashamed of himself.

"Oh, I fixed it for the chap.  He's back on staff--as you Yanks say,
`No harm, no foul.'  However, if your powers had been more advanced
this would not have happened.  Before I leave here tonight you must
promise me to practice."

"But I don't really know what I'm doing.  How am I going to practice? 
Is there a manual or something?"

Jack chuckled. "Sorry young man, there's no set of instructions.  Just
find a quiet hour to exercise you powers.  You don't need to meditate,
you need not concentrate.  Just exercise your powers like you would
your body.  The better you become using the skills you know you have,
the easier it will be to discover new ones."

"How did you find me?"

"Oh simple really.  I had the chief of security at the museum review
all of the videotape from last Monday, and then I `hired' a private
investigator to track you down.  He found your cousin Nina first
because she lives in New York.  I paid her a visit this morning and
she told me where you live.  The clumsy alterations Swindon-Smythe
made in the curatorial databases pinpointed the time of your visit, so
thankfully we didn't have to sit through watching hours upon hours of
videotape.  It was quite easy, really.  A lesson to you for the future
to cover your tracks better, what ho.

"And now we come to the ineffable motive of my contact: the ring.  How
much do you know about the creation of the Seeds?"

Alan told him about the incident when he passed out and found the
story written in his notebook, and he even went upstairs and retrieved
it to show to his visitor.

"Very good, very good.  I hope you are keeping this in a safe place? 
You might think about a safe-deposit box." Alan agreed.

"So, after Ko'un-Zir destroyed the Orbis Tertius he had five rings
fashioned from the metal.  He took the orb to Achnai the Smith, the
best metal worker in all of Mesopotamia.  To prevent it from ever
being used as a weapon against the vessels, Achnai melted the orb down
in his oven and then mixed the pure silver of the orb with base
metals, but before he did this Ko'un-Zir had him set aside enough slag
to make the five rings."

"What do the rings do?  Do they increase my power?"

"No, not really.  They may help you to develop them faster.  Your
learning curve will shorten, and your mastery of your abilities will
intensify.  You will be able to discover the limits of the Seed
better."

"Do all of the vessels find rings?"

"No, as of yet only two have been found.  Both of them be me as a
matter of fact.  But I'm not here for a pat on the back, don't you
know, don't you know."

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you here?  Is there something
you need to tell me?"

"Well, to be perfectly honest, I have never met another vessel, though
I was close to tracking down Grossman when he met his end.  I left the
ring at the Met on the off-chance that another vessel might encounter
it there. Since New York is a major tourist attraction, and the museum
is one of the most visited places there I figured it was the best
place for it."  He paused a bit before continuing, "I must say, I'm
frightfully excited to meet you."

They talked for awhile longer, Dr. Massimo suggesting a few exercises
for Alan to do to develop his powers, and when the hour grew late Jack
took his leave, suggesting he would drop in again, but making no
promises. He left an address, care of a Swiss bank, which he told Alan
would forward any messages.

* * *

The next Saturday morning Alan was up with the birds.  Since he had
been setting aside an hour each day to exercise his Seed powers he was
finding that he could get by with about half the sleep he previously
needed.  There was a club ride this morning and he decided to go.  The
local bicycling club sponsored group rides every weekend of the year,
but Alan really didn't like to ride in very cold weather, so it had
been months since he last joined a ride.  As he was wheeling his bike
down the driveway he was startled by a voice.  "Hello there!  Hello,
you on the bike?"  He looked across the road and saw a girl dressed
for cycling.  She was doing stretching exercises as she called out to
him, and Alan crossed the road to talk to her.

"Hello," she offered a gloved hand, "I'm Chloe, the Anderson's au
pair.  And you are?"

"Alan, Alan Marshall.  I live there," he answered, pointing his thumb
back over his shoulder to his house.

"Nice to meet you Alan Alan Marshall," she joked, and they both
grinned at each other.

"I don't think I've seen you before.  Are you new?" Alan was enjoying
the conversation; Chloe's sexy British accent was nice to listen to.

