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Subject: {ASSM} Allison by Lord Malinov
Date: Sun, 28 May 2000 21:10:03 -0400
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<color><param>0100,0100,0100</param><FontFamily><param>Times New Roman</param><smaller>Allison

by Lord Malinov

<<malinov@ev1.net>


~~~


I spent half my life, waiting for this moment.  Wondering if all my

dreams could come true.  Allison smiled as she sat down across from

me.


I had known this woman well, a dozen years ago, a blossom in the  

springtime of my life. If I think back on those days, my thoughts 

swim around Allison's kind face, her pretty blue eyes, her soft 

golden hair, creamy smooth shoulders, slender, sigh, arms.  And after all

these years, Allison looked nearly the same; a little harder, perhaps,

faint wrinkles tickling the corners of her eyes, a little less glimmer and

bounce in her hair, a few pounds filling out her womanly curves. 

Lovelier, in a way, than the day we first met.


When I first met Allison, I spent almost a year completely obsessed 

by her.  I thought about her constantly.  Just fourteen, I was very 

much a boy and my heart raced pubescently.  I blush to 

recall wandering in shy, slow circles around our neighborhood, 

desperately hoping fate would let me catch a glimpse of this pretty 

girl as she made her way home from school.  There were days when I 

would stake out her path, lying hours in wait, just because I thought I

might earn a single sweet "Hello."  Even at fourteen, I cut a sorry

figure.


As it does all things, time eventually cured me of my unrequited

infatuation for Allison and I soon aimed my heartache toward 

other girls wandering the streets of our small town. But through them all,

I always kept a fond eye on Allison.  I don't think she ever knew I was

watching her.  Allison had a busy life and hardly looked my way.


High school swept us along and I never had the chance to forget

Allison.  We both enjoyed a modest talent for singing and so we spent at

least one hour of class together every school day during those four years.

 She was in my Spanish class, too.  Anyway, we always sang together, but

we really couldn't have been more different.  I became a shy bookish

baritone and Allison rose to the rank of marvelously popular alto. 

Teenage politics being what they were, I kept a respectful distance,

although I did venture to spend a few lusty daydreams ogling her during

dull moments of our choir's practice.  


Making our way to the state college, where I studied physics but kept

singing for the sheer pleasure, a lucky turn of events made us friends. 

During the first week of the spring semester of our sophomore year, I

grabbed a cup a coffee and somehow found a seat in the crowded student

union cafeteria.  Two minutes later, Allison was wandering the same dining

room, looking for someplace to sit and eat. Catching sight of a familiar

face, she asked if she could join me.  I almost choked on my coffee,

trying to agree.  Allison laughed and sat down.


Allison's schedule that semester included an hour break between her

music theory classes and our choir's daily rehearsal.  I had no

academic reason to be on campus just then, but sentimental affection

drew me into her path, and led me to grab a table for us before the 

wave of students could steal them all.  Our little conversation soon

turned into a daily ritual.  Before a month went by, I had grown 

overly enchanted by Allison's smile, once again.


The brief hour we shared became the high point of my day.  We took a

break from the rigors of study with laughter and gossip, especially

poking fun at the pompous tenors and gaudy sopranos who raged during

practice as if nothing else mattered, a pastime frequently shared by altos

and baritones world round. 


After a few months, Allison seemed to really warm up to me, filling

me in on the juicy details of her social adventures, her complex web

of friends and foes, and eventually let me into her private

thoughts. I soothed her constant worries about her perpetually wayward

brother, and wisely counselled her through struggles with her tightly

laced parents.   I even dared to listen when she complained about her

oafish boyfriends, gnashing my teeth jealously while smiling

sympathically.


Our relationship managed to grow beyond our habitual cup of coffee,

and from time to time I would go shopping with Allison at the mall. 

She said she liked my taste in clothes.  Once, I even loaned her

twenty dollars when a cute blouse went on sale. Allison never paid

me back and I loved her for that.


But through it all, I remained a friend.  Allison had blossomed into a

truly ravishing coed at twenty and dated only strong, handsome, witless

young men who always drove fast, expensive cars and wore Italian shoes. 

