Message-ID: <42794asstr$1054707012@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <000801c32a0c$a7ba89a0$1ac7cb43@sonny>
Reply-To: "Nicolo Parenti" <nicoloco@hotpop.com>
From: "Nicolo Parenti" <nicoloco@hotpop.com>
X-Priority: 3
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1106
x-assm-no-berne-warning:
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 3 Jun 2003 16:12:12 -0400
Subject: {ASSM} The Next Seduction
Date: Wed, 4 Jun 2003 02:10:12 -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
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2003/42794>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates
<1st attachment, "NextSedu.txt" begin>
------------
Author's note
You'll notice a complete lack of concern in this text for disease
and contraception. That's because it's FANTASY, dude, and that
stuff just gets in the way. In real life, you'd be nuts to engage
in these acts without protection.
When I write for fun there's no editor to give me feedback, so
informed criticism is always welcome. Enjoy, and please write
with comments and opinions.
This may be just for fun, but it is copyrighted, and reproduction
for profit is forbidden. Any distribution must include this note
and the author's email address.
------------
The Next Seduction (MF, FMF, oral, anal)
(c) 2003 by Nicolo "Loco" Parenti - nicoloco@hotpop.com
I first saw Kirsten one summer morning as I gazed idly out the kitchen
window while the coffee brewed. She'd come out of a duplex one block over
to get her newspaper and to let her mini-dog fertilize the bushes. She
was wearing a sensible robe belted over what I imagined was a short, sheer
nightie. Hey, why imagine flannel?
She was a vision, I'll tell you, tall and slim with a regal bearing and
an explosion of red hair. From 200 feet away I couldn't make out her
features, but I could see that she was in her mid-30's and kept in shape.
And a redhead, my personal weakness.
Where the hell had she come from? Last I knew, that unit was rented by
an older couple. I shrugged -- there was always turnover, and I sure
didn't try to keep up with their comings and goings.
It got to be a casual morning ritual -- start the coffee and wait for
Red to fetch her paper. When after a while I still hadn't seen a Mister
Red, I decided she was a recent divorcee, making a clean break in
temporary digs. That's a lot to surmise from a few glimpses, but I knew
this woman hadn't been unattached all her life, and would be alone only by
choice.
I grew to recognize her habits: when she left for work (7:15), what she
drove (late model Taurus), what days she worked out (green gym bag). I
guessed from her clothes she was in a semi-professional job, maybe outside
sales or an office manager. But she didn't know I existed, and I still
hadn't been any closer than a city block. Starting now, that would have
to change -- a deal's a deal.
* * * * * * *
As luck would have it, there's another woman in my life. Besides my
wife, who we'll leave out of this. Way out. The other woman is Lisa. Oh,
man, Lisa.
I work out most mornings at the Y, preferring it to the meat-markets of
Bally's or Gold's. I spotted Lisa the first day she came in, and from her
all-business manner -- the most anyone got was a nod -- I could tell she
wasn't in meat-market mode either.
But you couldn't blame the guys, and some of the girls, for trying.
Because Lisa is a stunner, a classic Mediterranean beauty. Dark and
intense, early 20's, 5' 6", with olive skin and a lingerie-model figure
that her baggy sweats only half concealed. My first guess was Italy but
it could have been anywhere in the region -- Lebanon, maybe Greece. Turns
out I was close -- she's Sicilian.
I decided that I had to see this girl smile. Then laugh. Then howl in
ecstasy. Yeah... think big but start small. First let's crack that
no-nonsense exterior.
The hook turned out to be her ride. She drove a bug-eyed Ford pickup
that was born before she was. A farm truck, something hardly seen around
here. Dad's gift when she left for the city? Whatever -- it stood out
like a pig at a polka party.
Judging from the times she worked out, and the ratty truck, I figured
her for a college student with an after-school job, probably at a
restaurant or bar. It didn't take long to find out where, since her truck
was conspicuous and there are only so many nightspots nearby. I became a
customer.
She had the barmaid thing down pretty well. Semi-flirty but with a "No
Sale" sign even a drunk could read. She looked damned good without the
sweats -- firm, high tits and a rubber-band ass with legs all the way up.
