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From: One Gallus <onegallus@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Swede Ola Part 4
Date: Sat, 21 Oct 2000 15:10:05 -0400
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Sorry about the legend at the close of part three:
"End of Story" Neither that, nor this is the end. Gallus
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<1st attachment, "Swede 4.txt" begin>
{ASSM}
Title: SWEDE OLA Part 4
Author: One Gallus, galluslong@yahoo.com
(MF, Oral, Anal, Rom)
Disclaimer
Not to be read:
by anyone under the age of 18
or if it violates the standards or laws of your
community:
or if adult erotica offends you.
Not to be posted on any site, or changed, added
to or used in any way without author's
permission.
SWEDE OLA Part 4
"I think I saw Niles," she said on Tuesday, two
days later. Niles was her ex-husband.
"What do you mean? He saw you?" I said.
"I came out of the nursing home parking lot, and
I think I saw his car swing in behind me."
Ola, you were at the Nursing Home? You weren't
going back there."
"I know Charles, but I had to pick up my check,"
she said.
"You should have let me, or someone else pick it
up!" I said, quite annoyed.
"No, they wouldn't release it to anyone but me.
I had to."
"Did you need it that badly?" I asked, still
irritated.
"Charles, it was over $700.00! Yes I had to have
it!" She spoke harshly to me. It was the first
time hard words were exchanged.
I got up from my desk and went past her, and
walked to the living room. I looked out a front
window from behind venetian blinds. The way they
were tilted, no one could see from the street.
"What kind of car does he have?"
"A maroon Buick Century, an old model, a 92 I
think."
"Nothing out there, maybe it wasn't him."
"Maybe," she said.
I looked at her, and two vertical lines were
prominent in between her eyes. I shared her
fear. There might be a man with a gun somewhere
out there, with us in mind.
Trying to ease the tension I said, "Sweetheart,
I'm sorry, let's not invent problems. There are
thousands of maroon Buicks out there."
"At the Pecan Creek Nursing Home?" she asked,
taking no false comfort.
"You've got a point. Let's just keep our eyes
open." I said.
The bell beside Mother's bed began to jingle and
Ola went to her.
The rest of the day was uneventful and at 9:00
PM, the shadows closed in and by 9:20 it was
dark.
At midnight, she said, "He's on the graveyard
shift up at the Jeep plant," she said, "He's
never been one to lay off his job."
If her posture was any indicator of her anxiety
level, then it was low. The knowledge that Niles
was at work must have given her some measure of
comfort. She sat on the couch, her hips forward,
her shoulders against the back, her legs straight
before her, ankles crossed, barefoot. She was
wearing a light robe again, a pink puffy one this
time, untied. The thin gown was underneath.
Across the room, I was slumped on the loveseat.
The television had been on low so we could detect
any strange sounds. I gazed at her, glad to see
her normally placid face regain its pose. She
turned her head toward me and caught me staring,
and smiled. I returned the smile, and she held
my eyes.
Since that volatile Sunday night, when the sexual
conflagration consumed us, we seemed contented to
only tentatively touch and kiss. We had not
slept in the same bed. Perhaps we were afraid of
an anticlimax, for I had never before been so
moved and so gratified sexually. If Ola had not
been content since then, she never indicated it.
She had seemed to be as sated as I was.
Tonight her hair was swept and gathered at the
back of her head. A "ponytail" almost seemed an
irreverent expression. Her face showed an almost
alien splendor. "You're beautiful," I said.
"I'm the female hulk," she said. "That's what
Niles called me."
"He was blind." I said.
"He said, and I quote: `Your ass would make three
of mine.'"
"I wish it were it my hands right now," I said.
"His ass?" she smiled.
I threw a throw cushion at her. She giggled.
"Charles?"
"What?"
"You make me feel like a woman," she said.
"You are a woman," I said.
"He made me feel like a cow, lumbering through
the house." The smile was gone.
"You're a goddess," I said.
The smile came back and she stared at me. After
a long moment, she drew her feet back till they
touched the couch, and parted them. Her big
rounded knees spread open. Her thighs lay inside
her gown like smoothed fallen columns, ending in
a beautiful darkness somewhere.
"Would you really like to hold it in your hands?"
she asked.
"What, his ass?" and she threw the pillow back at
me.
Ola then took the hem of her gown and pulled it
up to her navel, and spread herself wide. "You
know this is all yours, don't you?" She lay the
flat of her palm in her pubic hair. The smoky
curls spiraled out between her fingers. "You
remember, I said I'd do anything for you, don't
you? You realize that you can do anything to me
you desire, don't you?"
