Message-ID: <40845asstr$1045084204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Desdmona22@aol.com
X-Original-Message-ID: <ab.2957a291.2b7ba84b@aol.com>
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 12 Feb 2003 08:38:19 EST
Subject: {ASSM} RP/POV: Chocolate Covered Cherries by Desdmona (MF cheat anal)
Date: Wed, 12 Feb 2003 16:10:04 -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/Year2003/40845>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, dennyw


The following story contains graphic depictions of sex. If  you're not 
suppose to be reading this, then don't.

I previously posted this story written from first person POV. This posting is 
in third person POV, I'd be interested in knowing which POV readers liked 
best.

***************************************
Chocolate Covered Cherries: A Valentine Story
(MF cheat anal)
By Desdmona
Copyright February 2003


In sixth grade on Valentine's Day, Ivy got a valentine from
Ritson Smart. Only it wasn't just a valentine, it also had a
stick of gum, Fruity Stripes--the cherry one. Kids weren't
allowed to chew gum at school, so Ivy had to put it away for
later. When it came time to compare the valentines, all the girls
sneaked to a hidden alcove in the bathroom. They called it the
Bippy Corner. Whenever there was something special to share,
they would cram themselves in. It was important to be one of
the first to the bathroom to get the best spot.

That February fourteenth, as the girls huddled in the Bippy Corner,
they learned that Curt Turner had given everyone heart candies
that said things like, "Be Mine," "Yes Dear," or "True
Love." And Matt Hodapp had given Kim Ferguson an adult
valentine, not one from the department store packs, but a
card store valentine. All the girls ooh'd and ahh'd and felt 
twinges of jealousy even though it wasn't much of a surprise.
Two weeks before, at morning recess, Matt and Kim had
professed their liking for each other.

When it was Ivy's turn to share, Ivy hesitated. She wasn't sure how
a red-striped stick of gum would compare to a fancy card
from Hallmark. But the girls crooned their encouragement,
and Ivy pulled out the stick of gum. There was a moment of
silence, a reverent moment like they'd just unearthed the
Shroud of Turin. And then the chatter started.

"No one else got gum."

"Ritson must like you."

"Do you like him?"

And from Kim: "It's just a stick of gum, it's not even the
whole pack."

Of course Kim was right, and everyone was silent again until
Terri Fisher said, "Yeah, but it's the red piece. Everyone
knows the red piece is the best one."

Terri Fisher had been Ivy's best friend for two months, ever
since they discovered they were the only two girls brave enough
to do the flip-over move on the horizontal monkey bars. It
was a scary move when you were eleven. You had to trust your
arms would be strong enough to hold you. You laid flat on
the top of the bar, reached under, grabbed the bars your
belly rested on, and then rolled off the bars in a sort of
somersault move while still holding the bars. It wasn't
considered successful unless you could hang with your feet
dangling above the ground for five seconds after the flip.

And in the bathroom that day, Terri Fisher proved once again
how brave she could be. It was very risky to go against
anyone who had a two-week relationship going. Kim had been
the heroine, the girl they all wished they could be, for more
than a week. But Terri had faced up to her.

Later, when they were back in class, Ivy couldn't help but
glance at Ritson. He looked the same as always--blond shaggy
hair, brown eyes, and two light brown moles on his left
cheek--but suddenly he was the cutest boy in the whole
world.

He caught Ivy looking at him, and Ivy thought she would die
sitting right there in Mrs. Wisecup's class. Her cheeks
burned and her sweaty palms could barely hold a pencil. And
then he smiled. Not a huge show-all-your-teeth-smile but a
half-smile that still caused his eyes to crinkle. Ivy's belly
shuddered like she'd just gone over the hill of a roller
coaster.

At afternoon recess, Terri Fisher and Ivy were back atop the
monkey bar. They elaborated on the flip-over move by adding a
song. "On a high tin roof Del Gato sat..." When the song
called for the cat, Del Gato, to tumble off the high tin
roof, Terri and Ivy would do the flip-overs. They didn't have a
huge audience, but a few kids stood around, and they performed
for them.

As they were belting out, "meow meow meow" for the third time,
a group of girls, led by Kim Ferguson (Kim was the leader in
most ranks) marched to the monkey bars.

"Ritson Smart likes you." This came from Kim, only she said
it in a way that led you to believe it wasn't a happy
proclamation.

Ivy wanted to ignore her, but then she remembered how her belly
felt in class when Ritson smiled at her, sort of like doing a
flip-over. Ivy couldn't resist answering.

"How do you know?"

