Message-ID: <39401asstr$1038053403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@google.com> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: toryu88@hotmail.com (sir_kraken) X-Original-Message-ID: <1fff344a.0211221356.25566bf0@posting.google.com> Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit NNTP-Posting-Date: 22 Nov 2002 21:56:15 GMT X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.7 6244 gAMLuGbx022681 mailbox2.ucsd.edu) X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 22 Nov 2002 13:56:15 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Beach House Whore Chap 1 and 2 {Toryu} (fM+ reluc interr degrad oral anal nc/cons bdsm breast sad beast pierc exhib fist) Date: Sat, 23 Nov 2002 07:10:03 -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/Year2002/39401> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hecate, gill-bates This is an original work of adult literature. If you are under 18 years of age, read no further. If you are a pious self-righteous adult burdened by a repressive religious upbringing and sexual hang-ups too numerous to count, then you too should pass. This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY. Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed permission of the Author at: godegesil@hotmail.com This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery, prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism, breast torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes to mind. Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email. The Beach House Whore by Toryu This is an original work of adult literature. If you are under 18 years of age, read no further. If you are a pious self-righteous adult burdened by a repressive religious upbringing and sexual hang-ups too numerous to count, then you too should pass. This work may be copied for personal use and enjoyment, ONLY. Reposting on any pay sites is forbidden without the expressed permission of the Author at: toryu88@hotmail.com This work contains f_M+, Domination, Con/NC sex, slavery, prostitution, beast, bondage, interracial, masochism, sadism, breast torture, piercing, large breasts, and whatever else comes to mind. Feel free to offer comments and suggestions at the above email. Chapter 1 Her trim stomach was filled with butterflies as the feelings of anticipation and apprehension mixed into a volatile emotional mixture. She kept her eyes on the steady stream of traffic that wound its way down Interstate 45 from Houston to Galveston. It was only 10 AM and the air was already heavy with humidity and the mercury was headed steadily upward. She guessed she would get to Surfside around noon if the traffic continued to build. She squirmed in the seat, feeling the strangeness of the t-back between her firm buttocks. She'd worn the bathing suit he had sent her as a present. A t-back bikini. The color was conservative enough, an azure blue, but it was ridiculously small as she had discovered on trying it on. "The bastard!" she thought laughing self consciously to herself. Her face flushed at the memory of herself standing in front of the mirror with only the three little azure blue lycra triangles covering her. The bottom wasn't so bad, but the top, it barely covered her conical aureoles, much less supporting her voluminous breasts. She remembered the sight of the small blue triangle up between her sleek bare legs and how she had resolved to endure a bikini wax. The strings of the bottom rode above her wide hips right where the smooth flesh turned inward to her narrow waist. The slender column of her waist rose up to her ribcage in the shadow of her ponderous bosom. She had always been morbidly embarrassed by her large breasts. It seemed to her that between the 8th and 12th grades every boy in Bastrop County had tried to cop a feel. Her mother had tried to solve the problem by dressing her in moo moos and loose blouses. All they did was accentuate the difference between her tiny waist and voluminous chest. Her prominent nipples won the Battle of Modesty with the thin azure fabric. The cigar butt stubs of her nipples poked into the elastic fabric, the thin blue fabric revealing the round outline and puckered contours of her fat aureoles to casual inspection. She remembered turning and seeing the t-back for the first time. The large expanse of bare curved flesh that met her eyes, still made her face color. The firm rounds of her bare buttocks glared back at her. The thin blue thread of bathing suit threaded the juicy pale mounds like the Suez Canal between the Sinai and Egypt. It had been an obscene sight for a girl that had never been allowed to wear a two piece bathing suit and then only a one piece with a t-shirt on. He said she was beautiful, and he had bought it for her. She had to admit it did make her feel nasty. "What would Reverend Miller say if he had seen her in it!" she thought, "He probably would have been wiping drool from his fat chin!" quickly banishing the wicked thought with a shiver. "Oh well," she giggled, "It was for Dan's eyes only.", she thought. She relaxed and let her mind wander as the salt grass bordering the interstate whip by as she approached the coast. "She was so lucky." she thought. A boyfriend with a beach house! Yes, things had moved fast and he was older than her, but, , but she had so much fun with him, and he treated her like his princess. Something her father had never done! And besides, she felt