One day, with a little edge on my attitude, I asked her what they talked

about, she and her fashionable brutes.


"We don't," she confessed.  "That's why I have you."


I gnashed my teeth, jealously, and smiled.  By this time, I loved

Allison dearly and refused to let pride make me relinquish the crumbs she

offered.  I needed my time with her at any price.


Then there was a dance, something truly special, some Kingdom by the

Sea cotillion, and I accompanied Allison to the mall to help her

pick out her gown.  Rod, who drove a Stingray, I think, had asked

her to the ball and Allison nearly swooned every time she said his

name.  


I fought waves of nausea, as we walked the aisles of the department 

store looking at the racks of satin and chiffon.  I knew I was being asked

to wrap my love in finery that some other man would open, sacrifice my

tender feelings so that she could squander them on a brute.  But I was

also powerless to deny Allison anything she asked.


She picked up two dresses and tossing them over her shoulder, Allison

motioned for me to follow.  


"Stay right there," she ordered as she closed the latticed door of a small

dressing room.  My stomach ached as I listened to the rustle of fabric. 

"Here," she said, opening the door.  Her blue eyes shining, beauty struck

me hard.  I wanted to fall to my knees and swear my love.  "Zip me," she

said smiling, turning around.


I could hardly move a finger.  The breach parted down the full length of

her back and as I pulled the zipper toward me, I could see the swell of

her bottom hugged by a pair of cotton yellow panties.  I stared at that

intimate vision for only a second, but burned it so deeply into my mind

that I can still recall the soft curve with technicolor brilliance.  


"What do you think?" she asked, turning a quick circle.  I tried to 

breathe and swallow.


"Stunning," I said, finally.


"I think so, too," she said with an eye on her image in the trifold 

mirror.


"Wow," I said, a sincere ejaculation.


"All right," Allison said.  "Let me try on the other one."  


Again she slipped into the dressing room and I stood where I had been told

to stay, obedient puppy that I was.  The door swung close but then drifted

slowly open, a few inches at most.  Allison had her back to me as she

stepped out of the gown.  I felt flush with a lusty fever as I drank the

illicit vision of her full pantied bottom, the supple bend at the small of

her back, the long stretch of her legs.  Allison turned to retrieve the

second gown.  She wore no bra and a supple breast hung heavy below her

outstretched arm, as a faint nipple tightened slightly.  Allison stepped

into the gown and finally looked through the gap between the door and

frame.  She blushed and I blushed.  Stepping toward me, she turned her

back.


"Zip?"  I raised the zipper.  "Well, what do you think?" she asked

calmly.


"Beautiful."


The night of the dance, I sat at home in the dark with some angry 

rock roaring from the stereo while I started on a bottle of Scotch I had

borrowed from home.  I remembered the half-dressed vision of Allison I had

managed to steal.  I tried to forget.  I remembered the long talks we had.

 I tried to forget.  I remembered wandering the streets of our home town,

ready to give up everything, only to hear her greet me.  I took a long

drink and tried desperately to forget.


The phone rang.  I didn't want to talk to anyone, but after the third ring

I picked up the receiver. 


"Steven?"  Allison said.


"Allison?" I replied.  She burst into tears.  I tried to calm her 

down, tried to get some reason out of her, but she cried harder.  I 

listened to her sobs for a long time, patiently, repeatedly saying, 

"It's all right," like a mother rocking a crying baby.  Finally she 

calmed down a little.  


"Can I come over?" Allison asked, sounding more like a little girl 

than the bold confident woman I had come to know.  


"Sure," I said.  She hung up the phone.  Ten minutes later, she

knocked at my door.  Allison was a sight, her make-up smeared by the

damp tissue in her hand, the gown exchanged for a grey sweatshirt and

jeans, her golden mane still floating angelically in a well-arranged

coiffure.


"You all right?" I asked.


"Can I have a hug?" she replied.


I wrapped my long arms around her.  In the six years I had known her, I

had never seen Allison look so fragile.  She held me tight, resting her

cheek on my chest.  I patted her back and told her it was all right.


The story was old and the details depressing and after I poured her a

drink, Allison walked me through the whole ordeal - the argument, the rude

phone call, the gossip, the other woman, the jilt, the wait, the final

cruel realization that Rod wasn't coming.  Allison spit nails, sobbed

relentlessly, laughed with a demonic fire in her eyes and shrank into

