index


Message-ID: <42749asstr$1054458602@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: bonkgirl <bonkgirl@NO-SPAMyahoo.com>
Reply-To: bonkgirl@NO-SPAMyahoo.com
MIME-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
Subject: {ASSM} Kinky Poolside Fantasy - by bonkgirl (M/f, bond, humil, tickling, toys, oral, kinky)
Date: Sun,  1 Jun 2003 05:10:02 -0400
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

=========================================================
Hello,

The story you are about to read is a work of fiction. Certain elements
are loosely based on real people and real events however they've been
embellished for dramatic effect and all names of people, places and
other identifying details have been changed. This and many of the
stories I write contain themes of non-consensual sex and forced
submission along with blackmail and other activities which are illegal
in real life. Please note that the real events surrounding everything
written by me were all entirely legal and all people participating did
so within the framework of "safe, sane and consensual" as defined
within the BDSM scene to which I belonged when the events took place.
I hope you enjoy my tales. All feedback may be addressed either to
alt.sex.stories.d or by email to bonkgirl@[NO-SPAM]yahoo.com

Adrianna
(c)2003
=========================================================

Kinky Poolside Fantasy

Steve has been a constant feature of my fantasies virtually since I 
first met him. To actually say this out loud is embarrassing enough, 
but the burning flush of shameful guilt really starts to rise 
whenever I think of this next fantasy. It's only a short one but it 
plays like its on endless loop whenever it comes to mind. It also 
doesn't at first sound altogether intense or overly sexual at all, 
although it does escalate in this direction as it plays in my mind.

It begins by a swimming pool although it could be anywhere. The only 
furniture in it is one of those old plastic banana lounges which 
were common around poolsides throughout the country back in the 70's. 
You know the type? Bright colored corefluted woven plastic; a seat 
section roughly three foot square; foot and head ends about the same 
size and which could be adjusted to fold an arc from bent down 
touching the ground, to horizontal like a regular bed or completely 
folded into itself and any combination in between.

In this dream this chair is set like a regular chair but with the 
foot end extended out straight. I'm completely naked; my wrists bound 
to the aluminium frame either side of my head; my legs spread and 
ankles tied to the frame at the bottom corners of the foot end. Steve 
appears. He's smiling; teeth flashing through his graying beard; a 
sparkle in his eyes. He's carrying something - I can't tell what at 
first.

He walks right up to the foot of the plastic lounge and stands there 
for a while just surveying the view. I'm struggling, but not overly 
anxious to escape. It's quite a dreamy, hazy feeling to lie there 
spread open for him, unable to hide anything of my nakedness from 
him. So far, it all seems quite harmless; non-threatening even 
despite the lingering demure unsettledness. It's non-threatening 
right up until he kneels at my spread feet and reaches out to gently 
grab hold of them.

I'm well aware of his peculiar thoughts regarding the touching of 
women's feet and so to have him touch mine in any way is immediately 
a cause for concern - more so when he starts gently pushing black 
pearly marbles which have been lightly oiled between my toes. It's a 
weird feeling, having my toes spread like that. I'm instantly 
reminded of the story of my kooky train adventure with an anonymous 
foot fetishist many years before; of all the times I'd told Steve 
that story but without ever revealing the full story - how I found it 
impossible not to orgasm if somebody toyed with my toes for long 
enough. The smallish, cold glass of the marbles spreads my toes 
widely; Steve seating each of them snugly in the webbing between and 
holding them spread like that - a metaphore perhaps for the way in 
which he might spread my legs and hold them open against my will.

If that was all he did in my dream, I might be able to hold back long 
enough not to orgasm in front of him; not to give him the 
satisfaction of seeing exactly how right he was with his bizarre 
theories about women, their feet and their sexual desires. But in my 
dreams he's far more ingenious in stimulating me than I ever imagine 
him to be in reality. He tells me; no, warns me, if I drop any of the 
marbles before he's finished tormenting me, he's going to take a 
vibrator to my pussy and force me to cum in front of the small crowd 
of people which has gathered around to watch the kinky spectacle.

At first it seems like an easy enough challenge to remain composed 
and not lose grip on any of the marbles between my toes. I think he's 
going to try and tickle my feet and I know he's wasting his time 
because they've never been ticklish, much to the chagrin of anybody 
who tried tickling them when I was a child. However, it soon becomes 
arrapent to me this is an ADULT tickling game and Steve has something 
much more devious in mind for me.

The dream becomes a bit surreal but the next thing I know Steve is 
naked; his cock dances obscene and large up from his hairy loins and 
right under my nose as he straddles me lying on the banana lounge; 
hands slip anonymously around from behind the chair and elegant, long 
fingers caress and stroke my armpits. In the surprise of the moment, 
as the unseen hands glide in search of my breasts, I open my mouth 
and gasp. Steve's cock immediately fills my mouth; his hands gripping 
the head rest of the chair to pull my face closer and my mouth deeper.

It's all too easy to lose concentration on the tenuous grip my toes 
have on the marbles and one by one there is the light clatter as they 
drop onto the concrete around the chair. I hear the vibrator before I 
feel it. It's buzzing loudly; very loudly; embarrassingly loudly and 
the touch of it against my clitoris sends me instantly spasming with 
mind-numbing waves of orgasmic pleasure. I try and keep a grip on the 
marbles - not to stop them from falling but to savor the spread, 
vulnerability the sensations of them between my toes provide. Steve 
doesn't need to look anywhere except into my eyes to know what's 
going on. His face remains creased up into a grin as he floods my 
mouth with a pulsating eruption from his cock. I'm moaning loudly, 
sucking in air noisily; frantically through my nostrils. The fingers 
which had been tickling under my arms and breasts now take hold of my 
sensitive nipples. They twist and pull painfully. I can feel marbles 
being launched across the concrete from between my toes. An orgasm is 
the only thing that makes me giggle like that, and giggle I do...

--
ser-en-dip-i-ty (n) The faculty of making fortunate discoveries by
accident.

"Serendip is not reached by plotting a course for it. Instead you must
set out in good faith and lose your bearings serendipitously" - from
The Sinbad Saga

http://profiles.yahoo.com/bonkgirl

-- 
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>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+