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Message-ID: <42878asstr$1055254204@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Puck Pucker" <puck512@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Namaru (mf)
Date: Tue, 10 Jun 2003 10:10:04 -0400
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Namaru
By puck512@hotmail.com
(mf)

Part I: A seed planted.

I was born in Eastern Europe, in a country which no longer exists and whose 
name would hold no meaning to those who heard it.  I was born over a 
thousand years ago in the darkest of what is today called the dark ages.  I 
was born in a poor village to even poorer parents.   It wasn't a traditional 
springboard to power.  I wasn't expected to amount to much because my 
parents never amounted to much and because, in all its dubious history, no 
person born in my village had ever amounted to anything beyond the shallow, 
muddy borders of our town.

Dare I call it a town?  At best it could be described only as a loose knit 
group of farmers.

My earliest memories were not of play or schooling.  The children of our 
village worked as soon as they were ripped away from their mother's teat.  I 
grew up hauling wheat in the fields, working from sunup to sundown, in 
bitter heat and in driving rain.  To be honest, I really can't say I was 
alive.  I was a pack animal giving no thought to the universe or my place in 
it.  I cared for nothing beyond my next meal.

Had the fates not intervened I would have grown up in that town,  I would 
have taken a wife, probably by making the first girl I slept with pregnant.  
If I was very lucky, I might have taken a mistress.  I most certainly would 
have died in my allotted time in that miserable little mud-hole.  My bones 
would be buried in a place no longer remembered, in a grave unmarked, my 
life having no more impact on the universe than that of a single ant.

I ask you, is that not hell?

The fates did intervene though.  Europe was a battleground between two 
competing religions and Eastern Europe was ground zero.  For the next 
several hundred years our region would be forced from Christianity to Islam 
every generation or so.   When I was growing up in the village we were in 
the process of being reintroduced to Christianity.    Our village wasn't 
large enough to support a priest or a church thus a friar passed through 
every spring and summer to ensure that we were not reverting to paganism.

I find it deliciously ironic that my call to darkness began with a call to 
light.

One day a visiting Friar decided he needed a page who would run errands and 
whatnot and I was close at hand.  My parents were all too happy to let me 
go.  A cynic would say that by giving me up there was one less mouth to 
feed, one less weight dragging them down further into the mud.   After all 
these years though I still like to think that they honestly thought that the 
friar could better my life.

He had promised to train me for the priesthood which, at the time, was as 
good as a job in the today's civil service.  He promised that I would be 
well cared for and that it was God's will.  For the most part, he fulfilled 
those promises.  He taught me to read and thus my world was suddenly opened 
to thought.  We traveled Eastern Europe and I learned there was a vast, 
incomprehensibly vast, world outside the confines of my home.   He taught me 
the Bible and then he made me memorize it.  He taught me the Koran as well 
that I might know our enemy.  He taught me music, philosophy, math, but most 
of all he taught me to think and how to live.

I was with the church long enough to realize that my Master was one of the 
few who devoutly believed, and lived by, the scriptures. The church in those 
days was equivalent to the civil service of the modern world so many people 
joined the church for job security or power and not for any strongly held 
beliefs.

My master was a good and gentle man and because of that I was a complete 
innocent when puberty hit me.  To this day I still marvel at that.  I grew 
up in a world where families lived in communal homes and where power, whims, 
and ale generally decided who slept with whom. Despite the overwhelming 
odds, I had led a sexually sheltered life.

As my body made the transition to manhood my Master turned it into a contest 
between Satan and myself.  Erections were visible manifestations of impure 
thoughts and wet dreams the ultimate defeat at the hands of Satan's 
succumbi.  Though my master and I prayed together often for God to grant me 
strength and I even went so far as to pray on my own for deliverance from 
this test, it didn't help much.

In the great and epic battle being waged for my soul there were few things I 
could point to as victories. The beginning of my fall came during a warm 
summer's afternoon when I would have been around seventeen.  My master and I 
were travelling through mountainous country and had broke camp near the road 
a short hike away from a crystal blue mountain lake.  My master sent me to 
fetch some water and I hastily complied, unaware of the trial awaiting me.

When I broke through the forest cover to the rocky shore I ground to a halt, 
my eyes growing wide and my mouth open in surprise.  Before me, stretched 
out on a large rock was a gloriously nude girl, barely older than myself.  
By today's standards, she could hardly be considered  beautiful.  She had 
clearly visible stretch marks from at least one pregnancy, her skin was 
scarred and somewhat blotchy and her figure was not idyllic in any age.

