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Message-ID: <62014asstr$1334059804@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ye Olde Pickup Place 1/9 {Thinking Horndog}(ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom)
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Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2012 08:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Let's try this again.  Please ignore the first post with this subject line -- I attached the wrong file.
<1st attachment, "Ye_Olde_Pickup_1.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Ye Olde Pickup Place
Part: 1 of 9
Universe: The Swarm Cycle
Summary: Some unguarded words at a favorite watering hole lead to some long-
term relationships.

Keywords: ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom

Ye Olde Pickup Place

Chapter 1

Ronald:

	I guess it all started at Frederick's -- that's Frederick's Ye Olde
Renaissance Inn to those of you who have never heard of it.  The place was a
rambling ramshackle wood and stone building out on the edge of a suburb of --
well, you don't care about the city, do you?  It's gone, anyway, I think.
Yes, I mean the city.  Frederick's probably is, too -- or at least, it
probably isn't doing the same business it was...

	Never mind -- no sense getting maudlin over the Sa'arm landings and
what they've done to Earth.  The Navy keeps reinforcements from coming in,
but the ground battles go on and on and on...  That bastard -- it's one
creature with a billion sets of arms and legs, all connected telepathically
-- is paying dearly for his real estate -- and he's NEVER going to own it all
-- not while a single human lives and breathes there!  Once we FINALLY made
the AIs understand that they could not and we would not abandon our homeworld
to ANY sonofabitch, we managed to re-apportion assets in order to keep
Earthat -- or the Solar System for you pre-Confederacy ancient-history types
-- under permanent blockade.  Unfortunately, this was AFTER they punched
through a lighter blockade and made landings, so we're stuck with an ever
more savvy foe on the ground...

	Enough of that.  This was then -- pre-invasion Earth, oh, five or six
years ago, during the 'hiatus' -- the period during which we were SUPPOSED to
be close to having an invasion according to the early data, but hadn't yet.
People were beginning to believe that it was all bullshit and things were
going back to normal -- or what passes for that, anyway.  There was no doubt
that there WAS a Swarm, but whether they were actually coming for US or we
were just being suckered by the Confederacy was an open question.
Politicians and religious leaders were up on their soapboxes complaining
about the Confederacy 'taking our best and brightest for cannon fodder in a
war of no relevance to us.'  They had passed laws in California and a couple
of other places outlawing CAP cards.  You didn't tell anyone your score and
you didn't fool with pre-packs because you really never knew whether you were
going to get extracted, and you didn't want to make yourself a target for
Earth First whackos at any point in the process.  Weddings were down, but
couples were living in sin and pumping out kids -- it just made life easier
if you didn't get all tangled up in something that could be meaningless,
commingling your assets with someone who could be gone at a moment's notice.
If you made it to an extraction, then the kids were paramount; if you were
sponsor-class -- and male -- you could usually collect Mama with the kids,
and if you WERE Mama, then Daddy got to start over with another woman,
theoretically, if he didn't make the cut.  Monogamy was back, because being
out with more than one woman painted a target on your back.  Polygamy was out
there and no one was enforcing laws regarding it -- largely because it was
without actual marriage -- but if you had a pre-pack picked out -- and many
did -- you kept it behind closed doors.  Basically, the pendulum had swung --
and was on its way back.  Clothing styles had made a close approach to
nudity, but that, too, was in remission; girls went exposed all the time, but
not everyone did it and not all the time.  In some cases, that was a good
thing, naturally.

	So, anyway, we were at Frederick's -- which had as its thing this
Medieval European theme.  The walls were log or knotty pine -- or stone, in
some places -- and the furniture was rustic and the floors were hard clay.
You could get a beer in a ceramic stein or a pewter one, but not in glass --
even if it was bottled beer.  They advertized sixty-nine beers on tap, anyway
-- who would want to drink from a bottle there?  The waitresses all looked
like St. Pauli girls, in dirndls -- peasant blouses and long, flowing
gathered skirts out of thin cotton and laced leather bodices.  They all wore
sandals -- and the rumor was that they would be barefoot, but the Health
Department wanted to be dicks about it.  The staff all talked the talk,
trying to sound medieval, too, which was fun.  On that particular night, the
waitresses were the subject of conversation...

