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Message-ID: <28753asstr$981263405@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Alexis Siefert <ealexissiefert@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Better Than Chamomile {AlexisS} (FF oral anal bond cons)
Date: Sun,  4 Feb 2001 00:10:05 -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


I respectfully submit this for the enjoyment of adult
readers.  As such, please note that this *is* a sexual
story intended for adult readers only.  Do not
continue if you are not an adult, or if you are
offended by sexual themes, language, and situations. 
Although I receive no compensation for this story, it
is still my work.  Please respect this.

If you enjoy this piece (or even if you don't, but you
know how to provide critical comments without being
generally disagreeable)please feel free to e-mail me
at EAlexisSiefert@yahoo.com.

__________________________________________________
Get personalized email addresses from Yahoo! Mail - only $35 
a year!  http://personal.mail.yahoo.com/

<1st attachment, "Better than Chamomille.txt" begin>

It's one of those rare, perfect days.  The sun is out, warm but 
not oppressive. I'm "lizarding" this afternoon, sunning myself on 
the concrete.  The heat reflects up off of the pool water, and I 
can feel my skin starting to cook.  Being of close Irish descent 
I don't actually "tan."  It's more of a roasting-thing.  However, 
the warmth has made me uncharacteristically lazy, and my body 
doesn't seem to be willing to listen to the rational thoughts my 
brain is sending--something about blisters, freckles, and 
eventual wrinkles.  "Well," I sigh to myself; "one has to take 
occasional risks."

I force my eyes open when I hear the rusty hinge on the gate 
protest opening. I can tell by your gait that the day didn't go 
the way you had planned. To most people, I'm sure that you looked 
the same as always, but I can see the tiniest of creases between 
your eyes.  There is a tension in your shoulders; your suit, 
normally so beautifully draped around your body, hangs stiffly 
over your shoulders.  "Rough day?"  You nod almost imperceptibly.  
"I'm sorry, darling."

"Not your fault."

"I know, but I wish I could make it better for you.  C'mere."  I 
pat the soft mat next to mine on the concrete. "Lie back and 
close your eyes."

I sit above you, your head between my knees, I stroke your 
temples, cradling your head in my palms, using my thumbs to 
stroke your eyelids gently pressing to release the stress.   
Using gentle pressure on your forehead, I lower your head to rest 
on my bare inner thigh.  My fingers stroke through your silken 
hair, and my nails gently scratch your scalp.  I fan your dark 
hair over my leg, marveling at the contrast between the midnight 
darkness of your locks and your perfect tan and the delicate 
paleness of my skin.

I gently stroke your lips with my fingertip, moaning softly as 
you suck them between your lips. A sigh escaped my lips as your 
mouth surrounds my two fingers. I lean over you, bending down to 
brush your lips with mine, and my moistened fingers drift down to 
brush your taut nipple.  

Your tongue searches for mine, and my lips part pressing roughly 
against yours.  My tongue snakes out, tasting your mouth, pushing 
through your wet lips. I roughly tweak your nipple with my 
fingers, feeling it harden and extend under my fingers.  I smile 
to myself and I feel, hear your sharp intake of breath.  I grasp 
your hair with my other hand, my fingers buried in your scalp.  I 
pull your head back, exposing your throat.  Separating my mouth 
from yours, I nibble at your vulnerable throat. I can feel your 
pulse under my lips.  Matching its rhythm, I begin to pull at 
your hardened nipple, rolling it between my fingers.  You moan 
slightly, and your arms stretch out, up around my hips, coming to 
rest on the sun-warmed skin of my ass.  

Your lips begin to move silently, as you struggle to form words 
through the haze I know is beginning to fill your brain.  I also 
know how strung out you are after days like this.  I know how 
much you hate being the calm one at the office, having to smooth 
things out for everyone else.  I know how hard it is for you to 
be in charge all day, taking the flack, protecting your 
underlings from the stresses from above. I know what you want, 
what you need.  But you won't get it until you're ready to ask 
for it. 

I straighten my torso, and lift myself up, throwing one leg over 
your body and straddling your chest. My breath catches in my 
throat when I feel your breasts brush against my sensitive inner 
thighs.  I release your hair and reach between my spread thighs 
with both hands, using my fingertips to tug both nipples, smiling 
as they lengthen under my pressure.

Your voice reaches my ears, almost a whimper, "Please, darling, 
please don't be easy.  Please drive this day from me."

My tongue wets my lower lip, hearing your reluctant plea.  I nod 
to you softly, knowingly.  Then, I shake my head slowly and 
whisper, "Of course.  But first..."

"Anything, love."

I rise up on my knees, pushing my shaven pussy against your 
mouth.  I grind myself against your lips.  I can feel your tongue 
reach deep into me; sucking, licking, desperate to taste my 
orgasm.  

