Message-ID: <47794asstr$1084306205@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <oldbill2@comcast.net> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: oldbill2@comcast.net X-Original-Message-ID: <051120041231.27058.40A0C7AD000582F4000069B22200734076FFCD9393969D9B93@comcast.net> X-Authenticated-Sender: b2xkYmlsbDJAY29tY2FzdC5uZXQ= X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 12:31:42 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Rebel 040 (MF hist) Lines: 680 Date: Tue, 11 May 2004 16:10:05 -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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/47794> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman <1st attachment, "Rebel 040.txt" begin> Rebel 040 (MF hist) Lisa's Ordeal During one of our stays in a regular camp, Lieutenant Foster had comely visitors, two of them. A pretty, blonde woman of twenty-five or so, that he rogered regularly during their stay, and her willowy younger cousin, carrot-haired and freckle-faced, barely nubile from the look of her, who resisted every subalterns' overtures but did dance and flirt with a few. We regular soldiers, of course, had no chance with either of them. When the time came for us to move on, the lieutenant sent for George and me, gave him a small purse and me a dirty look, told us to see to it the ladies and their goods got on the right stage to their homes somewhere in eastern Pennsylvania and to be on our best behavior or he would skin us. George assured Foster that my help was not needed, but the lieutenant insisted, saying he did not trust either of us alone, and then, as luck would have it, my friend fell and wrenched his ankle and knee, hobbling himself good and on top of that he got the runs, the soldier's disease. I took the purse, worked at not smiling, fetched the wagon, loaded up the two small, humpbacked trunks, and was soon on the road with a pair nice, silly, well-dressed, chattering young women sitting beside me, the younger one right on my hip with a farm bonnet atop her unruly red curls. By the time the sun had passed its zenith, I had deposited the older woman at an inn where she could get a stage that afternoon for her home territory. She assured me that we need not wait, so we ate quickly; the cousins hugged, and we got back on the road with only another ten or twelve miles to travel. I thought I might be able to do the job, get laid at one of the taverns and then back to camp before midnight. The redheaded girl moved as far away from me as she could on the driver's seat and conversed only in yeses and noes. I wondered what I had done to offend her. So I asked. "George told me about you," she said, sniffing. "How awful you are with girls." "Did he?" I said, choking back a grin since I had played the same jest on him when I had the opportunity, poisoning the well we called it. "And Lt. Foster, he warned me, too, in the strongest terms." She nodded in agreement with herself. "So just leave me alone." "That's fine," I said. "I enjoy peace and quiet." "Besides," she said with a grin, "you smell pretty bad." "Haw," I said, "now I am hurt. I washed last month I'm almost sure, shaved last week I know, cleaned my boots too." I sniffed at myself. "Guess my linen could be a bit fresher." "You didn't shave. Oh, look" she said as a bunch of black- coated riders crested the hill in front of us, just a hundred yards away. I yelled at the horse, locked the brake, pushed the girl out into the ditch and leapt after her. I stumbled to my feet, grabbed my musket from under the seat, took the furious young woman by the wrist and ran into the woods, her feet barely touching the ground every few steps. "What in the world?" she gasped at me when we paused to listen. "You've ruined my dress and I've shed a shoe." "Germans," I said. She had lost her silly hat. "We have papers," she reminded me, brushing at her skirt. "They don't care," I answered, listening hard. "But," she said and I shushed her as we both heard the cry of "Fraulein, fraulein, vere iss you?" Men were crashing through the brush on a wide front. I pulled her to her feet and ran again, covering a couple of hundred yards and stopping by a mound of brambles, deep in the shady forest. "Ofer hier," we heard a man yell, and he was not far away. I primed my musket and clamped on my big bayonet while the girl tried to hold my arm or my belt, looking left and right, shaking and making odd noises. I put my finger to my lips and found a good- sized rock. I tossed the stone to the other side of the thicket, heard it strike and then the sound of footsteps, coming closer. The man almost stepped on us as he trotted by, and I took him from behind. He died quietly, clawing at a tree as he sank