	"Man, that Sylvie is sure hot!" Chet declared, sucking on his mug of
ale.  We were waiting for burgers at the time.

	I wrinkled my nose.  "You're kidding, right?  That slip of a thing?"
Sylvie wasn't much of a representative of the hardy peasant stock that
Frederick's overall theme brought to mind -- she was narrow and damn near
flat-chested and her pigtails were OBVIOUSLY bleached blonde.  "She's all
skin and bone, Man!  She'd probably break like a bundle of sticks under a
good, hard fuck!"

	Chet laughed.  "So what's your ideal example of feminine
pulchritude?"

	"Beatrice," I announced pedantically.  "Now THERE is a woman!"

	"That sow?" Chet scoffed.  "She's a porker!"

	"She is not!" I rose to her defense, "She's... substantial.  Husky.
Good peasant stock -- able to take a licking and keep on ticking.  AND she
has nice hooters!"

	"Oh, for Christ's sake, Ron!" Chet objected, "She's even hog-nosed!
Not to mention the legs!"

	"What -- because her nose tilts up a bit at the end?" I argued,
"That's cute!  And you haven't even SEEN her legs above the ankle!"
Beatrice's ankles WERE a little thick -- like the rest of her -- but the
right one sported a little bracelet.  I liked that.

	"I've seen that big fat ass!" Chet scoffed.

	"That's not fat, that's ham!" I argued, "All meat!"

	"So what's that at her middle?" Chet sneered, "Bacon?"

	"You're rude, Man," I protested, "I bet she could fuck you into the
middle of next week!"

	"If she rode on top, I might wake up next week..." Chet chuckled.

	About that time, the subject of conversation swept past, her wide
hips swaying.  Since she came from behind me, I didn't see her until she was
abreast of me and moving beyond -- and I wanted a refill, so without
thinking, I reached out...

	... And laid my hand on her ass...

	Beatrice stopped dead and looked at me over her shoulder in some
surprise.  "Milord?"  I snatched my hand away.

	"Uh oh..." Chet muttered.

	"Ahhh..."  I swallowed, "Forgive the intrusion, Lass -- I merely
wanted another ale.  I meant no offense -- ye were beyond me..."

	Beatrice turned to look down at me, her eyes twinkling.  "Aye.  None
taken, milord.  What drinkest ye?"

	"The Vermont White, Lass."

	"And ye?" Beatrice turned her attention to Chet.

	"I'm good..."

	"Half a mo' milord."  Beatrice waved her hand daintily and moved off,
apparently unconcerned.

	Chet gusted a breath, "You'd better hope she doesn't piss in your
mug!"

	"She didn't SEEM angry," I murmured carefully.

	"Lucky you!" Chet snorted.  "Still, I think I'd be sipping before I
tipped up my tankard, if I were you!  Patting her on the ass like that..."
He shook his head.

	But Beatrice was back in no time with a new tankard and whipped it
before me with a cheery smile.  "Your ale, milord.  Methinks your repast is
ready -- I'll return in a trice!"  Then she was off, her wide hips swaying.

	Mindful of Chet's warning, I sniffed my beer -- but if it had urine
in it, there wasn't much.  A careful taste didn't detect any, either, so I
went ahead and took a good swallow.  "Apparently, she bears me no ill will,"
I mused.

	"Lucky you!" Chet chuckled, "She could squash you like a bug!"

	A minute later, she was back, putting a knee on Chet's bench and
leaning over the table as she placed my plate before me.  "Your repast,
milord," she announced, presenting an absolutely awe-inspiring amount of soft
cleavage within a foot and a half of my eyes.  "Dost thou desire aught else?"

	That smile -- that twinkle in her green eye -- she was flirting with
me!  "Ah, Lass -- tempt me not!" came rolling from my lips, the words created
somewhere by someone not totally entranced by those eyes.