Yet as imperfect as she was, she was the most fascinating creature I had 
ever beheld because she was the first naked woman I had ever seen in a 
purely sexual light. It was obvious that she had been swimming for she did 
not bear the dirt, grime, and odor I had come to associate with peasant 
stock.  Her youth glossed over most of her defects and the exotic globes of 
her large breasts and the tangled pubic hair over the mound of her cunt 
captivated me.

I don't know how long I stood there before she sensed something amiss and 
opened her eyes.  When she spied me fear lit her face as she frantically 
grabbed at her clothing never taking her eyes from mine.  At first she 
hovered there with fear and suspicion on her face but as we stared at each 
other her fear melted to one of open speculation.  Apparently she speculated 
that she did not need to cover herself and her look became calculating.

Though I was not officially part of the church, I did wear the simple robe 
of the office and to her untrained eyes there was nothing to say I was not a 
priest.  In a world where peasants did have to worry about where their next 
meal would come from, the priesthood was almost a leisure class.  As much as 
vanity might suggest otherwise, maturity has allowed me to realize that this 
simple girl found me desirable not for any great perfection of body but for 
my perceived status in her world.

Whatever her motivations, her nudity held me fast. I stood there with my 
cock pressing against my robe.  I was breathing hard and fast, overcome with 
lust and desire.  I was terrified and I was excited.  Hesitantly she got up 
and walked over to me, leaving her balled up clothing behind on the large 
flat rock.  She walked gingerly over the rocky shore, her hips swaying, her 
breasts swaying side to side in a pert bouncing motion that occupied every 
bit of my awareness.

In those few short steps she might as well have not had a head for all I 
cared for was the beauty of her breasts and exotic triangle of hair on her 
crotch.  She did eventually reach me and my trial continued.  Taking my 
paralysis as consent she reached up and kissed me.

Her red, ruby lips ground against mine, sucking and tugging in a way that 
drove away my paralysis and my good sense.  I was electrified, I was on fire 
and I explored this sensuously undiscovered country with unrestrained 
passion.  She led and I followed as our lips ground together and then 
tongues entwined.

I don't remember walking but I remember her pulling me down onto that large, 
flat rock so that I lay beside her.  In the midst of this, her hand covered 
mine and began to drag it up and down in slow circles on her stomach and 
over her breasts.  When the opportunity presented itself I would squeeze and 
massage those soft, fleshy globes and thrilled at the excitement their feel 
stirred in me.

In time she pushed my hand lower into the tangled bush of her pubic hair and 
I felt her legs part slightly.  Beneath her soft hairs I explored, at her 
urging, the skin below and found it as fine as the most delicate of silk and 
wet with her lust.  When I moved too slowly for her, she guided my hand 
forcing my fingers between her swollen labia lips.

There was no thought, only endless, roaring sensations as my fingers plunged 
into her and rubbed her hot cunt.   I fucked her with my fingers, plunging 
them into her again and again, dragging those same fingers, slick with her 
juices over that hard little nub at the tip of her vagina.  I did this until 
she began to gasp into my mouth, her hand over mine as she urged me to fuck 
her harder and faster.  At the absolute pinnacle of her passion as she 
writhed in my hands, her hips pushing against my hand and her moans filling 
my ears I had one lone, stray thought: I was masturbating her.

It was enough of a revelation for me to pause in my ministrations not that 
it really mattered.  She had found her pleasure and her breathing was 
becoming easier.  My stunned revelation might have even seemed as a gentle 
tenderness to her as my fevered motions gave way to a slow gentle caress as 
she recovered.

Once one thought managed to force it's way into my awareness others came 
like a flood and every last one of them said this was very, very, VERY 
wrong.

The grateful girl was attempting to return the favor as her hand tried to 
worm its way into my robes.  It was truly only then that I realized the 
seriousness of what was happening.  I sprang to my feet, my mouth working up 
and down as I stared down at her -- worry, fear, and guilt etched into every 
line on my face.   I had meant to say something, anything, but I couldn't.  
I could only stare down at her puzzled expression, her naked body bared 
before me invitingly.  For that instant she was Cleopatra, she was Helen of 
Troy, she was Aphrodite, she was the ultimate temptress, and worst of all - 
she was mine.  It is a tribute to the moral education my Master had given me 
that I was able to turn and run.

If it was a test then I guess it would be a draw.  I had fallen enough to 
touch her improperly and to have impure thoughts but in the moment of truth 
when I would have yielded to sin, I ran away.   In truth though, I was a boy 
with too many hormones raging through my body and she was a simple peasant 
girl who was open for a spot of fun in her otherwise dull existence.

