Message-ID: <48020asstr$1085818203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com From: Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com> X-X-Sender: thegrendel@localhost.localdomain Reply-To: cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com X-Original-Message-ID: <Pine.LNX.4.44.0404192118290.967-100000@localhost.localdomain> MIME-Version: 1.0 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 19 Apr 2004 21:32:10 -0700 (MST) Subject: {ASSM} The Naked Truth [history: modern] (MF oral anal cons wl rom hist) X-Original-Subject: Naked [history: modern] (MF oral anal cons wl rom hist) Lines: 162 Date: Sat, 29 May 2004 04:10:03 -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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2004/48020> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman Here's one for FranzKafka79's history challenge. THE NAKED TRUTH by Carlos Malenkov <cmalenkov@linuxwaves.com> Word Count: 1338 Copyright (c) 2003 by Carlos Malenkov ASSM granted posting and archiving rights to this story, but all other rights remain reserved. Howard Anderson had never seen his wife in her full naked glory. They had been married two years and had grown quite fond of each other. Many were the nights when Mrs. Anderson welcomed him into her embrace. His body rejoiced as he held her and entered into her warmth. He delighted in the feel of her lush curves beneath the flannel evening gown. Still, he had thoughts. Dreadful, sinful thoughts. What does she look like? What does she *truly* look like underneath? Underneath those fetching clothes she wears? Underneath the gown? I've been inside her, touched her as intimately as a man can touch a woman, possessed her . . . but I've never in actual fact seen her in the altogether. What do her bare breasts look like? Her deliciously rounded behind? Her . . . ? Howard considered himself an enlightened man, almost a Free Thinker in many respects. He read all the journals that came by post from back East. He enthusiastically supported free trade, industrialization, and Progress. He was against imperialism and foreign adventures. He opposed slavery, though he thought the more radical of the abolitionists went a bit too far. He had even considered joining the Whigs. Things were moving mighty fast in this modern year of 1840, and a person had to stay on his toes to keep from being left behind. He was a city boy, Howard was. Even so, he had found out about animals and their mating habits early on. At school he had traded naughty stories with his playmates. Once he had even purchased the services of a whore with money saved from his wage as an assistant clerk at the millinery shop on Main Street. It had been a sordid little affair -- over in a couple of minutes -- just a matter of sticking his organ into . . . And he had barely managed to catch a glimpse of her body. He still had only the vaguest notion of what a woman's body looked like, aside from her secret place. It had to happen. Late one evening he was on his way to attend to a call of nature. He pulled open the door of the outhouse . . . and there she was. Sitting there was his *naked* wife. He just stood and gawked, openmouthed. "Howard!" He turned and fled. It was ten after two by the pendulum clock in the parlor. He hadn't been up this late in years. Burning precious lamp oil, too. The words in the book on his lap were blurring. Were those blots on the pages from his tears? There were soft footsteps behind him. He didn't turn around. "Dear Howard. The bed is so cold . . . and I am so lonely. Please come." He arose and let her lead him by the hand up the wooden stairs to the bedchamber. The full moon was shining through the glass window that he had installed at such great expense not long after they were married. Amanda was standing beside the maple four-poster bed. She had let her gown drop to the floor. Her naked limbs gleamed in the light of the moon. She was stunning in her beauty. Later, as they lay side by side under the comforter, she nuzzled his face and kissed his nose. "My darling," she whispered, "I have wanted to show myself to you since the day we were wed. I was afraid. You might have thought me . . . indecent, even wanton." He took her hand and and kissed it. "Wanton you may be, darling wife, but you are mine, and mine only. And I am only now discovering just how deeply I love you, Mrs. Anderson." "And I you, Mr. Anderson. With all my heart and all my soul." It was as if a dam had burst. In succeeding days, Amanda no longer felt shy about demonstrating her affections, and she even began hesitantly expressing carnal desires. Nightly they lay in each other's arms, flesh against naked flesh. And they partook of that flesh when the hunger overtook them, and it overtook them often. There came the time when Mr. Morgan took early leave of work in order to hasten home to slake his untimely desires. Mrs. Morgan received him in unfeigned delight, and opened to him her arms, then her charms. In full daylight they gazed upon one another, enraptured, entranced, in full and brazen nakedness. There came the time when Amanda shyly asked Howard to do unto her as the beasts of the field do, that is to say, to embrace her from behind. "In my rowdy youth, we boys would jokingly refer to it as 'doggy style,' my darling," Howard answered. "It has been my unfulfilled desire to accomplish such with the one I love if only once before I die." "Come then unto me, dear Howard, and let us die together . . . entwined and in rapture." There came the time when Amanda was indisposed on account of her monthly flow, and still they felt that certain hunger for each other. "I have heard, my sweet husband, that there be other means of achieving gratification. Women in my circle have confided in me . . . " She took his member into her mouth, yet they both found that somewhat pallid, and hardly conducive to pleasure. Thinking for a moment, she smiled mysteriously, then requested that he fetch from their chest of medicaments a certain emolument reputed to be efficacious for chafing of the skin. "Annoint your rampant flesh with this, darling Howard mine, then gently, most gently, attempt entry into my . . . my hind opening. Yes, dearest one, that passage through which . . . I relieve a fullness of the bowel." She blushed scarlet and hid her face against his chest. This particular modality they initially found somewhat strange. Still, even contending with a reluctance founded on concerns of uncleanliness and ingrained prohibitions against the sin of Sodom, they came to greatly appreciate the sensual enjoyments of the practice. Then the children came. In twenty-two years there were nine live births, for women were more fertile in those days and offspring were a necessary adjunct to family life. Boys and girls underfoot did necessarily inhibit the more daring displays of affection between the loving couple, but they did kiss and touch at every opportunity. (This aroused considerable envy from less fortunate married friends and acquaintances.) In the privacy of the bedchamber they continued to demonstrate their desire for each other in a variety of inventive ways. Their children matured into loving and affectionate adults. Then external events intervened. The two oldest boys left home to serve in Mr. Lincoln's army. They died to make men free . . . and for the same cause did Howard shed his own blood. His company had been holding the flank behind a rail fence near Antietam Creek. The Reb cannonade had taken them by surprise. He had awakened on a filthy cot in a hospital tent. The pain had been almost more than he could bear. Later on they told him that the ragged skirmish line of amateur soldiers had saved the Union that day. Howard came limping home on a wooden leg. Amanda had taken him into her arms and stained his dirty blue tunic with her tears. They conceived their last child that night. In later years Howard and Amanda, now gray-haired and wrinkled, would sit side by side on the porch, rocking and watching the sun set. She might occasionally reach over and take his hand and raise it to her lips. He might occasionally reach over and and stroke her cheek. Or he might mischievously reach over and down and stroke her hind cheeks. On cold nights they would huddle together under the featherbed, and if moved by passion -- or even by just fond remembrance of past times -- they would join their flesh. And the sparks still flew. -- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+