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From: "chaucer48@earthlink.net" <chaucer48@earthlink.net>
Subject: {ASSM} CHAPTER 6 OF "SUSAN" 
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Date: Wed, 30 Aug 2006 00:10:01 -0400
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Dear Asstr-

   Below please find the next installment in my novel SUSAN.  Please post
it with my other work.  Thanks

   Chaucer ************************************







   SUSAN A novelette by Geoff Chaucer

   VI

   The stranger did not look away when Susan started to get dressed.  At
first she tried to stay behind the towel but soon it was apparent she was
not going to be able to so, with a degree of defiance, she dropped the
towel.  Almost as though in sympathetic echo her bathing suit bottoms,
abused by Berk, slipped down to her ankles leaving her naked to the eyes
behind the dark sunglasses.

   "Very nice" he said.  "You're what, twelve?"

   "Almost thirteen," she said and stepped out of her bathing suit bottom
still making no effort to cover her nakedness.

   "Thirteen.  A magical number.  All kinds of mystical things occur around
the number thirteen.  In a lot of places a girl is a woman when she turns
thirteen."

   Susan bent and picked up her pants.  She had small clothes in her bag
but decided not to dig them out, so she just stepped into the jeans and
pulled them up.  She was topless but again that didn't worry her much.  She
felt her nipples begin to tingle and rise.

   "I saw you at the pool yesterday," she said, pulling her T shirt on.

   "And I most certainly saw you," he said.

   "I thought you were there to watch that other girl."

   He shrugged.  "Her too.  I watch all beautiful young women, and
sometimes those that aren't so beautiful.  They all are beautiful to me -
but especially leggy blonds about to turn thirteen."

   "Can't you get into trouble for that?"

   "Only if I touch.  No law against looking."

   Susan sat down and pulled on her socks and shoes.  "Berk said somebody
from town didn't like you sitting at the pool."

   The stranger laughed.  "That's true, but when I heard you were going to
be there I just had to go along and watch."

   "Do you ever--touch?" Susan asked and, suddenly hearing herself, she
blushed deep scarlet.

   "Only when I am asked to," he smiled and Susan felt the warmth of it
rush between her legs.

   "You ready to go?" he asked.

   She nodded, picked up her bag and took a few steps down the trail she
and Berk had come up, but the stranger said, "No, come this way.  It's
shorter." He pointed back toward the cliff behind the quarry.

   Susan was doubtful and a little afraid but the excitement was still
glowing in her so she walked past the stranger and up the path he had
indicated.  In a moment he caught up and they walked side by side in
silence, but after a little the silence seemed oppressive so she said,
"Berk said you were an artist or something."

   "Among other things."

   "What kind of artist?"

   "The usual kind.  I paint."

   Susan was somehow disappointed that he was not a sculptor.  "Oh," she
said.

   "Oh?  What's the matter, you don't like painters?"

   Susan blushed and stammered, "No...I mean, I like painters...  I guess.
I just thought maybe--" she stopped and blushed again.

   "You like sculptors better, perhaps?"

   A jolt of electricty went down her spine and she stopped.  It was as
though he had been reading her mind.  He kept walking and after a moment
she took a couple of quick steps to catch up.

   He glanced at her and said, "I sculpt too.  Even some bronze casting,
but nothing too large."

   She almost asked if he had made the fountain of the wicked little girl,
but stopped herself.  They walked on through the dappled shade of the
woods, passing a couple of forks in the path until it made a sudden right
swing and crossed a footbridge over a deep creek.  After a little Susan
could see a road ahead with a fenced pasture on the other side.  In the
pasture several horses grazed.  It was a beautiful scene and when they
reached the road Susan and the artist stopped to admire it.

   "All mares," the artist said, then pointed at a larger roan horse coming
across the pasture at a trot.  "Except him," he said glancing down at
Susan. "This might be interesting.  Shall we watch a while?"

