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Message-ID: <62018asstr$1334063441@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Thinking Horndog <im_a_thinker@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Ye Olde Pickup Place 5/9 {Thinking Horndog}(ScFi BBW MF MFF MMF/F D/s oral anal ir rom)
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Date: Tue, 10 Apr 2012 09:10:41 -0400
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A Swarm Cycle Story.  Chapter 5 of 9.
<1st attachment, "Ye_Olde_Pickup_5.txt" begin>

Author: Thinking Horndog
Title: Ye Olde Pickup Place
Part: 5 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 5

Ronald:
	Somehow, we got past it.  I wandered off and called Beatrice -- and a
five minute conversation took fifteen.  Women do that -- nothing is quick and
simple.  A typical telephone conversation between guys lasts under five
minutes, but women can talk for hours about NOTHING!  Fortunately, my burger
didn't turn into an ice cube.

	Chet left early; his jaw hurt, and he was having trouble eating --
but no trouble drinking.  Pete went with him, to see to it that he got home
in one piece, as he was thoroughly anesthetized.

	Around nine, Bridgette appeared at our booth.  "Couldst have a word,
milord?"

	"I was just leaving," Jackson announced.

	"I thank thee," Bridgette smiled at him.

	Jackson fished out his wallet, but I waved him off.  "I've got it."
He just nodded and headed out.  I turned my attention to Bridgette, "Yes?"

	"About Beatrice..."

	"Why am I not surprised?"

	"We've talked," Bridgette said, dropping the medieval speech pattern.
"I know she's been a little wild and she's thrown herself at you.  You're
probably pretty leery right now."

	"I'm... surprised," I admitted.  "I don't think it is anything I
can't handle."

	"Well, she's scared that she's sparked the 'coyote ugly' reaction in
you and that you're gonna run like Hell.  From what she's told me, I wouldn't
be surprised, either.  I'm here to ask you to reconsider."

	"Actually, I really don't think she's scared me or anything, although
I do wonder a bit at some things she says and does," I replied.

	Bridgette cocked her head.  "Are you taking her seriously?"

	"What?"

	"You seem... aloof.  I'm wondering if you're taking her seriously.
She's deadly serious, you know."

	"Oh."  I eyed her.  "Would it help if I told you that I REALLY have
no problem with having a woman tell me she can't live without me?  It doesn't
hurt my ego any, and it's VERY pleasant for me to think that I might actually
experience that kind of relationship.  Frankly, I never hoped to."

	"Oh," Bridgette replied.  "That puts a different spin on things,
doesn't it?"

	"I'm hoping it's not a momentary infatuation and that after a short
while, she won't get sick of me," I explained.  "That would suck, as I would
be used to having her."

	"That's... unlikely, from what I can see," Bridgette mused.  "Ronald,
the women in my family react to men a little differently than some.  I don't
think we fit the usual image of a 'modern woman.'  In fact, I KNOW we don't."

	"Oh?"

	"No."  Bridgette gathered herself.  "For one thing, we don't WANT to
be independent, and we don't WANT to be equal partners.  We look for a man
who presents our image of perfection -- and when we find one, we... submit...
to him.  It's not like we want to be married so much as we want to be owned."

	I frowned.  "Does this have something to do with what she did last
night?"

	Bridgette nodded.  "Everything, I think.  When we find that person we
think is worthy, we offer ourselves, without reservation.  It's not
considered normal, nowadays, but I think it once was, way back.  It's not
like having a girlfriend -- or even a wife.  It's more like what you hear the
rules are for a concubine -- except we enter into it voluntarily and it has
nothing to do with CAP scores."

	"Concubines enter into it voluntarily, supposedly," I pointed out.

	"But once they do, they no longer have any choice," Bridgette
responded.  "It is an external rule that they agree to going in, but is
binding upon them from then on, whether they like it or not.  There is no
turning back.  With us, the rule isn't external -- it is a pact we make with
ourselves -- a sacred honor kind of thing.  Any failure is inexcusable and
any betrayal makes us unworthy.  No sacrifice is too great."

	I nodded.  "Are you sure that's what happened?  Did you talk to her?"