to his knees and then to his face in the leaves after I yanked out my long blade. Behind me the girl vomited and choked while I wondered how many were out in the woods looking for us. I pulled her up, and we walked quickly away from the body. She spat and wiped her mouth with her hand after yanking herself out of my grip. "Halt," someone cried almost in my ear, and from behind a large tree a black uniformed man stepped out right before us, smiling. I lunged at him, parried his quick thrust and smashed him between the legs with the butt of my musket. He screamed until I tore out his throat, spraying blood all over my boots. Then we ran again, down a hill and to a small stream, gasping and stumbling. We stopped, bent over and panting. I tried to spit and failed. "Hier, schnell!" someone yelled, and I looked up to see two Hessians coming down the hill at us, spike bayonets raised to catch the scattered sunlight. I steadied my musket on the rock outcropping and fired at extreme range, hitting one man in the leg at perhaps seventy yards. The other came on another twenty or so paces and then knelt to take aim as I hurriedly reloaded. "Down," I yelled at the terrified girl just as he fired. His shot glanced off the rock well above my head, and I stepped out to take him on with my blade, after pulling my ramrod from the muzzle. The man turned and fled leaving his wounded comrade behind. I ignored him, finished reloading and priming and dragged the girl to her feet. Her freckles looked much brighter on her blanched face. We clambered up the hill and at length found a road. I looked at the sun and guessed we had made a rough circle and were back almost where we had started. After we got our breath, I led the young woman down the verge of the dusty road until we saw a knot of horses held and guarded by a black-uniformed man. The horses were being fractious so I had no trouble coming in behind the jaeger before he knew I was in the county. I skewered him in the back, kicked his body into the ditch, scattered the horses and got us back on our wagon. I had released the brake and was about to tell the horse to get going, when a young German officer came running out of the woods, waving a short sword and yelling. "Damn," I said as he ran at us, cursing and drawing his pistol. My shot blew a large hole in his chest, and he tumbled into the weeds waving his arms and gushing blood, his feet still kicking. I clucked at the horse, handed the girl the reins and got to reloading. She flapped the leathers and avoided my look, chin thrust out. Another man in black stepped out into the road, knelt and fired, hitting the poor horse in the chest. He made an awful noise, stumbled and fell forward as I jumped down and ran at the man, my weapon still unloaded. The soldier stood and met me in good form, musket in both hands, but when we closed, I kicked his feet from under him and ended the fight quickly with two thrusts that spilled his guts into the road and probably carved his heart in two. "Now what?" the girl asked when I returned to the wagon, wiping my blade on my britches and then sheathing it. I was breathing hard, my blood up and my brain churning. "Seen any of those horses I shooed away?" She shook her head, her face tear stained. "Why are you crying?" I asked, calming myself, ignoring my turgid condition. "I'm scared," she sobbed, climbing down awkwardly and coming into my arms. I patted her back and kept my eyes on the tree line, turning sideways to her lean body so she would not feel my turgid condition. "You got anything valuable in your trunk?" I asked her, trying to get her mind on something. "Some earbobs," she said. "A bracelet." "Get them," I told her. While I reloaded my weapon, she clambered into the back of the wagon and fetched her jewelry. "It's not far," I assured her. "Maybe five miles." I was sure it was at least ten to the next tavern-stage station and maybe a bit more. So we walked, and now she talked. I learned that she was Lisa and that she was almost seventeen and that her father was a master shoemaker, a good one who had learned his trade in the old country and come here as an indentured apprentice twenty years before and now had several men working for him. She had five brothers and two sisters and, she told me, she had a beau in the Pennsylvania militia who was going to marry her next spring, a boy named David something. She actually glowed when she talked about him and skipped along the road. Then she stopped smiling and said, "How many men did you kill back there?" "I don't know," I told her honestly. I shifted my musket to the other shoulder and tried to count, flicking out fingers on my right hand. "Five," she said, kicking a stone, "maybe six." I nodded