In hindsight I should have allowed her to work her feminine whiles upon me.  
We both could have had a lot of fun.   For all her many flaws, she was a 
lusty woman and lusty women have their appeals.

Despite my later confession and my master's assurance that I had indeed 
passed an important test, however imperfectly, things only became more 
difficult from that point forward.  After that day I could imagine any woman 
without her clothing, I could imagine any woman beckoning me, and they all 
looked like that peasant girl by the lake. With each day that passed that 
girl got more beautiful and more desirable.

In fighting the desire, the desire and the fight became an obsession.  My 
body demanded satisfaction and my mind fought to deny all pleasure.  It was 
an insanity only a truly devout Christian in the throes of puberty could 
truly understand.

I prayed and I tried with all my heart to do the right thing.  In the end 
though my obsession had opened the door to lust and that lust would be my 
doom.  Beyond planting the seed of lust in my heart that encounter at the 
lake had planted a kernel of knowledge.  Before, women, to me, had been 
sexual innocents -- the pursued and never the pursuers.  Now though I knew 
that they shared my desire, my lust.

My second test happened only a few months later.

We were travelling to a nearby abbey when a fierce winter storm forced us to 
take refuge on a simple peasant farm.  While I had my suspicions that the 
farmers were not as devout as they let on, they did ensure that room was 
made for my master in the house.

I say house but you need to remember that I'm using modern words with modern 
meanings to try and convey concepts a thousand years old.   A commune would 
be a better way to describe the farm.  That's closer to what it actually was 
but the communes of the nineteen-sixties were infinitely kinder and gentler 
than the life these people led.

The main building was a long room in the shape of a rectangle about thirty 
feet long and fifteen feet wide.  There were no walls.   At one time the 
building had housed both people and animals but apparently the commune had 
grown too large to hold both people and animals in the main building so a 
separate building had been constructed.

Three families totaling about twenty-five men, women, and children of 
assorted ages shared the main building.  In truth they were probably not 
three distinct families, but probably shared close relations.  While the 
kings and queens of the day practiced incest to keep their blood blue it was 
more likely that the lot we had fallen in with practiced it for lack of 
neighbors.

I seriously doubt that they held a roman orgy each and every night it would 
be a safe bet that given the long, cold winters and the lack of privacy that 
sex was a fairly frequent diversion.   As good hosts and in deference to our 
religion they abstained from public indulgences during our stay.

The house was large but with so many people occupying it, there wasn't 
enough room for both my master and I so I found myself with something 
unusual for anyone in that day and age: privacy.  I was given a blanket and 
shown to the barn where I made my bed as best I could out of loose straw.

The next day I stayed as close to my master as I could as he preached to all 
who would listen but eventually I grew bored and got up to stretch my legs.  
Just to give myself something to do I decided to check our horses in the 
barn.

As soon as I entered the barn and the howl of the blizzard's wind was shut 
out I heard moans and heavy breathing. Curious, I moved to investigate.  
What I saw was a man slightly older than me moving over a girl just slightly 
younger than I was.

Unlike the woman at the lake, this girl was very pleasing to the eye.  She 
had long chestnut hair that spread beneath her like a cape of fine silk.  
Her skin was a milky white and very even in complexion.  Her figure also was 
stunning with full, round breasts, a pleasing waist and hips and long legs.  
She had those long, beautiful legs wrapped around her lover who moved 
swiftly over her, grinding his pubic area against hers.

As my view shifted somewhat I had a clear view of his hard cock, glistening 
with the juices of her lust, ramming into her again and again.  They moved 
as if in some exotic dance -- him rising and falling above her and her 
grinding her hips against his urgently.  Sweat glistened on both their 
bodies and their breaths were labored and urgent.

As before at the lake, I was held spellbound.  In this one moment I knew 
exactly what I wanted.  I wanted to take a woman like this.  I wanted my 
cock to plunge into a woman, I wanted to feel her breasts rub against my 
chest, I wanted to feel her legs wrapped around me.  I wanted... I lusted...

He stiffened, his face a contorted mask that looked like he was in pain but 
for the smile that betrayed his pleasure.  His lover continued to move under 
him, grinding against him as she sought her own pleasure.  But it was over.  
He inhaled sharply and rolled off her as anger and frustration consumed her 
face.  It was then that she saw me lurking in the shadows.  Hastily, I 
turned and fled the barn and in my shame I ran into the nearby woods trying 
to find my way in the blinding white of the snow.

Some distance away, I fell to my knees and prayed.  I prayed until my Master 
found me hours later shivering with cold.

I didn't answer his unasked question.  In that walk back to the house I had 
finally given lust a place in my heart, it grew in the darkest corners of my 
heart.  I would not confess my sin to my master.