	"Thinkest thou that I am a temptress, then?" she mocked me.

	"Wouldst thou claim thou art not?" I shot back.

	She reached out and traced the line of my jaw with a finger. "Thou
hast a tongue of silver, milord.  An thou requirest my attention, do what
thou must -- but I doubt that it will be anywhere else this night..."  She
swept off, those hips of hers rolling, glancing at me periodically over her
shoulder.

	"Oho!  She's got the hots for you!" Chet chortled.

	"Well, it's mutual!" I retorted, adding, "Gee, I wonder where YOUR
burger is?"  In fact, it took several minutes to arrive -- and Sylvie
delivered it.  I didn't see that she was as friendly about it as Beatrice had
been with mine, either -- just another reason to avoid her, to my mind.  Chet
didn't agree, of course -- as soon as she was out of earshot, he was singing
her praises.  As far as I was concerned, though, he needed a different
songbook.

	Beatrice came back three times to check on me, and she flirted and
made sure I got an eyeful of her rack every time -- and she backed into me
once while cleaning the booth across the aisle -- something I was more or
less prepared for, since I was watching her ass wiggle as she cleaned the
bench across from mine.  Being pretty damned sure it was deliberate, I got a
double-handful of it when I stopped her.  She did a great job of pretending
it was an accident -- and made no complaint about my hands, even though I
left one there as she turned around!

	"She wants you, Man!" Chet chuckled.

	"Well, it's mutual -- I'd do her in a heartbeat!" I replied.

	"I wouldn't be caught dead with a porker like that," Chet snorted.  I
just shook my head.  MAYBE Sylvie could fuck and MAYBE she was athletic about
it -- you see those babysitter porn flicks where a little bitty chick takes
fourteen inches and has a ball with it -- but I was betting not.  Besides,
pickups were STILL on everyone's minds -- and I like happy chicks, and I
didn't see Sylvie as a happy chick.  I COULD picture her as an UNHAPPY
pregnant chick, very easily, though...  Adjustments to her body could be made
easily, according to everything we'd seen and heard -- but adjustments to her
head?  I figured she would be a total shrew.

	Chet and I stayed and had three or four -- or five or six, maybe --
it was a Wednesday, so we weren't going to clubs or anything.  Beatrice
brought my check and said, "I'm off for a bit -- Sylvie will take care of
you.  Dost thou desire aught else?"

	I looked at her and sighed, "Nothing I can acquire, Lass.  Nothing on
the menu."

	Beatrice eyed me, amused.  "Thy silver tongue still wags.  Be not so
certain that thou art limited to the menu!"  Smiling, she swayed off...

	"She's talking serious shit, Man!" Chet chuckled.  "She wants you!"

	"She's just playing.  It's fun, but if I got serious, she would want
to know what I thought I was doing," I argued.  "It's certainly a pleasant
thought, though."

	"I wish Sylvie had similar interests," Chet pouted.

	"Undoubtedly, Sylvie has a boyfriend and six other guys waiting to
take his place," I replied, "which might explain why she isn't in a rush to
romance your ugly ass!"

	"Yeah, maybe," Chet snorted, "which explains why that porker Beatrice
is wide open.  Not gonna be much demand there..."

	"Different strokes, Man.  I bet you that Beatrice would go all out to
make me happy -- but Sylvie would have YOU going all out to make HER happy!"

	Sylvie showed up a couple of minutes later to take our money -- and
was decidedly cool with me, not that she gave Chet anything in the way of
encouragement.  We got up and headed out.  I was a little unsteady -- I'm not
a two-fisted drinker.  We came around a corner by a side door, headed for
Chet's car, and I drifted a bit.  Beatrice came out of the shadows, where she
and a couple of other waitresses had been taking a break, I guess.  Grabbing
my arm, she said, "You shouldn't drive."

	I rotated to face her -- she was nearly my height.  "I have to get
home...  Besides, Chet is driving."  Putting my hand on her hip seemed to be
a natural thing to do.

