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From: Conjugate <conjugat@bellsouth.net>
Subject: {ASSM} "Compromises" by Conjugate <*> (Naive Nympho) <F/solo,    FF, MF, MFF, voy, mast>
Date: Wed, 13 Dec 2000 16:10:04 -0500
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Compromises, by Conjugate <*> <F/solo, FF, MF, MFF, voy, mast>

Warning:  This is an adult story, not for those who are too young to
read sexually explicit tales.  If you are too young, or if you are
offended by sexually explicit content, stop reading right here.

This story is copyright 2000 by Conjugate.  All rights reserved.  This
story may be stored or archived at any site as long as no money is
charged for the privilege of reading it, as long as this header and
author information remains intact.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Cyndi took another gulp from her beer bottle and turned back to her 
friend Trixi.  "I'm not sure what to do," she confessed.  For the
last hour and a half, it had all come down to that.  She'd told Trixi
how her husband Mike always used the computer in the early afternoons,
before she was back from work and just after he got home from his.  It
had been a great arrangement; he liked to cook and would have dinner
ready for her when she got home, and everything, and he was a morning
person so he didn't mind getting to work at 6:00 AM and she was a night
owl and stayed up late every night after Mike had gone to bed.  The sex
had to be squeezed in, early evenings, very early mornings, or weekends,
but that hadn't been a problem, she'd thought.

Until she'd stayed up late and, instead of finishing her book, gone
ahead and browsed through the computer.  Then she'd found the directory
called "Celtic_Poetry" and been tempted to ignore it.  But then she'd
tried some and found that there was nothing poetic or Celtic about it.
Mike collected internet porn.

And that wasn't the worst.  The worst came afterwards, after the feelings
of inadequacy, after she wondered if she was too old for him to be 
interested in her as a woman, after she'd wondered if their incompatible
schedules had ruined their marriage.  No, the worst came when she 
confronted him with it.  The worst came when she asked him about it and 
he didn't apologize or defend himself.  She could have handled that, she 
could have accepted that she'd driven him to it and worked to make it 
right, so that this nastiness could be cleansed from her marriage.  But
instead he'd seen nothing wrong with it.  "What's the matter?" he'd 
asked.  "I don't see what your problem is.  I mean, it's not like I read
that stuff when I'm with you.  I only use it when I know I won't see you
for a few days, and it helps me get by.  Isn't it better than another
woman?"

And now she was here, with her friend Trixi, talking about the problem, 
and that didn't seem to be doing much good.  "And it's not even like it's
good," she added.  "I mean, you should see some of that garbage.  He's
got all kinds of stories of women doing degrading things, and so much of
it is misspelled and ungrammatical, and all the characters act so 
unnaturally, and the stories are so unbelievable...."

"I doubt he's looking at them from a literary criticism standpoint,"
Trixi observed.  "It seems to me you wouldn't feel much better if he
were reading well-written, grammatically correct pornography with
strong characters and sound plots, am I right?"

"Don't be silly, Trixi," snapped Cyndi.  "That's not the point.  The
point is, instead of loving me, he's in love with stories of women
who do all kinds of disgusting things.  Disgusting, degrading, crude,
animalistic, nasty, filthy, degenerate things!"

That got Trixi's attention.  "What ... _kind_ of degrading, nasty
things?" she asked, her voice suddenly low and husky from concern
for her friend's marriage.

"Oh, God, I don't know," she said, gratified that Trixi was now giving
this problem her undivided attention.  "I mean, I read some of it; there
were women doing oral sex on men, women doing, oh, other nasty things
to men, even women doing things to each other, there were women who
were masturbating in front of men, there were so many sick kinds of
disgusting filth I can't keep track of them all."

"Well, maybe it's not so bad," Trixi offered.  "I mean, you've 
masturbated, haven't you?"

"Well,...yes!"  Cyndi admitted, angry at being asked, and even more
angry because she could feel herself blushing.  "But not in front of
anybody, and certainly not in front of Mike, and as for those other
things...!"  She shook her head.  "When we were girls, we talked about
lots of things, but it was all talk, you know, none of us really did
any of, you know, that stuff!"  She noticed that Trixi was carefully
studying the table top.  "What are you thinking?" she demanded.

"Well, I was just thinking, you know, you're probably mostly right.
About none of us doing some of that stuff, you know, but... there
were some things...."  Cyndi waited, giving the other a look that
said that she was going to see how that previous sentence was going 
to be finished.  "Well, remember Kathi?  That story she told us about
keeping her boyfriend when he wouldn't let her get away with just hand
jobs?  That one was true.  I'm pretty sure."

