index


Message-ID: <62262asstr$1342995002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Mat <mmtwassel@gmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 22 Jul 2012 14:40:06 +0000 (UTC)
Complaints-To: groups-abuse@google.com
Injection-Info: e37g2000yqn.googlegroups.com; posting-host=98.227.227.138; posting-account=bcVymwoAAAD80dhqsCNZDsJXoAGtTY3N
User-Agent: G2/1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Pinkie Swear by Mat Twassel
Lines: 328
Date: Sun, 22 Jul 2012 18:10:03 -0400
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

Pinkie Swear
by Mat Twassel
============================================

The bus stop is a couple of blocks from Beth
and Tom's townhouse, and, unused to dressing
up, I'm a little self-conscious walking
along the sidewalk in my silver stilettos
and short slinky gown. Knowing I'm not one
to own fancy evening wear, Beth had sent me
the outfit, including the shoes. I'd
practiced walking in them a couple of days
so I wouldn't make a fool of myself. Now,
with each step, I'm gaining confidence.
Beth's doorway is but three houses down. I
could be a runway model. When I lengthen my
stride, I feel a slight tug at my hip. Oh
oh. The gown is so short and so sheer
bottoms are required, and these fasten with
tiny strings at the side, and I never was
much good at knots. I slow my pace.

Up ahead is a dog nosing a lemonade stand
manned by a couple of girls. I stride
bravely past them. One of the girls giggles
and stage whispers "pink ass wear." I turn
to look. A mistake. I trip, whether over my
own feet or the dog, I'm not sure. I hit the
ground hard and my bottoms snap free and a
split second later the dog snatches them and
gallops off. Unbelievable.

I manage to get up, tuck myself in, smooth
myself off, and with as much dignity as I
can muster, hobble the last few steps to
Beth's front door. I take a deep breath
before ringing the bell. Belatedly, I
realize that what the girl said might not
have been "pink ass wear" at all. She was
probably saying "pinkie swear." I'm faintly
amused that this expression is still around.
My little sister Beth and I used to say that
all the time, although I have no memory of
exactly what we were swearing to.

Well, I do remember one time when Beth and I
were almost teens. She was staring intently
at the screen of her laptop. "Look at this,
Avi," she said to me, pointing at the
picture of a guy's erection. "This can't be
real. I can't believe it will go in."

At that time, having had no first hand
experience of my own, I said, "What are you
doing? If Mom finds out you're looking at
that, she'll ..."

"She won't find out," Beth said. "But
there's no way it would fit. It's too tight
even for my pinkie."

I couldn't help but picture the ever
precocious Beth testing her vagina with her
little finger. I blushed. In truth, I too
wondered how something as big as a male
member could squeeze into that forbiddingly
snug and secret place. It didn't seem
possible. Then again, I knew babies came
out. I didn't want to think about that.

I don't remember what I told Beth. Probably
nothing. Or maybe something stupid like, "If
you don't know, I'm not going to tell you."
I guess back then I wasn't a very good big
sister.

By some standards I was a great role model.
I worked hard in school, got good grades,
went to college, and got a job as a clerk at
a drug store. I seldom dated, then only with
the most reputable of boys. Meanwhile Beth
was not just precocious but promiscuous,
going to wild parties in high school,
dropping out of college after a year to
become a painter's model, moving on to
become a fashion model and then an actress.
I was a senior in college when she needed an
abortion. I made inquiries of the druggist
and found her a reputable doctor. Doctor
Thomas Martin. Half a year later she had a
baby, Andy, and a husband, Doctor Tom. "I've
given up the wild life," she told me, "I'm a
family girl now." But now that Andy is
almost six months old, Beth's gone back to
the theater. She has a small role in a play
which is opening tonight, something called
The Pajama Game, and front row tickets for
Tom and me.

As soon as I step through the front door, I
know something's amiss. Beth confirms it a
second later. "The baby-sitter came down
with the flu--I just found out. Oh, Avis,
we'll never get another one on such short
notice."

"Can't you call Mom?" I suggest.

"Who do you think has the flu?" Beth
answers.

Both Tom and Beth insist that I go to the
play and Tom stay home with little Andy, but
I won't hear of it.

"You're sure?" Beth says.

"It's the only thing that makes sense," I
assure her. " I don't get nearly enough time
with your beautiful boy." Secretly I am
thankful I won't have to tell Beth I need to
borrow a pair of panties.

"But you look so daringly delicious," Beth
says, no doubt having seen through my
charade as well as the nearly diaphanous
front of the gown. "Such a shame, right
Tom?"

"Right," Tom agrees, his eyes on my almost
bare pubis. "A shame."

Eventually they relent, and a few minutes
later, they're on their way, leaving me
alone with baby Andy and a list of
instructions and phone numbers.

Andy is truly a beautiful little boy, full
of smiles and gurgles. I take him down to
the playroom where I read him books and we
roll around on the rug until he's good and
tired, after which I take him back upstairs
and give him his bath. I'm careful to wrap a
towel over my dress so it won't get wet with
the splashing. After the bath, it's time for
his bottle, and when he's sated, I kiss each
of his ten toes ten times, then for good
luck kiss his adorable belly button.
Finally, I fit him into a fresh diaper and
fire truck jammies, and within minutes of me
putting him down in his crib, he's asleep.
Such a sweet kid. It almost makes me think I
might some day have a little one of my own.
Naw. For one thing, while I was kissing his
belly button, he peed on my gown. I'm sure
it's ruined, but I take it off, rinse it
thoroughly in the bathtub, and drape it over
the shower door to dry.