so safe with him. No pretensions, no games, just him and her. It made her feel warm inside. The surf crashed against the expanse of dirty amber sand, the salt air filling his nostrils. The middle aged man sat sipping an Oban, neat, savoring the way the rich amber scotch made his taste buds sing. His chuckle filled the room as his mind drifted back three weeks to when he'd first seen her at the health club, swathed in black stretch cotton. She'd done some light weights and then moved to the bikes and stair master. All the guys had noticed her, hard not to. She wasn't the most beautiful woman there, but pretty. A kind of a Karen Allen type, dark hair and a freckle covered pert nose, wide mouth with juicy lips, dark eyes. Most stayed clear of her and just gawked. Considered her untouchable. He laughed at that. The guys must have been afraid of her breasts. Oh yes, her breasts. Large? Well, what had Cyrano de Bergerac said when someone called his nose big? Such a waste of opportunity he had said, and proceeded with a soliloquy of adjectives that would have done justice to his probiscal edifice. His mind wandered with due apologies to Edmond Rostand... "Yes her breasts were large to some, but to the mountaineer, massive; to the sailor, immense; the banker, enormous; the archeologist, Herculean; the astronomer, vast; the butcher, meaty; the poet, gargantuan; the novelist, brobdingnagian; the doctor, corpulent; the artist, magnificent; the industrialist, stupendous, the feminist, monstrous, and the farmer, fat as bacon." You get the idea he thought. The young woman's narrow waisted medium build made them even more prominent. At five foot seven inches, the meaty slabs arched outward from her narrow chest straining the black top and underlying sports bra to near breaking. Elastic can restrain only so much. So the heavy melons vacillated like meaty pendulums within their confines of synthetic fibers. Victims of inertia. He had pursued his workout and watched her when he could. She was quiet and almost painfully shy. Kept her thoughts to herself, but he had seen it. She had been there to bolster a battered self esteem. Divorce? Maybe, but she was pretty young to have been down that path. He'd put his money on her first time out of the nest. College or job, maybe mom had finally died forcing her on her own. Dad? Who knew, maybe he hadn't been able to resist those meaty bags when they first started to burst forth on her narrow little chest and added to the baggage she now carried into the world. He couldn't give a shit. He had watched her toil away. An easy yet tricky task with so many mirrors. The watcher can be watched so to speak. He had chosen a cycle in the middle row and got a good rear quartering view of her. Nice profile of her breasts and ass from a vantage point that wasn't too obvious. A heart. That was it. Her fine fleshy ass had reminded him of a heart, the valentine kind of heart. The round fleshy flaring at the hip tapering to the sleek muscular thighs that pumped up and down as she climbed the endless stairway to elusive physical perfection. He had shaken his graying head as he leafed through the promotional "fitness" rag that served as promotional material for the local plastic surgeons. She was pretty close to perfect, but you'd never convince her of that. Looks that most women would kill for, but she didn't see it. Shrinks could write a books on what went on in attractive women's heads. As difficult as it was for men to understand the normal thoughts of a woman, abuse twisted and perverted them into something undecipherable. He had smiled at the thought. Lambs. And he the wolf. Well maybe the bear. He'd laughed to himself. Yeah the curse of his father. Grizzly, the thick coat of white hair on his chest had come with time. Made a striking sight when he tanned. Back and shoulder hair came next. And this was the same guy ashamed to shower in junior high for lack of pubes. Late bloomer. Two forty, six foot. He didn't see himself as a big man. But others did. Self image was a funny thing. Muscular in his mid forties, a product of lifting for twenty odd years. Thick muscular arms and legs. Wide chest and back. Most women described him as masculine. The lesbians/feminists had another word, neandertal. They saw him as a knuckle dragger but would have been in the cat fight to be in his harem if civilization as we knew it ended. He was the type that studies showed women found subconsciously attractive during ovulation. Pure masculine power. Yeah. He understood on an intuitive primal level what the egg heads spent millions of tax dollars to "discover". For sex on the primal reproductive level, women wanted a physically masculine brute. Brains or not. They were genetically hardwired that way to produce the strongest most survivable children. The sensitive pencil neck types had lost the contest before it ever started. Go figure. Mother Nature knew what she was doing. If the brute also happened to have an advanced degree so much the better. He figured the tension he sensed from the lesbian and feminists types was some outward manifestation of some internal struggle within themselves. He'd smiled at the notion of them actually feeling an attraction and at the same time being repelled. He had seen it before with a young environmental scientist he had worked with during his consulting years. The love hate relationship, she had been a young feminist firebrand in her twenties he a late