"No.  Oh my God, no.  You mean she really let him stick it in her
mouth?  I can't believe that.  I thought she was just trying to gross
us all out.  What the Hell did she let him do that for?"

"Well, you know, Cyndi, she was never as hot as we were, or at least
she thought she wasn't, and she was always so worried that that guy 
was going to dump her... what was his name, anyway?  You know, that
idiot jock she was dating... but I think she did it to keep him.  It
didn't work, anyway, he dumped her.  But I'm pretty sure she let him
put it in her mouth first."

Cyndi was disgusted.  She said, "That's just sick.  I mean, I wasn't
raised by Amish nuns or anything, but there are some things I just
don't see how anybody could do.  That's disgusting."

"Well, maybe that's not what Mike really wants.  Just because 
something turns him on doesn't mean he wants to do it with you, does 
it?  It could just be something he really likes to read about."

"I don't think that sounds very likely to me.  But anyway, not all
the stories were about that."

"So what were they about?  Tell me and we'll see if I can figure out
what he's interested in.  You must have read at least one of them or
you couldn't have gone on so long about bad writing and such."

Trixi had her there.  Cyndi didn't want to talk about it much, but
went into detail about _Lusty Lolita Lovers_ nonetheless.  "Well, 
it was mostly -- the one I read, I mean -- about a little girl who
wanted to know about sex.  I mean, really wanted some serious 
experience."  She went on to describe a story about a 14-year-old
girl who went from utterly naive to profoundly slutty in a day.  It
seemed to make Trixi as uncomfortable as it did her, to judge from
the way her friend was sweating.

"Maybe," said Trixi, "you're all right.  I mean, it doesn't sound
like he wants any really kinky stuff, or anything."

"What do you mean?  It sounds to me like he wants...." She had to
pause or her voice would break.  "It sounds to me like he wants to
get rid of me and get a 14-year-old girl!"  There.  Her main worry,
that her love was going to dump her and become a pedophile, out in
the open.  It didn't make her feel any better to say it out loud,
though.  It felt worse.

"I don't think he's going to leave you.  I think he's just turned on
by the idea.  I mean, don't you fantasize about things you couldn't
ever do?"

"I...."  Damn.  

"Don't worry about it.  Just play along.  Try some of the dialog from
the story the next time you two make love, and see what happens.  I'll
bet you find out you don't have anything at all to worry about."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Well, my advice is to give it a shot.  After all, a little compromise
here and there might help save your marriage here.  And if it does, 
it's worth it, isn't it?"

She wondered if maybe she shouldn't have found another friend to talk
about this with.  But maybe Trixi was right.  "Well, I don't know.
But I'm going to try it.  I sure hope you're right."  The two of them
parted not long after that, and on her way home she still didn't know
if she was making a big mistake.  

She got home, and Mike was naturally asleep; he would have to be up
early the next day.  But, Cyndi reflected, perhaps she didn't have to
go in to work.  She had a few vacation and sick days left, and didn't
think she was going to be able to sleep much anyway.  She slipped into
bed next to him, and nervously waited until about an hour before her
husband was due to get up.

She shook him briskly when the appointed time came.  "Honey, um, hey,
mister, wake up!"

For a morning person, he sure took a long time to wake up.  "Hrrmph?"

"Hey, mister!  You gotta help me!  I don't know what's going on!"  She
shook him a bit harder.

"What?  What?  What's going... Oh, hi, honey.  Listen, I wanted to 
talk to you.  Listen, I've been thinking,...."

Not what she wanted to hear.  Time enough for a nice long chat about
things after her plan was put into action.  She put a finger on his
lips, and shook her head lightly.  "Hey, mister!  How did I get here?
I'm only fourteen, and these bigger kids gave me something cool to
drink, I think they said it was, like, Long Island Tea or something,
and the next thing I know I was here!"

His puzzlement turned to astonishment.  He still didn't quite figure
it out.  "What?  What the hell...?"

She put a finger across his lips again, and winked.  "Please, mister,
I never saw a guy's thing before."  She reached down under the 
blankets.  Yes, she'd apparently interrupted a good dream, all right.
"Can I see yours, huh, pretty please?"

It seemed he'd caught on, or if he hadn't, he wasn't going to make 
trouble.  Somehow, when it came to getting sex, he hardly ever made
trouble, she had noticed.  His erection was tenting his pajamas and
the bedsheets now.  She pulled the sheets down.  "Well, I don't know,
little girl," he said, his hand caressing the back of her head gently.
"You're awfully young to be trying this kind of thing, don't you 
think?"

