Message-ID: <49082asstr$1093986602@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <ossified@hushmail.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <200408311033.i7VAXOv3065494@mailserver3.hushmail.com> Reply-To: ossified@REMOVETHIShushmail.com From: <ossified@hushmail.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 31 Aug 2004 03:33:23 -0700 Subject: {ASSM} Youthful Enterprise 02 {Ossified} (Mf anal) Lines: 830 Date: Tue, 31 Aug 2004 17:10:02 -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/Year2004/49082> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, newsman This story is copyrighted and may not be reproduced in any form for profit, but may otherwise be distributed freely. If you do, you must leave it intact. If you post it somewhere, I want to know. Thanks! This is an erotic story. It includes explicit descriptions of sexual acts. None of the things described in this story actually happened (big surprise). If it's illegal for you to read stuff like this, then you shouldn't. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- YOUTHFUL ENTERPRISE - Chapters 3 and 4 (Mf anal) Written by Ossified Comments welcome to ossified AT hushmail DOT com Chapter 3 Mr. Crane asked me to bring lollipops, but I forget and have to buy some when I arrive at his street. Thank God I didn't forget the stuff he wants me to wear, since it's a long bus ride back to get it. It's already six o'clock, and if I'd had to go back I wouldn't be done with Mr. Crane's double booking before bedtime. Already did my homework, which amazed mum. The guys who book me are just so particular about what I wear - it's like every detail has to be correct. I'm wearing my regular clothes now though. I'm not taking the bus wearing kinky stuff anymore. Instead, I'm in these tight, low-cut jeans which show off my bum and a black top which makes the most of my slim waist, white bra-straps showing on tan shoulders. I look dead hot, but not in the way these old perverts like since they have all these weird, kinky hang-ups. I got some looks on the bus, and this okay-looking boy cops a feel while I'm in line to pay for the lollipops. It's like: 'OH MY GOD! Did he really touch me there?', and I can't believe his nerve. I'm in too good a mood to slap him though, and instead I think about how touching me has made his day, and that he'll probably wank off thinking about me later. I vaguely wonder how many guys have done that. You know: guys from school wacking off at night, picturing me when they cum. Must be a few, right? Some of the teachers too, I bet. Certainly Mr. Lambson, but then that's a given. Kind of a nice thought really. Anyway, Mr. Crane lets me in and the prat has bought me flowers. It's like he thinks he has to woo me or something, and I hardly manage the effort it takes to mutter "thanks". Then he shows me to a spare bedroom where I can change, and although he's paying to shag me, he still thinks it's necessary to leave while I change. I wriggle into this pair of blue, incredibly tight aerobics shorts which he's asked for, and a matching top which is really tight too. As I pull on the white ankle socks and tie up my sneakers, I notice that this gear is actually comfortable in a firm-fitting sort of way. The shorts are really low cut and cute, and they're not the trashy kind which expose your bum cheeks either. My hipbones show and my belly looks amazing. It's, like, totally smooth and flat, and there's still some colour left from this summer's tan. My legs look a bit like skinny twigs, but they seem to go on for ever which is nice. I decide I really like these shorts. My hair is already in a ponytail, so I just adjust it to look neater. A quick look in the mirror to check on the sparkly eye-shadow and then I pop a lollipop in my mouth and present myself to Mr. Crane. I pose in the doorway, feet together and my hands behind my back. I look down in fake modesty as he gasps at my body and it feels good to make him do that. I can see that he's almost choking, so I suck on the lollipop while he composes himself. "So, do I look okay?" I ask, twirling so he can check out my bum. It looks absolutely fantastic in these shorts. Cute, round and really bouncy. Okay, so I admit it's a bit small, but then I can't stand how some girls let their arses grow to immense proportions. It's a disgrace. Anyway, poor Mr. Crane croaks "lovely, so lovely," and then he carefully takes me by the hand. This wanker actually has a library in his house, which seems unbelievably pretentious even though he's a professor or something. Anyway, this is where he takes me, and the air is all dusty and it's kind of dark since he's closed the curtains. Then he kisses me on the cheek and sits me down and asks if I want a drink. I'm tempted to ask for a glass of wine, but I know this sits badly with the 'innocent little girl' thing so I don't. Instead I ask for a Coke, but of course the prat doesn't have any. He brings me milk instead which almost makes me laugh. Since he asked for sportswear, I'm guessing he wants me to do gymnastics while he checks out my body. I've actually been looking forward to that, since I'm really good at it. He doesn't ask me to though. Just sits and stares at me like he can't believe his