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Message-ID: <29016asstr$982905005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Dana Most" <danadmost@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} THREE IN THE FRONT SEAT {Dana Most} (MFF cons)
Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2001 00:10:05 -0500
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This is the second (new) story I've ever submitted on the web.

Hope you like it.
_________________________________________________________________
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<1st attachment, "Three In The Front Seat.txt" begin>

THREE IN THE FRONT SEAT Copyright Dana Most 2001

THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT. ANY REPRODUCTIONS,
ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR
IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED.

   "May I ask you to do something?"
   That was the sort of pointless question that always got me going.
The only way to proceed was to listen anyway, so why ask?  "Okay," I
answered, trying to convey my total lack of interest.
   The desk clerk seemed unaffected by my attitude.  He plunged on,
"That young lady in the lounge has just been abandoned by the asshole
who promised her a ride.  If you're heading for the city, perhaps you
could help her out?  I'd really appreciate it."
   I looked in the direction his chin had pointed and saw a very healthy
looking young woman, someone I would never have hesitated to
accommodate--before I got married.
"I'll have to see what my wife says, but it's alright with me."  I
hated to think what my wife would say, it seemed like she always said
exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear.
   "And your wife . . ?" the clerk continued, once again pushing my
annoyance button.
   "My wife," I answered with no show of annoyance, "is finishing up
getting dressed;  she'll be down with the room key in however long she's
gonna need.
   "I'll go talk to the young lady and find out what her story is."
   I got past her name, Christine, and her destination, along our way,
when my wife showed up.  "Hello Joan," I said, indicating annoyance at
the interruption, "the desk clerk said this young woman was stranded
and needed a lift."
   "I gathered that," she answered, reflecting my annoyance, "if she
wants to ride with us, she's welcome.
   "At least I'll have someone to talk to."
   "Well, thank you, Joan and umm . . Mike, I'll keep my head down and
stay out of the line of fire."
   My wife developed a crooked grin at the possible sexual reference.
The young woman was the kind of passenger men would drive out of their
way to accommodate.  And that was exactly her problem.
   Christine had sold her car and was without wheels when the school
break started.  One of the school nerds offered a ride which she
accepted without checking references.  When they had to overnight at the
motel, she assumed she could keep him under control, so they split the
cost of a room.  Bad assumption.  He took a shower first and when she
finished hers, there he was on his bed, with all of his erect nakedness
on display.  "Cover that thing up!" she'd told him, trying to keep it
light, but his cock was in control and he informed her she would either
come across, or find another ride.  His ultimatum failed, as far as he
was concerned, and he took off.
   That was our good fortune.  Chris, on close inspection, was more than
healthy looking, she was almost beautiful.  A nordic type, long blonde
hair, slim with long, long legs, tits that were perfect mouthfuls, and a
face that made you want to stare at her.
   All in all, a major stroke of good fortune for us.  She's already got
my wife and I to agree on something, I would rather talk to Christine
than my wife, any day.  "I see your fashion sense id the same as
ours," I said to her.
   "You mean my sweats?  Yeah.  Loose clothing feels a lot more
comfortable on long rides; elastic waistbands don't bite into your
waist."
   "Yeah, that's what I mean.  That's about the only thing Joan and I
agree on."
   "Mike!" my wife shrieked at me, "You don't need to jump on every
opportunity to complain about your marriage.  We can settle that between
ourselves--and our lawyers--without bothering strangers with it."

   With that, we moved our luggage to our car, where Christine
discovered the back seat was loaded and we'd all have to ride in front.
"Why don't you sit in the middle," Joan asked, "that way you'll be
more comfortable."
   "That way we'll all be more comfortable," I agreed.
   "Alright," Christine agreed, and we all got in the car.  Once we
were back on the road, Chris spoke again.  "Do you two mind if I make a
suggestion?"
   "No.  Go ahead," I answered.
   "Why don't you two talk to me, and I'll translate, so we don't wind
up killing each other.
   "It seems like you're both about to explode.   How long have you two
been going at it?"
   The question surprised me, and while I was thinking about the answer,
my wife told her.  "Almost a year."
   "Yeah," I confirmed, "That's about right."
   "Well stop it for awhile.  Make believe you're alone in the car with
me.  How's that?"

