Message-ID: <52499asstr$1132657801@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@lana.pathlink.com> X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Path: extra.newsguy.com!newsp.newsguy.com!enews2 From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!@yahoo.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <dluhvk0po0@enews2.newsguy.com> Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit User-Agent: KNode/0.9.0 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2005 23:39:17 -0800 Subject: {ASSM} Strawberry Hill Elementary School (MFg+ ped) Lines: 559 Date: Tue, 22 Nov 2005 06:10:01 -0500 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/Year2005/52499> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge Peace on Earth! Support free speech! NOTE : To fans of 'Sangrelysia,' dispair not! Plans for completion are underway. This is just a little bonus distraction. To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML, please visit our website at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www Now offering over 100,000 words of pure prurience! -------------------------------------------------------- Strawberry Hill Elementary School by Vivian Darkbloom Principal Anvilstrich, dark brown hair tied back in a neat bun, explained as she led me down the flight of dark stairs: "Ever since the 69th amendment established pedophilia as a protected form of sexual expression, many schools have been, shall we say --" she adjusted her black-rimmed glasses "-- less than efficient in reaching accessibility compliance. Well, here at Strawberry Hill Girl's Elementary, you'll find we're way ahead of the curve. Quite an exciting time to be running an all-girl's elementary school." "Especially," I chimed in, "with the new studies that have shown conclusively how essential is unbridled sexual expression to the psychological health and academic success of young girls." "Exactly," she smiled. "I'm glad to see you've been keeping up with the literature." She flattened her lazy herringbone grey wool dress which, honestly, made no pretense even at descending her slender thighs to keep her knees warm. "Part of my duties as an accessibility-compliance inspector," I replied humbly, scribbling on my notepad. I noted that she must have been young, maybe 17 or 18 or so. She ushered me through a sleek, modern doorway. "Here we have the main playground observation room." As we stepped in, the blue sky light embraced us from panes above. Deluxe padded lounge chairs here and there awaited patiently. Looking up, I could see that many regions of the ceiling were transparent, and through them I could see the diverse array of various jungle-gyms and hoops and so on. "A popular spot," she said, gesturing for me to try out one of the loungers. I lay down on the plush padding. "Here are the controls," she handed me a remote. I pushed a button and the lounger silently elevated for better viewing angle. Looking up, I saw the swinging-bars. "Would you like some ginseng tea?" she asked. "Um, sure." She poured me a cup from a teapot sitting atop a frilly lace cloth on a table nearby. "The android staff always keep the supply fresh," she said handing me the steaming ceramic cup. "Dear me," she examined a smudge on the upper surface of the ceiling-window, and laughed. "Some of the girls get a bit carried away when they see someone they like down here, and press their little flowers right up against the glass." "Very impressive," I said, sipping my tea, knowing that the silence was one of class now in session. I could imagine the cacophonous imagery during recess. "While it is, of course, permissible for the girls to go without clothing altogether, most of them prefer their little outfits. The Goth vogue is generally big, though the second-graders went through a french-maid outfit craze a few weeks ago. At any rate, very few of them wear panties, at least out here on the playground." "Quite progressive," I commented. Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of her cleavage in an accidentally unbuttoned gap in her pressed white dress shirt. Lips moist, she smiled, putting one hand in the pocket of her matching herring-bone dress-jacket that stretched across her slender shoulders. In the enclosed room, the feminine sweat-smell caressed my nostrils. "Would you like to see the private rooms now?" A movement caught my eye from above. A blonde girl in white lace dress with petticoats prepared to cross the bars. Principal Anvilstrich frowned. "A truant. Wait here while I go have a word with her." "Sure," I replied, but she had vanished. I sipped my tea, looking at my watch, thinking about the other schools on my list for inspection that afternoon. An average day in the life of a 69th amendment accessibility-compliance inspector. The tea was a nicely added extra touch, though. Poised on the ladder, the girl looked down and, seeing me watching, grinned widely. Her gaze then focused upwards as she proceeded in spidery swings from one bar to the next. At first, as she started swinging, I was disappointed that she seemed to be wearing under-coverings, but as she swung closer and closer to my zenith, I realized that it was an optical illusion from the folds of the petticoats. My eyes were glued to the tiny red lips flitting in and out between the