eyes. I don't think he gets to see many teen girls up close 'cause he's hanging on to my every move like I'm some kind of film star or something. When I hook stray strands of hair behind my ear he kind of croaks, and I can't help experimenting with this, scratching a calf, lazily stoking my forearm and twitching my nose just to gauge his reaction. It's funny since he sighs and looks dreamy with every silly little thing I do. Although the attention is pretty cool for a while, it gets kind of boring since he says almost nothing. I look at the glass of milk and wonder if maybe the perv has some kind of weird milk-drinking fetish or something. Wouldn't surprise me. Since he might tip me extra I'm not taking any chances. I take out the lollipop and gulp down the milk, but it doesn't seem to do anything for him. Maybe I did it wrong. Anyway, I'm bored since he doesn't seem to want to talk, so I get up and look at his books. He's gawking at me as I study all these serious looking volumes in his bookshelf. I can't understand half of the titles, and after ten minutes of this I still have no idea what he teaches. As I'm standing there I hear him get up and walk over, but since he seems to prefer I ignore him I keep looking at the books. He comes from behind and presses up against me, and I feel his cock against my bum. I get this feeling he's a vulture hovering over me, and then he starts stroking my tits and moving his hips against my ass, grinding his cock into me. I stifle a yawn and slurp loudly on the lollipop, sighing like I'm really enjoying this. His hands are roaming all over my body, stroking my breasts and my tummy before moving between my legs. He groans as he feels me up, and he's whispering "Oh, God. No panties...", which I would have thought was pretty obvious wearing shorts like these. I lean back at him, letting him get his moneys worth, and he's muttering "so beautiful, so perfect..." while he smells my hair. The only thing I can smell is the sickly sweet lollipop which isn't tasting quite so good anymore. Although the sportswear is so tight I can feel his every touch, it's not really doing anything for me. It's definitely doing something for Mr. Crane though, and he's humping my ass while he strokes my tummy and feels my twat. Mr. Crane is really getting into it, spending ages exploring my body like it's some work of art or something. He rubs his face on my hair and neck, and he's sniffing me even though I'm not wearing any perfume. He keeps saying I smell 'fresh', but I don't really get what he means by this. All I use is regular soap and my mum STILL buys me 'no-tears' kiddie shampoo, which is actually pretty embarrassing. Anyway, his fingers touch me all over, and he spends a lot of time following the seam in the crotch of my shorts up and down. He's obviously enjoying the feeling of my cunt beneath the shorts, but I don't get why he doesn't just pull them down and do me already. After, like, fifteen minutes of this his movements become erratic, and he speaks for the first time in ages: "Oh God, Sarah. I have to fuck you. Now! Quick, take your shorts off. Hurry," he gasps, and I think FINALLY. I fumble with the zipper which is on the side, and the shorts are really tight so it's not easy to get them off quickly. I'm starting to peel them off, but his hands are all over me and get in the way. The shorts are half way over my ass when he shoves his hand down my bumcrack, but it's a tight fit beneath the shorts so he can't poke me even though a finger brushes my back hole. Anyway, he's too excited from fondling me, and it's already too late. Unbelievably, the prat cums in his shorts just from feeling me up. "Jesus Christ! Sarah! You're so lovely. So beautiful. I'm... I'm... Oh no... I'm cumming. I'm cumming in my pants." Mr. Crane holds me really tight, his hand down my shorts squeezing my bum cheek hard while he spasms helplessly. I know this must be totally frustrating for him since he wanted to shag me, so I grind my bum against him while he groans and sprays his shorts. He's jerking hard against me while he cums, but then he settles down, and he's hanging over me, burying his face in my neck and breathing heavy. Although this was not what Mr. Crane wanted, I'm thinking how cool it is that I'm so hot I can make him loose it just by touching me. Then I get the unsettling feeling that he might not pay me since he didn't get his dick in me. I'm not going to let that happen, so I turn and get down on my knees in front of him. I look up at him, making my eyes as wide and innocent looking as I can. I suck really hard on the lollipop before tossing it, and smile up to him with candy-red lips. Then I unzip him and pull down his trousers. "Did I really make you do that, Mr. Crane? Can't believe you think I'm that pretty. I mean, I'm just a little girl and you're so big and smart and..." This sounds so unbelievably phoney to me, but he's loving it, staring down at me like I'm this little pixie ready to do his bidding. Which I suppose I am right now. "Wow, you really, um... came a lot, Mr. Crane. That means you like me, right? That you think I'm cute?" All he does is mutter "So perfect... such a pretty little girl." His shorts are drenched and it looks really yucky with