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From: "Lou Moran" <ellem52@mail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Train Stories :: The Promise
Date: Tue, 11 Mar 2003 00:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Train Stories :: The Promise
ellem52@mail.com

MF

---
Can you vote in the USA?  Does sex make you happy?  Got a good
grip on reality vs. fantasy?  If you answered YES to these
questions read on.
---

She wore the skin tight red foil red dress beneath her brown
dress suit.  Thigh high stockings, knee high leather boots over
her shapely legs.  There were no errors in her outfit.  She had
been instructed what to wear in emails, Instant Messages and web
links.  She had complied totally, willingly.  She wanted to
please this man.  This man above all others, including her
husband.  She'd told him that her husband was the only man she'd
ever made love to, he'd replied that if she wore the outfit they
wouldn't make love, they would fuck.  Hard.

That had turned her on.  More than the fact that he looked like
the first man she'd ever desired.  The first man she'd ever put
her hands to herself to.  The amazing agony of bringing her
shuddering pelvis to a numbing orgasm with her slender fingers. 
She knew it was incredibly vain but she loved the look of her
body writhing in the mirror next to her childhood bed covered in
crystalline perspiration.  Urging her tiny body into explosive
orgasms.  Always forced to hold her tongue because her parents
were in the next room.

Kristen was always aware of her looks.  Her room lighting smile.
Her lithe body, olive and deep.  She married her high school
sweetheart who was by her estimation the best looking man in the
world.  A beautiful, slender man who was often kind but had a
brutal streak in him that he reserved for sports.  While she
always knew she was infinitely more intelligent than he was she
never considered it that important.  His failure to get signed
hadn't left him bitter, but somewhat broken for the experience. 
He'd become a Little League coach and active in that community. 
Kristen was content to leave him home every morning as she rode
the 6:08 into Penn Station every morning.

She'd met Mark in a flash.  He was a network consultant and he'd
dropped a diskette on her desk and said, "I'll be right back."

She examined the diskette, pushed it into her laptop and read the
script it contained and wondered why that script needed to be run
from a diskette.  Why hadn't the System Administrators simply run
it on Login every morning?  She asked him when he stopped back
her desk.

Mark was amazed by her.  Her eyes, her body, those legs.  Her
ability to see through his script.

"OK, you've got me.  I don't really need to run that script.  But
I was afraid if I just locked your account out I might not be the
one to fix it," he said smiling.

Kristen blushed.  Smiling widely, warming to him immediately. 
The feelings she had were very unusual for her.  This man was not
nearly as good looking as her husband had been years ago.  There
was something else about him.  Something in them.  Intelligence.

"I'm, I'm married," she uncharacteristically stammered.

"I know it's just...  You're... God."

That was weeks ago and now she was looking for him in Penn
Station.  He saw her from behind and casually walked past her. 
She followed.  He walked past the LIRR tracks and toward the
Amtrak tracks.  He ducked into a door and she saw only his arm
beckoning her.  Kristen followed him.

The room was well lit and had several couches.  Kristen couldn't
understand what the room was doing in the bowels of Penn Station.
 Yet despite that she was disrobing for Mark, into her slutty
metallic red dress.

"It's a break room.  They won't be coming in here, but you will
be," he said with confidence.

She submitted to his hands immediately.  He ran his hands up her
thighs and stomach to her full breasts.  He met her lips, soft,
yielding to his.  They kissed softly, but deeply.  She made love
to his mouth with hers.  His hands seemed everywhere at once. 
His touch was energy coursing through her.  These were feelings
she hadn't felt in a long time.  Her body urged him on.  Her
tongue was not held, she moaned loudly, gasping at times as his
teeth and tongue worked her neck.  

He dropped suddenly to his knees and snapped her dress up over
her hips onto her waist.  He lunged at her pussy like an animal
might go for the throat of prey and clamped down in her clit and
sucked it hard and wet.  Kristen's body reacted immediately.  Her
legs spread and her hands grabbed his head.  It was like he was
chewing her.  His sucking, rolling tongue made her thoughts
blurry and thick.  Her head lolled as he expertly brought her to
a full body orgasm.  It was like a religious experience.  Like an
awakening inside her.

Mark looked up at her, his face awash with her juices.

"My God!  Have you ever cum before?"  He asked smiling.