having reached the same conclusion. "Why, why'd you do it?" "To keep from being killed," I said, glad she had not asked how I could do such an awful thing. That I could not answer. "But we had safe-conduct papers," she said sternly, swinging her arms and keeping pace with me as best she could. One of her shoes kept trying to come off. "Wouldn't have done you any good," I said, hitting the word "you" extra hard. She was silent for a while, looking very serious. "Explain," she said rather quietly, hopping gracefully over a deep, water-filled hole. Her movements reminded me of a young colt, a long-legged one. "They would have killed me, raped you, taken what they wanted including the horse, and hauled you back to poke some more until they got tired of you." I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye. She was taking that in so I did not add what the end might have been like. I had seen too many women the Hessians had butchered; one would have been too many. "I've heard some stories, nasty stories," she said, nodding and moving a bit closer to me. It took her three strides to match my two, and she was puffing a bit so I slowed down some. "No matter what you've heard," I said, "they're worse." We walked on quietly for a while, and then she said, "Thank you." Her hand brushed mine, on purpose I think. I said, "You're welcome," we were both quiet, saving our energy as the shadows got longer and we climbed a long hill. We stopped to rest every time I figured we had walked about a mile. It was not easy walking on that old, deeply rutted road and the short breaks were welcomed by both of us. I guess we made three miles each hour, something like that. My canteen was dry and both of us were leg tired and foot sore by the time dusk crept up the sky and the tavern finally appeared. We drank our fill at the well, used the necessary, found that there would not be another stage north for three days and got ourselves a meal. "You can go on back," Lisa said between bites, looking at me out of the top of her eyes. "You don't have to wait." Her eyelashes were dark, but her eyebrows contained a mix of colors including fox fur and gold wire. "I'd rather," I said, smiling at her freckled face. Earnest was likely the best word for her not that she did not have a fine body and a quick mind. "We didn't stay with Jeannie back there," the girl said. "She's ten years older than you and that stage was due in an hour or so." "Nine," the girl said, spooning up stew and looking at me out of the top of her eyes. "Nine years older." She finished her food, wiped her mouth on the long tablecloth and squinted at me. "How's it feel to kill a man?" she asked, pushing her unruly hair back behind her ears. "First time might be hard," I said, "though I don't remember that it was; it's been a while, up near Boston. Now I just see it as a nasty job, like killing vermin. But the first time, that's something like making love the first time. I was scared now that I think on it." She shook her head, and I admired her light-reddish curls, her hazel eyes and occasional dimples. I repressed most of my usual, randy thoughts. "Mostly I'm scared when I'm fighting. Usually it's me or them, and I've got no choice." I did not tell her that I had killed unarmed men, men that had quit fighting, mostly Germans. She sipped her cider, and I got another beer. "Where you going to sleep?" she asked, not looking directly at me. "I'll find a place. Plenty of room out in the stable. I already got you a room by yourself, only cost two shillings including breakfast. Man said the bed was clean, too." "Want to see for yourself?" she said with a small smile. "Fine thing for a young lady to be saying?" "Who says I'm a lady?" she said with a grin, looking pleased with herself. "You're just teasing, aren't you?" I said, not knowing exactly which way to go. Knowing the way I wanted to go, right between her young legs. "Try me," she said, sticking out her stubborn chin. "Just try me." "I'm tempted, girl," I told her honestly, waving at the serving wench and getting her to fetch me a pipe. She brought it lit and smiled an old invitation at me after she puffed out some smoke and licked the stem. "Later," I silently mouthed at her. She rubbed her thigh on my shoulder and smiled. "I saw that," Lisa said. The door slammed open and four blackclad Germans stomped in. Bile rose in my throat. One soldier stayed by the front door while another marched to the back and stood, feet spread wide and musket held across his body, eyes stony cold. The officer in charge talked to the inn-keeper while a younger officer with a fancy hat walked through the small crowd. I had seen his uniform before; blown a hole in one recently. He stopped at our