all that cum everywhere. Even though I've had sex, like, a zillion times by now, I still think it's gross how guys shoot loads of stuff everywhere. It's just so messy. I know it's important to guys that they think I love it, so I don't say anything or even wrinkle my nose like I want to. When I pull down Mr. Crane's boxers, his half-hard cock is oozing and a long string of yucky goo is hanging from the tip. There's cum on his balls and in his pubic hair too, and I think of the money he's going to pay me as I start lapping it up. He shoves his dick against me, smearing my face with his cum, and when I'm done licking the stuff off his balls I open my mouth and carefully suck on his dick to clean it. I'm careful to make slurping sounds since I know most guys like this. I smack my lips and make a show of swallowing, but I try not to seem too comfortable doing this. It's, like, REALLY important to get the whore/Madonna balance right for these older guys. ******************** While Mr. Crane is composing himself and getting ready for his second helping of little schoolgirl, the idiot recites poetry to me. I mean, that's just so-o-o lame. He's prattling on about spring and scented meadows, and I totally don't get it which is probably because I'm not a hundred years old like Mr. Crane. I don't really listen even though he's getting all emotional with these endless, wet poems. Instead, I prance around in my tight little aerobics gear, really showing off my body, trying not to yawn. I peek at the clock, but the time seems to stand still and Mr. Crane has booked me long enough to do me twice so I can't leave although I desperately want to. Can't remember being this bored. EVER. Finally Mr. Crane regains his strength, and his reading gets all unfocused since he's looking at me more than the book. I do some handstands, cartwheels and splits for him, feeling really energetic after all this waiting around. I throw my hands in the air and sway my back after every move, and generally act like it's the Olympics. When I bend over and place my palms flat on the floor so he can enjoy my bum, Mr. Crane gets up and puts on this classical record. I know this is my cue for a change of clothes. He wants this ballerina thing - I think it's called a tutu or something - and it's so incredibly delicate and cute and snowy white that I feel like I'm ten years old when I put it on. There's a classical skirt which is kind of stiff and sticks out giving a clear view of my crotch, and I really think this outfit is too silly for words. The bodice has corded edges and little pearls on it which I wish were real, and Mr. Crane is going to pass out when he sees me in this. I try to do up the ballet shoes, but it's just impossible and looks way too ridiculous, so in the end I just go with the ankle socks. I need to warn Mr. Crane not to cum on this ballet tutu thing, since there's no way I can clean it myself and I really can't show up at the dry cleaners with sperm all over something like this. I mean, it's okay if he gets a bit on it since I can fix that with some soap and water, but if he shoots off all over it, it's ruined. He's not going to be happy, but if he wants me in this stupid outfit more than once, he's going to have to cum elsewhere. When Mr. Crane sees me he moans how I look totally horny, and I can see his hands are shaking. I tell him not to cum on the ballerina costume, and he agrees to this even though you can see he's disappointed. I can actually see why, since it's all crisp and white and girly, and it's probably a big turn-on to mess it up. I try to dance to the music he's playing, but it's not like I can actually do ballet and I don't get the music which has no beat whatsoever. In the end I just do some more gymnastics with a few pirouettes thrown in, and I feel utterly ridiculous, but Mr. Crane is lapping it up. Mr. Crane takes off his trousers and boxers, but thankfully he leaves his shirt on. He's really lean, which is better than chubby, but it's in the way older men are lean so it's not so hot either. Anyway, his cock is kind of large and he's sitting in his chair, wanking at the sight of me in this ballet tutu. I see how I must look sexy in a wind-up-doll sort of way, since the skirt gives him a good view of my privates. The tutu is really snug, giving me what those unbelievably crass boys at school call a 'camel toe'. Ewgh! Sounds totally repulsive, right? Wore these really tight shorts to gym class once, and never heard the end of it. Anyway, my hair tickles my nose when I pirouette and I'm beginning to feel self-conscious with my helpless dance routine. Still, Mr. Crane's dick is getting really, really hard so I guess I'm doing okay. I'm kind of scared that he'll get too excited from this silly ballet fetish thing he has, so I decide I need to do something if I want to get paid. I sit myself between his spread legs, and the ballet skirt makes this loud rustling sound as I bend forward to trace my fingers down his dick. Not surprisingly, he removes his hand so I can take care of him. I stare at his cock like it's the prettiest thing I've seen in my entire life, while putting on my best scared-but-intrigued look. "Oooh, Mr. Crane. I think your thingy really, really liked my dance. It's