She was toned from her workouts, and I could imagine the energy she'd
bring to the sack. I learned that she had a boyfriend (I'd have been
shocked to find otherwise) but lived alone. Hmmm... sounding good.
I should describe myself here. Never a hunk even in my 20's, I'd made
it to my 40's in reasonable shape but with only guile and charm to offset
my plain looks and thinning hair. Lucky for me (and for most guys, truth
be told), women don't rate looks as highly as men do. I'm a worm, a dog,
and I admit it. It may be true that men only want one thing, but me, I
want it in as many different varieties as possible. I love a challenge,
and I'd played this game before.
It started with: "Say, don't I see you at the Y", and so on. Over a
couple of weeks we grew friendlier and before long it was coffee after the
Y and talk of her: her job, her classes, her rural background, her hopes,
her frustrations, her loser boyfriend (who cares?), her favorites in
music, film etc. You guys get the idea. Every little intimacy builds
toward the big one.
She knew I was married but so what? I was just a friend, someone she
could trust and talk with, share little things, drop an email. Maybe I
reminded her of a professor she liked. But dog that I am (I mentioned
that, right?), I was working the side door. A touch here, a knowing smile
there, a shared joke, a quick hug or a little peck as we met for lunch.
Intimacies... escalating intimacies.
My moment arrived one evening when Asshole Boyfriend, who clearly
didn't know jack about women, broke it off and drove her to tears. She's
not from around here. She's distant at the Y and aloof at work. Her
classmates are children. Who can she call for comfort? Why, her good
friend me!
Who arrives with a bottle of her favorite wine (coincidence?) and a
heart full of solace. An arm around the waist, a shoulder to cry on, a
hip to snuggle up to. Intimacies. One bottle later, it was with a bit of
a shock (hah) that we looked into each other's eyes and saw that spark.
A tentative kiss (oh yes, she's still desirable in spite of the A.B.),
then a probing one. A tender caress that becomes the stroking of a
breast. Pretty soon we were making out like teens, and it turned
horizontal. I reached for a button, she went for a zipper, we headed for
her room. Months of buildup and it was happening right now.
Then we were naked. God what a sight. The first look at a new lover
is always magical, and she was better than that -- full, high breasts
tapering to a slim waist. Womanly hips framing trimmed and tangled
pubes. And did a little pink peek out? You know, I wasn't really
looking.
I'd never been harder, nor tried harder to resist just fucking the shit
out of a girl. Here was a buff and gorgeous girl half my age, who had
known only one lover, splayed on her bed half in fear of what could happen
but hot for it anyway. I could trade this moment for a quickie, or I
could start the process of turning this girl into a creature of passion --
my creature of passion.
Well, if you read this far you know, dog though I may be, I don't take
the easy play. Challenge accepted.
I knelt by the bed and kissed her inner calves, then nibbled and
nuzzled slowly upward toward her fuzzy patch while caressing and probing
with my hands. Her lovely olive skin was like silk with a sheen of sweat,
and her nerve endings were alive to my touch. She was squirming like an
eel, gasping and moaning as I found each pleasure spot.
Lisa was going nuts -- by now her boyfriend would have already been
zipping up and reaching for a brewski. I slowly rotated her nipples with
my palms as I licked ever closer to her oven of a snatch. Eventually I
was stretching and tweaking the tips of her breasts as I parted her lips
to savor her liquid heat.
I gathered from her reaction that she'd never had the pleasure of a
tongue in her labia, that her clit had yet to be gently nipped, sucked and
tugged by loving lips. The reaction I'm referring to was a howling
orgasm, and a clutching of thighs to press my face into her slick, dark
triangle. Well, so much for that smile I wanted.
It's a wonderful feeling to give a woman pleasure... it's an even
better feeling to introduce a beautiful woman to an ecstasy she'd never
known and would want from then on. It wouldn't be easy duty, but dammit,
somehow I'd persevere.
Instinct is a great thing. In this case, it told Lisa that, after a
deep kiss in which she enjoyed the taste of her own juices, there was a
similar act that might give me pleasure. You know, a blowjob. She found
me rock hard and as randy as a brace of goats.
