index


Message-ID: <47793asstr$1084306203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: goldrush@aussiemail.com.au (Goldrush)
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 11:07:55 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} My First Sex Crime part 1 (MM/F, nc, v)
Lines: 315
Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 16:10:03 -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

My First Sex Crime


It was meant to be a quiet dinner with my agent, to discuss the
delay in my handing over the next novel in the Inspector
Gillespie  series.  I was aware that things were getting beyond a
joke, and I was expecting him to be in a fairly sour mood.

But Patrick surprised me - and it was the first of several
surprises I was to get that evening.  He was in an expansive
mood, and if anything he only loosened up and became more relaxed
as the evening wore on.  He insisted on dessert, and on liqueurs
after that, and we were still sitting and talking at 11.30 - by
which time we were the last people in the restaurant apart from a
very beautiful young woman in the opposite corner to us, who had
eaten alone.

I'd seen Patrick eyeing this woman up, which amused me because I
knew what a lecherous bastard he could be - but I also knew that
he was married, and that Carol kept him on something of a tight
rein.  To tell the truth, I'd stolen a few looks at her myself
because she was pretty damn gorgeous.  She was quite short -
which I always like - and slightly built, but with big and
impressive tits.  She had long, straight blonde hair and the sort
of slender face in which the eyes always look a lot bigger than
they are.  It was impossible to tell since she was sitting down,
but I could imagine that she'd have a really slender waist but a
biggish bum, too.  She looked to be in her early twenties, and as
far as I could tell she didn't spare us so much as a glance the
whole evening.

"Look, it's the character," I confessed to Patrick.  "I've
written ten Gillespie novels, now.  I've taken him through
marriage, divorce, courtship, remarriage, kids...  I can still
write the murder investigations - they're piss easy.  It just
feels like there's nothing new to do with the character."

"That's because there's nothing new in your life," said Patrick,
giving me an appraising look.  "You're stuck in a rut, John. 
Admit it.  You've been married to Trish for eight years, and I
bet she's about as exciting in bed as an extra pillow, isn't
she?"

I took umbrage at this, partly because it was true.  Trish had
been fairly passionate when we were engaged, but since we tied
the knot eight years ago, our sex has been both infrequent and
missionary.

"That's an offensive and personal remark," I told Patrick.  "If
it was anyone else saying that, I'd be out that door.  Don't
presume on our friendship, Patrick.  And don't talk about Trish
like that or this meal is over."

"All I mean," he pursued, less brusquely, "is that your sex life
is probably a bit... samey at the moment.  And since sex is the
most important thing in life for men, if you're not enjoying sex
you're not enjoying life."

"I am enjoying sex," I insisted.  "You're the one who seems to be
getting desperate."

He shook his head slowly and emphatically.  "All men want it,
John," he said.  "All men want more of it than they can get.  Has
there ever been a time in your life when you can honestly say
that you were getting enough?"

I considered this, and I had to admit - to myself, not to Patrick
- that I was pretty damn horny a lot of the time these day.  And
that even when Trish and I were most passionately in love, I'd
still have liked more bedroom time with her.

While I was mulling this over, the petite blonde got up and
headed for the toilets.  Patrick waited until she was out of
sight and then he got up too.

"Come on," he said, and he led the way to the stairs.  I was a
bit slow to cotton on to what he wanted me to do, so I stayed
seated for a few moments longer.  At the head of the stairs he
turned and beckoned me with a curt nod of his head.  I followed
him, puzzled.

In this restaurant (the Hirondelle, on Charing Cross Road) the
toilets are downstairs in a sort of mini-basement space that must
once have been a storage area.  We got to the small landing at
the foot of the stairs, and Patrick turned to smile at me, happy
that I'd bowed to his will and followed him down.

It was a fairly cramped space.  There were just the two doors
down here, for the ladies' and the gents' - the ladies' locked
because it was currently occupied by the blonde.  I heard her
flush the chain and then I heard a tap turned and water splashing
into a ceramic sink.

"What are we doing here?" I demanded, feeling foolish and
disgruntled.

"Carrying on with the discussion," he said.  "Watch."  And before
my astonished eyes Patrick took a large Swiss army penknife out
of his pocket and unfolded the main blade.

At that moment the bolt slid back and the door of the ladies'
toilet opened. The little blonde stepped out, to find Patrick
directly blocking her path.  "Excuse me," she murmured, about to
push past us - and then she stopped dead as Patrick waved the
knife in her face.