just so-o-o big and hard, isn't it? Would you like to put it inside me? In my twat, I mean? I bet it'll feel ever so nice. And then you could, um... you know..., fuck me? And maybe cum too. Would you like that?" Mr. Crane is gasping and I hold on to his dick really hard, but I don't wank him since the pervert is too excited and he might cum in my face. "You know, there's all this sticky stuff on the tip here, so I think you should put it in my twat and see if you like it. I'm ever so tight you know, and I'll make you cum. Promise." Mr. Crane seems to think I'm right about this, and after he gets up, he lifts me up in his arms. He's carrying me over to his desk, his cock pressing against me. I feel like I weigh nothing when he carries me, and I squirm in his arms and squeal this little-girl squeal I've practiced which guys really love. Mr. Crane dumps me on my back on the top of his desk, and the skirt makes the rustling sound again as it crumbles beneath me. He's kissing my face and neck, and although his breath smells of alcohol it's not as bad as it could be. Then he's kissing and lapping at the crotch of my tutu before pulling it aside and nuzzling my cunt. Since I felt really sexy in the sportswear, and also in the ballerina outfit now, I'm quite wet, and when he starts licking me it feels good. He's really lapping at me, and I can hear him smacking his lips and tasting me. It kind of turns me on that he enjoys it so much. "Your cunt is so lovely Sarah. So tight and clean and fresh." I rub my slit and suck on my finger and I taste gooey but also pretty good, almost sweet. "Why thank you Mr. Crane. I wanted to shave it for you, but there's just this little fuzz here so it wasn't really necessary. Do you really think it's pretty?" "It's beautiful Sarah. Just beautiful." I giggle like a stupid little girl for his benefit, but when he lifts my legs high and wriggles his tongue up my bum, the squeal I give is real. Then he's finished licking me, which is a bit sad since it feels really good. Instead he grabs hold of his dick and wets the tip between my cunt lips. Then he's entering me, and since I'm really, really tight he does this carefully. When he's all the way inside me he grunts, kind of like a pig. His cock is spasming in my twat, and although he's a disgusting, dirty old man it also feels wonderful. I stare up at the ceiling as he fucks me, trying to imagine it's some boy I like. He goes slow at first, but then he picks up speed and he's shoving me around on his desk with his fucking. I feel myself getting wetter and wetter. The whole room reeks of warm, musky sex smells and I'm concentrating on this cute boy in school while Mr. Crane fucks me. Since he's really good I can feel myself getting close. Although the stupid ballet skirt gets in the way, I manage to find my clit with my fingers and he's staring down at my slick twat as I rub my clit while he fucks me. I shut my eyes hard and sparks go off in my head when I cum. A warm rush hits my body and I tremble and can't help moaning although I don't want to. My twat is squeezing Mr. Crane's cock really hard, but he actually has more staying power than I thought since he doesn't cum from this. I think he's really close though, 'cause he pulls out before I'm even fully down from my cum. Mr. Crane flips me over and I'm leaning over his desk with my bum sticking up. I sway my back and push my arse in the air, and I bet I look totally fuckable. With a groan he enters me again, and he's holding on to my hips, fucking me really hard. He's slamming me into the desk, and it's hurting my thighs even though the ballet skirt cushions the blow a bit. Anyway, he's really worked up and horny, so I just grit my teeth and take it. When I look back over my shoulder I can't see much of what's going on, since the ballerina skirt sticks up like this white, frilly wall. I can see Mr. Crane's face though, and he's not going to last much longer. "Um, Mr. Crane? You can't cum on this outfit, remember. And not inside me either. I'm not on the pill or anything, so if you squirt your cum inside me I might have a baby. That would make my daddy very cross, so you really need to pull out and cum on my face or something." The 'don't cum inside me' thing is, of course, total bullshit. I've been on the pill long enough to be safe now, but I also know that's not what these old pervs want to hear. Even though they pay to do me, they still want me to be, like, a virgin or something, so having to pull out is a major thing with these guys. Mr. Crane wets his finger in my cunt, and then he moves it to my bumhole. I'm not expecting this right now, so I automatically clench, but he shoves his finger up my arse anyway. He doesn't push his finger too far, and it feels quite nice since it's not as huge as Mr. Lambson's dick which kind of hurt. He's moving his finger in and out of my bum in rhythm with his fucking, and I enjoy the feeling more than I would have thought. More importantly, Mr. Crane seems to think it's awesome since he's moving really fast now. I figure he's just seconds away from letting go. "Please Mr. Crane? You're not getting too excited are you? You will pull out, right? I'm just a little girl you know, and you really can't shoot all