Now, a farm upbringing might give you an early education in the
mechanics of sex, but no young girl ever saw a chicken blow a rooster, so
Lisa was improvising. I guess college had made her a quick learner,
because I can't remember ever being blown better, then or since. She
licked, she sucked, she slathered and she swallowed my dick right to the
root... like a pussy with tonsils. She was that rarest of treats -- a
girl with no gag reflex. Heaven, take me now.
I grunted a warning, but she already knew. Maybe it was the way I
almost levitated as I got close... could be, I guess. Anyway, I shot
about a pint, and she took the first spurt cleanly. Then she let me out
so just the head was inside her lips, and worked her tongue over the
special spot. Tara Lipinski's tutu! I creamed and groaned and leaked all
over her chin and down onto her beautiful tits.
So much for foreplay. We glowed for a bit, in awe of the intensity
we'd just experienced. Then gradually the sight and feel of Lisa's lovely
Sicilian frame got my cock stirring. When she noticed, she started to
suck me again, but I demurred. We had a whole menu to order from... why
stick with appetizers?
We nuzzled and fondled for a few minutes as we maneuvered into
position. When she was fully supine and spread, she grinned at me -- what
a look -- and reached for my johnson. There wasn't much to do, I just
eased forward as she guided me to her hot center. It was OK, I suppose...
if you like pressing your cock into the tight, buttery sheath of a
22-year-old nearly virginal sexpot. Personally, I do.
She met my every silken thrust with one of her own. I managed to lick
and nip at her glorious breasts as we humped like marmots, and when it
came time for me to finally let loose, Lisa had climaxed twice and had
somehow gotten onto her stomach and was screaming into the pillow for a
third.
We fucked more than I would have imagined my 40-something body capable
of. We tried things neither of us had any idea would work (some didn't,
but oh the fun of trying). I swear, if I were twins I couldn't have been
in more positions than I was that night. Thank god she was young,
flexible, and lubricious (in all senses of the word).
Intimacies having escalated to a point we almost couldn't exceed, we
naturally cooled off over the next few weeks. But we did manage to screw,
maybe for lunch or as an evening snack, and it kept getting better as we
practiced. Lisa was hot for me, or at least for sexual discovery, and I
did all I could to keep up.
Then one day Lisa surprised me... the dog you thought was cynical
beyond surprise. She wanted to know about anal sex. Oh, she knew what it
was, she just wanted to know what it felt like.
I haven't been much of a fan of that deed. I know this isn't the way
sex stories are supposed to go -- usually the ass-fucking starts about the
time you shake hands. It's total pleasure for the women, who come like
mad as their shit gets compacted, yada yada. I humbly suggest that in
real life this is not often the case. Anyway, pussy is such a nice thing
that I didn't quite get why folks would go for the thing we have in
common, rather than for the difference.
But I was game, and this was her journey. I laid out the golden trio:
preparation, lubrication, relaxation -- a good Fleet enema and a
clean-water rinse for starters, a tube of KY and maybe some quality
pharmaceuticals. She said she really wanted to try it, and she'd get
everything together for the weekend.
Saturday came late that week. Like kids and Christmas, I guess time
dilates as the event gets closer. When I arrived Lisa was extra-lovey,
all kisses and strokes and seductive smiles. By golly, this lady really
did want her second cherry popped. I'll spare you the enema, even knowing
that some of you would rather not be spared, and skip ahead.
I started by licking her liberally, nibbling her lips, and generally
just eating her like a fool. This caused some delay in the process
because she kept coming -- the woman had no sense of the moment. As I ate
her, I teased her asshole with my fingers and tongue, using only her
copious natural lube. First a fingertip, then up to the knuckle, then
two, all the time taking pussy breaks to keep her relaxed. This was hard
for her -- you try relaxing and climaxing at the same time -- but it was
doing the job.
Finally it was time for what the French call "le butt-fuck". Lisa got
into the rear-entry position (doggy to you). I spread some warmed-up KY
over my cock and probed a glop into her hole. Oooh, she liked that part.
Then I cradled my dick at the entrance (exit?) and told her to imagine she
was taking a shit -- push out with her sphincter to relax the O-ring. And
what do you know, it worked.