That night, alone in the barn I recalled the image of the two lovers 
writhing on the straw, bare inches from where I was stretched out.  My cock 
swelled and began to throb as I let the memory have power over me.  Slowly I 
wrapped my hand around my insistent organ, feeling the tingle of pleasure as 
a warm, comfortable pressure engulfed me.  It took me a minute to get it 
right and half as long again to find a good rhythm and stroke but before I 
drifted off to sleep that night I brought myself to a waking orgasm.

The burst of pleasure as my seed shot across my chest consumed me as the 
fires of hell consumes all sinners.  It was an unholy rapture and I loved 
it.  I could not believe that anything could be so pleasurable or so good.  
I could not believe that my church said this was evil.  How could I worship 
a God which made something feel so good and then said it was evil?

I drifted to sleep that night with many unanswered questions on my lips.

In the harsh gray light of morning I knew guilt and was truly repentant as I 
prayed for forgiveness.  But that repentance was proved a lie when I met 
with my master and did not confess my failure.

That afternoon the families had gathered around to hear my Master tell the 
story of David and Goliath, with full embellishment that would make a 
modern-day Hollywood producer proud.  The girl from the barn sat next to me 
and said in a low voice that only I could hear, "I saw you watching 
yesterday.  I thought you priests were against that."

"I'm not a priest."  I grumbled as my cheeks turned a scarlet red.

That caused her some confusion as she eyed me carefully, "You look like a 
priest."

"I'm an apprentice."

She grinned and underneath the table I felt her hand on my knee!  She leaned 
closer to me and I could feel her hot breath on my ear as she whispered, 
"Does that mean you can take a tumble now and again?"

Damn but that girl was forward!  And she was beautiful.  The newfound lust I 
was cultivating in my soul suddenly overflowed and I trembled from the 
excitement of her touch.

"It would not be right," I stammered.

Maybe that reply was my last attempt to return to the teachings of my 
master, but more than likely it was fear of the unknown.

Her cheek pressed against mine as she whispered her answer in a low, lusty 
voice that set my very blood on fire.

"I've found that the less right something is, the better it feels," she 
whispered seductively. As if to emphasize her point she sucked my earlobe 
between her luscious red lips as her hand, which had been working its way 
ever higher up my leg under the table, rubbed the inside of my thigh causing 
my balls to tingle maddeningly as they brushed against the back of her hand.

If it had lasted a second longer, I think I would have cum right then and 
there but my Master had finished his story and the normal pandemonium of the 
house returned as the children suddenly resumed their play.  She was swept 
away from me as if carried away by waters from a broken damn.

We stole glances the rest of that afternoon but we were never close enough 
to talk.  I don't really know what I would have said.  Her words had lit a 
fire under me and it seemed that all I could think of was ripping that 
simple dress from her and ravaging her.  Yet I also tried to resist this 
temptation.  So much of my life had been given to the church and its 
teachings that I couldn't completely give in to something which violated so 
strongly the doctrine of my religion.

When I retired that night, I felt as if I had staggered back from a battle 
but as I tossed and turned it was readily apparent that the battle had 
followed me to my bed.  In the darkness I saw only the girl before me as I 
held her in my arms and in that same darkness I tried to resist these impure 
thoughts.

It was such an exercise in futility.  My cause had been lost from that first 
day on the beach.  When a light, delicate touch on my chest woke me from my 
fantasies I discovered the girl kneeling over me.  Without resistance, I 
surrendered myself to her touch.  Dream or reality it made no difference, I 
yielded myself to the pleasures she offered.

Such a soft, sweet touch she had.

In the pale moonlight I could see she was nude and her skin seemed to 
shimmer in that soft light.  Her lips pressed themselves against mine and I 
responded, letting myself be swept up into the overwhelming passion of that 
kiss.  On my own initiative I lifted my hand to cup her breast and reveled 
in the feel of her soft flesh against my fingers and the hard nub of her 
nipple rolling against my palm.

Her hand slipped under my robe and began to caress my chest in kind and I 
was surprised to discover that my nipples were as erect as hers.  I gasped 
as she pinched and pulled my nipple roughly but where I expected pain I 
found only pleasure.  When I reciprocated in kind she groaned loudly and bit 
my lower lip softly and tugged.

It seemed like all the world had suddenly stopped and the only sound was our 
heavy breathing.  It felt wanton and wicked but it was even more exciting 
because it was.  I had set myself free of all moral restraint and in doing 
so I found a pleasure not only in the sensations of her touch but in the 
freedom I had given myself as well.