	"Chet shouldn't drive, either."

	"No doubt, but he has the same problem," I noted.  "We can't sleep
here -- this isn't an inn, just a tavern."

	"Yeah, too bad about that.  You be careful -- I want you to come back
to see me.  My sister Bridgette would love to meet you, I bet."

	"I'll be sure to be careful then," I replied.  "I wouldn't want to
miss that.  Besides, we don't have far to go."  I smiled at her and she let
go -- there was only so much that either of us could do about it, but there
was definitely a spark there.

	I got in the car and Chet backed out of the parking space, snorting
"Her sister is probably a REAL hog!"

	I just eyed him.  "Gee, I wonder what your chances are of bedding
Sylvie?  Slim and none?  If Beatrice is serious -- and YOU claim she is -- at
least I can get laid!"

	"Yeah, well, look what you're paying for it!  I wouldn't be caught
dead in public with that!"

	I shrugged.  "Then you wouldn't be fucking ANYTHING in private, I
bet!"  Thirty minutes later, I was home, alone -- and Beatrice was a
prominent feature of my nightly jerk-off session.

Beatrice:

	I remember the night I met Ron well.  The place I was working --
Frederick's -- LOOKED rustic, but was trying out a few things to improve
service -- high-tech stuff, like everyone wearing radios.  June, one of the
waitresses, was always taking hers off -- she couldn't deal with the earpiece
-- and she'd tossed it in the booth next door to where Ron and his buddy Chet
were sitting.  I was loafing near the kitchen, waiting for appetizers for
Table Twelve to be ready when Sylvie wandered up and said, "Switch to channel
two."

	I did so, just in time to hear, "She's a porker!"

	"Wait..."  Sylvie put a hand on my arm.  The next thing I heard was
another voice arguing hotly, "She is not!  She's... substantial.  Husky.
Good peasant stock -- able to take a licking and keep on ticking.  AND she
has nice hooters!"

	"Yeah, that's you!" Sylvie giggled.

	"She's even hog-nosed!"  I could match the mouth movements to what I
was hearing and pick out the guy.  He was pretty nasty!

	"What -- because her nose tilts up a bit at the end?" the other guy
argued, "That's cute!  And you haven't even SEEN her legs above the ankle!"

	"This is what guys say to each other about girls when they think
we're not listening!" Sylvie hissed.  "Do you BELIEVE this?"

	"How ARE we listening?" I asked.

	"Junie dumped her radio again -- in the next booth."

	"She's gonna be gone if she keeps that up," I observed.  In the
background, I heard the nasty guy compare my midsection to bacon.

	"You're rude, Man," the nice guy protested, "I bet she could fuck you
into the middle of next week!"

	"If she rode on top, I might wake up next week..." the nasty one
chuckled.

	"Wow!  They really talk like that?  I've got to see this guy..."  The
nice one had his back to me so I headed up the aisle.  I was going to turn
around and come back down and get a good look, but as I passed the booth, I
felt a hand on my ass!  I stopped dead, surprised that someone would just DO
that...

	The guy was, too, obviously.  He was bright pink as he muttered an
apology -- AND he was HOT!  Clean-cut, serious face -- kind of a young
Harrison Ford look.  And he thought I was hot!  Thank you, God!  I rushed off
to get him a beer.  While I was at it, I checked on his burger -- and it was
coming up.  I told Junie I would take it to him.  She asked, "Why?"

	"Well, for one thing, you're not communicating again..."

	"Oh!  Damn!"  Junie looked vexed.  "Where did I put it?"

	"Sixteen.  You can have the tip, Sweetie -- I want the customer!" I
told her.

	"Why?"

	"He's hot -- and he says nice things!"

	Junie blinked and said, "Oh, okay..."  I collected the ale from the
bartender and delivered it, then headed back to collect his hamburger.  On
the way, I decided I would play a little, so I leaned over and waved my boobs
in his face while I delivered it and said, "Dost thou desire aught else?"