   There was electricity in the artist's look and it jumped like a static
shock just below her navel.  "What is going to happen?" "Nature is about to
take its course." Susan tried to see the artist's eyes but the dark
sunglasses stopped her.  Still, she had the feeling his eyes were smiling,
and perhaps wanting her.  It made a prickly feeling run from her nipples
down to her pussy, almost like the few silky hairs upon her mons were
standing up.  "All right," she said.  They crossed the road and sat down in
the sweet smelling grass beneath the shade of a huge tree and as they sat
the roan stud approached a bay colored mare from behind.  He shoved his
nose against her tail.  The mare lifted her head from grazing and glanced
back then walked forward a step before lowering her head again.  Susan saw
that the stud's cock had unsheathed and was now hanging down perhaps
eighteen inches.  It was not fully erect yet and it swung back and forth as
he stepped forward and shoved his nose lower between the bay mare's back
legs.  This time when the mare lifted her head she snorted and twitched her
tail.  "She's interested," the artist said.  Susan felt connected to the
mare.  She could almost feel the hot breath of the stallion between her own
legs and she unconsciously rocked her hips back a little, as though
presenting herself to the stallion.  She both wanted that long thick black
horse cock in her and dreaded its huge size.  It would spear her like a
skewer it was so long.  Its thickness would rip her pussy wide open while
its javelin length would drive up into her bowels and none of that mattered
because she wanted the stallion.  The mare twitched her tail up more and
bowed her legs.  The stud thrust his nose between them, then lifted it in
quick flicks to bump the mares sex and cause her to lubricate.  His cock
was now two feet long and hard.  There was a slight curve toward the end
and a clearish pre-cum was dripping from it.  A breeze brought the copper
blood smell of the mare's ripe womb and the rich animal excitement of the
studs dripping cock, and the mixture made Susan's pussy swell and pulse. 
She brought her right hand between her jeans clad legs and pressed hard
against her pussy.  A flood of girl honey was welling from within her,
wetting her jeans as though she had urinated upon herself.  She did not
notice that the artist was not watching the horses but was watching her
intently.  The roan stud rose up on his hind legs and gripped the mare's
back with his front legs.  The mare twitched her tail out of the way and
swayed her back a little so as to give the stallion's thrusting, dripping
cock a wider target and after a moment the black wrist-thick cock thrust
home.  The stallion grunted with a sound the like of which Susan had never
heard before but with the sound she could almost feel his satisfaction. 
The mare grunted too but with a sound more like a moan and as the sounds
reached her Susan moaned in sympathtic excitement.  After a few thrusts the
jolting of ejaculation gripped the stud.  He froze in a forward thrust
position as gush after gush of watery cum shot forth.  There was so much
that the mare's sex could not contain it all and with each gush from the
stallion's cock a small cascade of cum dribbled from their coupled genitals
onto the ground beneath them.  "You can unbutton your jeans if you want,"
the artist said.  "You can put your hand in so that you can really touch
your clitty.  I promise I won't touch you.  I'll only watch." Susan did not
hesitate, did not think what she was doing, did not care that this man was
going to watch as she masturbated; she only wanted to feel the clenching,
crashing waves of orgastic ecstacy.  She threw herself onto her back,
lifted her knees and ripped open the buttons of her jeans.  She thrust her
hand between her opened legs and put her thumb on her clit as she thrust
her two middle fingers into her pussy.  Her hips jumped in rhythm as her
thumb pressed and rolled her clitoris and her fingers thrust.  Pictures of
the roan stud's huge cock as it drove into the mare's body ran through her
mind and she could feel the thick horse cock ripping her pussy wide and
stabbing into her bowels.  Her orgasm came with a force almost like an
epileptic seizure, straining and quivering in every inch of her body.  When
the surging crush of orgasm subsided Susan was left gulping in great
breaths as though she had just finished a marathon.  Her eyes were closed;
her mind was empty; and her body hummed with satisfied desire.  It took
several minutes for her to recall where she was and what had just happened
and when she did she sat up with a gasp and looked at the man beside her.
"You are beautiful," the artist said, "and that was delicious to watch."
Susan felt the blood rush to her face in a fiercely burning blush.  "No,"
he said.  "Don't be ashamed.  It was wonderful.  The only thing more
wonderful would have been if I had been the one to give you such great
pleasure." Susan looked at the handsome face and the eyes still hidden by
the glasses.  "Would you..." she began, then stopped.  The artist gazed
intently at her for a moment then reached up and took off his dark glasses.
His eyes were as green as sunlit jungle and Susan could feel the heat of
them as they passed over her.  "Model for me," he said.  "Come up to my
studio above the quarry and let me paint you." Without a thought she said,
"Yes," and stood to button her jeans.  She would have gone anywhere with
this green eyed devil whose very gaze made her wish for another orgasm
though she was still weak from the previous one.  The artist smiled.  "Not
now my greedy darling.  It is too late today.  Tomorrow.  Meet me at the
fountain of the little girl tomorrow at noon." Susan drew in a startled
breath.  "You know about the fountain?  Did you..." He smiled.  "She
modeled for me a thousand years ago.  Your home is that way." He pointed
down the road.  "It isn't far.  I would suggest that, though you smell
delicious to me, you should go back to the bridge and take a swim with your
jeans on before you go home, lest your mother notice that her little girl
has a distinct womanly aroma." Susan unconsciously lifted her hand to her
nose and smelled the sweet earth smell of her climax on her fingers.  "Will
you come too?" she asked.  The artist shook his head.  "Tomorrow, at the
fountain," he said.


   chaucer48@earthlink.net EarthLink Revolves Around You.

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