	"Yes and yes," Bridgette replied.  "With us, it's instinctive -- a
compulsion.  Once we realize that you're the one, we start offering
ourselves."  She paused for a moment, playing with a water ring on the table
top.  "I know -- I did it myself, once."

	"I'm hearing that there is a story, here," I murmured.

	"There is.  I think you should know, so you understand."  Bridgette
raised her eyes to mine.

	"Is this the place?"

	"I'm on break.  My radio is off.  Things are quiet."  She looked
around, adding, "I think we're good."

	"Okay."

	"This was a few years ago.  I met a guy, and I thought he was the
one.  But he didn't understand.  He put me through hoops -- and I was happy
to give him anything he wanted -- but he didn't understand what I was
offering.  To him, I was just a toy.  I was entertainment -- someone he could
ask to do wilder and wilder things.  He tested me to see when I would say no
-- and I wouldn't -- but he didn't understand that what I did was a gift to
him, that it did it to earn his approval -- he merely thought I was a dirty
slut who had no limits.  He handed me out to his friends and had me do all
kinds of perverted things, and never realized that I was doing them to please
him, not just for my own enjoyment.  First, he stopped having sex with me,
and then he discarded me, bored and disgusted at the extremes I went to, even
though he was the source of my behavior.  I guess maybe it was hard to tell
-- I enjoyed most of what I was doing -- but I was free to enjoy those things
because I had his support -- or so I thought.  In reality, though, he was
just seeing how far I would go."

	I pursed my lips.  "Can I ask?"

	"What I did?"  Bridgette sighed.  "Just about any sex act you can
think of -- several of which would have gotten me arrested and thrown under
the jail.  I'm sure he pimped me out, although I never saw any money.  I did
gang-bangs -- at the end I was freely available to a half a dozen of his
friends twenty-four hours a day, singly or in groups, and if somebody wanted
to throw a party for fifty of his friends, I was available as entertainment.
It's a wonder I didn't catch anything.  I tried drugs, but it was only
recreational -- I never got addicted to anything.  When it looked like I
might, I just backed away -- I couldn't see how being an addict was of
benefit to him.  I did what he asked of me -- I'd have probably robbed banks
if he said to, but he didn't.  I'm surprised he didn't engineer something
like that to get rid of me."

	I nodded.  "So what happened when he kicked you loose?"

	"I went looking for a replacement," she sighed.  "Several of his
buddies were demanding, but they didn't get it, either.  They were happy to
take from me, but they didn't want to give back."

	I cocked my head.  "I thought that wasn't required?"

	"It is and it isn't," Bridgette replied, "You can deny me orgasm for
the rest of my life as punishment for something -- but you need to take
responsibility for me.  I can't be owned unless I have an owner.  If you want
to just boss me around but not take ownership and be responsible, you're not
my owner -- you're just borrowing me, at best."  She shook her head.  "It
took me a little while to learn that -- and a little longer to make a bunch
of guys who thought I was their private party slut understand it.  Actually,
getting pregnant was the acid test -- once I was, they all faded into the
woodwork."

	I pursed my lips.  "So you had your little boy.  How old is he?"

	"Alan is five.  You haven't seen him, have you?"

	"No."

	"Ron, I don't know who his daddy is -- but he was black.  HE was
black -- and most of the guys he passed me around to were black or Hispanic
of one flavor or another.  I was their white party slut."  Her eyes were wet.
"You need to know what I did.  Beatrice saw me doing it, but she didn't
understand -- not until last night.  Now she does, because it has happened."
She just sat there for a while, clearly wrapped up in the aftermath of her
choice, then gathered herself.  "It seems like maybe you understand.  From
what I'm hearing, you did good things last night.  But there are guys who
can't do what is necessary, even if they DO understand -- they've been
brought up to think it is wrong to provide what we need."

	"What do you need?" I asked.

