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Subject: {ASSM} "Assignment"  by deirdre (ff, mf, bd) -- reposted by H. Jekyll and Please Cain
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Date: Mon, 28 Nov 2005 05:10:03 -0500
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"Assignment" (ff mf bd) 

by deirdre 

NOTE: We are not the authors of this story. "deirdre" was the enigmatic
queen of Usenet sex stories in the mid-1990s. She posted 156 stories in
just over two years, using an anonymous remailer and apparently *never*
corresponding with anyone. She was last heard from in late April 1996.
We will repost all 156 stories, with comments by her, in alphabetical
order, between now and the 10th anniversary of her "retirement." In the
coming months, we will announce a "deirdre-fest" for next Spring.
Meanwhile, enjoy! 

To contact us: h_jekyll2000@yahoo.com, or pleasecain@aol.com. 

*****


Assignment 

by deirdre 


She was sitting on a suitcase, crying.  In the corridor of my apartment
building, right down the hall from my apartment.  I couldn't just enter
my apartment and leave her there without finding out if she needed
help. 


I knew who she was.  I didn't know her, but I'd seen her--and her
husband, or boyfriend or whatever, going in and out of the apartment
across the hall.  I'd said "hi" to them but that was about all.  In
actuality, they really didn't look like the kind of people I wanted to
get to know--the guy looked kind of sleazy, and though the girl looked
OK, she surely hung out with people I'd never want to meet. 


But I couldn't just leave her there, crying in the hallway.  She didn't
even look at me.  "Are you...; Do you need any help?"  I didn't really
know how to do this.  She just sat there and kept crying.  I walked
over and knelt on one knee in front of her.  "Do you need any help?"  I
repeated. 


She seemed to notice me, "I'm sorry," she blubbered through her weeping
and sniffling, "My boyfriend threw me out and I don't have anywhere to
go!" 


I could easily imagine that guy doing it.  The prick!  I couldn't let
her sit there in the hallway.  "Here!  Come here into my apartment and
tell me about it."  I didn't know what I was going to do later, but
what else could I do?  She just sat there and I finally took her hand
and drew her up.  I grabbed her suitcase and led her into my apartment.



Soon we were sitting at my kitchen table drinking scotch.  She had
gotten over her weeping and was talking.  I found out her name was
Karen.  She was such a little thing, and nice looking.  I wanted to
kick someone in the balls. 


"He..., he wanted me to do weird things.  I couldn't!"  I could just
hear him.  I urged her to talk more.  "He told me we were going to get
it on with another woman!"  I could just picture the creep.  "He told
me to go out and find a woman and..., and *seduce* her, and then tie
her down and then get him so he could do her..., do her *ass* while she
licked me... It's *impossible*!  I could *never* do that!" 


I thought about telling her how lucky she was to get out of the life of
such a pig, but I knew sometimes people react funny when you run down
someone who just dumped them. 


"He told me not to come back until..." 


"Listen, everything'll be all right.  You've got a place for the night
and I'm sure you can find *someplace* to go tomorrow." 


"You'll let me stay?" 


"I can't very well throw you out into the corridor, can I?  I'm not
like that creep." 


"Thank you, but... I don't know what I can do tomorrow..." 


"You can worry about that tomorrow.  Your mind works better when the
sun's out again." 


"I don't know how I can thank you."  I told her never mind.  We talked
some more and drank and she told me more about life with Don.  I
couldn't stand it.  So I got her talking about other boyfriends and I
talked about some of my dates and romances and I realized it was
getting really late.  I suggested we turn in and showed her the living
room couch.  Somehow we ended up sitting there, talking some more and
it got even later.  She was still weepy and I hated to leave her.  
Finally I told her to come with me and led her into the bedroom.  I had
a queen-size bed so there was plenty of room. 


She was still weepy and feeling blue when I turned the lights out.  "I
can't please a guy," she was saying. 


"That's nonsense!  With *your looks*" I returned.  She really had
nothing to worry about when it came to getting a guy's attention. 


"I couldn't please *Don*!  I don't know how I could *ever* do what he
wants." 


"Who cares about him?"  I was throwing caution to the wind, criticizing
Don.  "Listen, Karen, you're absolutely beautiful.  You're plenty sexy
and guys will fall all over you to be your next boyfriend."   I wasn't
kidding either.  Seeing her change into her nightgown certainly did
nothing for *my* self-esteem.  She really was gorgeous, her face and
her body--much more than I had ever noticed. 


"You really think I'm beautiful?" 


"Yes!" 


"And..., sexy?" 


"Definitely." 


"I'm *nothing* compared to you.  You're great looking and you're also
smart and have a great job.  You're going to go live in a big house and
go to cocktail parties...." 


"You're dreaming," I said.  I felt a little guilty.  I guess I did know
that I was only in the apartment until I saved up some money, and I was
sure I made twice as much as the two of them put together. 