that sticky cum in my twat. You just can't. Please?" I must have said these lame lines to, like, ten different perverts this month, but they still work and Mr. Crane groans loudly when he hears me plead. Then he takes his finger out and starts slapping my bum really hard. When I see his face I don't like the look in his eyes. He looks angry and his face is all screwed up, and I'm thinking I may have pushed too many of this pervert's buttons at once. Mr. Crane is scaring me and the spanking is starting to hurt. He's calling me these awful things, like 'stuck-up teenie bitch' and 'snotty little cum-slut'. He's talking very fast and telling me stuff which boils down me being a conceited moron which is, like, TOTALLY unfair and rude. Then he's groaning 'little schoolgirl whore' over and over as his dick jerks inside me, ready to cum. Now, I've told him not to cum inside me, which doesn't really matter much, but I've also told him not to mess up the ballet tutu, and the prat manages to do both. Unbelievable! He's muttering 'Made you cum, didn't I? Made you cum,' and it totally sucks that he's right about this. Then he slams into my cunt and I feel his cock jerking and he's cumming, shooting all this warm, yucky goo up my twat. I'm such an awesome professional that I follow up on this, and I squeal when he cums in me like it's a big deal and I might get pregnant. "Nooo! Mr. Crane! You're cumming inside me. Oh God, you're not supposed to do that. Pleeeaaase! Take it out. Quick." Mr. Crane yanks out his dick, and he's squirting his cum all over my bum. Although I can't see it, I still feel his cum landing on my ass, and when I look over my shoulder I see Mr. Crane wanking off and shooting all this cum up the bodice and really messing up the skirt as well. My arsehole is exposed, and he rubs his dick against it while he squirts his final drops. When he's finished he just stands there, red in the face and panting, and the wet dick in his hand is softening and doesn't look so big anymore. I reach over the silly, strutting skirt towards my arse, and my forearm gets all sticky with cum when I do this. The skirt, which used to be really starchy and white and pristine is now drenched in all this yucky goo. When I feel my arse my hand gets sticky too, and my bum cheeks are really warm and sore from the prat's spanking. "Eeewww, Mr. Crane. I told you not to do that. Now you've cum all over my tutu and skirt and everything. How am I supposed to clean this up? You're SO gross." Although I'm, like, totally annoyed that he's messed up this outfit, I remember that I'm supposed to be freaked out that he came in my twat so I scold him for that too. I can't seem to manage any tears though, which is a shame since he'd probably pay me more if I cried. Mr. Crane's anger seems to have disappeared, and he's looking down like a naughty little boy as I scold him. I'm really pissed off that he called me all those nasty things, and for messing up my outfit too. I march off to change, totally ignoring him. He follows me around the house and blabbers apologies, but even though he sounds genuinely sorry I still think Mr. Crane has some serious issues with young girls. He tells me that he just got carried away and that I'm fantastic and beautiful and everything. I don't really soften though, since I hate getting spanked; it just reminds me too much of my dad. And I'm NOT a conceited moron either. Can't believe he said stuff like that to me. He pays me two hundred pounds which is way more than we agreed on, but I'm still annoyed with him and I don't talk at all on my way out. I'm not sure I'll come back here again. I might even scare him with a fake pregnancy and make him pay for the 'abortion'. Serves him right. When I get home, my mum thinks I've been to gymnastics lessons which explains the bag I'm carrying nicely. She's not cross that I've been out late. Instead she's really pleased that I'm an active girl. I almost laugh since I can feel Mr. Crane's sperm dribble into my knickers as she speaks. I'm really knackered and I need some rest before school tomorrow, so I don't bother to shower and fall asleep really fast. I don't dream. Chapter 4 Mr. Aitken hasn't asked me to wear anything special, and it's a relief since he might not be a big fat pervert like Mr. Crane. Ballet tutu! I mean, *really*! How do guys come up with this stuff? It's, like, so-o- o tacky. When Mr. Aitken lets me in I see he's in his thirties and not bad looking at all. I'm guessing he works out since he's kind of fit, and I feel positive about this whole job. He takes me into the kitchen and gives me a cup of tea. It's a sweet and unexpected gesture, and makes me like him. Would have preferred a Coke though. Maybe a milkshake. Love those. Anyway, he sits me down and asks me which school I go to. Since he's acting like a normal person and not a dirty old man, I'm off guard and I actually tell him. He seems very pleased at this, which is kind of weird. I'm thinking he might stalk me or something. Then he tells me that he doesn't live here - he's just house-sitting for his neighbours. He asks if I know this girl, Susan Gilmore, which I do. Then it hits me that I've actually been here before, in this house, when Susan had a huge birthday