   And that's how we proceeded.  We talked for hours, Christine talking
to me, and Christine talking to Joan.  What was really strange, was I
began to like Joan more as she talked about herself; it even seemed she
like me a little, from the way she talked about me.  Twice, the women
offered to take turn driving, but I said I was happy so they let me.
Along about the fourth hour since we left the motel, I noticed I had an
erection sprouting and I finally figured out the cause.  "Joan!" I
said in mock shock, " Chris has her hand on my thigh and she's rubbing
me up and down."
   My wife's answer was friendly and amused, it was magic that we'd
started talking again.  "Do you need to be rescued?"
   "No.  I like it.  What should I do?"
   "Just enjoy yourself.  She's doing the same thing to me."  And when
I glanced over there I could see she was telling the truth.
   Now her touch became even more familiar as her thumb began rubbing my
cock.  Poor cock.  Pushing up and trying to get out as this temptress
kept teasing it back into life.  "Dear.  My cock is getting too big.
What should I do?"
   When I didn't get an answer, I looked and my wife had a hand in her
pants.  She was slumping down in her seat and I could hear how loud she
was breathing.  "The hell with it!"  I said, so I let the wheel go so
I could pull my pants down to my thighs.  Boy!  It felt good, letting my
engorged cock stretch out.
   Christine, bless her beautiful heart, was not saying a word.  She was
doing something with Joan's pussy that had her acting crazy, and she
grabbed hold of my cock and began wanking it up and down.
   Two can play that game. I took my left arm an slid it under
Christine's sweatshirt, around her slim body, and gingerly fondled her
right breast.  Heaven.  Such a beautiful woman, and she was letting me.
So that's how we proceeded down the road, one of her hands in my wife's
crotch, the other one fondling my cock, and me, loving it all, playing
with a perfect tit.
   "Oh.  Oh.  Oh my god!  Here I come.  I'm coming, I'm coming, don't
stop it."  Joan was screaming and panting and clutching my hand through
the shirt, as it continued fondling the tit.  "Oooooh."
   And then she was just collapsed in her seat, panting like she'd
finished her marathon.
   A gentle laughter emerged from Christine, the first sounds she'd
uttered in miles.  "That was fun," she said.
   "Are you an angel?"  I asked.
   "Do I look like one?"
   "Yes.  Very much."
   "Well.  Maybe I am.  But it's news to me too."  She was looking at
me, her right hand had been retrieved from its mission, and she was
looking with amusement at me.  Suddenly, she leaned over my lap to
become angelic again.
   First I could feel her breath, then her hair, tickling me.  She
kissed the tip of my cock with a quick sisterly peck.
   Then she took my breath away.  Her closed lips began pushing down as
the tip of her tongue followed.  I could feel my cock entering this
tight, warm, moist opening.  Then deeper, deeper, as her tongue began
caressing the underside of my cock.  "There's a rest are coming.  I'm
gonna pull off.  Please don't stop what you're doing."  She hadn't even
finished the instroke and already she'd profoundly affected my
breathing.
   It was a large rest area; we pulled into the most remote parking spot
there, and as I turned off the engine and leaned back, Chris reached a
hand around to grasp the base of my cock.  What a beautiful heaven my
body had traveled to.
   The hand that was on her breast moved down into her pants, it
traveled across her buttocks, slid down the valley between the, and
tickled her anus before reaching and clutching her pussy.  It was so
wet, so inviting, so I slipped a finger in.
   I could feel her sweatpants sliding down her body.  Joan was at work.
I could feel her head as it moved up between Christine's legs.  Down on
the floor, Joan was doing a job on Chris, and my hand, in the middle,
was sometimes caressing Joan.
   Now my blowjob was in full swing.  Sometimes her hand held me still
as her mouth took me in and let me out, sometimes her mouth stopped
while her hand jerked up and down.  But what started in perfect rhythm
became staccato.  I could feel tremors in her stomach, hips twisting,
moans blowing past my penis.  Joan was dividing Christine's attention,
between the job at hand and the job being done on her.
   The suspense was working on me. "Would I come first or would she?"
I was jealous of Chris, I wanted to have my orgasm.  And almost as if
she knew I was worried, the tempo of the jerking increased.  The suction
and tongue-diddling, the rhythm of her mouth, . . until my cock gushed
an instant before she lost it.
   She stopped.  She was gurgling.  She was grabbing my wife's head and
pulling.  My wife must've plunged her tongue in a frantic final effort.
"Owww," Chris was shouting, "Oh good.  Oh good.  Oh Thank you.  Thank
you."  And a huge expiration of breath.
   Christine and I lay there, spent, as Joan lifted her head with chin
dripping.