Kim looked around. Ivy was sure it was to see she had
everyone's attention before proceeding. When she was
satisfied, she said, "Because I asked him."

The crowd gasped. Kim Ferguson had just done something no
one had dared to do before. That kind of information was
saved for secret notes or second hand news from other boys.
But Ivy wasn't impressed. She was embarrassed. Now instead of
covert glances in a classroom, Ritson and Ivy would be placed
under the tightest scrutiny. Boys would watch Ritson. Girls
would watch Ivy. And all to see if either of them gave away
some hint of affection. And while her heart screamed, "He
likes me!" the unwelcome attention and embarrassment made Ivy
say "So?"

Kim harrumphed and then turned, with gang in tow and went
straight to Ritson, who was playing football with the boys.

Terri howled out the next line, "He went there to read a
letter, meow meow meow, where the reading light was better,
meow meow meow..."

The few kids that had been watching the performance drifted
away until it was just Terri and Ivy for the flip-over
finale.

When recess was over and they were lining up to go back
inside, Ivy stole a glance at Ritson. He looked at her for a
brief second and then quickly looked away. No smile. No
crinkly eyes. Two days later, Kim Ferguson and Matt Hodapp
broke up because Kim had a new boyfriend: Ritson Smart.

* * *

When Ivy was seventeen and Valentine's Day rolled around, she
had a steady boyfriend, Woody Hall. Woody and Ivy were both in
the High School band. He was a senior and played drum. Ivy was
a junior and played clarinet.

Their relationship had started on a Friday night in October. The
band was traveling to an away football game, and Ivy was
running late. She'd parked her car and sprinted to the bus. Mr.
Foiles was standing at the top of the bus steps as Ivy hurried
to climb aboard. He waited until Ivy was standing near him and then yelled.

"It's very inconsiderate of you to keep everyone waiting!"

Ivy wanted to find a seat and sink into oblivion, so she slumped
into the first available spot. Woody Hall was the other
occupant. At first, they sat mute, afraid to draw more
attention their way. But by the time ten minutes passed, the
bus still hadn't moved, and conversations popped up all over.
Woody leaned over and whispered.

"Mr. Foiles is such an old fogy."

And Ivy smiled.

Woody's shoulder touched Ivy's for the entire trip, and she
learned to love the combined smell of Brute cologne and
Dentyne gum.

After the game, when it came time to load back onto the bus,
Woody asked Ivy if she would sit next to him on the way home. She
hurried to tell Terri Fisher, and they both giggled with
excitement. His shoulder didn't lean against her on the
return trip and his Brute had been washed away by the cool
night breeze, but twice Woody's thigh bumped against Ivy's,
and by the third time, he didn't bother to move it away.

Because Woody and Ivy were in different grades, they didn't see
much of each other during school hours. But every Friday they
sat together on the bus or in the stands at the football
game. At one especially close game, the mighty Bucs scored a
late quarter touchdown that gave them the lead. The bleachers
were filled with hundreds of ecstatic fans. Woody and Ivy were
among them. In the thrill of the excitement, Woody hugged Ivy to him 
and kissed her. His lips were dry and cold, and they only touched Ivy's
for milliseconds, but she was warm the rest of the night.

When football season was over, Woody and Ivy still spent
Friday nights together at the movies, or the arcade. Ivy
played Centipede; Woody played foosball. Or they'd stay at Ivy's
house with her parents and watch "The Odd Couple" and "Love
American Style." When they were alone, Woody would hold Ivy's
hand and kiss her over and over--warm, moist kisses that 
were nothing like the kiss at the football game.

On Valentine's Day, Woody made special plans for dinner. When he picked
Ivy up, he was dressed in gray corduroy Levi's and a buttoned-
down shirt that was open at the collar. He handed Ivy a heart-
shaped box full of chocolate covered mints, creams, and
cherries and told her how much he liked her burgundy wrap-
around dress. Ivy tipped up to kiss him above his open collar
and inhaled the woodsy smell of Brute.

Dinner was two towns away at the Carousel. The restaurant
set high atop a hotel and revolved, so the view during their
meal alternated from city lights to distant mountains. There
was no menu. Instead, the waiter recited the selections.
When he'd finished, Ivy wasn't sure what to order. The waiter resented
Ivy's hesitation and brusquely told her they didn't serve
hotdogs. Ivy ordered shrimp.

Woody said he wished they were old enough to order wine, but Ivy
wasn't disappointed. Being alone with Woody in a different
city and sharing the magnificent view with him was
intoxicating enough.