	His eyeballs disappeared between my titties, but he said, "Ah, Lass
-- tempt me not!"  We went back and forth like that, flirting, and I was
flying high when I left the booth -- the guy really liked me!

	Sylvie tried to put a damper on it, of course.  "He said he wants to
fuck you, Honey -- not date you.  He wasn't proposing marriage."

	"Yeah, well..." I replied.  "I'm sure you get that kind of thing all
the time, but guys don't even line up for THAT with me!  I'd do him -- he's
cute!"  Heck, it had been MONTHS since I'd had sex -- and that time wasn't
memorable at all.  I'd gone through a half-dozen sets of vibrator batteries
since...

	"All guys want is to stick their dicks in you," Sylvie declared.
"You heard them!"

	"Well?"  I shrugged.  "That's two guys bragging to each other.  What
are they SUPPOSED to say?  'I'm in LOOOVE with Sylvie...'"  I batted my eyes
dramatically and clasped my hands together.  "Does that sound like a guy you
want to date?  Guys want to have sex.  Duh!  So do I, as a matter of fact!
I'd like to do it more than once with a particular guy, but it's not like I
DON'T want it!"

	I kept finding excuses to go back and flirt -- and Ron was right in
there with the comebacks!  I even gave him an excuse to play with my ass
again -- and he took it!  My ass probably isn't my best feature, if only due
to its size, so having a hand squeezing it was a good thing!

	I had to go on break, so I dropped off his check and I offered him me
again -- and he played up!  It wasn't the time or the place, but I swore to
myself that if I ever saw him out...

	A little later, he and his nasty friend staggered by headed for the
parking lot while a bunch of us relaxed out by the kitchen door.  I got
worried -- I wanted him nice and alive -- so I stopped him and told him he
couldn't drive.  He was clearly tipsy -- do guys get tipsy?  They probably
call it something else...  But he said he wasn't driving and he didn't have
far to go, and the whole time, he was rubbing me at the hip with one hand.  I
let him go, because there was nothing else to be done -- but I promised
myself that if I got an opportunity, I was coming for this guy!

Ronald:

	Frederick's was my new favorite place.  I hit it a couple of times a
week, sometimes with Chet, who would moon over Sylvie, sometimes with other
guys, and sometimes alone.  Beatrice wasn't always there, of course, but when
she was, we got to the point of flirting outrageously.  For some reason,
though, I was completely gutless about asking her out...

Beatrice:

	I was vexed!  I KNEW he wanted me -- you can't fake that, especially
over time!  But I worked nights and he didn't even ask...  One night, I
pointed him out to my sister Bridgette.  We were seldom on the same nights,
because Sis had a two-year-old boy, Alan, and I babysat on nights she was on
in order to keep the babysitter from sucking up her tips.  We both got called
in on that Saturday night, though...

	"Which one?" Brit asked.

	"The cute one..."  There were four guys at the table.

	"Sweetie, NONE of them is horrible..."

	"On the right, facing us.  Brush cut?  Blue eyes?"

	"Oh, VERY nice!" Sis approved.  "And he flirts?"

	"All the time."

	"With everybody?"

	"No," I replied, pleased with myself, "Just me."

	"Is that a fact...?"  Sis bustled off.  Now, Sis is a brunette and
takes after Mamma while I'm a redhead -- dark auburn, but still red, not
brown.  Alan has had his effect on her figure, so she's a little more
'womanly' than I am.  It's not a lot -- but it shows...

Ronald:

	So I'm eating and drinking with three buddies, preparatory to going
out hunting, and this big busty brunette waitress comes and stands over me
and says, "So, you're the blackguard my sister raves about!"

	I looked up, startled.  "Blackguard?  Sister?  I haven't..."  I was
nonplussed.  I hadn't touched a woman in three months!  Well, except
Beatrice, and that was fairly chaste...

	The waitress grinned.  "Eh, sorry, milord.  I didn't mean to startle
you.  I be Beatrice's sister Bridgette."

	"Ah."  I settled back in my seat.  "Despite rumors to the contrary,
your sister's virtue is intact.  I have not taken her..."

