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Message-ID: <43922asstr$1060945805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Frank Downey" <fabfour.fan@verizon.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 15 Aug 2003 03:05:09 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} Chosen, by Frank Downey (MF rom? flash)
Date: Fri, 15 Aug 2003 07:10:05 -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

If you're under the legal age for smut in your community, begone. If such
things offend you, begone.

Copyright 2003 Frank Downey. All Rights Reserved.

CHOSEN
by Frank Downey
fabfour.fan@verizon.net

"Daddy chose. Daddy always chooses," she smiled at me, unbuttoning her
dress.

Daddy was a financier, well-known and extremely well-heeled. He patronized
the brokerage firm where I was a very junior three-years-out-of-college
broker. He'd paid particular attention to me recently. I could've flattered
myself and thought that he was stunned by my trading acumen. I, however, am
a realist.

This was a dinner invitation, to celebrate a trade thirty people in my firm
could've handled. I didn't quite understand, until I found out about
dessert.

She took my hand and led me to her room before I knew what was happening.
She dropped the dress from her shoulders before I could say a word. The
underwear quickly followed. She was breathtaking, a dark-haired vision with
liquid black eyes, a smile that lit up Manhattan, and a body that would keep
you awake at night. Her luminescent olive skin belied her full Italian
heritage. She was the fifth of six daughters. Her name, I remembered as if
through a fog, was Annabella.

"Daddy always chooses, Rich," she repeated. "My older sisters, and my
younger one when it's her time. This is my time." She crossed the room and
pulled my shirt off. Then went my pants and underwear. I couldn't move. She
grabbed me by my dick, which was throbbing. "It's my eighteenth birthday. I
want my present." She backed onto her bed and spread out, eager and waiting.

"I just met you. I don't know you."

"You will," she smiled.

"Do I get to choose?"

The flicker over her face was momentary, but I might as well have slapped
her. I felt like a heel. "Of course you get to choose," she said bravely.

Did I?

I was over her, ready, entering. She was ready, eager, drenched. I started,
then hit a wall. I looked at her.

"We have to wait until Daddy chooses. Oh, I've been waiting for you
 forever!"

I barely saw the flash of pain when her barrier tore. Then it was shining
eyes, laughing mouth, pure bliss. She wrapped herself around me-arms, legs,
lips, pussy, soul. When we went over, it was ecstatic, and together.

Afterwards, still wrapped around me, she laughed. It was a musical tinkling
thing that sent goosebumps up my arms. "We're going to be married," she
said.

"I know."


--fin-

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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