Her eyes went big and wide.  She looked from the knife, to
Patrick, to me.  She opened her mouth to speak, but Patrick was
quicker.

"If you scream," he said, "someone's bound to come.  So you won't
get raped.  But I will cut your face wide open.  Your choice."

I swear, if she'd pushed past us then and made a run for it, that
would have been that.  I don't believe that Patrick would have
dared to attack her, with the waiters and kitchen staff only a
few yards away.  She could have got away clean.

But she hesitated, and Patrick shoved her roughly back into the
toilet.  Then he followed her inside, the knife pressed up
against her cheek.

"Come on," he hissed.

Feeling like I was in a dream, I stepped into the toilet. 
Patrick groped for the bolt with his left hand and I heard it
slide home.

We were locked in a ladies' toilet with a beautiful young woman.
We were going to rape her.

I can tell myself that I was swept up in events and not thinking
straight, but I was never in any doubt about that part of it.  We
were going to rape this lovely girl.  And along with the guilt
and unease that this thought brought was a wave of almost
unbearable excitement.  She was well worth raping.

"What's your name?" Patrick demanded.

"Amanda," the woman answered, her voice barely a whisper.

"Well it's your lucky night, Amanda," Patrick leered.  "You were
obviously hoping to get picked up and shagged.  And you're
getting it in sterro.  Now take your clothes off, and let's see
what you've got."

With trembling hands the little blonde started to undo the
buttons on her blouse.  But that wasn't quick enough for Patrick:
gripping her lapels in both hands he ripped the blouse open from
top to bottom, sending the buttons pinging away in all
directions.  Amanda flinched.  "You can sew them back on again,"
Patrick consoled her.  "Fuck, get a load of those tits."

He squeezed them through her bra, making her gasp.  Then, waving
the knife in her face again, he told her to take the bra off.

She really had a gorgeous pair of breasts: big but shapely, with
large nipples and dark aureoles.  Patrick immediately leant his
head down and started licking on one, so I started in on the
other.  I couldn't resist.  Amanda stood between us, awkward and
penned in, as we slurped on her voluminous boobs and got
ourselves turned on for the rape to come.  At one point she
yelped as Patrick went from licking to chewing on her nipple, but
he silenced her with a warning poke of the knife to her tit, and
got back to the feast.

Soon we were so aroused that we would have raped our mothers.  We
hauled off the rest of Amanda's clothes, and Patrick shoved her
down on her knees between us.  He unzipped his flies and pulled
out his huge hard-on with some difficulty.  I did the same.

"Suck us off," he ordered her.  And with a pale, stricken face,
Amanda applied her luscious lips to Patrick's rampant prong.  He
groaned as she licked and sucked him - the knife waving in her
face inspiring her to sincere efforts. She obviously knew how to
suck a cock, and I eagerly awaited my turn.

"You do this for your boyfriend?" Patrick asked her.  She made an
Mmm sound around his cock, which I took to mean yes.

"Lucky guy," said Patrick.  "Is this as far as it goes, or does
he hump your face?  You know, does he like a bit of deep throat?"

Amanda couldn't respond, so Patrick supplied the answer himself.

"I bet he gets really carried away when you fellate him.  I bet
he's screwed your throat a few times.  I know I would.  Probably
gets turned on when he hears you gag."

He was suiting the action to the word, thrusting deeper and
deeper into Amanda's mouth so that now her gag reflex was
triggered and she was making choking sounds on his big cock. 
Watching him abusing her face, watching her lovely tits swinging
backwards and forwards with the rhythm of his thrusts, I knew
that I was along for the duration here.  I wanted my turn with
this lovely girl, and I wanted to impose myself on her cruelly.

Finally Patrick pulled out of her mouth and I shoved my own cock
between her lips with lustful urgency.  She tried to lick my
glans, but I wasn't interested in a regular blow job.  I started
to fuck her face, thrusting as deep as I could and being rewarded
by a choking splutter from Amanda.  I held her there for a moment
or two with her head jammed against my crotch, savouring the feel
of her velvet-smooth gullet on my overheated dick.

Trish had occasionally gone doen on me, but it was strictly no
thrusting, and only ever as a prelude to vaginal intercourse. 
This was going to be different.  With bestial lust, I started to
hump Amanda's beautiful face, cramming as much of my hard-on down
her throat as I could get. She heaved and choked on it, but this
was about my pleasure, not hers.  And the desperate sounds she
was making only added to that pleasure.