That night when Woody parked in front of Ivy's house, his
kisses turned hot. His hands fumbled over her body and when
he first touched her breast, Ivy shivered in shock. Everything
seemed to stop, like someone had lifted the arm of the
phonograph. Their lips were still together, but their tongues
didn't move. And neither did his hand. When Ivy tried to
breathe, her breast pushed against Woody's hand, heavy and
warm. He finally squeezed, and Ivy moaned. The record
started playing again. He squeezed harder, and their tongues
tried to get deeper. Ivy's heart pounded so hard, she was sure
Woody could feel it beneath his hand.

By the time the porch light flashed on, Woody had worked his
way inside the vee of Ivy's dress and was teasing the soft
cotton of her bra. They separated fast. Flustered, Ivy jumped 
out of the car and forgot to say, "Goodnight." Ivy's dad didn't 
say a word, and Ivy immediately went to her room. She lay in
bed, thinking of Woody and how he had touched her. 
She fumbled with her breast, hoping to evoke the same feeling 
as Woody's hand.

The annual Sadie Hawkins celebration was the following week
at school. Even though it wasn't a leap year, the school
liked celebrating. It was nearly spring, and spring was a time for
new beginnings--a time when a girl got the chance to ask out
a boy, and by custom, he couldn't say no. So it became a
tradition at Mercer High to celebrate Sadie Hawkins even if
there wasn't a February twenty-ninth.

Ivy thought for a long time before she decided how she would ask
Woody. Instead of asking him outright, she'd send him a note.
The note was childish, but it was meant to be.

Woody Hall
Will you go to the Sadie Hawkins Dance with me?
Circle Yes.

She slipped the note into Woody's locker between second period
chemistry and third period algebra. Ivy knew Woody would be
going to his locker right after fourth period.

By seventh period, she still hadn't got the note back. She
didn't worry too much. But when Woody wasn't waiting for her
after school, her heart did a flip-flop. He'd met her every
day since the football season.

At home, when Ivy was watching Brady Bunch reruns, the phone
rang. Her mother picked up and seconds later yelled, "It's
Woody." Ivy should have felt relief, but all she felt was dread.
Her mouth was dry, dry and cold like a chilly October night.

"I didn't know how to tell you," Woody said. He'd already been
asked to the dance. Kim Ferguson and Woody shared third year
Spanish fifth period. And Kim had asked Woody in front of the whole
class. She'd made the request speaking in Spanish. Everyone
was impressed, especially the teacher. Apparently, Kim
really knew how to roll her R's.

By the night of the dance, Ivy had spent hours on the
phone with Terri, commiserating. They tried to find a reason why
Woody hadn't told Kim he'd already been asked. They failed. Ivy
didn't bother to ask anyone else. She didn't want to dance
with anyone but Woody. So she sat home and ate stale chocolate-
covered cherries and light butter creams, and waited for
Terri to call her when she got home.

Kim Ferguson dated Woody Hall until he went off to Berkeley
in the fall.

* * *

In her senior year of college, as Valentine's Day approached,
Ivy didn't have a date. She didn't have a date because Alex, the
man she'd been seeing, was married. And Valentine's Day was
one of those days he saved for his wife.

He assuaged Ivy's disappointment by asking her to share the
weekend before Valentine's Day with him. His wife was going
out of town. He tempted Ivy with pleas like, "Wouldn't it be
wonderful to wake up together?" and "I just want to spend
time with you without having to worry." Ivy let him convince
her.

Ivy was still wondering if she'd made the right decision when he
pulled her into his bedroom. The frilly linens must have been 
his wife's touch. Initially, Ivy thought he'd
meant they would spend the weekend at a hotel, or maybe at her
apartment, but Alex needed to stay home in case his wife
called. Ivy felt almost a wicked delight in the deception-
-parking her car a block away, sneaking into his house after
dark, fingering all the things in the house that were Alex's wife's.
Maybe if there had been children, Ivy would have made
different choices like never pursuing Alex in the first
place or not agreeing to this weekend. But it was just Alex
and his wife.

They were adults. Alex wanted Ivy. And Ivy wanted him.

The room was already prepared. Candles flickered and cast
shadowy dancing demons on the wall. The floral comforter was
folded neatly at the foot of the bed, and crisp, white
sheets were adorned with rose petals. Alex had put together
a perfect bed for sin.

They weren't new to each other, so stripping was less a
seduction and more an act of eagerness. But though Alex was
hungry, he started gently. He smoothed back Ivy's hair and
cupped her face. His fuzzy chest hair tickled Ivy's nipples as
he leaned in again and again to dust butterfly kisses on her
cheeks, her eyes, across her nose, and finally to her lips.