party years ago. She's the same age as me, goes to my school and everything. Pretty, if you like the thin, gangly type. We don't hang out, since she's actually a whiney little bitch. Never got over me stealing her boyfriend when we were, like, six or something, and she's been really mean ever since. Anyway, it turns out that Mr. Aitken is, surprise, a pervert after all. He totally fancies Susan, and now that he has the run of her house he's booked me to, well..., be her I guess. He tells me he's been spying on her and taking pictures and things, and it amazes me that he has no idea how creepy I find this. It's like he thinks I want to know about it, and that I'll think it's cool or romantic or something. I REALLY don't. I think about calling this whole thing off, but then I don't like Susan much and it's a lot of money, so I stay. So this Aitken guy takes me upstairs to Susan's room, and it sucks that her room is nicer than mine. She has this big four-poster, her own TV, and she's tidier than me too. Of course, I immediately go to her dresser where I'm guessing her diary is, but I can't find it. Even though I'm dying to search more since she might have written about me, Mr. Creepy probably doesn't want to pay me for doing that so I just let it go. Instead I walk around her room slowly, playing with my ponytail and wriggling my bum, doing various poses designed to let Mr. Aitken have a good look at me. When I turn to see the look on his face, he's actually not paying attention at all. Instead he's tracing his finger over Susan's furniture and fondling some of her dirty laundry. How rude can you be? Here I am, working hard and doing my best to turn him on, and he's more into this distinctly un-hip jumper which Susan has left on the chair. I realize he's desperately horny for Susan, and I must say I find it pathetic. I mean, he's, like, twenty years older than her. I can see how he'd want to do her and everything, but fall in love? That's just not on. Personally, I don't see what the big deal is with Susan anyway. She's always complaining about everything, and she's not THAT pretty. If I could steal her boyfriend back then, how can she be better looking than I am? She's kind of stuck-up too, come to think of it. "Wish I was as pretty as Susan," I go, and I'm not even fishing for compliments here since everyone at school knows I'm hotter than Susan fucking Gilmore. I mean, PLEASE! Can't believe the pervert likes HER. I suppose I should be earning my pay soon, but I'm stumped since he's not paying much attention to me. Of course I have absolutely no idea how to act like Susan, but I figure Mr. Aitken doesn't really know her that well either so he won't notice. I think us young girls all seem the same to these guys. Except the looks of course, which is ALL they notice. It's like they can't get past the tits and ass and see that some of us have these amazing, deep souls, and it's really annoying sometimes. It's like, 'Helllooo, there's an actual person her! With opinions and feelings and stuff'. They're like mum and dad really. Oh well, I'm trying to figure out how to do the Susan bit, but Mr. Aitken has his own ideas about this. He's been to the hamper and now he's piled Susan's smelly old clothes in the corner. The prat is sniffing and stroking them, not paying ANY attention to me, and of course, he wants me to wear them. Yuck! He's sifting through bras and tops and knickers and skirts until he finds what he wants me to wear, and he's treating every piece of her dirty clothing like it's a museum exhibit which is, like, totally creepy and annoying. Being a middle-of-the-road pervert, Mr. Aitken decides on Susan's school uniform. Yawn. The blouse is okay, the short-sleeved one and no tie since it's still summer. Even smells sweet from this really nice, flowery perfume Susan seems to wear. Skirt's a bit grubby though, and when I smell the kneesocks it's not nice at all. MY feet sure don't smell that much. Actually, Susan's kneesocks smell like our hall does when my pesky little sister takes off her sneakers - a penetrating, full-bodied smell of feet with a pungent sting to it. My sister's favourite thing in the whole world is to place her feet in my lap and get a foot rub, but I only do this when I'm in a really good mood. Her feet are like a toxic waste dump or something. Although she takes off her crusty socks, it's still not something I do unless she's been really nice to me. Which is, like, never. Mr. Aitken seems to like Susan's kneesocks though, since he presses them to his face and inhales deeply before giving them to me. Gross! When I roll them on he finally pays attention, since I do this in a really slow and sexy way. I've left my knickers on, and they're these really nice, soft, pink ones which I love, but Mr. Aitken wants me to wear Susan's dirty old schoolgirl panties, which is just too much. "Eeewww! You can't be serious! You want me to wear Susan's knickers? Is this, like, a joke?" "You have to. It's important." Yeah right! It's very, very important. The sky will fall if I don't put on Susan Gilmore's dirty underpants. Idiot! I look at the white cotton in my hand, and either Susan wore them while snogging her dog-like boyfriend, or she has a crush on her teacher, 