"I just started a few weeks ago.  The Andersons are away at Mrs.
Anderson's mum's in Connecticut, so I'm free this weekend.  Just
thought I'd take a spin around the town and have a look.  Where are
you headed?"

Alan explained about the club ride.  "Forget that," he told her, "Do
you want to ride with me?  I'll blow off that other thing."

"Sure," she answered, and they set off.  "I hope you can keep up with
me.  I'm a serious rider, unlike most of you Americans."

"Do you want to set the pace, or shall I?" he asked back, a small
smirk evident.

"Better off you, I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me.  My
chums and I ride long distances back in England."

They mounted up and Alan led her down the road, keeping a moderate
pace.  After they'd covered a couple of miles they reached the old
state highway, a thoroughfare which saw little regular vehicular
traffic, less so on the weekends, and almost deserted on a weekend in
the morning.  The road was built in the 1930s, and unlike the new
highway, which had been built three decades later, it was unevenly
graded, rolling hills and valleys of asphalt.  Alan picked up the pace
and Chloe stayed with him.  After a few more up-and-down miles he
accelerated again, popping up out of the saddle to power his way up a
particularly steep hill, or as it was called in the parlance of
cycling, "a good hill."  As he neared the crest he turned to see how
Chloe was faring, and he could see her struggle to climb the incline. 
She too was up out of the saddle, and he could tell she was huffing
and puffing.

He faced forward again and shifted out of his climbing ring into the
small one.  As he zipped down the hill he cranked the pedals hard, and
by the computer on his handlebars he saw he was approaching seventy
miles per hour.  Quickly coming to another hill, albeit a smaller one,
he shifted again and climbed it almost effortlessly, his momentum
helping him traverse it.  He hammered on the pedals for another couple
of miles or so and then pulled to the side of the road and waited for
Chloe to catch up.  He was sitting leaned up against a tree facing the
road, his bike resting against the opposite side, taking long pulls
from his water bottle as she pulled up to him, gasping for breath. 
She laid her bike on the ground gently, walked up to him and fell to
her knees in exhaustion.  He pulled a second water bottle from the
rear pocket of his racing jersey and held it out for her, and she
grabbed it from him gratefully, falling down on her side as she did
so.  She pulled the valve open with her teeth, squeezed some water
into her mouth, swished it around a bit and then spat, immediately
returning the bottle to her mouth and sucking water like she had just
crossed a desert.  In less than half a minute she had drained the
whole thing, and she just stayed down on the grass, breathing heavily,
occasionally letting loose a groan.

"Sorry about that," he said to her.  She didn't answer immediately,
marshalling her energy and respiration.

"I should be apologizing to you.  I thought I was teasing you. 
Americans aren't supposed to be good a cycling!  They all drive cars
and never exercise. You had to go and pull a David Millar on me!"

"Figures you would pick a British cyclist!" he roared in laughter, and
she began to chuckle as well.  "What I did was more of a Jacky Durand,
you know, pulling away from the pack on a long and unadvised escape. 
Hey, we Yanks can bike, or have you let Lance slip your mind?"

She had managed to pull herself upright by now and was looking at him
with interest.  "So, you know a bit about racing do you?  Well, you
managed to tear up the road this morning.  I haven't been dropped on a
ride in more than three years!  David Millar's got nothing on you."

"Well, I wouldn't say that!  I've never won a stage in the Tour de
France, nor have I worn the yellow jersey like him.  Though you know,
of course, that he only wore the yellow because of a fluke."

"You take that back!" and they both laughed.  Alan pulled two bananas
from his jersey and gave her one, and they munched in silence for a
moment.  As she stood up to go back to her bike she squealed, grabbing
her thigh and collapsing to the grass.  "CRAMP!"

"Do you need me to help?"

"Cheeky chap, aren't we?  Trying to get near my knickers right off the
whistle, eh?" she taunted through gritted teeth.  Alan went over to
her and began massaging the bothersome thigh, and using the Seed
caused her knotted muscles to relax.  "Mmmm, lovely, bloody nice." 
After a short while he helped her up and they remounted their bikes.