My voice is a low growl through clenched teeth, "Make me cum, 
quickly."  

Your teeth scrape my skin, biting and nipping at my hardened 
clit.  I being to shake, and I buck my hips against you roughly, 
fucking your mouth with my dripping pussy.  Your head moves with 
each thrust, matching my tempo. The bare skin of my sex smears 
juices over your lips.  My back arches as my thighs clench around 
your head and spasms wrack my body.  My hair thrashes against my 
bare back and you reach up, pulling my tresses to arch my back 
further, forcing me harder through my orgasm.  I moan deeply.  As 
the last violent wave passes through me, I shake my head to clear 
it.  My vision sharpens again, and I look down at your face 
between my legs.  Your perfect mouth and chin are covered, 
glistening.  

"Now," I say to you fondly, "you asked for something, didn't 
you?"

I scoot backwards down your body, watching your skin glisten as 
my juices 
wipe over your taut, tanned skin.   I leave your body wet with my 
cum as my clit rubs, scrapes over your skin.  When I reach your 
wonderful feet, I stand, looking down over you, and move quickly 
around you, stopping at your head. 

Reaching down, I grasp your wrists together, quickly binding them 
with a rough length of nylon cord left over from some repairs we 
made to the pool furniture. 

I've caught you by surprise, I know, and your eyes widen when I 
secure your arms to the post of the overhanging awning.  We've 
played rough before, but I'm accustomed to you being the stronger 
one.  However, desperate times call for desperate measures, as 
they say, and you looked fairly desperate when you walked through 
the gate this afternoon.  

Your neck cranes backwards as you try to see what I have planned 
for you.  I leave your arms stretched above your body and move 
back around to your legs, smiling a slightly wicked smile.  I 
grasp your right ankle and wrap it in a long length cord, 
securing it also to a post of the patio covering.  With another 
cord, I quickly fasten your left ankle to the metal ring sunk 
into the concrete of the pool.  When we had the rings installed, 
it was to ensure that we had some way to fasten down the pool 
cover during the winter months.  I wish I had thought of them 
sooner for this alternate purpose.

Fastened so, your legs are spread obscenely wide, almost to the 
point that I know would be uncomfortable were you not flexible 
from daily yoga stretching.  As I step back, I admire your sex, 
exposed as it is to the air, exposed completely were I to invite 
the neighbors for a peek.

Your eyes are wide open, and I can tell that you're actually a 
bit frightened.  Perhaps unsure of who this person in your home 
really is?  "Hmmm," I think to myself, "interesting."

"Simone, what are you doing?"  Your voice is almost 
imperceptible, and I cock my head to hear you better.  Your 
breasts heave slightly, glistening with sweat and desire under 
the warmth of the sun.  Stretched as you are, your nipples are 
pointed to the sky, hard little nubs betraying your desire in 
spite of your unsureness.

I stand above you, my feet planted on either side of your perfect 
chest. The heat of the sun-warmed concrete under my soles travels 
up my body as I slowly lower myself until I'm squatting above 
your chest.  I place one finger over your lips and say softly, 
"I'm only doing what you asked, dear.  I've often wondered what 
it would be like to be on the other side of this position. To be 
the one wielding the strength instead of the one receiving it."

I stand, moving back until I'm standing at your feet, between 
your splayed legs, gazing down at your spread slit.  You're 
completely open to me, exposed and vulnerable.   I reach for the 
table behind us and lifting a wide leather strap.  It was meant 
to be a surprise for you, a new toy for you to wield.  "No 
matter," I think.  I can break it in just as easily as you would 
have.  

Your body begins to tremble as I run the strap over my palm, 
feeling the supple leather smooth against my hand.  Quickly, with 
a flick of my wrist, I bring it down on your inner thigh, hearing 
it crack softly against your skin.  The wide red strip that 
appear so suddenly on your skin brings a smile to my lips.  My 
other hand strokes my own inner thigh, remembering the delightful 
feel of similar welts you've raised there.

To silence your vain struggling against your bindings, I quickly 
bring the strap down over your other thigh, making a twin stripe 
on the soft flesh of your tender inner leg.  My own body shivers, 
both in sympathy for your pain and in delight with the pleasure 
of controlling you.

I let the strap dangle from my hand, loosely swinging to the 
rhythm of the music coming from the poolside speakers.  Soft 
strains of Sarah Brightman's _Il Mio Cuore Va_ drift past us, 
subduing our voices as we unconsciously match the perfect almost-
silence of her song.  The strap strokes gently between your legs, 
sending obvious tremors through your body.  I let it stroke over 
your swollen clit, gently, slowly.  My wrist snaps almost 
imperceptibly and the rough leather tip catches your pearl.  
Firmly striking, not too hard, but enough to reward myself with 
your quiet yelp.  

