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Message-ID: <41426asstr$1048414202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Bluepen <bluepen43@yahoo.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Sunny Submits (MF,, light BDSM, ROM??)
Date: Sun, 23 Mar 2003 05:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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  Sunny slipped out of her dress, bra and panties and stepped into
the shower, taking her time.  Her lover was not due to arrive for
a while and she wanted him to have her in the most pristine
condition.  She scrubbed her generous tits, her belly and her
round, womanly ass, paying special attention to her privates,
stroking herself just enough to get a tingle and start lubing
before stopping.  Her long, blond hair was next.  Finally, she
stepped out and dried with a large, fluffy towel. 
  Her circumstances were not the best, she knew, but at least she
had a lover; a caring, passionate lover.  The apartment was small
and not well maintained, but she had decorated it with her
limited funds and made it light and airy, if not a little on the
sexy side.  Her bed was a large queen that almost filled the
small room, but provided what she and her lover needed.   Two red
light bulbs were in the two wall-mounted lamps and the shades
completely shut out the light.  The perfume was some she had
purchased at a garage sale, but was expensive and smelled very
good.  She used only a tiny bit.  No deodorant or powders,
though, as she wanted to be as natural as she could; he had told
her he liked her natural musk, her scents.  Her hair brushed, she
put on her silky robe, an extravagance he had bought her, and
went to get the wine out of the refrigerator.  She opened it as
he had taught her and put it with the two dime store wine glasses
on the counter.  The place was immaculate, if shabby, and the
lights low as he knocked on the door. 
  She opened it and smiled at him.  Sunny was thirty, single and
poor, with limited prospects.  There were probably prettier and
skinnier girls around, but none who wanted to please as much as
she did.  He grinned back wolfishly and handed her a bouquet of
carnations. 
  "Oh, you didn't have to," she said.
  "A gentleman never calls without flowers, my mother always
said," he returned.  He was over forty, about forty-five she
thought, with a beard and strong hands, deep blue eyes and a
quick smile.  It had been that smile that had drawn her to him at
work.  He would come in and have lunch alone about once a week;
he wore a wedding band, but she did not care.  One day he had
brought her a pound of good coffee, something he had always told
her the place needed to use.  He liked the food, he said, but the
coffee was awful.  She had found it funny and they had talked. 
He said it was for her and she should take it home and make
herself some.  She had and she had to agree with him, the coffee
at work was awful.
  The next week it was a card, something he said she should not
open until she got home.  In it was a hundred in cash and a note:
"Get yourself something sexy that I can imagine you in."
  She had been floored, but had gotten herself some underwear and
taken a picture of herself in it.  The next time he came in she
gave him a card, with her number in it and the picture.  That
night he had called and then he had come over on Saturday. 
  The experience was new to her; she had never been with a
married man before or one who she hardly knew, but she could not
resist him.  He had taken her, gently, carefully, but with
confidence and excitement, bringing her to an exquisite orgasm,
one she had never imagined.  He was experienced and a gentleman,
leaving her some money for expenses and to get a new robe.  Had
he paid her for the sex?  She did not know, and did not care, it
felt so good to be appreciated and cared for.  She had cried a
little that night, wanting him there in her bed with her.
  Now, a week later, he was back.  He had called a few days
before and she had agreed.  He had the day to himself, he had
said and he wanted to spend some of it with her if that was OK
and he had something special for her.  She had said yes, it was,
getting wet as she talked to him, hearing his deep voice.
  Today he carried a bag, a cloth, zippered one.  She poured wine
and they sipped it as they leaned against the counter and kissed.
 He kissed so good she felt herself getting wet already.  She
wanted him more than she could say. 
  After they kissed he pulled back and looked into her eyes.
  "Do you trust me?" he asked.
  She nodded, smiling an uncertain smile.  What was he up to?
  "Good, because I have plans for you today, Sunny," he said,
sipping more wine.  His hand ran over her shoulder, down to one
of her breasts, caressing it. 
  "I want to please you," she said.
  "I know, and I think you will, dear," he said, kissing her
again. Their wine glasses were empty. 
  He took her by the hand, and carrying the bag led her into the
bedroom.  He wore a polo shirt and jeans, what she always saw him
in. He kissed her again and pulled the robe off, leaving her
naked.
  "You are so beautiful," he said.  He was lying, she thought, no
one had ever called her that before.  He was just saying that,
but hoped it was true. 
  He kissed and suckled one nipple and then the other, his hands
on her ass. 
  "Lay down," he said, smiling at her. 
  She complied as he opened the bag.  He had brought long, silk
scarves, four of them.  They are red.  "Now, just relax," he
said, running his hand up her long, well formed leg, then down. 