   We lay there for what must have been fifteen minutes.
   "I wanta do some more.  Can we?"  Joan's question was like a
child's.
   "Me too!  Me Too!" Chris echoed.
   "Now children," I answered, going along with their game, "We will
play some more.  But first you must tell me how.
   "Do you want to go to a motel?"
   "No daddy," Chris answered, "Please can we do it in the car?
Please?  Please?"
   "Yes, me too,"  from Joan.  "I wanta do it in the car.  Can we?
Please sir?"
   "Alright, children.  But how?
   "Do you have any ideas?"
   "Well, when your thingie is working again--  Is it working?"  Joan
was more and more like the woman I married, it was amazing how soon I
started loving her.
   "As much as I wish it was ready, it'll take a while to recover."

   We sat there a few minutes more, talking about our lives, until Joan
interrupted.  "Here's what I think.  Christine really deserves it
because she's been so nice, so . . .  I know I can wake your little man
up with some cock-sucking, then you fuck her while she eats me out.
That's what we'll do!"
   "Once again," and I hate to be the practical one, "how do we
manage all that in the front seat of a car?"
   "Let me tell him!" Chris chimed in.  "First.  You sit with your
back to the door while your wife stretches out on her stomach to suck
you off.  Meanwhile I'll lay, stomach down, on top of her and lick her
asshole, . . maybe play with her pussy. You can diddle my bottom
whenever you want too."  She paused to consider the next step.
   "Then I lie down on my stomach while you fuck me, and Joan sits with
her back to the other door while I eat her out."  It was a triumph of
positioning, so Joan and I applauded.
   "Thank you, thank you, it was nothing."
   "Are you ready?" Joan asked.
   I was, and as I got into position I reflected on how nice it was to
have my wife suck my cock.  Christine's bottom presented itself, too far
out of reach to lick.  So with cock in Joan's mouth, Christine's tongue
in Joan's anus, and fingers exploring every which way into whatever
offered orifices, we proceeded to the next stage.  Joan's mouth wasn't
as effective as Christine's in getting me off, but she was only after
arousal so my cock experienced the benefit.
   Now, I was ready and we shifted again.  My stiff cock slid easily
into Christine's wet cunt, while Christine's clever tongue went to work
on my wife's eager pussy.  The friction was sublime as my cock slid in
and out.  I could feel the muscles in her vagina milking my engorged
penis.  I could see Joan's heavy breathing build and build.  It took a
little longer before I ejaculated, it was a little more painful, but it
was an oh so satisfying completion.  Chris continued, and  Joan climaxed
a moment after I did.
   For the next two or three minutes, three satisfied orgiasts panted
heavily in the front seat.  No one had enough energy to even utter a
"Wow!".  Then, in sadness, I observed "I guess it's over now,  I
couldn't come up with one more seed."  Except for heavy breathing,
silence followed.
   But amazingly, Christine wasn't finished.  "No!  Before we go, I
want to watch one more sex act.  I want to see you and Joan fuck in
plain old missionary position."
   "How come?"  I asked.  Then, realizing what I'd said, we all broke
up laughing at the double entendre.
   As the laughter petered out, Christine answered, "How come, indeed,
let me count the ways:
   "One," she said, "You don't have to come,  I just want to watch
you two loving face to face.
   "Two.  Missionary position . ., as much as it's not great for
stroking--which was true, since Joan and I almost never fucked that
way--it's the most intimate position for lovemaking."
   "We don't have to come?  How come?" I asked, which provoked another
two minutes of laughter.  "I mean . . wait a minute,  . . I mean why
don't we have to come?"
   "I just want to watch you two making love," Christine answered, "I
know your cock is wilted but it would be fun.  What about it?  I'll make