	"Control.  Supervision.  Attention -- not the type you might think,
but vigilance, maybe.  You have to be able to understand that by taking, you
give -- because you give us the opportunity TO give.  Where you might think
that anything you get from us is gravy and that if we don't give you
something, it's no big thing because of what we DO give, the correct thing to
do is to jump on us and have a fit because we're not giving one hundred
percent.  When you're paying attention and making demands and challenging us,
then we know we're wanted and valued.  Taking it easy on us, while it might
seem to be the right thing, isn't -- we're going to think you're ignoring us,
and we'll act up to see if you really are or not.  If you catch us acting up,
then the correct thing is to punish us -- which again sounds weird, maybe,
but it is an unmistakable indication to us that you ARE paying attention!"
She sat back and held my eyes.  "A lot of guys won't be able to punish us
properly -- they've been taught that it is wrong to raise your hand to a
woman.  Some others won't be able to because they will punish us for the
wrong reasons.  It can't be about anger or jealousy or hatred or because your
father abused you and you're passing it on, or you're just evil for some
reason -- it has to be because we failed -- period."

	"What about what I did last night?" I asked.

	"From the sound of it, I think it would have to have been the
ultimate reward -- it gives me hope that you really ARE the one and my sister
is going to be luckier than I was.  You didn't return her gift, which would
have negated it -- instead, you pushed her and challenged her and tortured
her and showed her you could make her suffer -- even in ecstasy -- and then
you took her and granted her a release that she could have never given
herself.  It's EXACTLY the kind of thing that would bind her to you.  It
takes things to another level, actually.  It's no wonder she's agog -- I was,
when she told me."

	"I enjoyed it," I revealed.

	"That's probably a good thing.  We're a little bit masochistic -- it
doesn't hurt to be a little bit sadistic.  But control is the thing -- you
have to get off on that, I think, because we get off on being controlled."

	"I've been a little worried, because I didn't understand," I related.
"When she asked me for what she did last night, I granted it just because --
but I had reservations.  I wasn't sure I understood why.  I also thought that
we ought to have separate lives..."

	"It's... less important to us.  You can do anything you want -- you
just tell us it is what is going to happen and we'll suffer through it.  I
would ask this, though -- if you ever decide that it is over, be clear about
it -- don't just leave one day without saying anything.  Beatrice will need
to be released, or she will be stuck waiting for you to return.  You are the
center of her life, now -- and you will be until you tell her you aren't.
She can be a side-issue with you and she'll accept that, but you will never
be a side-issue with her."

	I sat back.  "I thank you for this.  It's been educational.  Your
secrets are safe with me."

	Bridgette smiled and shook her head.  "They're not secrets -- I'm
damaged goods.  I owe anyone who asks that warning.  But my sister is another
story."

	"Why don't you bring me my check?" I told her.  "It's time to go
home."  She nodded and stood and headed off to add Jackson's meal to mine.
In a few moments, she returned and proffered a payment book. "Your check,
milord."  I handed her a charge card and she took it and returned -- again,
within moments.  Things were quiet.  I signed the slip, adding a generous
tip, and said, "I'll see you later."

	I went home and tossed my shaving kit and a change of clothes in a
gym bag, got in my car and went to Beatrice's.  I rapped on the door and
Beatrice came and threw it open, saying, "Did you forget your... Ron!"

	"I don't have a key," I replied, entering as she backed away from the
door.  "Is Alan asleep?"

	"Yes."

	"Good.  Get naked -- I want to rub on you."  I tossed the bag on the
floor and headed for the couch.  As I settled onto it, I looked back at where
she stood, open-mouthed.  "Well?  Is there some reason you're still dressed?"

	"No."  She was in a nightgown -- it went off over her head as she
came forward.  "what can I do for you?"

	"Just cuddle up."

	She did so and I spent a while trying to see how long I could make
her left nipple.  After a while, she ventured, "I didn't expect you."

	"I didn't expect me."  I pulled her in for a kiss.  "I had a talk
with your sister about you this evening.  At this point, I'm thinking she
knows you better than you know yourself."

	"Ummmm," she murmured, "About my sister..."

	"Yes?"

	"If there is one boon I would ask, it's that you could grant her some
attention, too."

	I eyed her.  Why was this not a surprise?  "Bridgette?  You want me
to take on Bridgette?"

	Beatrice nodded earnestly.  "She's my sister.  She has a... chequered
past, but she deserves a little something."

	"What if I don't have enough to go around?"

	Beatrice just eyed me sidelong and quirked her lips.