'cause she's been seriously aroused wearing these. From the heavy, musky smell I figure it's not that long ago either. I point this out to Mr. Pervert, but he doesn't react like I'd hoped. "Please Mr. Aitken. They smell of her twat and everything. Look; they're even sticky. You don't actually want me to wear these, do you? Please?" "Of course I do. Why do you think I've kept them in a zip-lock bag since yesterday? I want you to smell like her." OH MY GOD. He's done WHAT? That's just gross. Keeping girl's knickers in a zip-lock bag! Can't believe the imagination these stuffy old gits have when it comes to preying on us girls. Why can't they put that energy into something useful instead of smelly underwear? Eeewww! "Well, if you really want me to, I guess I could wear them. You know, if that will make you want to have sex and stuff." Am I a professional or what? No wrinkling my nose, no more protesting - nothing. I just bend over and flip up the pleated skirt, showing him my twat from behind as I pull down my own lovely, fresh, pink knickers and put on Susan's creamed-out, yucky cotton ones. This is why I get paid like I do. Not many girls would do this. To complete the picture he makes me wear this gold necklace from Susan's jewellery box, and it's totally inappropriate since it's a cross. When I'm all dressed in Susan's school uniform, Mr. Aitken tells me to sit down at her desk and pretend to do homework. This sounds very dull to me and not like a hot fantasy at all, but I do as he says. I sit looking blindly at this book and I'm not even sure what it's about, but I'm chewing my pencil and doing all the schoolgirly stuff which guys want. I'm twitching my nose, brushing hair away, stroking my neck, playing with the necklace and generally doing what bored girls do when they study. What is it about this that turns guys on? Personally I think they're just morons. Anyway, he doesn't talk to me or anything. He just sits there for a while, looking at me. Then he comes over and starts stroking my hair, kissing my neck and nibbling my ear. It's not so bad. Then he puts his hand down my blouse and underneath my bra, fondling my breasts really carefully. I lean my head back against his chest and purr, and he kisses the tip of my nose which just seems like a very sweet thing to do. When Mr. Aitken is bored with this he asks me to go over to Susan's bed. I'm hardly there when he pounces at me, toppling me onto the bed. He's kissing and sniffing me, moaning 'Oh Susan' over and over, which pisses me off even though I know I'm supposed to pretend I'm her. It's weird, but I can actually see why he made me wear her clothes. It's not like I can usually smell myself, but now I definitely notice I smell different. I start to notice all sorts of different scents that come from the stuff I'm wearing, and it feels really intimate and strange to be wearing someone else's clothes like this. It's kind of yucky that I smell like that bitch Susan Gilmore though. When I remember I'm wearing her dirty undies I shudder, but Mr. Aitken seems to think this is because I'm liking his attentions, and he groans. He undresses, and his cock is sticking out. It's kind of large, but not scarily so, which is a good thing since he's going to do me up the arse later. Then he's back on the bed, and he's holding my feet to his face, fiddling with my toes and smelling my socks again. Well, Susan's socks really. The pervert really gets off on this, and he's actually wanking while doing it. Then he kisses his way up my thighs, and I spread my legs for him, pulling up the grey pleated skirt so he can enjoy the knickers he so desperately wants me to wear. He gives this guttural moan and buries his face in my twat, really drinking in the smell of Susan's panties. Well, that's not all he's getting a whiff of. It's MY twat down there, you know. Fuck Susan! Then Mr. Aitken flips me over onto my tummy and rubs his face all over my little panty-clad bum. He's shoving my panties into my bumcrack with his nose, and he's sort of stroking my arse with his cheeks too. He should have shaved better today, 'cause his stubble catches in the fabric. He's moaning into my ass, kissing my bumhole through the cotton. It's like I'm a rag doll, and he's just letting himself go, enjoying my body like I'm not here to judge him. "Christ Susan, your arse is amazing." Yes, well. It's not really Susan's arse, is it? It's MINE, and it's a damned sight better than Susan's, I can tell you that. I've seen her in the showers, and it just doesn't compare. "Oh thank you Mr. Aitken. I'm really proud of it. Are you going to fuck it soon? I'm really looking forward to that. You promised you would, remember?" I'm thinking this is way too silly, and he's going to tell me off for spoiling the mood. He doesn't though. He's just like all the other idiots. No matter how stupid the line, if you say what they want to hear, they get off on it. Mr. Aitken grabs my hips and pulls me up on my hands and knees. He's sitting back and staring in awe at my bum, licking his lips like a hungry little boy in a sweet shop. I reach behind, stroke my bum cheeks and play with the sticky gusset of Susan's panties. I even reach in through the leg band and rub myself a bit, since