thirty's neandertal. She never missed an opportunity to engage him in verbal jousting or visit him in his office. Sexual harassment being what it was, he stayed clear of the obvious temptation. He husband was a pencil neck milk sop. So what was the attraction? Maybe a daddy complex or something even her membership in NOW couldn't explain to her. Chances are she ended up spreading her skinny little feminist legs for some hairy knuckle dragger. Her diaper changing, Phil Donahue like sensitive husband none the wiser. She would look to fill that empty ache in her little not used often enough vagina, looking for something she couldn't define. His mind had wandered and he'd laughed at the thought of an old joke. The ex-husband asked his ex-wife's new lover how he like fucking used pussy. He replied it was pretty good once he got past the used part... His eyes had drifted back to the pretty buxom brunette. She had her shoulder length hair pulled back and tied. Shoulders bare. His gaze had traced the t-back shaped sweat stain that darkened the fabric between her buttocks. He imagined the musky smell of her crotch and the tangy taste of her sweaty vulva. He'd shifted his buttocks on the cycle seat as his cock thickened in the confines of his shorts. A dark stain had grown in the straining fabric between her shoulder blades and down her spine. He imagined the tight smooth skin of her back covered with a fine patina of sweat as she labored straddling his hips. The sleek bare arms like buttresses leaning on the handle bars, supporting her heavy torso against his shoulders as he watched her heavy hanging udders sway pendulously over him. Their engorged nipples grazing the thick hair of his chest as the liquid heavy tear drops swung to and fro with the movement of her pumping hips. His lip curled at the remembered vision. He'd watched the timer count down then swung his leg from the cycle and walked toward the laboring young woman. She was lost in her own private world, some musical artist pounding away in the walkman affixed to her waistband. He'd raised a large hand attached to his thick wrist and tapped her on a smooth shoulder. He remembered her jumping at his touch in surprise and turned pulling toward him pulling the earphones from her head. A demur smile had flitted at the corners of her umber lips as her green eyes were transfixed by his for an instant before dropping. "I just wanted to tell you how stunning you are. The man in your life is very lucky." he remembered saying softly his gaze unwavering as he baited the hook. "Have a great workout." He'd turned and walked toward the locker room without another word, aware of her curious eyes on his back. Showered and dressed he'd pulled out a chair in the juice bar and sat watching the flurry of sweating ants as they crawled around the club. He'd smiled to himself as he watched the young woman approach in his peripheral vision to ostensibly use a piece of equipment nearby. He remembered turning as she began her first set of reps feigning surprise as they began the dance. "So we meet again!" he'd said quietly. She'd smiled but said nothing. Her eyes dropping as if she had been caught in some act, which in point of fact she had. Her clumsy adolescent attempt at having a motive to engage this interesting stranger had been clearly transparent. "I know you must be new here, I haven't seen you before. Does your boyfriend use the club too?" he'd said mining for information. "No..., I mean no there is no boyfriend. Just me. And yes I am new. I just moved to Houston from up near Giddings. I'm planning to start school at the end of the summer." she had said not meeting her eyes. "I find that impossible to believe...I mean the no boyfriend part. But the school part is wonderful, know what you want to study?" he'd said with interest he didn't really have. "Sorry I forgot myself, my name is Dan Lancing." He'd said extending a muscular hand, " and yours is?" "Robin Poteet." She'd said with a slight smile as she lowered her eyes. "You were saying about your studies?" he said as he remembered continuing the conversation. "Maybe marine biology of wetlands, you know something with the environment." She'd said lifting her eyes cautiously to his with a smile. "Giddings did you say? " he'd said still mining. "Yes, my family is from there. Nobody left now so I thought I'd move here." "Bingo!" he remembered thinking. She was on her own for the first time. "Well, if you don't mind me being bold. How would you like an old man to introduce you to the city? Lunch or dinner. A few drinks. Whatever you feel comfortable with." "Well...I don't know." She'd said wavering. "I understand if you don't want to be seen with an old man." He'd said with a genuine grin. "But I promise you I won't show up with a walker." "No, no, it's not that at all!" she'd said her cheeks turning crimson. "I just don't get out much." she said not wanting to add that she wouldn't begin to know what to wear even if she had it in her closet. He could have said it for her as he watched her discomfort knowingly. "No problem. I know a place, you can wear a t-shirt and shorts if you like." He'd said, his green eyes glowing warmly. "Now?" she'd said obviously flustered. "Whenever you like. The city isn't leaving. Besides I want you to be comfortable." He'd said hitting a nerve spot on. It had been years since anyone had cared a wit about her feelings. The young woman's heart felt tight for an instance, as