"Ola, when you say that to me.you know, any
`thing?' Do you know what it does to me?"
"What?" she asked.
"Your whole being just runs together in my mind.
As if you are one wonderful bundle, and I can't
think of any one `thing.' All I can think of is
you."
"Lie down," she said.
I tossed the throw cushion into the floor, slid
off the loveseat, and lay my head on the cushion,
and stretched out flat. Ola still sat, slouched
on the couch, her hand on her pubis.
"Shut your eyes," she said. "Don't open them till
I tell you."
I shut my eyes.
"Put your hands up into the air," she said.
I reached for the ceiling. Then I heard her
heavy steps padding toward me. Movement took
place over me, and my shoulders felt something
touch them. I knew, in reason, she had straddled
me.
"Open your eyes, she said." I expected to see
her pointed chin, her perfect teeth across her
smiling mouth, her rosy, high cheekbones and her
flashing blue eyes. What I saw, was what I said
I wished to hold.
Over two feet across, it was sheathed in the
whitest skin I think I had ever seen. Not a
freckle, not a mole, broke this vast symmetrical
landscape. It's only feature was the long
crevice that divided the hemispheres. I placed
my palms lightly on both cheeks and grazed across
the smoothness, letting my hands slide lightly
over her to the extremity of her width. It was
there that I pushed in from both sides, and
kneaded the firm flesh that defined her hips. I
took handfuls of her as I massaged down to the
backs of her thighs, squeezing up to, but not
over, the line of pain. Then I worked my way
back toward the center, watching the opening and
the closing of the cleavage as I alternately
spread, and then repressed both buttocks.
Through all of this mirrored groping with both
hands, Ola was crooning with pleasure. She
obviously loved the touching, and the even firmer
grasping, and she complimented me with her
affirmations of, "Yes, oh Charles, yes. Oh
please, yes!"
Of course, the most prominent foci to me were her
two centers of sensitivity. They presented
themselves each time I spread her wide. The
smaller of these open cusps was surrounded by an
ellipse of darker flesh, which elongated toward
her vulva. It was precisely here that I licked.
The few hairs that marked that trail were easy
for my tongue to feel, and my lips to pull. I
felt the press of her greatness against my mouth
as I sucked, and I breathed in her aroma. My
tongue flicked at what was to me the upper, and
to her, the lower fold of her vaginal opening.
Her fluids were afloat on my tongue and the
wonderful grassy taste of woman came back to me
after so many, many years.
Ola adjusted the movement of her posterior to my
ever-lengthening licks. When I licked toward her
clitoris, I felt her busy fingers already at
work. She had not deigned to take me into her
mouth. Indeed, she could not, and sustain the
increasing frenzy to which I was witness.
However, she retained enough interest in my own
pleasure to hesitate on her downward plunges,
just short of her anus. She did not venture to
bring its ring across my tongue. This was
amusing to me, and made me love her sensitive
spirit, though obviously she was lusting for my
mouth on her ass hole.
I risked breaking her pleasure by steadying the
violence of her hips. "Wait darling, wait
sweetheart," I said tenderly.
She immediately froze, perhaps for fear she had
assumed too much. Just at that moment, I spread
her cheeks, firmed my tongue and plunged it into
her anus, squirming it, and darting it around the
muscled rim. When she felt it, she sobbed in
guttural pleasure, "Oh God in heaven! Yes!"
Between my tongue and her fingers, Ola lunged
into another violent orgasm, bucking and grinding
against my face as she had done against my penis
two nights ago. As she stilled, I felt her cheek
stroking against my erect penis. I thought she
might finish me with her mouth, but then she
reversed her direction and her broad face loomed
over me.
I felt the tender moist walls of her vagina
slowly swallow me up until the hardness of our
pelvic bones jabbed at each others hips. Then,
by degrees, her heaviness pressed on me. She was
eyeing me closely, measuring her decent as she
sank. I could breath, I was not choking, but I
was pressed. Then, this colossal two-hundred-
pound, six-foot woman began a circular massage,
using her whole body. I could feel my foreskin
peeling back, shifting around inside of her, hot
and naked inside her wetness. When I came, she
covered my mouth with her own, consuming me with
her tongue, her weight pressing the pleasure into
every pore of my body.
"Well, you finally got somebody to suck your ass,
didn't you?" Niles said.
<1st attachment end>
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