	"That confident, are you?  What if I decide I like her better?"  That
rocked her a bit.  I chuckled and said, "You're two of a kind, I'm told --
but she's more experienced with what that kind is.  On the other hand, I
don't think you're all that concerned over the idea that she'll steal me
away."

	"No, not really."

	I could tell she was struggling with herself, so I said, "She told me
about what happened."

	"Oh, good!"

	"Apparently, it was a prerequisite to explaining your behavior."

	"Oh?"

	"Yeah.  I learned a few things -- like the fact that I wear the pants
in the family -- and carry the belt!"  That got me big eyes!  "I'll try it --
but I make no promises.  I'm not used to having one woman, let alone two!"

	We were still on the couch when Bridgette walked in.  She did a
double-take and said, "Oh, hi.  You didn't say..."

	"No, I didn't -- but I didn't see any reason to deny myself," I
replied.  "Tired?"

	"Eh."  Bridgette shrugged.

	"This seems to be sisters helping sisters day," I told her.  "First
you interceded on Beatrice's behalf, and then she did the same on yours."

	"Ummmm..."  Bridgette looked confused.

	"Get naked and take the left side."  Beatrice was on the right.
Bridgette eyed me in surprise, so I added, "Now!"

	"Okay..."  She came forward cautiously and started climbing out of
her dirndl.

	"Don't block the TV," I admonished.

	"No, of course not."

	"Shhh!"  I pretended to be fascinated with the news while Bridgette
diffidently undressed and crawled onto the couch.  I raised my arm and she
slid under it and I dropped it onto her left breast, mirroring what I was
doing to her sister's right breast with my right hand.  She moaned "Oh, God!"
in a stage whisper and snuggled up tight -- and I grinned a little, enjoying
the novelty of having two women to molest.

	The news ended and I released them and said, "Bedtime!  Who has the
biggest bed?"

	"They're the same size, actually," Bridgette ventured.

	"We'll trade off, then," I announced, "so one of you has the home
field advantage every other night.  Someone grab my bag..."  I pointed at it,
then turned and went looking for a bedroom I hadn't slept in.

	I was dressed.  I was the only one dressed.  I was exercising some
self-discipline, hiding my hard-on behind my zipper.  Once in the bedroom, I
began removing my clothing -- and Bridgette beat me to my zipper, kneeling to
open my pants.  Beatrice stepped forward to take my shirt and drape it over a
chair.  Bridgette got my pants around my ankles and helped me out of my socks
and shoes -- but when she leaned in to suck my cock, I put up a finger to
stop her.

	"Wow!" she gusted, "You learn FAST!"

	I waved them both up on to the bed and crawled between them,
collecting pillows to put between my back and the headboard, then turned to
Bridgette.  "I'm assuming that you know how, given what you told me of your
history.  Teach your sister how to deep throat."

	I don't know how to do justice to the next ten minutes or so.
Bridgette knew ALL ABOUT deep-throat and had a mouth like hot melted butter
-- and Beatrice was nothing if not committed!  Beatrice choked and gagged
some, but she got me into her throat -- and Bridgette handled it like a pro
during her rotations.  They went back and forth every few seconds and it was
two different versions of Heaven!  When my balls started to rumble, I
croaked, "Whoever gets it, save some for your sister!" and let them swap out
as they would.  Beatrice collected my seed, but she knew what to do with it
-- she locked her lips over Bridgette's and shared with her, then they both
went back to my cock to extend my pleasure!

	After they'd played a bit, it became clear that I wasn't going to
subside, so I asked Bridgette, "Are you wet?"

	"Oh, God yes!" she replied, so I pushed her onto her back and pressed
her knees up and out, then slid home in her for the first time.  Bridgette
howled, "OMIGAAAWWWDDD!"

	I covered her mouth and hissed, "Quiet!  You'll wake Alan!"  Then I
started pumping.  If she lasted fifteen seconds before screaming into my
hand, it sure didn't seem like it!  I kept going until she was quaking and
shuddering her way through a second orgasm, then pointed at the bed beside
her and snapped my fingers, "Same position!"  Beatrice flopped down beside
her sister and I withdrew from Bridgette, shifted to my left, and pushed home
in her.  Beatrice covered her own mouth -- a good thing from the way her eyes
bugged.  It took her a minute or so to go wild under me and it was back to
Bridgette.