folds of fancy fabric above me between dangling toes, when abruptly the swinging halted, almost directly above. I heard the pert clicking of Principal Anvilstrich's high heels on the glass, above me, and watched from beneath as the Principal stepped over to the girl on the bars. The footprints the pointed toes and high heels paced above me, textured with tiny pieces of lint and grit, until she stood almost directly above my face, and from that perspective I found myself staring straight up the long curve of her graceful legs. It turned out the the principal herself was unadorned underneath, so I pleasantly stroked my awakening desire as I watched the two pairs of lips, one bearded, the other bare. I couldn't hear what they were saying, so it came a bit unexpected when the Principal leaned over and kissed the girl, full front of the mouth. Not a little peck, either, but an unhurried and deep luscious spelunking. I recalled reading a recent child-rearing self-help paperback (I'm sorry, but I can't remember the author's name) that advocates french-kissing of misbehaving children as a disciplinary technique. I'm not sure that their research was sound, but it was hardly objectionable. As the kiss continued, the Principal took the girl in her arms, lifting her down from the bars. The older woman's hips gave an impulsive erotic twitch, and I blinked as a tiny droplet from her moist, mustachioed lower lips hurtled towards me, to splatter the glass inches in front of my eyes. ____________________________________________________________ The dimpled white-petticoated young truant of blonde curls who, I discovered, bore the name Angelique, accompanied us on the remainder of our tour. "She felt a need to enhance her academic success, didn't we princess?" explained Principal Anvilstrich. Angelique nodded solemnly, then gestured to the Principal, who bent down so Angelique could whisper something in her ear. As she bent down, the lower hem of the herringbone wool crept dangerously up to reveal the slightest hint of bearded red lips between her curving buttocks, until unfortunately she stood up straight again. "That's OK," assured the Principal. "I'll show you how." She leaned close to me to confide softly: "She's never given oral sex to a man before." Her cheeks flushed as she said it. Then she resumed public volume of her conversation. "So, tell me about the history of the amendment again. I'm too young to remember." "Well, it all started with the hog flu, which killed off an enormous percentage of the population. Seems it reacted to the chemicals released in the body of those who are habitual liars." "And that's what wiped out the Republican party?" "Well, they didn't have any candidates left to run for office. Then there was the deer-antler flu, so-named because some hunter from the midwest contracted it from a deer antler. A white stag, actually. Very Arthurian, somehow." "That was the one that hit people with a low IQ?" "Not exactly. It attacked those who were not using their brains, independent of mental capacity. That took care of anybody who would have even thought of voting Republican. On further investigation, scientists discovered that thoughtfulness leads to consideration for others, resulting in an alteration of body chemistry which was completely lacking in Republicans. But by then it was too late. "The following year, the Green Party won a landslide victory, and we were able to end all wars on the planet, completely end starvation, hunger, and poverty everywhere on the planet, demolish the nuclear arms stockpiles, eliminate pesticide use, eliminate greenhouse emissions, cease entirely the use of petroleum products by massive conservation and converting to a largely solar-based fuel economy, properly fund all schools, including programs in art, music, sculpture, and dance, save all the remaining rainforests, end all whaling and overfishing, and basically bringing about basic peace and contentment planet-wide while ceasing all forms of environmental destruction." She turned to me intensely, and her icy blue eyes locked on mine with savage desire. "I love it when you talk politics," she whispered lustily. Unable to respond verbally, I attempted to clear my throat. "Here we are," she said. "We provide these rooms for the privacy of any pedophiles who wish to spend more time getting to know our students more closely. Here's the Arabian Nights suite," the door was open a crack, and she pushed it ajar. "Being cleaned," she explained. Peeking inside, I could see that the decor was done in the style of the interior of a tent, with a window revealing 3-dimensional Trompe de L'Oeil of Middle-Eastern turrets and minarets. These I duly recorded on my notepad. An android in a maid's outfit worked diligently, cleaning. Or at least, I suspected it was an android, although she appeared fully human, about eleven years old, with dark skin, but sandy blonde hair and eyes the color of a tropical ocean. "Did you require my services?" she asked, noticing our presence. "All of our robot staff are fully equipped for sexual procedures," boasted the Principal. "Yes Cecily, can you tell us which of these rooms are ready for use?" "The Tudor room is prepared and available, ma'am." "Will you accompany us?" the Principal commanded. "Certainly, ma'am." Cecily, our