Message-ID: <28646asstr$980914202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: <news@dejanews.com> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: Love Pirate <buckaneer@my-deja.com> X-Original-Message-ID: <9557nn$f2$1@nnrp1.deja.com> X-Article-Creation-Date: Tue Jan 30 02:09:00 2001 GMT Subject: {ASSM} The Early Call, Prologue, F/M 1/7 Date: Tue, 30 Jan 2001 23:10:02 -0500 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 X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/Year2001/28646> X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com> X-Moderator-ID: newsman, gill-bates This story is an original work of fiction. It in no way resembles any persons living or deceased. It is purely a work of fantasy and is intended for the use of adults only. If you are under the age of 18, or are prohibited by law to have access to such materials, please stop reading now. Feel free to distribute this work freely, provided it remains unchanged, with credit given to the author. Please download and enjoy it! Any feedback, suggestions or criticisms are all welcome and greatly encouraged. Please, tell me what you think. Love Pirate buckaneer@my-deja.com Prologue It was an October in the early 70s. I had flown in to Capital City the previous night feeling very horny. With good reason. The weekend before Mountain City friends of mine had set me up with an interesting woman who was in the process of getting a divorce. I had met her briefly at my friends' wedding a few months before. Over drinks and dinner we hit it off well. There was clearly some electricity between us. But there was a problem. She was desperately afraid that her soon-to-be-ex, a lawyer, was having her watched. If he caught her in some sexual conduct with another guy she feared that he would try to take away the kids. So, she didn't want to go dancing or to a movie, "Just home, please." Okay. I'm a nice guy. I offered to take the baby-sitter home, a couple of blocks, and I was real surprised when she said, "Come in for a cup of coffee when you're done." I knocked on the door when I returned. She opened it quickly, hustled me inside, closed it and threw the dead bolt. I noticed that she had changed into a light house dress and that all the drapes in the rooms I could see were drawn closed. Then I couldn't see much for a while, because she grabbed me and kissed me with a long, hard, soulful kiss. "Wow! I'm going to get lucky tonight," I thought. Alas, it was not to be. What she wanted was necking and petting above the waist, fully clothed thank you. Any move of mine to push things a little further seemed to trigger an anxiety attack in her. Clearly she was excited and needy, but fear of losing her children was stronger than any sexual drive. After about an hour I settled for that cup of coffee, a monstrous case of blue balls and a drive back to my friends' house. Luckily they were asleep, so I had the bathroom to myself for long enough to get some needed relief. The next afternoon I took my rental car out on the road to take a look at some successful agency operations in rural Mountain State. I was a new and completely inexperienced director of such an agency in Plains State. It was largely funded by federal dollars, funneled through a state organization. The agency hired me because the agency simply wasn't serving very many clients for the money it was receiving, and was under warning to do better or lose its grant. I had wheedled some "research" money from the state guys to do a two-day trip to an outstanding operation of the type in Mountain State, to see what they were doing right that we were doing wrong. Then I was to fly to Capital City in Plains State and tell the monthly meeting of the State Coordinating Council my preliminary observations and plans. Actually, it was all a bunch of BS, but that's the kind of game you played if you wanted to keep your federal grant. I did a day and a half of "research" at three different "program sites" and didn't learn a thing. Their staff seemed to be doing exactly the same things we were doing, using exactly the same materials and exactly the same approaches, but with three times the number of "clients" served per full time employee as we got. What's more, the local personnel treated me as if I didn't have a clue (they were right) and they weren't going to give me one to save my life. In frustration I called my new woman friend in Mountain City and told her I would be in four hours early, did she want to meet me at the airport after I dropped off my rental car. We could have a bite "or something." She did and the "or something" turned out to be the first flick at a drive-in movie near the airport, where she changed her behavior. We necked and petted in a car without covering the windows. But still, no skin-to-skin and nothing below the waist. My case of blue balls this time round set a new personal record. I remember walking through the airport and getting on the 10:00 PM plane bent over, as if I was a man of eighty afflicted with arthritis. I was also exhausted and faced a nine AM meeting the next morning. My problem gradually subsided during the flight, even without use of the plane's bathroom facilities. (Dear Reader, at this point the Mountain City woman disappears from this story. To offer you some closure, I will tell you that after her divorce was final she and I spent a romantic weekend at a dude ranch in her state. Not only was she needy and sexy, she was close to a force of nature. I have never been with a woman who orgasmed so quickly and so frequently. Unfortunately, her talent quickly proved boring for me. For her it was "in, out, orgasm", "in, out, orgasm", "in, out, orgasm", time after time. I felt no sense of accomplishment in our love making. Because her orgasms were so energetic, so total body, nearly throwing me "out of the saddle" I had a difficult time setting up any sort of rhythm to cum myself. During the weekend she usually had to blow me to get me off. After the dude ranch experience I never called her again. I later learned from my friends that she had remarried, to a "nice fellow." I sincerely hope it all worked out for them. She was one of the good guys.) Sent via Deja.com http://www.deja.com/ -- 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> Moderator: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |<http://www.asstr-mirror.org>, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+