I eased the knob past her tight spot while stroking her gently and
fondling her pussy. She gasped, then purred, then pushed. I retreated a
bit to add more lube, then forward again. Hey, this was going pretty
well. If you've ever been there, you know how hot and tight it can be.
Lisa didn't need anything tighter than her pussy to please me, but this
was for her, not for me.
After a few minutes I was in up to my balls, and Lisa was wondering what
all the fuss had been. When I was sure she was comfortable I started
stroking, first easy and then faster and harder as she responded
positively. Okay, so not all sex-story cliches are wrong. She reached
back to touch her clit, and came so hard she nearly squeezed my cock into
a soda straw. Peristalsis... gotta love it.
And again. And again. This was one ass-crazy lady... I thought maybe
I wouldn't get her pussy anymore. As it turned out, while it wasn't a
one-time event it was repeated mostly on special occasions. But she'd
lost her anal cherry and we'd done it with little discomfort and more than
a little pleasure. And I'd learned that when the situation is right, it
can be a nice treat. I counted this a success, and a milestone. Dear
diary: Lisa's first ass-fuck.
Have I mentioned that I'm deeply in love with Lisa? No? Well, that's
because I'm not. She's gorgeous and uninhibited, and I want as much sex as
I can with her, while she's willing. But love? Not in the equation on
either side. We're just friends who like to fuck and are good together. I
do know that I'm the luckiest guy in three counties, but remember, I'm
also one crafty dog.
Our anal escapade brought out Lisa's adventurous side. We moved on to
toys, silk-scarf bondage, everything short of asphyxiation. And every
time we brought a big dildo into the mix, say with me in her throat and
Black Bart in her pussy, I thought maybe this is when she'll decide she
wants the real thing. So when one day she did sort of suggest that maybe,
you know, there was room in our relationship for, like, another person
(yeah: another cock), I was ready to be supportive.
But she wasn't done surprising me. Lisa didn't want another cock, she
was looking for a bit of the other. She liked the taste of her own
juices, she knew what a good pussy-licker could do for a woman (here I
blush modestly), and she wanted to give it a try. She asked if I knew
anyone who'd like to join us, and right away I flashed to Kirsten.
Remember Kirsten? Red hair, slim and sexy, lives across the way, and
oh yeah, we'd never met? Did you think we'd heard the last of her? Well,
at this point I didn't even know her name or exactly what she looked like,
but I was pretty sure I'd love to fuck her, and wouldn't she be a nice
present for Lisa too?
I told Lisa about her, and she jumped right into the game: we'd seduce
this woman, fuck her brains out, lick her silly, teach her to love it in
the ass and to eat pussy like a sailor, and... Wow, I had a partner. I'd
never had a partner in seduction before, this was going to be interesting.
I proposed a double-donged, er, two-pronged approach to Lisa. We'd
each make contact with Red in our own way, and work in parallel for a
bit. When the time was right we'd converge. My part was harder -- I had
to gain her trust and get her into bed, and this was no starry-eyed teen.
Still, I had Lisa working the back door, and while the business about
divorcees being sex-starved is cliche, that's because it's often true.
We knew she worked out, so Lisa was to join her gym and get friendly.
Their age gap shouldn't be a barrier, you know how easily most women get
on. So far Lisa was more excited about this project than I was. I
started to think I'd created a monster.
It went really well for Lisa. Kirsten (as we now knew) was indeed a
lonely recent divorcee with few ties to her new place and a deep suspicion
of all things male, especially her co-workers -- salesmen all, the very
worst, and just like her asshole ex.
She was also as classy and good-looking as I'd suspected. Lisa got
glimpses of her in the showers, and reported that her 5' 9" frame held a
pair of softball-sized tits with perky nipples. The red hair was natural,
too. Her legs were long and lean, and Lisa said that while she had no ass
to speak of, what ass there was looked ready to be fucked. Oh, Lisa, if
they could hear you back on the farm.
Lisa made sure Kirsten got to see her, too. Women in locker rooms tend
to be in two camps: those who always stay clothed in something, and those
for whom nudity is no big deal. Lisa had started out demure, but found an
exhibitionistic streak during this time. She knew she looked good --
every attractive woman knows it -- and wanted Kirsten to notice.
