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Message-ID: <43492asstr$1058839807@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Spangles Muldoon <spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com>
MIME-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} USA Made
Date: Mon, 21 Jul 2003 22:10:07 -0400
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Copyright (C) 1999,   Spangles Muldoon.  ALL Rights
Reserved

This story may not be reproduced in any form for
profit, or on another website 
without the written permission of the author.  The
author may be contacted 
by writing mrdouble@mrdouble.com or
mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

Original posting date: 
Tuesday AM, January 05, 1999

A Resident Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: usamade.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com
 



"American Made"

	by Spangles Muldoon
	spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com


Prologue:
	This is yet another of the works of fiction by
Spangles Muldoon. Other works by Spangles Muldoon
include "Uncle Fuzzy's Money" (UFM for short), "Better
Living Through Chemistry" (BLTC for short), and "My
Own Personal Hell" (MOPH for short), and "Same
Tomorrow As Yesterday"(STAY for short). If you like
those, you will probably like this one. If you like
this one, you will probably like those.

	As always, the standard disclaimers apply. If you are
a prude or religious zealot, go away now. Comments are
welcomed, as is constructive criticism, but flames are
not. Understand that I write for me. If you happen to
like what I write as well, that is fine. If you don't
like it, that is fine, too, because it wasn't written
for you. It was written for me.

	Much of what I write lends itself well to additional
installments. If you have ideas for new installments,
feel free to propose them to me, and I will consider
writing them.  If you are new to my work, it is
important that you understand that I like stories with
a plot, and because of that, my work will never be
non-stop action. 

	Many of the activities I write about are illegal,
immoral, and in some cases, downright rude. Do not try
this at home.


Chapter 1
	I have been working in aviation longer than I even
care to remember. I work on the technical and
regulatory side of aviation. I am not a pilot or
aircrew member, nor do I have any desire to be. As a
result of my chosen field, I have had the opportunity
to travel extensively in several parts of the world. I
am currently working for a helicopter company that is
looking for new markets to expand into. They are
looking at the possibility of expanding
internationally.  The countries they chose to look at
were the Phillipines and Russia. Russia I could
understand, but I really didn't understand the idea
behind expansion into the Phillipines.

	It was decided that I would be the one to make the
trip and represent the company. The plan was that I
would go to the Phillipines in the spring, and spend
sixty days there. Following that, I would proceed to
the former Soviet Union for sixty days, then home
again. Since it was mid October, I had quite a bit of
time to prepare for the trip.

	Most of my trips thus far had been uneventful, and in
some cases downright boring. There was, of course, the
trip to London and the trip to Puerto Rico, both of
which had their moments, but those are other stories.
I was determined that this trip would be different. I
began planning for it the very night the trip was
confirmed.

	I started on the Internet. I knew about the world
famous mail order brides available from the
Phillipines, so I started there. I had no intention of
marrying a Filipina, but I might be interested in the
courtship, if you know what I mean. I found a web site
that had Filipina mail order brides and started
looking it over. It was a well designed site, and had
a built in search engine so that you could search the
database by age, height, and weight. Since I have a
definite preference for young, petite women, I filled
out the search form for that. I got over 50 hits, each
with a picture and a mini biography attached. I felt
like I was in a smorgasbord. I trimmed the list down
to only thirty five by eliminating those that weren't
up to my standard of looks or that had something in
their bio that I didn't like. 

	The next day, I went back through my selections. I
had a good selection of fifteen, sixteen, and
seventeen year olds, one fourteen, and even one
thirteen. I wrote up a generic message to each of
them, emphasizing that I was an American businessman,
and would be in the Phillipines for a couple of months
in the spring. I had to pay the web site two bucks for
each message I sent, but I figured it was a small
price to pay to have a supply of young pussy the
entire time I was in the Phillipines.

	It was a month before I received the first response.
Over the next couple of weeks, I had thirty responses.
Based on the responses, I eliminated five from each
age group. I kept up correspondence with the rest. I
got contact information on all of them. Of the batch,
several interested me a lot. I wasn't sure how this
was going to work, but I felt pretty confident that
with that many to choose from, I was pretty much
guaranteed a lot of young pussy in the Phillipines.
When the travel arrangements were finalized, I began
to plan in earnest. The company had arranged a hotel
room for me, but I thought it might be wise to not use
it for this. All my contact with the girls thus far
had been under a bogus name, and I didn't want to blow
that. I made separate arrangements for a room at
another hotel using the bogus name. As the trip
neared, I sent messages to all the girls and told them
to expect a call from me soon after I arrived. I told
them I would have to work around my work schedule, so
it might be a while after my arrival before they heard
from me, but to be patient.

	When the day of departure came, I was more than ready
to go. From past experiences with international
travel, I knew I would be useless for a couple of days
when I got there. I used my first day there to rest
and get acclimated and oriented. The second day, I
went to the other hotel and checked in. The second
hotel was a couple of miles from my 'official' hotel.
Just far enough to be away, but close enough to get to
easily, even on foot. I made my first phone call that
morning.