fear, pain and loneliness.  By two in the morning we had extinguished half

the Scotch and she was nestled in my arms.  A pregnant pause caught us

looking into each other's eyes and the magnet's pull of an overdue kiss

suddenly drew us together.


I'm not exactly proud of what happened next, for it seems clear in 

retrospect that I took advantage of Allison.  I never planned 

anything, or even considered what I was doing.  I held a beautiful 

woman in my arms, one I had loved for many years.  The scene that 

followed remains one of the best moments of my life, one I have 

treasured for twelve lonely years, poring over each perfectly 

memorized detail with an archeologist's particularity.  Sometimes I 

wondered if she remembered any of it.  At any rate, I did.


We kissed for hours, like adolescents who think they have invented 

the sport, and eventually my hand found the bare flesh of her waist 

under her loose grey sweatshirt.  My fingers curled around the 

warmth as I drew her closer still.  Allison's eyes were closed and 

she exhaled heavily, sad and surrendered as I started to fondle the 

soft swelling of her breast.  She laughed when I tickled her nipple.


Actually, I remember several versions of our motion from the floor of my

living room into my bed.  Sometimes I think I picked her up and carried

her.  Other times, I led the way and she followed.  I think my favorite

pseudo-memory is of following her into my room, smiling hungrily as she

stripped off the sweatshirt and pounced into bed.  Dawn was just beginning

to color my bedroom window.  


"Come here," she said, excited and happy, kneeling on the mattress and

unbuttoning her faded blue jeans.  I crawled onto my bed, grinning 
madly. 

Allison fell back and stuck her legs toward me.  I started pulling on the

frayed cuffs, drawing the denim from her uplifted limbs.  Allison laughed

as the jeans slid past her feet, twisting with the last release to lay

down on her stomach, her bare ass forming a plump little hill.  I kissed

the back of her thighs, ascending slowly.  Allison moaned and then rolled

again to let me kiss the tops of her thighs.  I stole a peek at her soft

brown muff.


"You know what I really like?" she asked with a shy giggle.


"No," I said, still kissing, "but I can probably guess."  Allison 

spread her lean legs and I quickly worked my way to the junction, to kiss

the soft pinkness of her blossoming flower.


Licking Allison's pussy sorely affected me.  A thousand night's 

fantasy suddenly erupted in the unfolding of her pretty sex.   I 

nearly came in my shorts, taking that first long lick between her

swollen lips, drinking the dew that tasted of pure Allison, feeling 

the shudder of excitement as I teased her stiff clitoris, her ass 

cupped in my hands, her laughter and moans mingling in my head.  I 

pushed my tongue deep into Allison's cunt, wild with devotion and 

lust, stroked steadily while a river of her desire, desire Allison 

felt at my touch, poured over my chin to drench my hands, my sheets, my

soul.


"Oh, God, Steven, Yes," she groaned, pulling my hair to force my lips

against hers while my tongue tormented her clit.  Allison squealed and

shook and ground me down hard against her shudders before she finally

yanked me away to let the orgasm fade.


"Roar," she said, rubbing her spread pussy between aftershocks.  I 

pushed down my shorts and pulled methodically on my throbbing hard 

prick, staring at the naked goddess before me, illuminated by the 

glowing fires of dawn.  Allison moved herself around to kiss the 

crown of my cock.  At the first touch of her lips, I baptized Allison with

six years of wanting, thick streams pouring over her cheeks, over her

lips, down her bare breasts, into her hair.


"I'm sorry," I said, horrified.  I still don't know why the sudden 

release mortified me.  Allison laughed hysterically as she wiped her face

with my t-shirt and nestled herself in my arms.  


"Hush little baby, don't say a word," she sang, resting against my 

chest.  I tried to find the harmony, but grew confused.  I 

quickly drifted into sleep.  When I awoke, Allison had gone.


I called her, but she didn't answer.  I waited at the Union, but she never

showed.  I saw her at choir practice but she kept away, never looking at

me, always keeping people between us.  I cornered her once and she 
shook

her head, her face flush with shame and dashed away at the first 
opportune

moment.  I gave up, knowing what had happened.  A moment's ecstasy 
cost me

more than I could bear to pay.


Once the semester ended, I didn't see Allison.  I stopped singing.  I

focussed on my other studies and graduated at the top of my class.  I 
took

a job doing research, published some papers, patented some inventions,

started a company and in a decade built a small empire.