Kristen did not answer she simply smiled back at him dragging him
back up for a kiss.  Again they explored each other, his fingers
deep inside of her as he rhythmically tore another orgasm out of
her.  She felt herself slipping away with him.  Leaving her whole
life to satisfy this man.  To do anything for him.  She grabbed
at his crotch holding the thick cock underneath his tailored
pants rubbing her tiny hands over it.  It was warm to the touch
and bigger than she imagined, and she'd imagined it a lot in the
past week as they set up this meeting.

Kristen was at first incredulous; sex in the morning, in a train
station?  Cheating?  Somehow Mark had talked her into all of
these things.  Picked out her outfit, admonished her not to wear
underwear.  Now he was fingering her like she had done to herself
in those agonizing days when she'd first discovered her body. 
Mark, however, didn't feel the delicious pain that coursed
through her and always made her stop before she had a massive
orgasm.  Mark drove her straight through them.  

He peeled the top of the dress down off of her breasts and it
stuck from sweat to her.  He licked, flicked and sucked her tits
like candy.  They were salty from overheating her and sweet
underneath from whatever she'd covered her body in to make it
soft.  His member was straining to get out of his pants and
cleave into her softest spot.  He worked her through to another
orgasm and whispered to her, "Please."

Kristen dropped slowly, serpentine to her knees and unzipped his
pants.  With a nudge he freed his cock and Kristen looked at it
but did not touch it.  She got close to it.  He could feel her
breath on it.  She stuck her tongue out fat and moved up and down
as if she would lick it but did not.  She was inches from the
straining monster.  It throbbed in front of her.

Kristen was already too far gone.  Accepting his massive cock
inside her would certainly end her marriage, her life.  She would
become bound to Mark.  Enslaved.  She knew he could easily
overpower her, force her, rape her, but she thought he wouldn't.
She hoped he could not do that.  Instead she pantomimed sucking
him.  Stroking him.

She moved her head the way she would if she were stuffing him
into her mouth.  She used her hands to pretend to tug on his big,
angry dick and to finger herself and pinch her own nipples, for
him.  Her mouth, like her sex, was dripping.  She wanted to
swallow him whole.  Take his cock down her throat and make him
cum, taste him.  She almost did it several times.  Kirsten kept
her head.

Mark was in agony.  He wanted to grab this bitch by the back of
the head and slam his cock down her throat and gag her.  What was
she doing?  When was he going to get relief?  What was holding
everything up?

"You are so big.  I can't handle you.  You'd hurt me so much. 
John isn't half the size of you.  I'm scared."

Mark felt it in the pit of his groin.  His cock bucked and then
his balls tightened and then he blasted cum out of his pole like
a cannon shot.  He pointed it away from her but he wanted to
smear his filthy cock all over her face.  Slap her face with it,
but he couldn't, didn't.  She was too beautiful.  Too smart. 
Fucking respect.

Kristen plucked the rubbery red dress and dropped it on the couch
next to Mark.  She was naked, save for the mid thigh stockings
and knee high boots and she flopped down on the couch.  She was
panting.  She looked like she wanted to take a nap.  As if she'd
actually had exhausting sex.  Mark looked at her body, soaking
from every pore.  Her long black hair sticking to her.  He was
still hard enough to drive himself deeply inside her.  He could
take her, make her scream out as he pummeled her.  He still
couldn't do it.  He could not hurt her.  He could not disrespect
her, not this angel below him.

His eyes traveled her skin.  Her perfect proportions.  Her mouth,
curled in a grin, even though her eyes were closed he knew
underneath they sparkled in the dark way they had the first time
he'd seen her.  Slender.  Tight.  Soft.

She continued to stare at his, now, shrinking manhood.  Even now,
going flaccid, it was much larger than John.  He would have split
her in two.  There's no telling what might have happened if he'd
gotten inside her.  What she'd have allowed.  What he'd have
demanded and gotten.

"It's beautiful," she panted.

"Kristen.  Kristen, you are the most beautiful thing, woman," he
said trailing off.

She slipped back into her brown suit and felt very plain.  It was
a boring outfit; she didn't feel the perverse tingle she had with
the other dress underneath.  Mark cleaned himself and folded his
soft meat back inside his trousers.  He looked like a hurt dog. 
Pouting. 

Kristen kissed him with her entire body.  Grinding up against
him.  Her thighs, her stomach, her arms, she wanted to dive into
him be in his skin.  Mark began to stiffen in his pants.  They
slow danced, necking under the fluorescent lighting.

She walked away.  He lusted her ass before she put her coat on. 

"I want to do this again, but I want to do it at night," he said.

She turned and looked at him.  "Promise me you won't hurt me."

"I promise."

-- 
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