corner table. "Standt," he said to me sharply, jerking his thumb upward. "Raus." "Why?" I asked, wondering if the man I had shot in the leg was the cause of this and cursing myself for not finishing him. I made sure my big blade was loose in the scabbard. Sometimes it got stuck when there had been blood on it. "Hoch!" he yelled at me, glancing at the girl and reaching for my shirtfront at the same time, his face reddening. The older officer pushed him aside. "Auf," he said calmly, motioning me to stand. I stood. "Ja," he said, "sich." As the subaltern made to draw his pistol, I spun him about and kneed him in the groin, pulled my blade and got my arm about the other officer's neck, pulling his back to my chest. "You wish to live?" I asked quietly, pinking him under the ear. The man at the back door took a step toward us as the younger officer dropped to his knees, bent double and squealing. His hat tumbled off and then his wig fell to the floor. The man's chin moved up and down on my forearm. "Tell him to take those two and leave," I said, and the man issued quick, guttural commands. The younger officer climbed to his feet, glared at me and waved his rifleman toward the front door. The man I was holding decided to be a hero, elbowed me and attempting to spin free, dislodging his grey wig. He stumbled away with the side of his neck cut wide open, spouting blood like a split-open keg of wine. I grabbed his pistol as he fell and shot the soldier standing only five feet away and then almost decapitated the young officer as he turned back toward me, trying to draw his sword. A gun boomed and a ball gouged the heavy table where the girl sat, her hand to her mouth. I crossed the smoke-wreathed room in three quick steps, avoided the soldier's clumsy thrust and ripped him open, driving him back against the heavy door and eviscerating him. I wiped my blade on his coat, sheathed it, picked up his musket and checked the other three. All were very dead. The floor ran with sticky blood. My heart felt like it was going to burst, and I leaned on the table in front of the girl and said, "Sorry. I got excited." She just stared at me, very pale. I was bloody to the elbows. Somewhere in there, while my back was turned, the rest of the patrons fled. The inn-keeper and I dragged the bodies out to the stable, and then the serving girl and he started cleaning up the place while I took Lisa up to her cell-like room with its tiny dormer window. "Don't go with her," was the first thing the girl said to me after I closed the door. "Who?" I asked stupidly, my body still charged up and my member inflamed, bulging out my codpiece, bent nearly double. "That woman, please," she sighed, holding my arm. "All right," I said, patting her shoulder. She was trembling, biting her lip. I glanced at the narrow bed. "Promise," she demanded, and I nodded, and then left her to help sweep the floor and spread some sand. When I went to strip the dead, I found someone had been there first. The bodies were barefoot and devoid of belts and purses. I returned to the inn and asked the owner. "I'll take care of them bodies," he said in reply. He smiled at me, and I nodded. The serving girl put her hand on my back, and I turned and grabbed her by the thick haunch. "Now?" she asked, coming into my arms, putting her hands about my neck. She was warm and full-bodied, the kind of woman I liked best, experienced and eager like many tavern wenches I had met and bedded. I followed her up the stairs, enjoying her smell, and she opened the door to her small room. I pushed aside her dirty blouse, held her soft breast and kissed her quickly. "Later, soon," I said and closed the door, feeling the urge rise. Lisa was in bed with a lamp burning on the windowsill. I knelt beside her and touched her leg. "You all right?" I asked. She nodded, holding the old quilt right up to her chin, mouth clenched, curls to her shoulders. "And you don't want to lie with me do you?" "Yes," she said, almost a whisper. She nodded. "I really do." "I'm smelly, and I haven't shaved this month," I said, trying to keep it happy and light, painfully hard. "Please," she said clearly. "I'll have nightmares. All that blood." "I'll stay here until you go to sleep, hold your hand," I said. She sat up and let the cover fall into her lap. Her jutting breasts were young and firm, pyramidal, rosebud tipped and blue veined. I do not believe I've ever seen another pair like them, another set as pointed at they were. "I'm not a virgin," she said, looking down at the small hands clasped in her lap. "But you are sixteen," I said. "I can't help that," she cried lifting her hands to my face, pulling my lips to hers, kissing me, pushing her tongue into my mouth and flicking