strange warm feeling filled her chest. "I'd love to, say for a quick beer. I could follow you, okay?" she'd said, her eyes quickly searching his for approval. "I'll just be a minute, let me go change." With that she smiled her demurely almost apologetically, grabbed her towel and scampered off to the ladies locker room. He had laughed to himself. If people wouldn't have noticed he would have rubbed his hands together in glee. Goddamn he was good! The rest had been easy. Take one ripe insecure young woman, season thoroughly with flattery, massage with a little attention, place in a warm restaurant over dinner for several hours, baste liberally with a few drinks and you have the recipe for a wild night of sex. Robin had turned out to be very compliant and eager. He hadn't noticed or cared whether she had actually been a virgin. She seemed naïve enough, but more than made up for it in raw enthusiasm. Most women, novice or no, blanch at the idea of taking a man's dripping member, fresh and musky from their own leaking quim, into their mouths. Not the pretty ripe, Robin. She only wanted to please him. He had only had to offer the freshly withdrawn prong to her eager mouth and she had pounced. Once she knew how much he liked having her full young lips wrapped around his 40 something cock, she couldn't suck him enough. Her adoring eyes drifted from his steel blue orbs to the demanding bulge in his crotch. He only wished that it was always so easy. A few nights in bed with her and she was thoroughly his. He hadn't totally debauched her, but the hook was set and now the real fun could begin. He hadn't begun the process. It had begun long ago when the owner of the sperm that begat her, abandoned her without a father, leaving a half complete, vulnerable young woman, pushed out of the nest unprepared, crippled. Food for the likes of him. Strip clubs and brothels around the world were filled with Robin's of all colors and creeds. He was only filling a social niche, as necessary as the one filled by the dingo, the jackal, the hyena. He preyed on the emotional cripples, pulling them down, devouring them before they could reproduce and pass their crippled emotional psyches on to their offspring. He was no more sadistic than other predators, yes, he would play with the ripe young thing, degrading her along the way, reveling in her humiliation and emotional pain, profit from her if he could then discard her when he saw fit. She might prove resilient and in one of the sick twists of nature, actually learn to enjoy her lot. This would only delay the inevitable, the time when she fell victim to yet other predators further down the social food chain, who would feed on her too, until she was utterly destroyed. Chapter 2 The pretty brunette squirmed as she thought of their first night together. The nervous anticipation, the giddy feeling of the wine and drinks and the sexual tension. She giggled nervously to herself. She hadn't really intended for it to happen, had she? She did think he was handsome in a masculine way. All muscles, even for a man his age. Age? Well he was old enough to be her father. The thought made her poor wet little pussy throb. Was that it? Was it a daddy thing? She shrugged guiltily. She couldn't bring herself to admit the obvious. It as too, what? Perverted. Was she really hot for an older man because he reminder her of the father she never had? Or was it to scandalize the overprotective mother she had learned to hate? Flustered, she turned her thoughts back to Their first night. He had showed her things, made her do things...made her? She laughed. She had taken to everything like a hungry puppy. She shivered at the memory of his strong hands on her body, exploring, toying, demanding. He'd taken her back to his apartment for more drinks. She remembered she had made the first move, kissed him. The long lingering kiss had set off springs and locks in her and she needed little coaxing to shrug out of the clingy dress he had bought her for the evening. The one that turned every male head in the restaurant and brought color to her high cheeks. The black thing hugged every curve, painting itself to her huge breasts and round hips. Her firm fleshy buttocks moved rhythmically within their fabric prison with each step, hypnotizing every man in the place with a microgram of testosterone still in his blood. He had pushed her away to stand before him as she undressed. Her little puss throbbed at the memory of his eyes as she peeled the dress down the mountainous globes of her chest to reveal the chestnut brown saucers of her aureoles capped by the cigar-thick stubs of her nipples. The heavy mounds swung forward and down as she bent to push the useless dress down her legs and unbuckled the straps of her high heels from around her ankles. She remembered standing naked in front of him, as his eyes explored every inch of her. She felt helpless with nowhere to hide. His eyes stripped her to her soul while his words soothed her, coaxed her like a frightened foal. She raised her arms over her head, the heavy shimmering mounds of her breasts lifted taut defying gravity as they swayed heavily. They dwarfed her small rib cage and projecting ponderously over the flat plane of her belly, her broad aureoles puckered and her fat nipples snapped to rigid attention as she moved to please him. She turned in a slow pirouette. The outside curves of the fat mounds of her firm breasts visible to his eyes