	The short respites while I shifted back and forth extended my
endurance -- I must've gone thirty minutes before my balls let me know that
Bridgette had won the semen lottery.  Grunting, I painted Bridgette's cervix
while she stifled her glad cries by placing both hands over her mouth.  When
I was done, I pulled out and said, "Cleanup is..."  I was going to say, 'your
problem,' but Beatrice inhaled my cock and Bridgette covered her twat with
one hand and waddled off to the bathroom.  After a minute, I gently pushed
Beatrice away and said, "Set the alarm -- I have to get up!" she did so and I
spooned up behind her -- and Bridgette spooned up behind me.  I went to sleep
like that and slept like a baby.


	Friday morning found me disoriented, but I managed to stagger out of
bed and shave and shower.  One of my women had laid my clothes out on the bed
by the time I came back, and they were both out of sight.  I found them in
the kitchen, making coffee and baking cinnamon rolls -- life was indeed good!

	"Who's on shift?" I asked as I was preparing to leave.

	"Me, for sure," Bridgette replied, "but they could call Beatrice in,
in which case, we will have to arrange for a babysitter."

	My first thought was to volunteer, but I didn't know Alan and Alan
didn't know me and I wasn't sure that was my role in this household, anyway.
"Okay, we'll play it by ear.  I'll probably pop loose around six and I'll
call Beatrice and find out where she is and we'll make plans based on that."
The women both nodded.  I gave each a kiss and a squeeze of the butt cheek
and hit the street.


	"So what did Bridgette want?" Jackson asked.  We were taking a break
outside at mid-morning.

	"She was worried that her sister had scared me to death the night
before and I was going to head for the hills," I replied, "She wanted to
explain a few things and beg me not to freak and drop Beatrice for being too
pushy."

	"How did that go?"

	"Pretty well, since I had no plans to dump Beatrice in the first
place," I replied, chuckling.

	"Then what happened?"

	I laughed.  "Chet would be horrified.  I went to my place and snagged
an outfit and my shaving kit and went to Beatrice and Bridgette's.  When I
got there, Beatrice hit me up to give Bridgette a break..."

	"So..."

	"So I fucked them both."

	"Jeezus!"  Jackson rubbed his forehead.  "Don't tell Pete -- he'd
piss his pants!"

	"Two women is a problem these days," I muttered.

	"It wouldn't be..."

	"Maybe not at a pickup, but on the street?" I retorted.  "It's a
great way to attract undue attention."

	Jackson shrugged.  "Call me if you need a fourth."

	"I just might!"


	Beatrice stayed home with Alan, so I collected a couple of outfits
and headed for their place.  I'd just walked in the door when Alan came out
of the kitchen or somewhere, saying, "Aunt Bea, where is...?"  He got a look
at me at that point and stopped dead, totally sidetracked.

	We looked at each other for about ten seconds and I said, "Hey."  He
stood there with his mouth hanging open, so I turned to Beatrice.  "I'm
guessing he doesn't see many guys.  Is this going to be a problem?"

	"I don't think so," Beatrice placated.  "What's wrong, Honey?" she
asked Alan.

	"I was looking for supper," Alan said, talking to her but looking at
me.  "Are we gonna eat supper?"

	"Yes, Honey," Beatrice replied, "I thought we would have chow mein,
but I was waiting on Ron.  This is Ron.  Ron, this is Alan."

	"Why?"  Alan was still looking at me, but talking to his aunt.

	"Why what, Honey?"

	"Why did you wait for...Ron?"

	"Because he's eating with us and I didn't know if he likes chow mein
or not."

	"Why?"

	"Why what?" Beatrice eyed me diffidently.

	"Why is...Ron...eating with us?"

	"Because Ron and I are together, Honey.  Actually, Ron and Momma are
together, too."

	"Together?"

	Beatrice bit her lip.  "Wow, this is hard to explain.  Ron and I like
each other.  We want to see each other -- a lot."

	Alan turned to look at Beatrice.  "Are you gonna be a mommy?"

	"Uh..." Beatrice began...

	... But I got there first.  "Yes."

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