android guide, brushed by as she ushered us to another doorway. This room had a canopied bed, tapestried wall hangings of intricate Celtic design, laced with golden threads, ornately carved cabinets and dressers, a marble statue of Venus, and the window (on the opposite side) revealed the realistic 3-dimensional simulation of a hazy distant township set in an afternoon of the Elizabethan era. A vase with fresh red roses sat on the small round table in the doorway. "This will do just fine." The principal led us all into the room, and shut the door behind us. She pulled the black enameled chopstick that had been holding her hair bun in place, and shook her head slightly as she released it to splash across her shoulders and down her back. She freed the notepad and pen from my clinging grasp, and set it down on the table beside the rose vase. Blonde-curled Angelique curiously reached over, picked up the pen, and aimlessly began to doodle a little picture on my neatly manicured notes. However I was unable to prevent it, as Principal Anvilstrich had wrapped her arms around me in a savage hug that pressed twin hot cushioned pebbles against my chest, brutally inhaling my lips into her mouth has she thrust her tongue into mine. The roughness of her tongue tasted of onions and coffee grounds, with remnants of minty freshness as she explored. Impressive indeed, as my notes would record when I once more regained control of the pad and pen. Not only would Strawberry Hill Elementary achieve full certification status, they would additionally be awarded many extra points towards a special medallion of merit. I felt a hand slide to caress the warmth in my public arch. "It's not necessary for the extra points you know," I informed her. "Your school has passed with flying colors." She blinked. "Extra points. We get extra points for this? Cool. I just felt the overwhelming need for a screaming orgasm with your throbbing swollen member thrusting deep inside of me, tearing asunder the scarlet depths of my interior waterfall of passion as I ride the scorching flame of your volcanically engorged horn." She put her finger to her lips, as if to bite the nail of her index finger. "If it's not too much trouble, that is." I shrugged. "It would make for a more thorough investigation, I suppose." At this point, I decided to continue my research by completing the upper-unbuttoning of her white dress shirt, and slid my hand between the bra and the soft skin inside, enjoying the little gasps from between her moist, full lips as my fingers one-by-one slid over the knobby buttons. Angelique was still sketching on my notes, but casting sideways glances at the rising front of my pants. She put the pen down and came over to put her hand on it, caressing it gently, then grinned up at me with yellow-curl dimples. Angelique's hand remained, squeezing and caressing as the Principal kissed me once more. Simultaneously, she completed the unbuttoning, and the shirt, then the bra fell onto the soft, cushiony carpeted rug. Hardly in authentic Tudor style, but oh well. With the shirt no longer holding it in, the acrid female sweat-smell now stung my nostrils, sinking spurs of desperate desire, barbs of blissful agony deep into the heart of my groin. "Principal," I whimpered quietly, cupping my hands around her small, upturned breasts, gently enjoying their pliant, soft smooth squishiness. Like butter. "Valencia," she whispered. "Call me Valencia." "Principal," repeated Angelique, as I felt tiny fingers on the head and shaft. I looked down to see that the little girl had thrust her pudgy little arm between the elastic and skin, and was now rummaging around, with effects of which I would express general approbation in my notes, at the soonest possible opportunity. "I believe your pupil had requested lessons," I pointed out. "Of course." All the while, brown-skinned Cecily stood obediently still, apparently with a blank stare at the far wall, though android sensors are sensitive in ways that human eyes are not. Valencia knelt on the soft crimson carpet and undid my trousers. Angelique smiled gleefully, working her fingers and eyebrows, and otherwise squirming with anticipation. She watched in fascination as the cloth parted to reveal my partially extended glory. Revealed were hairy bare legs, as more clothing dropped carelessly to the floor. "Like this," said Valencia, instructing her eager young student. She held me with her right hand as my tip rested on her tongue. She touched the very end, to enjoy the little drop, and then thrust the whole tip into her mouth, twisting in the most viciously delightful turn with her teeth, then spit me out and offered the slimy tip to Angelique. Now I felt timid fingers guiding me into the soft, innocent opening, between smooth, untouched lips and tiny teeth, as Angelique eagerly gobbled and bubbled, drooling and cooing and chewing in even more delightful ways, gazing upward questioning me with crystalline grey eyes. I nodded in definite affirmative approval, as I settled into a comfortable pelvic rhythm echoed by bobbing curls. The Principal sat on the carpet, leaned back against the bed, and watched smiling as her work progressed, aimlessly running her hands over her naked breasts, then leaned forward and began running her tongue along my