That was more like it.  "Oh, no, mister, I'm not a little kid any 
more!  Heck, I'm almost fifteen.  And I gotta know about this stuff!
Let me see your thing!"  She pulled down his pajama pants with a
kind of skilled ease that she doubted any girl of fourteen would
be able to match, but never mind; apparently accuracy wasn't the point
of this little play.  "Wow!  Look at that!  Is this the end where all
the sticky white stuff squirts out?"  It was a line from the story,
and it still sounded awfully stupid to her; after all, if "sticky
white stuff" squirted out of any other end of the penis, reproduction
would be a much more difficult proposition.  But he didn't seem to
mind; judging from the shiny smooth head and the droplet of clear
liquid on the tip, literary criticism wasn't holding his attention.

"Why, yes, little girl.  Would you like to see how it happens?"  He
reached down and led her hand gently to the base of his cock, with
a light gentle grip that she could have broken at any time.  

She'd never wanted to handle it much, of course; it's nasty.  But 
he was getting really turned on by this game, so she let him put 
her hand near the base of the penis, just above the testicles.  It 
was sweaty and there was that smell that she didn't really like, but 
when her cool small hand circled the shaft, she heard him gasp 
slightly.  She looked at him in wonder.  His eyes were closed and his 
other hand was clenching the blanket!  Gently she slid her hand up 
and down the shaft, hardly able to believe that it was her doing this.
She hadn't given a hand job since high school, and always thought of it
as the recourse to date rape, or a payment for a grope from a guy.  She
eased her hand up and down the shaft, marvelling at the ability of that
 slight motion to control his attention so completely.  He was, she
thought, unable to think about anything but the motion of her hand on
the shaft of his cock.  Mischievously, she slid her hand up and over
the top of the glans, smearing the pre-come fluid that was now coating
the head with its glaze.  She hadn't expected that; there was quite a
lot of it.  He moaned gently.

"That's nice, huh, mister?  Will you show me how to do it now?"  She
thought for a moment, then agilely leaned across his body to reach into
the bedside table for a condom.  She tore it open with her teeth and
one hand, while moving her other hand gently up and down the shaft.
Not too fast, it looked like he was close.  She realized suddenly that
she was wet, too.  Surprisingly wet.  Let's see, what else did that
stupid story say?  Oh, right.  "Gee, mister!  That looks awfully big!
Golly, I sure hope your great big thing can fit inside me!"  She got
the condom to the tip of his penis, and shifted position slightly to 
allow her a better angle to slip it on over the head and unroll it down
the shaft.  "Golly, mister, where does that great big thing go in me,
anyway?  I've never seen anything like that!  How does it get so hard?"

She kept up random bits of dialog, some from the story and some made
up, as she finished getting the condom on.  The he surprised her by
grabbing her hips and lifting her up.  "Here you are, little girl," he
growled, and she felt him slide into her.

"Wow!  Golly, mister!  I thought it was supposed to hurt the first 
time!  Boy, that sure feels good!  What do we do now, huh?"  She began
moving slowly up and down on him, and was surprised to find out that 
she was more turned on than she'd realized.  Seeing him under her, 
moaning with need, was really arousing.

It took longer than she'd expected, perhaps because the condom was
slowing him down.  But after a while, she felt herself start to go over
the top, and was amazed to hear him begin to gasp and moan.  He was 
almost always completely silent, and to hear him gasping and grunting
was amazing to her.  She looked down at him, his face red and sweaty,
his hands clenching so tightly she was afraid she'd have marks on
her buttocks in the morning, and then she embraced him and began to
meet his thrusts with her own urgent need.  Shortly they both came,
and she couldn't remember the last time it had been so good.

_Maybe Trixi really knows more about this than I thought_, she
reflected, as they lay there in the afterglow.  The sense of power
that she'd gotten as his body tensed and thrashed under her, the feel
of him helplessly thrashing in pleasure in response to her words, was
as powerful an aphrodisiac as any she could imagine.  She looked at
her love's exhausted body lying next to her, his cock beginning to
grow limp.  As she slid the condom off, she reflected that it wasn't
quite as nasty as she'd thought.  Maybe some other time, she might see
what kind of response she could get from him by... Nah.  It was still
too gross to think about that thing even getting close to her mouth.

But, she reflected, you never know where a good compromise might take
you.  She dropped the condom in the wastebasket, and snuggled close.

The end.


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