"No!  I'd *love* to have your life!  And I always thought you were so
stylish and beautiful."  Actually it was kind of nice being worshipped.
 I had to watch that my ego didn't burst. 


"But your body!"   I blurted out.  Why did I say that?  Too much scotch
I suppose. 


"You have a slender body, but it's absolutely stunning.  And *perfect*
for clothes!  I'd do *anything* for a body like that.  And you're so
*nice*!  Without you, I'd be..."  I was tongue tied for an answer.  She
was weepy again.  "I'd be lost!" she finally finished.  She reached
over and hugged me.  It was amazing that a woman like her would look at
me as a goddess or something. 


"Don't worry," I said.  We were sitting up and hugging, her face over
my shoulder and mine over hers.  I patted her back.  I felt her body
against mine.  She wept some more.  I felt her breast touching against
mine.  I felt guilty, thinking about something like that when she
obviously was so vulnerable.  What was I thinking? 


We hugged.  She held me tighter and I felt her breasts pushed tightly
up against mine.  "Thank you," she whispered.  My hands gently massaged
her back.  Her body felt so good.  How could I...? 


She pulled back but still had her hands around my back.  "Your so
sweet," she whispered, her head facing mine.  My body remembered the
feel of hers against mine.  I couldn't help myself.  My hand was behind
her head and soon my lips were on her face.  Then we were kissing. 


I didn't do this.  Not women.  Maybe I'd had a stray thought, but I had
no interest in it.  It must have been the scotch.  And Karen was so
sweet and vulnerable.  *Me* taking advantage of a vulnerable woman!  
There was guilt. 


But I didn't stop.  She was kissing me back.  Her hands carressed my
back and soon my hands were all over her back and I had a hand on her
breasts.  Then we were lying down, locked in each others arms.  I had
her nightgown lifted high and was touching her breasts.  She pulled us
tighter and I couldn't do that.  My thigh was between her legs and hers
mine.  I felt her back, my hands wondering down to her rear.  Her hand
went behind my head and she pushed it *down* and wriggled up.  She
wanted me to kiss her breasts.  I kissed and sucked gently.  They were
so sexy.  I felt her breathing harder and harder.   Then she was
coming.  While she was still coming, I scooted up and started kissing
her face, all over.  Soon she was breathing normally again and I felt
fingers on my cunt!  In seconds I was out of control and writhing
madly.  I came in minutes.  She hugged me tightly as I came back down
to earth. 


We didn't talk anymore.  We hugged and kissed a little more, lying
down, and then she kind of got me facing away from her on my side and
started spooning with me.  I felt so comfortable lying there with her. 
I must have drifted off to sleep. 


I didn't know *what* was happening.  Then I realized who I was and that
this wasn't right.  I couldn't see.  I was blindfolded, but the light
was on--I could tell.  I couldn't move my arms or legs--I was on my
stomach, tied down, spread eagle.  On my own bed, it seemed.   Naked. 
There was a gag in my mouth. My rear end was being fingered.  I felt
fingers find there way in and out.  I struggled and tried to yell.  No
use. 


"Just relax."  It was *Karen's voice*!  What had I *done*?  It was her
fingering my rear--I just *knew* it!  She slipped a finger into my rear
hole now and then.  It went easily--had she put something on her
fingers?  She pushed a second finger in.  There was nothing I could do!
 A third! 


I'd never had anything in my rear like that before.  She was fingering
my cunt, too.  She knew what she was doing.  I couldn't help my body!  
I was getting close. 


I felt movement.  The fingers came out.  I felt hands, then something
pressing against my rear hole.  A body on mine, heavy!  Pushing harder
at my rear hole.  A cock!  It was in!  I was being fucked in the ass! 
I couldn't believe it. 


I felt something--someone at my face.  "Good girl!" came Karen's voice
from above me.  My gag came off and I felt Karen's crotch against my
face.  "Lick," she said.  "Come on, be a good little slut."  I don't
know why.  There was nothing else to do.  The cock was pushing and
pulling--fucking my ass for real.  This couldn't be happening.   "The
little slut *likes* it back there," said Karen, "Show us what a slut
you are," she added.  "Finger her a little, and she'll come," she said.
 I felt fingers on my cunt.  It was too much.  I hate to say it but I
went crazy.  I felt the two bodies against mine and I was writhing like
a crazy woman.  The guy fucked my ass harder and Karen pressed my face
harder into her cunt.  I could tell they were coming too. 


I lay there, spent.  The gag was put back in my mouth.  No more chance
to yell.  Then the lights went out and nothing.  I was still bound and
gagged. 


I woke up.  I wasn't tied or gagged.  Karen wasn't there and neither
was any sign of the previous evening--except for a note on the kitchen
table: "Thanks for helping me get my Don back." 


I think about them.  They won't talk to me when I see them, but I think
about them at night when I finger myself. 



	
		
__________________________________ 
Yahoo! Mail - PC Magazine Editors' Choice 2005 
http://mail.yahoo.com

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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