shaft. She beckoned to seeming 11-year-old Cecily, whom she told to sit underneath, delicately tonguing my pendulae. Cecily produced a bottle of lubricant, which she employed for the purpose of working her finger into my rear opening, with most pleasant results, as she and the other two continued creatively tonguing. Soon I felt a religious experience coming on, and found myself down on my knees before the altar of pristine purity, as that blessed pentecostal tongues ever poured forth in abundant blessing. Valencia now knelt before me, snowy expanse of her frosty white abdomen stretching downward to the tantalizingly invisible bearded lips, still obscured by the narrow strip of classy herringbone wool. The concealed wonder I had previously glimpsed, so seemingly long ago. She squeezed forward her breast so that the nipple touched my lips, and obediently I gave it a home within the loving embrace of my lips and teeth. Within short measure, I knew that a climax would soon arrive, but I had meant to ask to be sure that Angelique was OK with the disgusting fluid squirted into the pristine purity of her sweet little heart-shaped mouth. Still she wore her frilly white dress, snow-white as if a bride's on wedding day. "God, I'm about to . . ." I said, in attempt to warn her, but too late. The thought of defiling the privacy of her innocent oral chamber pushed me over the edge, along with a devilishly deviant twist from Cecily inside of me, and with three bright fresh young pairs of eyes gazing in intimate fascination, I momentarily lost control, let go the helm, and my cortex connected with infinity and the white light of the ever-shining wisdom at the core of the universe, as my pee-hole injected nasty goo between pure white pearls swathed in bobbing curls, spewed seedy slime deep into the center of the wedding-cake. Wicked white globs, the glorious gunk of evolution, speeding seminal sailors on their carnal tunnel voyage fleshwise, unknowingly this time in vain. Lovingly, I placed a hand on either side of her head to steady myself for a final thrust, as she eagerly made yum-yum noises and sucked up my yucky gross mucous frosting into the candy-drop innocence of her pale dimpled buttery hot snowfall. In spite of her enthusiastic slurping, a few milky drops dribbled down her chin, and landed on the delicately embroidered white fabric covering her flat young breast. Her Principal quickly leaned over to prevent further stains by deftly licking the errant drool from Angelique's chin with the tip of her tongue, after which she rewarded Angelique with a savage, probing kiss, unmindful of the soiling of her dark brown locks as they lacing themselves around my slimy horn. Soon, covers were thrown back, and I found myself collapsed with exhaustion, drifting to dreamland nestled snugly between the searing warmth of three heavenly bodies, filled with nurturing, cooing, loving caresses. ____________________________________________________________ I awoke, lying on my back, to a flurry of hushed activity centered around my midriff, some time later, I have no idea how long. It was then I realized that the school inspection, which I had believed to be complete, was completely lacking in report of the climax which our Principal had so dutifully requested. It was this project on which I interpreted the three demoness angels to be intently at work. Indeed, my estimate was close to its mark, though far from being the end of the story, it was just the beginning. I was unable to view the source of the tactile sensation that had awoken me, the maddeningly delightful toothful and tongueful teasing. I found my arms on top of the covers, and when I placed my hands gently on one of the three spheroid sources of my delight beneath the covers, the touch unleashed a flight of giggles. Soon, faces emerged, following which I found that my engorgement had plunged deeply into the Principal's moist bearded canyon, still shrouded by a strip of wool fabric, but now quite distinctly present in my sensory realm. Valencia threw her head back as she writhed atop me, lost in trancelike ecstasy, pelvis thrusting this way and that in deviously delightful rhythm. I saw that she had set Cecily to calmly stroking her breasts and fingering her flower -- I could feel the robot-child's finger between us, exploring slimy stimulation of the tiny trigger-point of light with delicate precision. Angelique, white wedding-dress still flowing around her, pounced on my pillow. Placing a knee on either side of my head, she lifted her dress to carefully lower her gorgeous red smooth lips to mine. I parted her veils to find and lovingly kiss her dark red pearl, evoking an astonished moan, which turned to a series of erotic vocalizations as we fell into a rhythm, and I reached to explore her various openings with my probing fingers, feasting on the sweetness the lass's sticky, bitter molasses. Inserting a finger into her miniature vagina, I found the cute ridges of her little `g' spot, thus raising the pitch of her melodic incantations by a notch or two. The girls smothered me in their sexual passion, and happily laden with the weight of their driving desire, I sunk deeply into the soft mattress and pillows. Juices, sweat, slime and secretions dripped from and smeared all parts of our bodies, I no longer