My hand slipped between her legs and found that she was as wet as that girl 
on the beach had been.    As much the feel of her pubic hairs against my 
palm as from the pale moonlight I could tell that this girl's pussy was very 
hairy.  Her scent was also heady and strong.

I have bedded women who would sooner die than go a morning without a bath 
let alone forget their deodorant.  I have bedded Japanese geisha who were 
the epitome of cleanliness.  But as my fingers slid into that peasant girl's 
pussy, gliding through the wet, pink folds down to her eager hole I gloried 
in her pungent aroma, I was drunk on her scent.

It was gritty and nasty and dirty when I pushed my fingers into her and it 
was nastier still when she groaned and pushed her hips into my hand forcing 
me deeper.  It was depraved the way my fingers moved inside her and the way 
her hole grabbed at me clenching and unclenching around my fingers.

She groaned louder as she rocked beside me letting me caress her to orgasm.  
In her passion she fumbled at the knot of my robe and as it came loose my 
robe parted revealing my throbbing cock.  With a lusty moan she took my cock 
in her hot, oh so very, very sensuous hand and tugged slightly.

Suddenly she stopped rocking on my hand and with a quick maneuver she swung 
her leg over me.  Even in the pale moonlight I could see the intent 
determination in her eye as she lowered herself onto my eager cock.

It was everything I had ever lusted after and more.  It was better than the 
most erotic of my dreams and a million times better than anything I had ever 
imagined as her hot, wet pussy engulfed my cock.  Her pussy muscles were 
trying to milk me dry even before she started rocking above me causing me to 
move in and out of her.  When she started that exquisite rocking motion I 
replied in kind my hips rising to meet her to grind my crotch against her.

My crotch ground against hers as she rocked above me, our breathing becoming 
fast and urgent as I slid in and out of her ever faster.  Suddenly she gave 
a loud cry as her legs spread wide forcing me deeper than I had ever gone as 
her pussy furiously grabbed at my cock.  She shook and clung to me in her 
orgasm even as I ground my hips furiously against her as I felt my own 
pleasure nearing.  While she shuddered and whimpered I slammed my cocked 
into her again trying to go ever deeper as I ground against her feeling her 
rich locks of pubic hair rub against mine.

Finally, I came.  Even as my seed exploded inside her, my senses exploded in 
a joyous celebration of pleasure.  The world went white with pleasure and 
the whole of my world became the feel of my cock sliding up and down her 
hot, slick tunnel and the blinding pleasure as my seed burst forth with each 
and every thrust.

When it was over I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her down to me as I 
kissed a line down her cheek from her ears to her lips laughing and crying 
at the same time.

Everything had changed in that moment and everything changed because I had 
changed. After such a consuming experience we fell asleep in each others 
arms and in a very profound way that was as overwhelming as the sex itself.

Her name would translate as Mountain Flower, in the proudest Cyrillic 
traditions her name is as unspeakable as it would be unpronounceable so I'll 
call her Lilly.

I'm sure my master suspected something of what transpired in the night but 
in a grand, and futile, display of trust he never asked.   Despite my fall 
from grace there was still a part of me that clung to my church and offered 
me forgiveness and even redemption.  Sex outside of marriage was a sin, but 
a minor and forgivable one.  I had broken church law but as an apprentice I 
wasn't fully bound, at least not yet.  So even while I had sinned, a part of 
me was sure that I could confess, be forgiven, and return to life as usual.

The next day the snows relented enough for us to move on.  Lilly and I 
partook of a pained, parting glance just before my Master and I resumed our 
journey.  As much as I wanted to confess and be washed clean of the sin, I 
did not speak of what happened to my master.  To confess it would be to deny 
what had happened and there was a part of me that clung to the memory, the 
joy of what had happened in the night.    Whatever my master may, or may not 
have thought, he did not press the question.  There were other farms and 
other girls but having once indulged myself, the overwhelming need no longer 
existed and I was able to stand firm in my faith, though it was always a 
struggle.

Four years passed and I had locked that lustful part of me away so deeply 
that I had almost forgotten the insanity of those few days when I had fallen 
to the level of a rutting animal.  In four years I regained my piety and 
even though a part of me knew full well the beast within, lacking the proper 
temptation, I was able to pretend otherwise.

After much reflection on the events of my life, I've decided that there was 
no sin for what is born of divine will is by definition divine.  What had 
happened was meant to happen.  My master had taught me piety and decency but 
I was also meant to know depravity and sin.   Job had known only goodness 
when God tested him.  When I was tested, I would not be led to the alter an 
innocent lamb.  Maybe that is why Job succeeded where I would fail.

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