Patrick knelt and went back to chewing and biting her tit as I
pillaged her mouth with my rampant hard-on.  Jammed between us,
on her knees, her head held awkwardly to one side as I clasped it
between my hands and twisted it round for ease of penetration,
the hapless girl endured a brutal double violation - but she
hadn't seen anything yet.

After I'd throat-fucked her for a few minutes, panting and
groaning with delight over her gurgles of protest, Patrick took
another turn.  He abused her face even more viciously than me,
jamming her head against the toilet wall and humping into her
throat with short but brutal thrusts, his balls up against her
chin.  "Dirty... bitch!" he grunted.  "You fucking... love it...
you whore! You eat spunk... for breakfast!"  I couldn't resist. 
Since Patrick's furious assault on her mouth left her nether
regions free, I knelt down and started to feel up her cunt.  It
was wet, amazingly enough - she couldn't be enjoying herself
much, but her body had responded to a sexual situation by making
cunt-juice.  I put my head between her legs and sniffed.  She
smelled great, and I became even more aroused.  I jammed two
fingers up her twat and wiggled them around inside her.  Nice and
tight.  I went to three fingers, then four, and she thrashed and
squirmed but made no sound because her mouth and throat were full
of Patrick's plunging dick.

At last he pulled out of her and she slumped, taking a few
shuddering breaths.  "Get up," Patrick ordered her sternly.  "I'm
going to fuck you up the snatch, you little cunthole bitch."

He hauled Amanda to her feet and bent her over the toilet bowl. 
Her cunt and arse were on display in all their glory, and my cock
twitched.  I'd never seen anything so beautiful in all my life.

Patrick crammed his shaft up her cunt in one deep thrust, and
started in to screwing her.  I went around to the head end and
proffered my hard-on to her trembling, rocking face.  She didn't
open her mouth so I grabbed hold of her hair and shoved her face
up against my straining phallus.  "Open wide, Amanda," I ordered
her.  "I want some more kissy face."

Soon we were companionably raping her at both ends, accommodating
to each other's rhythm so that we were both forcing our cocks
into her at the same time, then both pulling out together, and
she rocked between us, punch-drunk from the brutal humping.

We swapped ends, and I got my first try at Amanda's minge.  It
was fantastic - tight and warm and wet, squelching on my
rock-hard dick as I mercilessly shafted her.  Patrick was
throat-fucking her again, and telling her that she loved it again
in spite of the evidence of her tear-stained face and choking
moans.

It was clear to me now that I couldn't hold back my orgasm for
long. And I needed it to be in her mouth: the rape would be
incomplete if I didn't make Amanda swallow my spunk.  I wanted to
watch her face as she gulped it down - my sexual slave, taking
whatever I gave her like a docile whore.

Reluctantly, shuddering with pleasure, I pulled out of that
tight, caressing twat-gash.

"I need to come," I blurted to Patrick.  "Can I use her face?"

He grinned at me over Amanda's bent-over back.

"Hold it in," he advised me.  "There's something else I want to
try first."

We both pulled out of her.  Pretty Amanda was starting to look
the worse for wear - sweaty, disheveled, her hair all over her
face, her tits badly bruised from squeezing and chewing.  She
looked up at me with desperate eyes.  "Please..." she whispered.
Patrick grabbed her chin in his hand.  "Shut the fuck up," he
said, swinging her face round to face his.  "If you say another
word without my express orders, I'll slice off your nipples."

He came around in back of her, shoving her down over the toilet
bowl again.  His cock was slick with her spit.  He positioned
himself right behind her, pushing her legs apart, and he pressed
his dick into her arse slit.  I realised what he was going to do
a moment before she did, but then I saw the flicker of awareness
and dismay cross her pretty face.

"Oh no..." she said.

I grabbed a fistful of her hair, pushed her head down and
skewered her mouth with my cock as Patric started to shove his
hard-on up her arse. Amanda shuddered and quaked, but we held her
tight - my hands gripping her tits like a pair of vices, Patricks
on her hips.  She couldn't move, couldn't get away, as Patrick's
gigantic, tumescent cock slid slowly and inexorably up her
bumhole.

I wasn't even thrusting now - if I was, I'd have come right there
and then, and she'd probably have choked on my semen.  I just
watched in awe as Patrick inserted his entire length up her arse.

Then he started to bugger her. 

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
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> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+