it up and down. "No," I said, forcing my hands to stay away from her lean body, her lovely little breasts. "I have a few rules, just a few." "Get in bed, hold me," she sobbed, turning back the quilt to show me her white body with its small patch of pubic hair, curly and golden. I sat, pulled off my boots, unbuttoned my britches and slid out of them, stood and turned to face her, my scarred and hairy body fully lit by the small lamp. My enraged member had subsided a bit and now lay tumescent between my legs, still long and swollen, looking like a white-skinned sausage with a rope-knot head and a blue-veined casing. The girl put her hand to her mouth at the sight as her young body stimulated me, and my shaft trembled, filled and began to rise. "No," she said, shaking her ringlets. "No, you were right. No, I couldn't, `sblood." She shivered and grabbed the quilt, a very pleasant sight as she grasped it between her firm, upright boobies. I braced, knotting up my muscles, put my hands in the small of my back, thrust it out and felt the blood pump into my hardening root. I glanced down at its huge, purple head and then looked at the girl again, smiling as evilly as I could. She could not take her eyes from it. She waved, sank to the mattress, turned her back and pulled up the covers, making herself very small as the thing jumped above her. I walked to the window and blew out the lamp, caught her peeking up at me, at my thrusting and trembling mast. I smiled down at her and said, "Go to sleep. Won't be far away." I went and stood with my back to the door for a few minutes, enjoying the feel of my upright and freed member, stroking it a time or two, eager to get it planted in some willing woman's flesh. I palmed my swollen stones. Then I left, closed the door quietly, and entered the serving girl's room. She was sitting on the side of her bed in her well-worn shift, waiting. She smiled when I entered and held up her arms. I stepped between her legs and she took my prod's head in her soft mouth, sucking and licking, holding my throbbing ballocks firmly until I came, groaning and pumping, my hands in her hair. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pulled her shift over her head and rolled under her covers, showing me her wide bottom and dark, hairy pussy. I was right behind her and quickly into her. Hers proved to be a well-traveled throughway, but we enjoyed each other until we were completely spent. And when she got to snoring, I found my shirt and went back to Lisa's room on tip-toes. I got my shirt on, crawled carefully in beside the sleeping girl, turned my back to her and was immediately asleep, well satisfied, the blood wiped away by lustful rogering. I awoke just before dawn with a painful and gigantic erection, rolled over and let the thing rise above my belly, quivering. I stroked it from atop the quilt, almost forgetting the young girl who shared the bed. She turned over and opened an eye. She kissed my stubbled cheek and let her fingers play in my chest hair, humming to herself. "Good morning," she sighed. "Did you have fun?" I held my peace, enjoying the feeling of both my pulsing spear and the warm youngster next to me, her slim leg against mine, firm breast on my arm. "I could hear you moaning and groaning next door. Then the bed started thumping the floor." Her exploring hand slid down my belly and into the hair of my groin. "What were you doing?" "Now, Lisa," I said, making the overheated pike jump again and again, rubbing its head on the quilt's seams, "you told me you weren't a virgin." "But, `sblood, you went on and on." Her fingers found the base of my straining cock in its hairy bed. They encircled it as best they could and her little finger probed at my fuzzy scrotum. "Lisa," I said as her hand moved up my shaft until she was cupping the thing's monstrous head. "Let me see it again," she whispered, flipping back the quilt. She held it halfway down the thick-veined shaft and looked at it as it jumped and pulsed in her grip. She swallowed and bit her lips. Her bare chest rose and fell rapidly. My mouth wanted her and my cock wanted even more. I lay back and let her play, getting pleasure however it came. I heard and felt her breathing change as she stroked the rigid thing with both hands, feeling its ribbed construction, the bulging blood vessel along its underside, its ridged and hooded head as she held back its loose skin. "Come," she said, "I must feel it in me." She released me and turned to all fours, raising her rump in invitation. "No," I said. "It would hurt you." I smacked her round bottom lightly. She sniffed, collapsed and turned over again, touching the overheated rod with a fingertip. "Doesn't it hurt?" she asked, poking it