My part started at the grocery. It didn't take much to find out where
Kirsten shopped and when, and there's nowhere less threatening to strike up
a conversation than at the dairy case. Unless it's in produce.
I literally bumped into her, well, her cart, and after apologizing
allowed myself a quizzical smile. Weren't we neighbors? Wasn't she the
lady with the little dog my wife thought was so cute? (Notice the wife --
threat level down even more.) God bless dog owners, you must be OK if you
admire Rover. She was too polite to mention that she didn't recognize me
as her neighbor, so we made small talk for a couple of minutes.
Now that we'd established a link, I could walk by when she was in the
yard, chat about this and that, and slowly ratchet up the intimacy. Soon
it was iced tea breaks and an exchange of corny email jokes. She still
had her guard up (I was a male, after all), but the old hound was making
headway.
Lisa was working it too, bringing the parallel lines closer. Coffee
after the gym was a regular date, and soon Kirsten's lack of a sex life
was a topic. Lisa stoked the fires with somewhat edited tales of great sex
with her unnamed married boyfriend. Emboldened by the frank talk, Kirsten
confessed to a few recent impure thoughts, some of them about this nice
neighbor she'd grown friendly with.
Lisa (by now a certified dog-ette) encouraged her to go for it --
nothing spices up life like a hot fling with a safely married guy, and
lord knows Kirsten could use it. With winks and giggles, they dreamt up
scenarios in which the mild-mannered neighbor ended up seduced and
abandoned by the lovely Kirsten.
All this made Lisa very hot, and we had some of our best sex during
this time. At my urging Lisa also started being more physical with
Kirsten, getting her used to a friendly squeeze, an intimate whisper, a
sympathetic hand on the knee. Lisa knew I was revealing the moves I'd
used on her, and she found that hilarious.
Since I was in on the gag, it wasn't hard for me to see Kirsten's change
in attitude, and her first tentative moves. I made it plain that she
needn't fear rejection -- the worst thing for the newly divorced -- as we
inched from one small intimacy to the next. We were following the
playbook Lisa and Kirsten had been writing, but Lisa and I had written the
appendix.
So it was no surprise when the call came about a minor domestic
emergency. A broken window, and the landlord out of town. Could I come
over and help? Bet your ass I could, I knew this chapter. She hovered as
I worked the putty (metaphors abound), and those lovely breasts just
happened to brush my arm. I made a joke, she licked her lips. As our
eyes met and lingered, I reached out to her.
I've never been in a prison camp, and that's about the only thing I can
think of that would cause me go without sex for 5 months. But this woman
had done it voluntarily, and it showed. She was quaking with need as I
held her and stroked her hair. We kissed, first gently, then hungrily. I
wanted to be tender, to go slowly and savor the moment, but Kirsten had
other ideas: she wanted to get laid. She murmured something about hoping
this wasn't a mistake, and I murmured back assurances.
I almost hated to do this without Lisa present, that's how into the game
we were. But I quickly overcame that, and concentrated on the lissome
Kirsten slowly stripping before me. Off came the blouse, down went the
skirt. She looked great in underwear. I reached forward to unclasp her
bra, but she eased back, wanting to give me the whole show.
When she slipped her panties below her knees, I saw for the first time
what Lisa had described weeks before -- a fiery red bush, nicely trimmed
for the occasion. Kirsten blushed furiously as she let her bra straps
slide and the cups fall away to reveal a pair of tits any 30+ woman would
love to have. Smallish, yes, but nicely shaped and free from sag. And I
think Lisa was just jealous about her ass -- it looked fine, thank you.
My bone was about to burst my shorts as I ogled this luscious woman.
Taking my inaction for shyness, Kirsten came forward to deliver a deep
soul kiss, pressing her nakedness against me and groping the front of my
trousers for the thing she craved. Between us we got me bare in seconds,
and she wasted no time falling to her knees and slurping me into her
mouth.
You (well, I) never really expect a classy woman to be quite as carnal
as the rest of us, but under the skin we're all the same. Certainly this
one was as hot as any I've ever met, and she knew how to suck a cock. She
couldn't throat me like Lisa, few women could, but she found all the right
places and her slow, steady bobbing was, um... effective.