even as her muscular back undulated before him. She remembered her hands lifting her hair in imitation of something she'd seen at the movies as she turned in front of him. She had glanced nervously over her shoulder and watched him as his eyes devoured her. The vee of her smooth back rocked, tapering to her trim waist. The narrow column flaired to wide round rocking hips, the undulating band of her spine disappeared between the full round mounds of her meaty buttocks. She remembered turning to face him, her trim legs shaking. A whimper slipped from her full lips at the memory of his hand sliding up between her gaping thighs, a thick finger bulling it's way through the protective tangle of her sparse pubes to slot itself in the wet trench of her fat leaking labia. The pretty brunette, shook her head as if to rid herself of the thoughts and stared down the road. A smile slowly crept back to her pouting lips as the salacious memories slowly began to decant themselves in her mind, filling her head, like cheap whiskey pouring into a drunk's glass. She shivered even as the humid air made her sweat. The thin blue fabric of her bikini showing the telltale dark splotches of sweat and excitement as the car filled with the thick smell of her wet sex. The hot sordid images flashed in her brain, it happened so fast, felt so good, the grainy images flickered and jumped in her minds eye in black and white like an old dirty movie. He pushed her down, her heart in her throat, wanting to run, but rooted by the sight of the bulge in his pants. Her bulge. She made it. Earned it with her wanton display. It pleased him. She remembered the feeling of triumph and pride as her little fingers pulled the metal zipper tab to his fly. The giddy feeling was fresh, like that of child on Christmas, as she freed the hidden treasure behind the fabric. Her breath caught in her throat all over again as the sick memory flickered, of the hot hard meat of his cock, the coarse hair, the pulsing veins, the churning sack of his balls. The coarse jumping image of his grinning face as he brought her hands to the waving throbbing staff and showed her how to user her delicate fingers to stroke and caress it, to coddle and cup the hot heavy orbs of his balls. She shivered with the memory, felt the same sick hot wetness in her crotch, the tight pulling as her bottom throbbed, pulsing out a rivulet of guilty wetness. She remembered the tight feeling in her chest, feeling so small as she knelt before him. She recalled the hot feeling of her naked skin as his eyes looked down and devoured her. Her eyes lifting up, questioning. Then feeling his strong hand pat her head, and pull her pretty face toward the leaking snout of the pulsing rod she held tightly in her hands. She unconsciously licked her lower lip at the vivid memory flickering in her mind. Her eyes blind to the passing traffic, she remembered the hot sticky wetness against her pursed lips as he instructed her, guided her. She remembered the long lingering kiss against the hot little mouth, how her pointed tongue had explored. How she thrilled to the steamy heat of the thick prong gripped in her hands. Gawd-d-d-d, she loved it! Lord help her, but she loved the feel of it, the taste of it. She would have sucked it for him, willingly taken his hot creamy load in her inexperienced mouth right then. But it wasn't to be. "Whew!!!!" she shuddered as she exited the freeway onto 61st street that would take her to the Strand and the south island. She blanched as she felt the sticky wetness between her legs and squirmed in the bucket seat as the movie began to flicker in her head again jumping to the big bed brightly sunlit in front of the open curtains; the standing mirror at the foot of the bed. How he had mounted her like a bull. Filling her, trapping her beneath his muscular hairy chest. Her legs over his shoulders; trapped by his arms. She groaned aloud as she remembered the delicious feeling of his thick prong as it filled her, stretched her, pounded her into mewing submission as she begged for more, wanting it to go on and on. She shook her head hoping to stop the incessant reel, but it flickered on stoking the steamy furnace between her legs. The flickering images showed her the close up of his veiny cock pumping in and out of her upturned bottom as she squealed for more. She licked at her full bottom lip as she remembered the reflection and saw his heavy balls beating a rhythmic tattoo on her frothy wet labia as he bludgeoned her with his throbbing club of flesh. She flushed as she recalled his hot sucking mouth on the hot tingling mounds of her fat breasts. Remembered the suffocating pounding in her chest and spiraling pin wheel in her head that merged in a gut wrenching convulsion under his irresistible pounding and the hot swelling wetness that filled her to bursting when he came. God help her she loved it. She had sucked him back to hardness with his chuckling ringing in her ears. Sucked him and pulled him eagerly to her to mounted her again. She thrilled at the taste as she suckled on his wilted cock hoping, praying that he would take her again. Instead he made her suck him, strumming her swampy cunt with his thick fingers as she milked the dregs from his tired balls, sucking and pumping until he filled her mouth with the rich fountain of his hot sperm. -- 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> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+