Alan unzipped his seat pack and pulled out a small bottle of Tylenol,
and gave her two.  She popped them in her mouth and pulled her water
bottle from the cage on her bike, and swallowed them down.  "Thanks
love!" she said to him, flashing a dazzling smile.

"Do you want to keep riding, or should we head back?"

"Back, I think.  Ugh! I don't fancy riding those hills again."

"We'll go another way.  Through the streets.  More traffic, less
hills, but a slightly longer route OK?"

She nodded, and they were off.

* * *

"Look, I feel bad about pushing you so hard out there," Alan told her
as they pulled onto their street, "Let a guy take you out for
breakfast?"

"Lovely, mate.  Let me just shower off.  Meet you at your house in
thirty?"

"Cool with me."

Half an hour later Alan watched her amble across the road up to his
door.  He was waiting on the porch, having quickly cleaned up and
changed.  As he watched her approach he was taken aback by her looks. 
She was almost as tall as him, probably 5'9", and she had a killer
body.  He had noticed it before, when she was dressed in her tight
cycling gear, but seeing her in a pair of tight jeans and form-fitting
blouse she was absolutely stunning.  Her long blonde hair, which had
been tucked into her helmet under a bandana before, was tied in a
ponytail, and he hadn't noticed her eyes because she had been wearing
sunglasses on the ride.  They were pale blue, and gorgeous.  Alan
intercepted her in the driveway, and led her to his car.  They went to
a coffee shop in town and ate heartily, their appetites stoked by the
ride.

"So, tell me about yourself," he asked her.

"Oh I'm just a London girl spending a wee bit in the colonies.  Figure
I'll spend a half a year with the Andersons and then see a bit of this
great land of yours before I head back home to University."

"How old are you?"

"Well, that's not a gentlemanly thing to ask a lady, you know!  But of
you must know, I'm eighteen.  Just finished `high school' as you Yanks
call it, and have been an au pair here in the states since last
summer.  I go back in September."

"Where were you before the Andersons?"

"I was in a small town in Pennsylvania, and I couldn't be happier to
be out of there!  Thank god the mum there decided to quit her job and
send me back to the agency.  But enough about me, mate, tell me about
you."

"Oh, well, there's nothing much to tell.  I'm in my last year of high
school, and then I'm off to college in the fall.  Columbia in New York
City, though I'm hesitant to inform you that Columbia used to be
called King's College until we got wise and threw off the yoke of
British oppression. "  She thought that was funny, and told him she
was envious. She would be willing to cut off an arm to get the chance
to live in New York City.

"So that's it?  You just go to school and nothing else?  Surely
there's more to you?  I mean it's not everyday you meet a guy who is
both handsome and can drop a cyclist like me.  Hmmm, girlfriend?"

"There is one girl I'm seeing now."

"Tell me."

He told her about Pauline, how they were friends for many years and
then they went out for a bit, and stopped, and then started up again
recently.  "That's sweet," she said.

"So, you, boyfriend?"

"Nah, not at the moment.  It's frustrating you know?  Haven't had a
good snog in a long time. You sleeping with Pauline?"  She figured she
would get a blush out of him, but he was nonplussed.

"Yep.  Her and a few others to be truthful."

"Really.  Now I am fascinated.  Do tell."

"I took Pauline's virginity a few days ago, but I'm also sleeping with
her older sister, whom I have turned into a sex slave.  I'm also
fucking my English teacher, and her next door neighbor.  The two of
them are also sleeping together."

Chloe's eyes were as wide as the English Channel.  She had almost
choked on her coffee, and her hands were shaking as she returned the
cup to her saucer.  "What did you just say?"

"I think you heard me right."

"How?  How?  How are you doing this?  I mean you are a tasty treat to
look at, as I'm sure you've been told,"  Alan grinned at her waiting
for her to continue, "But I mean good god man, I never would have
pegged you for some sort of a satyr."

"There's an easy explanation.  I have the power to control minds,
among other powers."