He slipped one end of a scarf around one of her ankles, tying it
expertly.  Going around the bed he tied her other ankle,
fastening both them to the footboard.  It felt funny.
  "What are you going to do?" she asked.  She was not uncertain,
a little frightened, but her body was responding to this game,
betraying her.
  "I am going to make love to you," he said.  "In a special way,
dear, so just relax and enjoy it." She had not choice now.  He
was in charge.  He then tied her arms to the headboard.  Now she
was completely immobilized and vulnerable.  He looked at her and
then walked over and turned off the overhead light, leaving only
the red ones on, and closed the door.  Then he stripped and stood
there naked.  Like most men his age he had a belly, but it was
not large, but he also had a nice, thick cock, strong legs and a
small ass.  He touched himself then, his cock already hard.
  "You want this?" he asked .
  She nodded, unable to speak at that moment.  What was he going
to do? Was he going to hurt her?
  He climbed on the bed, carrying two large, white feathers he
had taken out of the bag.  Well, she knew he could not hurt her
with feathers, but what was his plan?  He leaned over her and
with his fingers spread her pussy, stroking her clit just a
little, getting it hard and coaxing it out of its sheath. 
Kissing her thighs he looked up at her, taking a feather and
running it over her labia, her clit, down to her anus, as she
shuddered, her back arching and her body tensing.  She had never
experienced anything like this.  He continued then his hands in
control, the other feather running over her nipples, her breasts,
the sensitive skin on under her breasts. 
  In a few moments she was shuddering and she could feel the
wetness running down between her ass cheeks from her pussy.  He
kissed her thighs, her nipples, her belly, as the wicked feathers
continued to do their work, stimulating without giving her enough
to cum.  She whimpered and crooned and called out as he worked
her over. 
  "Fuck me, please, I want you in me," she said.
  "Not yet, lover, not yet," he said, his smile making her even
more wet.
  "I need it, please!" she said, the feather running over the
inside of her thighs now, her body shuddering and aching as he
worked her over, the other feather on her right nipple, which was
fully dilated now, hard and red. 
  He was rock hard now, the head glistening with pre-cum.  She
could see that he was very excited as well, shaking as he kissed
her other nipple. 
  Finally he put them aside and mounted her, rubbing her hard
cock against her pussy, but not entering, his cock rubbing up and
down on her clit as he sucked on one of her nipples.
  "Oh, god, put it in me, please, fuck it!" she cried as he did
this to her, torturing her.  It seemed like it had been a n hour,
but she could see by the clock that it had only been fifteen
minutes. 
  He sat back on his haunches then, looking at her cunt, slipping
his fingers in and out of her, first one then two, spreading her
walls.
  "You are so wet, lover," he said, pulling the fingers out,
presenting them for her to suck.
  "Taste yourself, Sunny," he said.  She did not want to, but she
wanted to please him, the man who had taken possession of her
very soul in the last few minutes.  He could kill her if he
wanted to.
  She tasted her own juices then, the sweet and sourness of them.
 He smiled and kissed her and finally he entered her, his large,
thick cock spreading her, sending her over the edge as he hit the
bottom.  Gasping and groaning she orgasmed, her legs spasming,
her breath coming in gasps as he pulled out and then pushed it
in, hitting her clit with his cock with each stroke. 
  The first time they had made love she had thought she had
experienced everything she could but now it was even more, here
in her bed under those red lights he fucked her like she never
imagined, bringing her to a long, long orgasm that made her
actually pass out.  When she came back he was still fucking her
with long, slow strokes, shuddering and shaking as he neared his
own release. 
  She looked into his eyes, urgent and intense, as she clenched
her cunt as tight as she could, trying to give him even more
stimulation as he neared his peak. 
  "Oh, oh, god, Sunny!" he cried as he started to cum, flooding
her insides with his hot load.  She quivered and shook as she
felt it, his cock swelling as he pounded it into her, his hot
juices giving her even more heat, if that were possible.  He
stopped then, holding his cock in as deep as he could flexing it
as he emptied himself. 
  With a groan he pulled out, eliciting a gasp and moan from her
as he lay next to her.  She had a moment of fear as he lay there;
was he OK? He was very flushed and breathing hard.  Slowly he
rolled over and to her anguish sucked on her nipple for a while,
stimulating her beyond endurance, her whole body crying out for
him to stop. 
  He looked at her then, smiling.
  "Was I right?" 
  She could only nod.  He untied her then and they held each
other as they dozed. 
  The door closed and she woke.  Rising on shaking legs she
looked and found him gone, with $500 on the counter in the
kitchen.  She felt dirty, exultant and lonely all at the same
time.  How was she to survive without him?


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