with a fingernail. It bounded back. "Not really," I admitted. "It feels good." She ran her fingers down its length, scratching lightly. "Its head likes to be touched, tickled," I told her. "I did a boy with my hands, a year or so ago. He showed me," she said, "you should have heard him moan," and she began hand over hand stroking my engorged member, harder and faster, down and down again, until I came, jetting up steams of sticky jism. I sighed and relaxed while she wiped her hands on me and then bent to kiss my mouth. After a hoecake breakfast, we walked and talked a bit, enjoying each other's company and the fine day. Supper was more stew, which seemed to be all the cook knew about, and I enjoyed a pipe and conversation with some of the locals while Lisa sat and watched, hands folded, her simple dress emphasizing her youth. I gave the tavern wench a few shillings, pinched her and said I would see her later. Then I took Lisa up to her room. "You broke your promise," she whispered when I closed the door behind us. "Stay with me tonight; don't go to her." "She's more my size, Lisa," I said, prying her hands off my arms. "Let me try," she begged, "please, please." "No, I might hurt you. You saw that thing, felt it this morning." She sniffed. "You aren't fair. I've had some boys, a lot of boys." "Bundling?" I asked. She nodded. "More than that?" She shook her head and looked down. "Just fingers," she said. "Kisses." "You still have your maidenhead?" She nodded again and sniffed. "I can't help that." "Tell you what," I said, bending to kiss her briefly. "I'll let you feel it, but I won't deflower you. Save it for your husband, be a good wife. You'll be proud you did." "All right," she said, "but it isn't fair." I led her to the foot of the bed, had her spread her feet and grab the wooden crossbar. Then I flipped up her skirt and petticoat, admired her rounded buttocks, caressed them and unlimbered my hardening member. The wrinkled weapon stiffened in my hand, and I wet my thumb and greased its blood-hot head. Then I very carefully inserted it into her narrow, pink quim, barely in to her, trembling in anticipation. "How does that feel?" I asked, holding her hips and resisting the urge to impale her. Her lips quivered on my prong's hot head. "Uh," she said, arching her back, "I don't know." I pushed, perhaps an inch into her. "Oh," she gasped, "Oh my, oh my. I can feel that. Oh my." I drew it out to her lips and let it slid back into its hard-won inch. "Um," she moaned, wiggling her butt, growing moister. I backed off again. "Don't," she sobbed, and I slid my hand about her and gently massaged her groin. We kept this up for perhaps ten minutes, a strain on me, and I'm not sure what it was for her but she snorted and moaned quiet nicely. She eventually lowered herself to the floor and turned to hold my knees while my eager weapon reared above her curly head. She sighed. "Enough?" I asked, putting it away and buttoning up. She nodded, and I helped her to her feet. "See you in the morning," I said, adjusting my britches. "Uh huh," she said, still shaking, her hands at her breasts as I closed the door. "What took you so long," the serving girl asked as I stripped out of my clothes. "You ain't taking up with children are you?" "Tucking her in," I said as I mounted the wench and sheathed my heated pole in her. She gasped and raised her legs. This time I got her to the point of actually enjoying it instead of just pretending, and when we finally stopped, thoroughly spent, tangled together with the quilts, she moaned and kissed me, sobbing with pleasure, her quim a sodden mess. I slept with her and awoke with my usual gift from the gods of lust. She looked at it, touched it, licked her lips and turned to all fours, raising her rump to take it from behind. Soon her forehead was against the board wall between her room and the girl's, and we were making all sorts of animal sounds. She took the second swiving that morning at the foot of her bed after using her chamber pot and gasped again and again when she climaxed, bending her knees and flexing hard. I must admit that I imagined young Lisa as I rammed it up into her. The woman collapsed on her bed while I dressed. She refused any more money and just lay there smiling as I closed the door. Lisa was fully awake, almost dressed when I entered her room. "Damn you," she hissed at me. "You didn't have to batter down the wall with her, did you?" I smiled. "Be happy it wasn't you taking that shagging," I said. She nodded and laced up her boots, still sniffing angrily. The stage came an hour or so later, and I went back to the war. <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> 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+