And bless her, she was a swallower. Not a drop escaped her lovely
ovaled mouth as I let go of a full load. She sat back on her heels and
stroked my dick, waiting for it to droop, but to her delight I stayed as
hard as third-year Latin. I told her she had a magical effect on me,
which was true, but also since I'd known what was coming tonight I'd
fortified myself with a little Vitamin V. No need to give up all our
secrets.
Kirsten rebuffed my attempt to return the oral favor, instead dragging
me by the handle into the bedroom, laying me on my back, and climbing
aboard. No mere tongue could scratch this itch. She needed a live cock,
and she wanted to be in control. Fine with me. Her juices were flowing,
and her core was so hot I think I could have lit a match on her clitoris.
Not many sights can compare to that of a beautiful, slim and horny
woman slowly impaling herself on your cock, eyes closed and head back,
with her nipples proud and flushed with lust. It's a memory that will
warm my nights well into old age. She rocked and plunged and twisted and
bucked as I rolled her nipples, rubbed her clit, and teased her little
brown hole. I was encouraged to note that she seemed to know what that
was all about.
Waves of orgasm coursed through her for what seemed like hours in
sex-time but really was only a few minutes. Shouting my name, she
collapsed onto my chest, gasping in great heaves and sobbing like a nun on
Good Friday. Not that I've ever fucked a nun at Easter, it's just a
simile. Ok, it's a bad simile... I'll delete it later.
That wasn't the end of the evening, but it's all I'll relate here.
Repeated limnings of raw lust and ecstasy can be so tedious, can't they?
But Lisa wanted all the skinny, pronto. We wound up the next day at
lunchtime re-enacting the scaling of Mount Me, with Lisa as the lovely
Sherpa guide. Now that she knew how totally sexual Kirsten could be, she
was more eager than ever to turn her out.
Kirsten was a bit sheepish when I stopped by that evening, not sure how
we should handle the lust and emotion that had gripped us. I assured her
that I was fine with it if she was. As we talked I reached out to give
her a little hug, honest, that's all it was, but before we knew it the
floodgates were open again. This time I managed to eat her to a couple of
dandy orgasms before spreading her on the bed and giving her a straight-up
missionary fuck for another. From the tattooing of her heels on my back I
think she liked it, but Lisa would find out for sure.
When my two ladies next met, Lisa claims that she could still see the
relaxed aura of a well-fucked woman about her friend. She pressed for
details, and got as much as Kirsten was comfortable telling. Kirsten
expressed deep satisfaction, and knew now that she couldn't wait another 5
months to get laid. But she was concerned that her nice neighbor might
misunderstand and start getting serious. See, I told you there were no
stars in her eyes.
Lisa reminded her that the sea was full of horny men who'd kill for a
chance to jump a beauty like her, but Kirsten grimaced at the thought of
getting back into the dating scene at 33. Our couplings had been perfect,
she said, because they came without any of the trappings. So far it was
just good hot sex between friendly, compatible people.
Well, hey, Lisa had a thought! (Lisa: Actress and dog-ette.) Kirsten
knew that Lisa's deal with me was just that, sex buddies with no
attachments, and that I was an inventive and attentive lover. Lisa didn't
mind sharing a little, and was sure I'd be eager once I got a look at
Kirsten. How about it? She could be visiting Lisa's place when I arrived
some evening, and if the vibe was good Lisa would spring it on me later.
She was reluctant, but Lisa was selling it hard. Kirsten had heard
tales of our rabid sex life, and eventually her curiosity won out. OK,
she'd take the first step. At the very least she'd like to meet the guy
who could satisfy Lisa so thoroughly. They agreed to set it up for next
Thursday.
Boy, if you thought butt-fuck Saturday was slow in coming, "next
Thursday" took a month. Lisa was manic, hotter than a half-fucked
chicken. Plans overspilled her fertile brain. When I wasn't there to
help she managed alone -- Wired Willie got more pussy that week than I
did.
On the day, I arrived at Lisa's with my key and a nice Merlot in hand.
When I unlocked the door the two of them were huddled over a picture
album. Lisa bounced up with a flip of her skirt to greet me with a hug,
then turned to introduce her friend Kirsten... who took one look and shot
off the sofa like she'd been goosed with a cattle prod.