"Now you're just making up stories."

"Want to see a demonstration?"

"Not likely!"

"See that waitress over there?  I'll make her drop those plates of
food she's got."  Chloe turned, and watched her do it.

"That doesn't bloody prove anything!"

"What kind of proof do you need?"

"Do something to me.  Me mum and I went to a hypnotist's show once and
he chose me from the crowd, and I was the only one who he couldn't get
to go under.  Try me."

Alan looked at her and gave it a moments thought.  "Open your blouse
and show me your tits."

"Yeah, right, boyo!" But as she was protesting she began to unbutton
he blouse, and after she had pulled her bra down she dropped her hands
to her side.  "Nice try, mate.  You didn't even try to put me under. 
The last chap had a gold watch on a chain."

Alan looked at her chest, and she followed his gaze.  "Oh my stars! 
How did you do that?" she half-screeched as she rearranged her bra and
top to cover herself back up.

"Told you.  And it's not hypnotism.  It's mind control." Chloe got
silent, unable to think clearly.  The waitress, not the one Alan had
used in his demonstration, came with the bill, and he paid it.  They
sipped coffee for a while and then he asked if she was ready to leave,
and she slowly rose from the booth.

"Thanks for breakfast Alan," she said as he was leaving a tip on the
table.  She was still a little stunned as he led her back to the car. 
As he got in next to her and was about to start the engine she put her
hand on his arm and said, "Wait."

They sat in silence for a moment until she could finally speak.

"I have a million questions."

"I don't know if I will be able to answer them all, but shoot."

"How did you get these powers?"  Alan gave her a very short version of
how he became a Vessel of the Seed.

"Interesting.  Completely loony, but interesting.  Uh, next question. 
Aren't you taking a risk by telling me this?  How do you know I wont
call the newspapers, tell the vicar, what have you?"

"No risk at all.  You can't tell anyone about this.  I've altered your
mind to make you unable to do so."  She looked back at him with a
smidgen of fear behind her eyes.

"Are you going to, you know, force me to shag you?"

"No.  Why?  Do you want me to?"  

She laughed a little laugh. "Truth be told, I was going to try to get
you to shag me anyway."  Now it was his turn to laugh a little laugh.

He started the car and headed back.

* * *  

"So, what now?"  They were standing in the Anderson's spacious den;
Chloe was barefoot, and Alan had been admiring her pretty feet.  She
hadn't said much since the coffee shop's parking lot, and Alan could
see a touch on anxiousness in her.

"What do you want?"

"I'm not sure.  Are you, uh, controlling me now?"

"Not really.  The command I gave you so you wouldn't reveal my secret
is a permanent one.  It's like a passive control.  That's the only
hold I have over you now.  Why do you ask?"

"Well, I uh, I uh feel...randy.  Are you sure you're not doing that to
me?"

"Completely.  Do you want me to control you?"

"Well, part of me does, and part of me does not."

"This is a really interesting conversation," he began telling her, but
she cut him off.

"You're teasing me now, aren't you, love?"

"Hah! I like it when you call me that.  It's so British and sexy." 
She giggled.  "No, I'm not teasing you.  This is interesting because
you are the first, oh, how shall I put this, `partner' I've ever told
about my power."

"Really?  I'm surprised.  It's a bit of a turn on knowing about it."

"Why?" he asked her with a note of surprise in his voice.

"Power is sexy.  Someone once said it's the ultimate aphrodisiac."

"Henry Kissinger, former Secretary of State; though in my house he is
generally agreed to be a toad-like war criminal.  We're liberals,
don't you know."

"Enough politics.  Let's go to my room," she told him as she took his
hand and led him to a small bedroom at the back of the house, right
off the kitchen.

"I've decided.  I want you to control me," she whispered to him as the
door shut behind them.

"You don't really have a vote in the matter.  For all you know I've
been controlling you since this morning."

"This may sound weird, but that's a huge turn-on."

Alan began unbuttoning her blouse, and her breath caught in her
throat.  "I'm helpless to stop you, love."