sure you're hard."
   "Joan?" I asked, showing I was willing.
   "Okay with me.  What do we do?"
   "You just stretch out on your back and I'll get on top."  Somewhere
along the way, I couldn't remember when, all of us had got rid of our
clothes.
   "And I'll be on the floor, fondling you two."  There wasn't much of
a choice for Christine.  With us filling the seat, the only place she
would fit was the floor, . . even then, she had to lean over us, because
. . well, because.
   So that's how we began, Joan flattened out, and me lying on top,
trying to ease my weight by lifting with knees and elbows.  My limp dick
lay in the crack of Joan's pussy, and I imagined "limp" would describe
our experience.
   Chris leaned in to kiss Joan, and I could tell it was full of
passion.  Her hands were fondling Joan's breasts, then sliding down to
fondle genitalia.  She put her hands on my buttocks and poked into my
anus; my erection was starting to rise.  Then she planted a big, wet
kiss on me, fully equipped with tongue.  My cock reached out at full
attention.
   This woman sure had a way with her.
   As Joan and I shifted our bodies, Chris grabbed my cock to guide it
into position.  Joan, still wet, sighed happily as I slid in and our
bellies touched.  "Chris is fondling my balls," I told her.
   "Good!  Why don't we tell each other what she's up to.  She must
have let go by now because she stuck her finger in my ass."
   I began slow, even strokes, all the way in, pause, then almost all
the way out.  With the need to ejaculate gone, it was much more
enjoyable, and I could play with Joan as we fucked.  I rubbed our
bellies together, I engaged her in long, tongue searching, kissing, I
twitched my cock when it was deep inside her, and cock-diddled her labia
majora.  It was so much fun, playing with my wife, I wanted to love her
forever.
   And she responded.  Theway she looked at me, it was a way of looking
I'd missed, and never realised until now.  She ran her hands all over
me, and pulled my mouth onto hers.  I could feel the muscles in her cunt
caressing my cock.  Feel her cunt squeezing and pulling as my cock laid
waiting for her.  That was more too.  The sensation I got when I would
stop and she would take over love-making.
   Christine was there, hovering over us, guarding and guiding our love-
making.  She would, once in awhile, engage one or the other in long
drawn-out kissing.  She caressed my balls, and stuck her hand between
us; she'd diddle Joan's clit, she'd run her finger in alongside my cock,
and she'd toy with Joan's and my anus.
   I never thought of an orgy this way.  I never imagined it as being
about love.  Never thought of it as bringing couples together.  It was a
deeply spiritual experience, for both of us; I could tell by the love in
Joan's eyes.
   And in spite of all this loving, despite looking into eyes and
remembering our life together, despite the original idea we were not
reaching for orgasm, my cock began to climax and I felt an ejaculation
on its way.  "Oh my god, I'm going to come," I told them, with gism
only seconds away.
   "Me too!" said Joan in a panting voice, "I'm coming too.  Oh my
god, I'm coming too."
   It was the first time in our life.  We'd never orgasmed
simultaneously.  And the fact we'd done it without trying made it all
that much more miraculous.  As we came I fell down fully on top of Joan,
and we kissed and held each other for moments.  Then I pulled Chris over
and kissed her as tenderly as I was able.  Joan did too; she put her
hand behind Christine's head and kissed her profoundly and with passion.

   For the first time in my life, I fully understood "anti-climax."
We rode the rest of the way in near silence, this time I sat next to
Joan as she drove.  When we got to the address Christine gave us, we
exchanged numbers and swore we'd all stay in touch.  But as much as we
tried, we could never find her again.

   THE END


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