this outrageous setting is starting to turn me on just a teeny little bit. It feels good so I stop. NO WAY am I going to cum like this, on Susan's bed wearing her dirty knickers and everything. Then I push the cotton panties back into my bumcrack and Mr. Aitken is all over me, kissing and smelling me again. He tugs at my knickers, pulling them down to my knees. Then he dives in, tonguing my twat, but he's not very good at it so it doesn't do much for me. Then he moves to my arse, and he's pressing the tip of his tongue inside, and this DEFINATELY does something for me. He's lapping at my bumhole, fucking it with the tip of his tongue, and this gets me going so I rub myself while he fucks my twat with his fingers. Although I KNOW I'll be embarrassed thinking about this later, I go: "Ooohhh yes, Mr. Aitken. Lick my arse. Wriggle that tongue of yours up little Susan's bum," and I can't help moaning since it feels awesome when he does this. He goes at it with renewed vigour when I mention Susan, and I'm really liking what he's doing. Then, of course, he stops. It's like these guys know when I'm enjoying something, and automatically stop doing it. Idiots. Anyway, my bum is all loose and wet, so he thinks he can just slip his dick up my arse. Although he's not so big, it's not THAT easy, and I brace myself as he pushes against my tight little back hole. I manage to relax a bit, and he slips the head of his cock inside me. He has to pause again, but then I loosen up and he's all the way inside me, holding on to my hips really hard. My arse feels, like, totally stuffed, and it's so tight he can hardly move at all. His dick is pulsing inside me, and it's so-o-o much nicer than when Mr. Lambson did my arse with his huge thing. Mr. Aitken starts to move, and when I get used to him he starts fucking my bum really hard. It's like, 'OH MY GOD. This is AMAZING' and he's pushing my face into Susan's pillows as he fucks my ass. He seems to like it too, 'cause he's moaning and groaning a lot. What he's groaning is 'Oh God. Your bum is so tight,' and this is pretty much what Mr. Lambson said when he did my arse, so it must be true. Bet Susan's isn't half as nice. I look over my shoulder and I see Mr. Aitken's hard, throbbing member stuck up my bum and it's sandwiched between my cheeks and it looks awesome. Totally horny. I start to rub myself, and Mr. Aitken must notice my fingers in my twat, since he groans and moans even more when I do this. He stops fucking my bum for a minute while I tickle his balls. My fingers are really slick from fingering my sopping twat, and his balls are all tight and hard. Then his cock twitches urgently inside me, and I concentrate on getting myself off while he does the same. I must be this shameless slut or something, because I really, really like the feeling of getting it up the arse and I cum before he does. Hard. It's like I'm stuck on this pole, and Mr. Aitken holds me up as I scream into Susan's pillow and gush all over my fingers. This is too much for Mr. Aitken, and as my arse clamps rhythmically on his dick, he cums too. In my bum and everything. Just like that. Doesn't even ask if it's okay. "Christ Susan. I can't help it. Your bum is just too tight. I'm... I'm cumming... I'm cumming up your tight little arse." And this he does. A lot. It's like he's pouring all this hot, gooey cum up my rear end and he must have been saving it for weeks 'cause there's just so much of it. Although I've done this before, it still feels really weird having someone shoot off back there and I can't help grunting even though I hate it when I do that. Finally he's spent and he falls away from my sweaty body, really exhausted. When his cock pops out of my bum, all this cum follows it and runs down my thighs, over my twat and everywhere. Can't see how Mr. Aitken is going to explain these stains on Susan' bedspread. It's on the skirt and kneesocks too, not to mention those yucky undies. Well, it's not my problem, thank God. While I change he's talking to me like he still thinks I'm Susan, and it's REALLY starting to annoy me. Could Susan do what I just did? Don't THINK so. Prissy little bitch. Anyway, he's going on and on about how much he loves her, and if I liked Susan more I'd warn her about this prick. When I leave he asks me if I can talk to Susan and find out if she'd be interested in him. Can you believe this prat? Susan may be kind of mean, but she's still a reasonably attractive young girl and Mr. Aitken is this hopeless loser. I tell him he should get a life and that there's NO WAY Susan would be interested in someone like him. He's not happy, but hey, I'm not all that happy either and he doesn't care about that, does he? When I get home I still have Susan's necklace on, and Mr. Aitken is going to freak out when he can't find it. I try to throw a curse on it with a witch spell I learn off the internet. It's kind of fun but doesn't work, and Susan shows up at school without a single zit. Totally annoying. TO BE CONTINUED ----------------------------------------------------------------------- YOUTHFUL ENTERPRISE - Chapters 3 and 4 (Mf anal) Written by Ossified Comments welcome to ossified AT hushmail DOT com ----- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+