"Actually you're not," he shot back, staring deeply into her eyes.

"Well then, I'm not going to in any case," she chuckled.  Alan threw
her blouse to the side and she reached behind her back to pop the
catch on her bra.  She had lovely breasts, though small--smaller even
than Pauline's.  Her nipples were exquisite; very tiny, the
circumference not much greater than that of a dime, but perfectly
round aureoles, bright pink with nipples that were so pointy they
seemed conical when hard, which they were now.

"Oh my, that is nice," she purred in response to his manipulations of
her breasts.  "I can't wait for you to take off my jeans and
knickers."

He was feeling her ass, and said, "Wow these jeans are tight.  It
might be a task getting you out of them."

"I'm looking forward to it, boyo.  Hey, you're the man with all the
powers!  It shouldn't be that hard for you to separate me from my
knickers, should it?"

Alan just took a few steps back and leaned against her dresser.  She
bit her tongue, afraid she had insulted him.  All of a sudden she was
floating two feet in the air, standing straight up.  "My lord!  What
are you doing?"

"Just a little demonstration."  

She felt something moving at her waist and was shocked out of her skin
to see that her pants were being unbuttoned by an invisible hand.  The
zipper followed, and in a flash her jeans lay in a ball at her feet. 
"Bravo!" she called back at him.

"Do you want me to remove your panties--sorry, knickers--this way, or in
the usual manner?"

"Hmm, you decide," she giggled.

Alan concentrated and used his power to rip the panties right off of
her, the tattered remains falling beneath her like so much confetti.

"You sexy beast!"

He floated her across the room and settled her on the bed.  He got
down next to her and she leaned up at him, kissing him, and thrusting
her tongue in his mouth.

"Mmm, tasty," she purred as they disengaged.  Alan put his hand on her
exposed pussy, running his fingertips through her soft patch of brown
pussy hair.  "Not a natural blonde, hmm?"

"No, love. Disappointed?"

"Not really.  You are a sexy thing nonetheless."  He thought for a
minute before continuing, "Do you want to be?"

"Do I want to be what?" she asked, confused.

"A natural blonde.  I can make it happen."

She thought for a second. "If I say OK, could you change me back
later?"

"You bet."

She nodded, and waited for him to do something.  "Well boyo, are you
going to do it or not?"

"Already done.  Look down."  She did and gasped.  It was unbelievable
and incredibly sexy.  Not that her pussy looked all that much more
sexy with blonde hair rather than brown, but the idea that he could
affect her like that with merely a thought was immensely arousing.

"Wow!" She didn't know what else to say.  "What else can you do?"

Alan didn't answer with words, he just fed a finger up her pussy and
ran his thumb slowly over her clit.

"Double wow!" she panted, her whole body turning an aroused shade of
pink as she ground her crotch into his hand.  "But I meant, what else
can you do with your power?"

"Patience my little British biscuit.  Patience, all in good time."  He
fingered her for a few minutes and she began to huff and puff.  "You
look like you just biked up a big hill, all of that gasping for
breath."  She managed to laugh through her panting.  He used his free
hand to undress himself, and when he got his shorts off he used his
power to make her look at his cock, and orgasm upon catching sight of
it.

"AYEEEEE! Yes! OHMYGODINHEAVEN!" Her screaming swiftly gave way to
incoherent grunting and groaning, and she carried on for close to a
minute, her body stiff and shaking as her pussy convulsed around his
finger.

She gasped and panted for a short while before she was strong enough
to speak.  "My, my, my, that was lovely.  Was that you or, you know,
the power?"

"Does it matter?" he asked her, again looking deep into her pretty
blue eyes.

"No," she whispered, "It doesn't.  Wow.  That was the best."

"Nice to know," he told her as he ran his hands up and down her body,
causing her to become aroused again.

"Mmmm, keep that up," she purred.

"You have an incredible body."

"Thank you, but--"

"But what?"

"I've had complaints."

"Morons!  What is there to complain about this magnificent form?" His
began moving his hands around with more fervor, and Chloe began to get
really excited.  When he reached her breasts she put her hands over
his and held them there.