A late night at the lab left me hungry.  I stopped at an all night 

restaurant and ordered a steak.  Two minutes later, Allison walked 

in.  I recognized her at once.  She sat down across from me.


"How have you been?" I asked.  The touch of sadness in her azure

gaze spoke more than the simple, "All right."


"You?" she asked, the single word touching a forgotten chord in my

heart strings.  


"I've been getting by," I said.


"Did you ever . . . ?" Allison asked, her voice trailing off before

she finished the thought.  I knew what she wanted to know by the coy

smile that followed.


"No," I said.  "I haven't had time.  I haven't let myself get close

enough for that."


"Oh," she said.


"Surely you've been married," I said, noticing her naked ring 

finger.


"Twice," she replied.  "Catastrophe's."


"I'm sorry," I said.  She smirked, a rude smile of hers I had almost

forgotten.


"You haven't changed," she said.  "Well, you look older and smarter."


"Thanks," I said.  "I think."


"So what have you been up to?" she asked.  I traced the long trail I had

travelled, holding back a few of the details.  I didn't want to make

Allison feel bad.


"That's great," she said when I reached the end.  "I always knew 

you'd make something of yourself."


"That's funny," I said.  "I never did."


"No, you didn't think much of yourself back when I knew you."


"No, I guess not."


"I always thought you were a genius.  You want to know how I knew 

that?  You intimidated me.  No one else could.  Not a soul,"  Allison

said, seriously.  I laughed with a snort.


"Me?  I was a buffoon."


"No, don't even say that.  I thought you were incredible."


"But," I started and stopped.  Allison looked at me quizzically.


"What?" she asked.


"But then why did you leave me?" I asked. 


"I'm sorry," she said.  "I couldn't stand . . .  I just had to.  I 

was afraid.  You would have left me."


"Never," I confessed.


"No, you would have.  You had these ideas, that I was some kind of 

princess."


"You were."


"No, I wasn't.  Don't you get it?  That wasn't me.  That whole 

thing you had was just you, thinking about me.  You kept looking at 

me, but you never saw me, not for me.  Once we, well, you know, I 

knew you were bright enough to figure out that I was just a pretty 

girl and that you deserved more than I would give you."


"I don't buy it, but maybe," I said, "you could have stuck around 

to find out."


"I know.  Don't you think I know that.  I've thought about that 

night with you for years, regretting the fact that I acted like such a

stupid bitch.  Everything was just a mess for me that semester.  Nothing

was working out and then this thing with you and I couldn't bear to get

dumped again."


I paid the check and we left together.  Neither of us said anything 

about it, we just did.  She smiled as I opened the passenger door 

of my car, a fast sports car, just her type.  Now that I think 

about it, my shoes are Italian, too.


I took her back to my place and poured us a drink.  Allison wandered

through the apartment, ten times the size of the last one we had been in

together.  She walked back to my bedroom and I followed.  She sat on the

bed.


"Come here," she said, laughing.  I crawled up beside her and we 

kissed.  Memories competed with passion as I tasted her sweet lips. 

Pausing, Allison pulled my shirt over my head and fiddled the button of 
my

trousers.


"I didn't get very far last time," she said, pushing down my briefs. 

"Think you can hold back for ten seconds?"


"I don't know," I said with a smile.  "You still excite me."


"Mmm," said Allison as she slipped my prick into her mouth.  So much 
had

happened, so much had been lost and her tongue teased the length of my

staff while I knelt on my bed and wondered if this would just be another

night for us both to regret.  I caressed her golden hair as she suckled my

senses, remembering the pain, thinking about what she'd said, that I 
would

have left her, that she was just a pretty girl, that I deserved something

better.


Allison lifted her skirt and I saw the thin yellow cotton panties 

that covered her firm bottom.  The orgasm welled deep within and I 

said her name over and over as I poured my soul into my Allison.


"How's your brother?" I asked as I laid back to catch my breath.


"He's in jail," she said.  I laughed and then apologized.   Allison 

kissed me gently and laid her cheek to my chest.


"Hush little baby, don't say a word," I sang softly.  Allison picked up

the song, in perfect harmony.  "Daddy's going to buy you a 
mocking bird."


~~~

Allison

by Lord Malinov

<<malinov@ev1.net>


Power belongs to those who dare... Sapere aude



<nofill>
Power belongs to those who dare . . . Sapere aude
<http://users.ev1.net/~dccain/malinov/>

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