But now I'm naked. I explore Beth's chest of
drawers, thinking I might find an old
nightgown to wear. In the top drawer is an
oversized mesh sweater which might do the
trick. I slip into it. It's gauzy, almost
like wearing a cloud, but it's comfy and I
leave it on. I'm shuffling through the
underwear drawer looking for something a
little more modest than the bikinis and
thongs Beth seems to favor, when I uncover
the biggest dildo I've ever seen, not that
I've seen all that many dildos. To tell the
truth I've never seen any in real life. This
one is gigantic, and it is a gleaming
plastic pink, firm but resilient. It is not
really shaped like a penis, more like a
sleek but fat flashlight with a bulbous
head. I'm not sure why, but I find it
attractive. I spend some time admiring the
look and feel of it. I can't believe it is
something the new "family" Beth would
actually use, but then she does have it in
her dresser drawer.

Trying not to contemplate Beth and Tom's sex
life, I go back down to the playroom to put
away the books I'd read to Andy. So far the
playroom has been sparsely furnished to say
the least. In addition to the baby monitor,
there's only a flat screen TV on the wall,
an elongated, crushed velvet covered
ottoman, and off in the corner a hobby horse
which is much too big for Andy. About to
pick up the books, I realize I'm still
clutching the pink dildo. I set it on the
carpet, clean up the books, and switch on
the TV. Unwilling to sit bare-bottomed on
the ottoman, I stretch out on the carpet
next to the dildo and watch TV. Two or three
episodes of International House Hunters
later, I get to thinking I might actually
give that pink dildo a try. What would be
the harm? Well, if it gets stuck.

"Better be sensible," I say to myself. That
is when Tom strides swift and silent into
the playroom.

"Oh!" I exclaim in surprise. "I didn't... I
wasn't..." I quickly stand up, forgetting
for a moment that I'm still wearing the
heels, and I almost topple. The elongated
velvet ottoman saves me. I sit awkwardly,
and the gauze sweater, which wasn't long
enough to begin with, is now bunched up
enough that Tom can see everything. And
there is nothing to conceal the pink dildo.

"Where's Beth?" I blurt.

"She's staying for the cast party. The
director will give her a ride home."

"Oh," I say. "Didn't you want to go to the
cast party?"

"These cast parties can go long into the
night. We thought I'd better come back and
check on you and Andy. I see you've found
Pinkie. Beth says it's too big."

"It is too big," I say.

"Maybe if I help," he says. He holds his
hand out. Thinking he wants the device, I
offer it to him, but instead of taking it,
he takes the sweater's sleeve, and then the
other sleeve, and draws the garment swiftly,
efficiently, over my head.

"That's better," he says. "Now why don't you
lie back?"

Tom has a doctor's voice. It's impossible
not to do what he says. Without really
thinking about it, I recline on the ottoman.
Tom stands next to me. His eyes travel over
my body. "You're very beautiful," he says. I
shiver.

"I'm a little nervous," I admit.

"Is it because you're naked and I'm not?" he
asks.

I nod meekly.

"That can be fixed," he says. Calmly,
slowly, he removes his clothing. While he
strips, his eyes never leave mine. I feel
hugely self-conscious under his stare, but I
am also curious about his body. He has a
manly chest, a trim waist, a soft nest. His
penis is full and firm, a stout stalk topped
by a bold cap. Under my eyes, it lifts. I've
never seen such a beautiful penis. When my
eyes move from his erection up to his eyes,
he smiles, sits down next to me, and takes
the dildo from my hands. I hadn't realized I
was still holding it. "Can you lift your
legs and spread them a little?" he asks in
that doctor's deep and calming croon.

I lift my legs. I spread them.

He stares at me, at my vulva.

"Are you comparing me to Beth?" I ask.

"No," he says. "You have an exceptionally
beautiful pussy. You're much wetter than
Beth usually gets at this stage." His kind,
careful, doctor's hands manipulate my sex
lips. "You have the loveliest little labia,"
he says in that calming, caressing voice. He
spreads the suddenly swollen petals. He
presses and pulls them gently, knowingly. My
core quivers. He doesn't stop. "You have the
perkiest little clit," he muses. He strokes
it. With each slow stroke of my clitoris my
center expands, my hollow hollows, my womb
widens. Soon I am fully open. Not open
enough for the dildo, though. Not at first.
It takes a long time, but eventually Pinkie
goes in. By then I've already come more
times than I can count.

Tom is standing next to the ottoman when
I've recovered enough to sit up. His
beautiful cock is right there.

It is delicious.

I like that he kisses me while some of his
cream is still in my mouth.

"You won't tell Beth about this, will you?"
I ask while he is dressing.

"If that's what you want," he says.

"Swear?" I say.

"Pinkie swear," he says, and we touch little
fingers. Electric. There is no way we can't
kiss again. There is no way we can't make
love.

That's what we are doing when Beth walks in.
I am riding Tom, galloping toward another
orgasm. "How sweet," Beth says, not a trace
of irony in her voice. "Mind if I join you?"

"Okay," I say. "Just don't tell Mom."

============================================
An illustrated version of this story may be
found at
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/twassel/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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+