I need to reassure myself that you're enjoying this; that I'm not 
taking you too far on your first venture under the strap.  I bend 
my knees to dip my fingers into your pussy and I shake my head at 
the wetness forming there, watching it being to drip from your 
spread cunt.  It's starting to pool on the ground between your 
tight ass cheeks, and I know from experience that you can feel it 
heating up on the warm concrete beneath you.

Your eyes meet mine, but they're barely focused.  You've started 
to drift into that hazy place, the need has begun to fill you, 
and desire is taking over your rational thoughts.  In answer to 
your unspoken plea, I use my thumb to push against your clit, 
grinding it, pulling a loud moan from your throat.  Two fingers 
pushed roughly inside of you as my thumb continues its slow 
circles.

With my other hand, the one wielding the strap, I flick my wrist 
again, bringing the tip of the strap across your tight, hard 
nipples, leaving rough red stripes over both beautiful breasts.  

The pain obviously brings some focus back to your brain, and you 
groan.  "Please, Simone, please...don't stop..."

I pull my fingers, dripping with your juice from your pussy, and 
without pausing roughly shoving both of them into your tight ass, 
still grinding your clit with my thumb.  I pump your rosette with 
my fingers, spreading them inside of you, opening your ass to my 
hands.  I smile as I watch your writhe, knowing that with each 
pull on the ropes, they bind more tightly around your wrists and 
ankles.  

Wet with your own lust, your own juice, I add a third finger deep 
inside your tight ass hole.  The warm buttery channel opening to 
me, forced to mold around my fingers.  I spread my three fingers 
to force your tightest hole open further, twisting them until you 
remain slightly dilated when I pull my fingers from your opening.  

Despite your desire, evidenced by the juice still pouring from 
your cunt, you moan, "please, no more."

I shake my head and softly whisper, "Oh no, dear, that's not in 
the play.  I believe your words were, 'anything, love.'  You know 
that I take things very literally."  A smile forms on my lips as 
your body relaxes just slightly, I know you've given yourself 
over to me.  I use my palm to slap your swollen, hard clit, 
hearing my strike echo.

I pivot and bend over to loosen the rope around your ankles, 
adding some slack to the cord.  Your lips silently mouth a 'thank 
you,' but they clench shut as I swiftly wrap the bindings around 
your knees, pulling them up to your chest.  I can tell you're 
debating whether or not to protest this change, but I move 
quickly, before you can formulate the complaint forming in your 
mind.  I use additional lengths of cord around your knees, 
binding them up and spread, the rope extending to your wrists, 
leaving you helpless on your back with you knees spread wide.   

I stand and return to the table, taking from it a large double-
headed dildo.  It's a favorite of yours, I know, but not normally 
from this vantagepoint. Pausing over you, I slowly work one end 
into my dripping pussy, then I kneel between your spread legs and 
finger your open asshole.  A touch of cool gel over your opening, 
then forced deep into your hole, still dilated from my fingers.  
I place the huge tip of the dildo at your opening and start to 
push.  I can feel the resistance of your tight muscle ring as the 
dildo is forced deeper into my own aching pussy.  Your groan 
fills my ears as your body begins to shake.  Through half-closed 
eyes I can see your head slowly thrashing as I push, forcing the 
huge fake-cock through your hole.  It's too big for you, I know.  
You're not usually the recipient of anal activity when we're 
together, but I also know that you'll adapt.  You're strong.

The vision of your ass blooming around the rubber cock head is 
magical.  My head begins to spin with the waves of orgasm, and I 
begin to moan as your resistance fucks the cock deeper into my 
wanting, craving pussy.  Slowly, pushing, until, with an audible 
"pop" the head is through the tight, formerly resistant muscle.  

Your scream surrounds us, but I can hear that it's a scream of 
release, of pleasure.  I can feel your legs strain against the 
cords, fighting to straighten; your body struggling against the 
intrusion, until you finally relax, giving in completely to me.  
I begin to thrust faster, taking myself to the edge of my own 
orgasm, holding myself there, denying my own pleasure until you 
can travel there with me.  My fingers begin to dance over your 
rock-hard clit, pulling you along with me, drawing the orgasm 
from your sore, tired, and now-wounded body.  Your thighs clench, 
and I can see the bulge of your jaw as your body tenses, 
stiffens.  Your shudders cause the dildo to vibrate within me, 
and I'm forced over the edge.  My vision blurs until I'm aware 
only of your cries of pleasure mingling with my own.

It's an eternity before the world returns, and even then it comes 
back in pieces.  The gentle lapping of the water against the 
tile-lined pool side is what finally draws me back to our 
reality.  I look down at you, your body slack, spent, and I 
slowly draw the monstrous dildo from your ass.  As it pulls from 
your body, I lean over you to kiss your perfect lips.  I whisper 
into your mouth.

"Now, dearest, tell me about your day."

<1st attachment end>


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