"These.  I'm flat-chested.  I've actually lost boyfriends to birds
with bigger chests."

"Morons.  A pretty face like yours is much more alluring than a pair
of big tits."

"Really," she gasped, returning his gaze, her eyes fixed on his. 
"That's one of the nicest things a man's ever said to me, in a weird
and kinky sort of way."

"So the men in England prefer cows to goddesses?"

"Oh, stop it now.  You're so bad."  She said noting for a minute,
luxuriating in the feel of Alan's hands on her body.  "I'm this close
to getting implants, you know.  But maybe now I wont because if you."

"Hmmm."

"What, love?"

Alan replaced his hands on her breasts.  "What are you now, an A cup?"
She nodded.  "How about now?  A B cup. I think, yes?" She looked down,
flabbergasted at the change.

"Oh my word!"

"Like?"

"Yeah.  Not too big, and they're very pretty.  Thank you."  There was
a tear in her eye.

"How about a C cup?"  She looked again, and they seemed immense, but
before she could say anything he had already turned them back to a B. 
"C cup is too big, even though you are very tall, you are somewhat
slim, though they did match your tight and curvy bottom."  She giggled
despite her state of arousal.

He dipped a finger into her pussy, and after pulling it out held it up
to her and showed her.  "I'm going to fuck you now."

He got between her legs and put his hands under her ass, lifting her
up off the bed .

"You're so big," she hissed, staring down her body and taking in the
sight of his hard cock.

"Worried?"

"A little.  I've never seen one so large before.  Be gentle, mmmmmm." 
He was rubbing the head of his erection up and down her pussy lips. 
"It's like I'm a virgin again."

"How old were you when you lost your cherry?"

"Ugh, ah, that's lovely! Uh, what was the question?"

He began to repeat himself, but she cut him off in mid-sentence, "I
was mmmmm sixteen, mmmmmm."

"Was it a good experience?"

"Not really.  The bloke came in like ten seconds, and I didn't get
off, mmmmmm."

"Well, when I take your virginity this time you'll have a much better
time."

"What, mmmmm, uhhhhh, are you talking about `this time?'  I'm not a
virgin! Ah ah ah put it in PLEASE!"

"As a matter of fact, you are a virgin.  I just used my power to
restore your hymen. I'm going to bust that cherry, but good!"

"Oh! That's so fucking kinky.  Mmmmm, ah ah yes! Take my cherry, I
love it."

Alan fed the head of his cock into her, and kept going until the tip
rested against her maidenhead.

"Oh my GOD! If I didn't know what was happening I'd be out of my mind!
 Come on love, push it through!"  He did and she squealed in pain.

"OK?"

"I will be love, once you start fucking."  He chuckled, and began to
saw in and out of her.  Her body took on that blush again, and she
began to grunt rhythmically to his strokes.  Soon her breath became
ragged, and the grunting gave way to gasping and whimpering, and soon
after she climaxed, her body seizing up, her pussy clamping down on
its invader and releasing a copious amount of juices.

"OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, OHMYGOD, FUCK ME, YES, FUCK ME, HARDER, YES,
HARDER, YES, HARDER! PLEASE! COMING!"

He fucked her through two more screaming orgasms, continually
quickening the pace of his strokes, Chloe constantly calling for him
to fuck her with more force.  By the time he came in her, simultaneous
with her third orgasm, they were both dripping with sweat, and Chloe's
whole body had passed the mere blushing stage (a light pink when he
began to give it to her) and was now in full crimson mode.  He
collapsed beside her heaving body, and she threw her leg over his, her
hands roaming over his chest.

"That was," she paused, "Words cannot even begin to describe."  He
half-turned to her and began playing with her new breasts in a relaxed
manner.  She giggled.  "Like `em, huh?"

"Hey, I do nice work!" he shot back, enjoying the shapeliness of her
enhanced bust.

"That you do, love, that you do," she purred contentedly.

Next Chapter: The nosy Guidance Counselor.

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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