	"... Anywhere, apparently," Bridgette finished for me.  "And why is
that, milord?  It would appear that you find her comely.  Is there a lady,
then?" she eyed me accusingly.

	"I am but a simple soldier, Lass.  I would not be one to harbor a
wife AND a mistress -- but I have neither," I replied.

	Chet, who happened to be one of those present, laughed out loud!
"Big Beatrice is making her move!"

	I speared him with a look.  "It just seems to me that her sister is
looking into my bona fides.  That's what sisters do."  I have two -- I KNOW.

	Bridgette also speared him with a look.  "You be that Chet -- the
nasty mouthed blackguard with an eye for Sylvie!"  The other guys roared.
"Well, you can forget HER!  SHE knows what YOU want!"  She shifted her
attention to me.  "A sojer, huh?  Blank-shield soldiers have a certain
repute..." She glanced fixedly at my crotch, then lifted her eyes to mine.
"Dost thou wish anything?  Dost thou DESIRE anything?"

	"Uuuhhh..."  I could think of nothing to say at all!  Bridgette gave
me a predatory smile and said, "Perhaps thou shouldst examine thine options
regarding feminine companionship..."  She swept off.

	"Hail, Lord Ronald, Lord of the Porkers!" Chet howled, waving his
tankard.  Everybody roared.  I blushed crimson -- but it was clear that I was
moving slower than I needed to with Beatrice.

	I didn't see Beatrice that night -- but Bridgette was all over us.  I
didn't want for liquid refreshment -- and on every pass, Bridgette had
something salacious to accuse me of.  Most memorable was the time she swayed
up and stuck her prodigious cleavage in my face while dropping a new tankard
before me and said, "One hears that thou hast a fondness for fondling
derrieres -- what dost thou think of mine?"  She turned around and presented
hers and said, "Go on, thou canst not harm my reputation as I am already
spoiled goods..."  So I gingerly rubbed her ass while the guys roared
laughter.  "So, what think ye?" she asked, eyeing me over her shoulder.

	After a moment's thought, I gave her a mock glare and growled,
"Begone, wench!  Think ye that ye can divert me from my campaign to woo thine
sister?"

	Bridgette cackled.  "I thought mayhap we could share, if thou
managest to complete thine charge without tripping over thine feet too many
times!"  She swayed off to the hoots and laughter of my comrades.

	"So what does this Beatrice look like, anyway?" Jackson Brodie asked.

	"She's a redhead -- a nice, dark red -- and smaller in some
dimensions..."

	"Not a whole lot!" Chet interjected.

	"...Than Bridgette," I continued, "Otherwise, she's not a lot
different in the face.  She's a happy girl..."

	"She's another hog-nosed porker!" Chet argued.

	"Chet, dammit!" I rasped.

	"I've listened to you playing with her on six or seven occasions --
and YOU know and I know that you're not going to fuck her!" Chet insisted.

	"YOU know nothing of the sort!" I retorted.

	"Hey, it's pussy," Jackson noted.  "And it's apparently free..."

	"So you'd fuck it?" Chet gasped.  "Do NONE of my friends have any
standards?"

	"So when is the last time you got laid, Chet?" Pete Wiggins erupted.
"Is that what standards are doing for you?"  He chuckled.  "I subscribe to
LaBonte's Laws, myself..."

	"LaBonte's Laws?" Chet queried.

	"Yeah.  There are three of them.  LaBonte's First Law is 'If a
willing woman fails to meet your standards, lower your standards.'  That
seems relevant, here," Pete declared.

	We all chuckled.  "What's the second law?" Jackson asked.

	"Go ugly early.  They're all taken by closing time and the
competition gets fierce if you don't plan ahead," Pete replied.  "And the
Third Law is 'No woman is ugly with your dick in her mouth.'  Am I right?"
He glanced around, grinning.

	I nearly fell into the aisle, laughing.  Pete turned to me and said,
"It looks to me like you could be hip deep in pussy if you worked at it."

	I shook my head.  "I'm gonna have to take that under advisement."

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