He tasted of mint and smelled of aftershave--something
expensive that was more allusive than distinct. He caressed
Ivy's neck, her shoulders, and down her arms, little pets that
were neither hurried nor firm. He licked along her lips,
first the top lip and then the bottom lip. He nibbled and
sucked like a baby bird, impatient but soft.

He slipped his tongue into Ivy's mouth and it tangled with hers.
Their lips, wet and slippery, glided together, and their hungry
mouths sucked. His penis lurched hard against her, dotting her
with tiny beads of his moisture.

He broke the kiss, stepped back, and reached for Ivy's hand.
"Come with me," he said, and he pulled her along.

He sat on the edge of the bed and opened his legs so Ivy could
wedge between them. Ivy leaned closer and his mouth latched
onto one nipple while his thumb made circles on the other. A
warm rush of pleasure rushed through her, spreading out from
her breasts and sweeping between her thighs. She locked her
fingers in his shiny, blond hair and pulled him closer until
his entire mouth was full from her breast. He sucked and
licked and laved her nipple, her areola, and all the flesh
around them. His relentless fingers kneaded and squeezed her
other breast until Ivy couldn't stand the waiting.

"I want you in me," she told him.

Alex released her breasts and his cock rose between them, hard
and erect. He grabbed the base and made long, slow strokes
up over his shiny head and down over the taut skin of his
shaft. He lay flat on his back with his legs still touching
the floor. Ivy deliberately slid along his thigh, smashing
herself against its mass. He still held his penis tight
and Ivy slid right down on it. Their bodies slapped together
with the fit.

He grabbed her ass and worked his fingers toward the crevice.
The closer he got to the rosebud of her anus, the more Ivy
pushed against him. She used his chest for leverage, digging
her nails in deep, riding him feverishly. She flexed her inner
muscles to tighten around his cock, milking its length. Her
breasts bounced viciously above his face as she ground her clit
against his pubis.

When Ivy was about to come, Alex overpowered her and slung
her to the bed. His penis popped out--angry, red, and wet. He
slapped Ivy's legs apart and climbed between them. He spread her
pussy open and shoved two fingers inside, burrowing until he
was as far as he could get, and then he wiggled them like little worms.
spreading and stretching and tormenting her cunt. He pulled
his fingers out and slid along the slit, seeking her asshole.
He teased the rim, and her sphincter contracted. And then one
slippery finger found its way inside, past the rim, past the
sphincter, and all the way in. At first, he held it
perfectly still and then began to wiggle just as he had done
in Ivy's pussy. He wiggled until Ivy wanted to beg. Until Ivy did
beg, "Please, please."

He pulled his finger out and sluiced upward, bathing all his
fingers in her cream. When his fingers were oily and
slippery, he wrapped them around his cock and penetrated her.
A quick jab followed by excruciatingly slow strokes. Ivy
locked her feet around his waist and squeezed him tight. She
clawed at his arms, and he slammed harder, faster, until they
were one manic animal struggling together for release.

When release came, it came for both of them.

Alex fell to Ivy's side face down. His breathing was ragged and
his hair was matted to his scalp. Ivy trembled with tiny
aftershocks that continued to vibrate inside her.

"God, you're a fantastic fuck," he said. Minutes later he
was softly snoring.

Ivy was wired with crazy energy. She hopped up from the bed and
went to the bathroom. She found a washrag in a closet that was
full of feminine toiletries: tampons, perfumes, powders, and
lotions. Faced with evidence of Alex's wife, Ivy knew what she
had to do. She tip-toed back into the bedroom.

She couldn't spend the night with Alex, and she couldn't wake up
with him in the morning. She might have felt sorry for him if
he hadn't entered into infidelity so easily. Ivy quickly
dressed and gathered her things. Alex still slept.

Ivy opened one dresser drawer and another until she found the
one that she wanted, and in it she placed a small red box with a
pink chiffon heart on its lid. A Valentine's Day gift: one
stick of fruity cherry striped gum, two chocolate covered
cherries, and a note that said, "I hope you'll always
remember me!"

When Ivy got home, she called Terri.

"I tucked it in Kim's panty drawer, right where she'll find
it," she told Terri. "I might have felt a pang of regret, except Kim has 
hated me
all my life. At least now she has a reason."
<1st attachment begin>

<HTML removed pursuant to http://assm.asstr-mirror.org/erotica/assm/faq.html#policy>
<1st attachment end>

----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
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> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}|
|Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org>      |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+