I've never seen such a range of emotion, confusion and near panic cross
a woman's face all at once. She might have thought that she could pretend
we'd never met (or sucked each other's naughty bits), and make a quick and
graceful exit. But Lisa foxed her by quickly asking what was wrong, and
was she feeling OK?
There was more hemming and hawing than at a quilting bee in a spittoon
factory (all right, all right, I'll delete that along with the nun thing).
Maybe if she hadn't just been poleaxed Kirsten might have seen through
Lisa's act, but as it was she never had a chance. Lisa did a slow double
take from Kirsten to me and back -- my acting contribution being a
slack-jawed goggle -- and exclaimed omigod, you know him! Oh... my...
god, oh shit, he's the guy you've been fucking!
Moliere couldn't have scripted a better farce (actually, I think he did
write one like this, but without the blowjobs). Blushing and apologizing,
Kirsten and I started talking at the same time, trying to explain that we
didn't know... we never meant... not what it seemed...
Then Lisa did the perfect thing, for the wrong reason: she started
laughing so hard she nearly peed. She did it because she couldn't keep up
the pretense, but the effect was to unfreeze the tableau, to get us both
moving -- Kirsten to comfort what she guiltily saw as hysteria, me to shut
her up before she blew the monkey.
I was whispering an urgent "Ixnay" into Lisa's ear when Kirsten drew
her into an embrace, trying to calm her by stroking her hair and saying
how sorry she was. I was caressing Kirsten while she was distracted by
Lisa, telling her it was OK, we were all friends, no harm done...
basically a bunch of bullshit platitudes but it gave me the chance to
connect to her physically.
This interlude reduced the tension some, and as Lisa recovered she
steered us to the sofa. I took one end and Kirsten warily took the other,
with Lisa between us. I uncorked the wine and soon we'd drained that
bottle, and another, and now the level of tension had dropped
considerably. In fact we were downright loose as Lisa turned to lay her
head in my lap and her feet in Kirsten's.
It was only natural for me to pet Lisa as she lay there, and with a
little wiggle she encouraged Kirsten to do her feet. Lisa wasn't an
underwear person on days when I visited, and as she raised her knees to
get her feet into position, Kirsten got a nice beaver shot.
Meanwhile, my hands had roamed from Lisa's head down to her
taut-nippled breasts. Lisa looked directly at Kirsten and said how
totally cool it was that they'd both fucked me, how turned on she was by
our all being together, and how much she loved to have her breasts played
with.
Kirsten was clearly uncomfortable, but the wine and the situation also
had her more than a little heated up. I undid a few buttons on Lisa's
blouse (no bra -- no surprise) and continued feeling her up. Lisa
described aloud how good it felt to have her nipples tweaked, how horny it
made her and how much she needed a cock or a tongue inside her. Kirsten's
own nipples had risen and were clearly outlined beneath her blouse.
Something else had risen beneath Lisa's head, and with a grin at Kirsten
she turned, lowered my zipper, and freed my erection. Kirsten was like a
deer in headlights -- knowing that the smart thing would be to move, but
frozen by the sight. Lisa's sweet mouth slowly engulfed me and I gave a
groaning sigh. It was a throat night for Lisa and soon I was tickling her
uvula.
I called Kirsten's name, and her eyes jerked from the blowjob to gaze
directly into mine. I whispered to her that I really loved the sex we'd
had, that I wanted her again, that she should kneel here by the sofa and
let me touch her hair, just her hair and she could watch as Lisa did
something very special with her throat, and I needed just to touch her as
she watched, would she please kneel here, that's good, slide off the sofa
and kneel here by Lisa and oh, what a lovely sight to have both of you
kneeling so close to me and so close to each other.
The soothing, coaxing tone had done the trick. She was all the way into
it now, so when Lisa let my dick loose with a pop and offered it to her,
she didn't hesitate. Lisa moved aside and I cradled Kirsten's head,
brushing back her hair and telling her how lovely she looked with my cock
in her mouth, how good and how different it felt for her to suck me after
Lisa had.