knew whose or what, only that we were all now one in sharing of our darkest, most intimate longings and fulfillment. I could now see naught but white wedding-dress petticoat furls, along with chubby-thin pale soft thighs and belly button, but I could hear the melodic call and answer of the girl's duet, as each vocalized a gradually rising scale, each spurred on by the progressive trembling peak of the other. It was Angelique who came first, followed shortly after by Valencia. In addition to the lengthening release in her voice, I could feel the pulsating contractions of her tiny flower against my lips and teeth. Valencia called out loudly as her bucking convulsions thrust and pulled. "Yes! Yes! Oh God, yes!" Neither of my two lovelies were quitters. They were in it for the full multiplicity of the event, so once again they sank into the their determined duet, as my silent tactile gauges were screaming higher and higher into the overload zone, as the two girls prodded each other to still another set of pulsing convulsions. But they kept at it, and persistence paid off, for the best yet was the third. At this point, I felt Cecily's finger caressing my orbs, then ever-so gently tracing an almost imperceptible line, once more towards my rear aperture. So distracting were the throbbing push and pull on my mouth and penis, that at first I barely noticed the entry, the intrusion into that delicate nerve center. The probing continued however, and soon that third volume had risen to the level of the other two, and a third gauge was screaming into overload. After their second shared orgasm, the two girls' level of intensity had fallen back only to about two thirds of full bore, but they kept on climbing in alternating melodic moans, and soon I felt that wonderful anticipation of inevitability as I slid over the hump into the downhill glide of the climax. My visual field blurred with a million galaxies as the force of my emotion caused me to break my silence with loud repeated yells (muffled by tiny Angelica's vagina). I reversed thrust, in order to fully savor the peak, steering the starship carefully towards the magnetic gravity of the swirling concentric oblivion of Nirvana. Both girls could sense that I was near the bursting point, and I could feel them both at once begin to intuitively coax my impending explosion with unerring instinct. "God, yes. Give it to me!" shouted Valencia, hovering and squeezing me with her vagina, sweating and trembling. I could feel little hot drops of her perspiration falling onto my chest and abdomen, merging with my own. Right then, Angelica burst forth in messy convulsions against my mouth that sent fluid streaming down my chin. "Ga ga ga ga!" she shouted, with articulate elocution. I thrust my pelvis towards the heavens, into my angel Valencia, once, twice and finally on the third time I felt the liquid release begin burst forth deep inside of her with searing clarity. She met my force with her own, crushing down on me with impact as we both strove deeper into the other, and this time there was no mistaking her distinct pulsations squeezing me. She totally lost control, flailing all about, screaming with complete, wild, primordial abandon. She trembled. She shook. Her soul burst into flames, white hot as the heart of the virgin mother, to subside only gradually, like the incrementally ebbing tide after a full moon. All this I could feel, through the shaft of light that connected between us, as I shared her dissolution into madness, then slowly her re-integration. I reached up gently to touch her taut breasts, nipples tense. She gasped almost painfully with electricity and overstimulation, then slowly lowered herself into my loving arms, as Angelique slid aside, allowing me to breathe once more. She crawled up onto my pillow to watch me hold and caress Valencia, pressing her moist vagina against the top of my head. Oh how I loved these girls, as I held them in my arms and tenderly stroked them, I wanted that glowing warmth of joined friendship to last forever. And once again we collapsed into deep dreams. ____________________________________________________________ On that day there was not much more to tell. We had sex only once more, the four of us. This time, I fucked Angelique (me on top), while opposite Cecily sucked Valencia (Cecily on the bottom), positioned so that I was facing Valencia, and kissing her mouth and breasts coaxed me to a delightfully climax inside of the younger girl -- and vice versa for Valencia in the mouth of the seemingly human girl-android. Needless to say, the school passed inspection with a glowing report, and furthermore, I cited this particular case study as one which merited further investigation so that it could serve as an exemplary model for other institutions. The very next day, I returned to initiate an in-depth, detailed study over the course of several decades, in which many various subjects were explored and probed. It proved to be rewarding and spiritually satisfying for every individual involved. ------------------------------------------------------- For more stories, please visit our site: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/vivian/www -- 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}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+