I don't think she even noticed that it was Lisa and not I who undid her
blouse and brassiere as she bobbed up and down in that maddeningly slow
and steady way of hers. Her breasts needed attention, her nipples
demanded it. At my urging she reluctantly released my staff and rose to
present her lovely tits for me to nip and suckle at. Lisa moved behind
her to help remove her slacks and undies. Now Kirsten was naked on my lap
with me still orally adoring her breasts and Lisa gently stroking her back
and ass, not yet daring to finger her.
She felt around for my cock and when she located it, with a little help
from Lisa, she straddled me. With a moan of pure lust she pressed herself
down to take me inside and began slowly, then feverishly, fucking up and
down. Lisa was beside herself (and us), frigging her own clit and
plunging with two fingers as she watched this show she'd worked so hard to
bring to the stage.
Lisa couldn't help it, she had to get involved. So as Kirsten fucked
away at me, all but oblivious, Lisa straddled me, separating my lips from
Kirsten's nipples, and planted a long, wet kiss on her gasping mouth. At
first confused, Kirsten quickly realized what was happening and after a
brief hesitation she responded in kind. Lisa's sweet pussy was now
hovering near my face, so I did what anyone would do, I started licking.
I couldn't last long under these conditions and luckily I didn't need
to. Kirsten came with a throaty roar, which in turn set Lisa off. I was
right behind with my own pleasure, sending gouts of sperm deep into my
pale and willowy lover, as my dark and earthy lover stared into her eyes
and urged us on in the most graphic terms.
Not giving anyone a chance to recover, I herded us all into the bedroom
and laid Kirsten on her back to munch her sloppy parts. Not something I'm
overly fond of, eating my own duck butter, but anything for the cause.
Kirsten responded eagerly to my lingual caress, and in no time was on a
sexual plateau, where I kept her for several minutes as Lisa toyed with
her nipples and whispered an intimate mix of love and filth, telling
Kirsten how beautiful she looked and how much she wanted to be the one
sucking my come out of her.
It was time for the moment of truth in this whole game, the handoff.
And when it came it seemed like the most natural thing in the world for me
to move aside and for Lisa to take up licking Kirsten's overheated pussy.
Lisa looked radiant -- they both did -- as she applied the lessons she'd
learned from our oral lovemaking, and her own body's reactions to it.
As I watched them I wanted nothing more than to slide behind Lisa and
slip my cock into her as she ate our mutual friend, now our mutual lover.
But I resisted, because this was Lisa's moment, the culmination of what
she had asked for long weeks ago. We had done what we set out to do, and
from here on was an uncharted adventure for all of us.
Then Kirsten broke the spell and sealed our course with an explosive
climax, calling out Lisa's name with unmistakable overtones of passion,
pleasure, and love. We had been two couples -- now we were a trio.
* * * * * * *
The duplex across the way is sitting empty now. Kirsten moved out a
few weeks ago when she and Lisa decided it was silly to maintain two
households. I still have my key to Lisa's, and I'm still welcomed warmly
(in fact ardently) when I show up, but it's no longer Lisa and I with
Kirsten on the side. It's the two of them, and the odd man out.
The last few weeks had been a mad whirlwind of sexual fun. We tried
everything three people can do, with and without toys. Lisa guided
Kirsten through her first anal experience... before I arrived (I did get
the second round). Kirsten proved to be as enthusiastic and talented an
oral lover as Lisa had hoped. What none of us had expected was that they
would come to prefer each other's oral ministrations to mine. At least
they agree that I'm still a better lay than Black Bart.
Both would vehemently deny that they're lesbian (I'll testify if
called), but there's no denying that they're lovers. The writing's on the
wall, and I doubt they'll complain much when my visits taper off. Believe
me, I know I've had an incredible run with Lisa, then with Kirsten, and I
do have memories enough to last. But the game is over, and while the good
guys may have won, the game's still over.
Anyway, the other day I was in town buying a book, and there was a
woman behind the counter with a nametag that said 'Julie'. Cute blonde,
maybe 5' 5", nice body, great smile. I'd say 25, 26, something in there.
Might have had a ring on, didn't notice... don't care, really.
What can I say? It's in my nature. Dogs must prowl, and for this dog
it's not so much the meat as the hunt that gets my blood up. So I think
I'll start reading more... I've heard it broadens the mind.
The End
<1st attachment end>
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format. The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
--
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> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+