	I had selected a cute fifteen year old for my first
contact. From her picture and description, she was
near ideal in looks and build, at least what I
considered to be ideal. I spoke to her on the phone
for almost an hour, mainly because we had some trouble
communicating. It was possible to talk to her, but not
easy. She was eager to meet me, and I was eager to
meat her. I set up a meeting for that afternoon at the
bogus hotel. She was to meet me at my room at two
o'clock.

	I made a couple of other phone calls that morning,
setting up meetings with one of the thirteen year olds
for lunch the next day, and with a fourteen year old
the following evening. I went to lunch after that, and
got back to the room at about one-fifteen. I heard a
knock on the door at one-thirty. She was early, which
meant eager. I opened the door to let her in.

	She was dressed immaculately. She had on a white
loose fitting blouse and a tight black mini-skirt. She
had obviously spent quite a bit of time on her hair
and makeup, and she looked older than the fifteen I
knew she was. Still, the little girl quality was
evident. She was much better looking than her picture,
and her build was exactly what I had imagined it to
be. She was much shorter than I had figured, at right
around five feet. I estimated her weight at about
ninety pounds.

	I invited her in, and I guided her to the small table
in the corner of the room where there were two chairs.
I invited her to sit in one, and I took the other. The
room itself was nothing to speak of. All it contained
was the table and two chairs, a queen sized bed, a
rack in one corner to hang clothes on, a small
dresser, and a closet sized bathroom with a shower,
commode, and sink in it.

	I had positioned the chairs so that they were facing
each other, but to the side of the table. I wanted to
be able to look at her as we talked without the table
being in the way. As we made small talk, I took the
opportunity to study her a bit closer. Her blouse was
too loose to allow me to determine if she had a bra on
or not, but I had the impression that she didn't. She
certainly didn't need it. There wasn't the slightest
hint if tits indicated by the front of her blouse.
Looking lower, I noted that her skirt had moved
slightly higher when she sat down. She obviously
didn't have on panty hose, and she certainly didn't
need them. Her legs were dark skinned and smooth. I
could see pretty far up her short skirt, but not high
enough to get a panty shot.

	I was having a tough time understanding her, but it
seemed that she understood me pretty well. She asked a
lot of questions, mainly about me, but also about what
my plans were. She asked me specifically if I was
planning on meeting with any other girls while I was
in the Phillipines, or if she was the only one. I told
her that I had planned on meeting and getting to know
several girls, and spending enough time with each one
of them to determine if they were emotionally,
physically, mentally, and sexually compatible with me.
Only after I had met them all would I decide what
would happen next.

	We talked for a while longer, and I told her about my
home in the States, and what  Dallas and Fort Worth
were like. She listened in rapt attention, asking
questions from time to time. Eventually, she got
around to asking again about other girls I would be
meeting. She seemed to be a little concerned about it,
almost like she wasn't comfortable with competition. I
told her that although I would be meeting several
girls, I had selected her to meet first because she
interested me more than any other that had been in
contact with me. She smiled brightly when I said that,
and then asked in her broken English "If I am the one
you like best, why will you bother to meet others?"

	"Like I mentioned," I said, "I have to be sure that I
choose someone who is emotionally, physically,
mentally, and sexually compatible with me. Looks alone
are just not enough to base any kind of relationship
on. So far, all I know about you is that you are very
nice looking, and that up to this point you seem to be
emotionally and mentally compatible with me. We'll
just have to see how things go from here. I'll be here
for several weeks, so there is plenty of time."

	She was silent for what seemed to be a long time,
then said "Does that mean you won't make a decision
until you have sex with me?" she asked. "I didn't say
that," I replied, "but I can't say that it wouldn't be
a factor. If I meet five girls and they are all pretty
much equal, there is no doubt that the ones that have
slept with me and done a very good job of it will have
an advantage. If none of them do, well, it comes down
to a judgement call. Whether you want to do it or not
is your decision." She was quiet again, for quite a
while. I didn't break the silence, although it was
tough for me not to.

	"Why is sex so important to you?" she asked.
"Simple," I replied, "If a girl is a virgin, I want to
know that for certain. The only way to be sure is
either a doctors exam or to make her a woman myself.
If she is a virgin, I will not take her to the States
with me unless I have made her a woman. I will have
found out that she is not averse to sex, and that she
is eager and willing to learn. How am I to know that
if she won't sleep with me here, she will when we get
there? On the other hand, if she is not a virgin,
there are only a couple of reasons I can think of why
she would not sleep with me, and both of them are not
good."

	She was quiet again for a while, then said simply "I
am a virgin, and I will be one when I get married."
"Okay," I replied, "then we have nothing more to
discuss." She looked shocked at my response, and sat
there silently. "Why?" she asked, "If we are going to
get married anyway, what difference does it make? If
we are not, then it is not an issue at all." "Simple,"
I said, "you are not looking at the whole picture."

	"First, you are fifteen." "Almost sixteen!" she
injected. "Okay, almost sixteen." I responded. "In
either case, it is quite impossible for me to marry
you. I would have to wait a year and a half just for
you to be old enough to get married with parental
permission, and over two years to do it without
parental permission. I could take you to the states
with me under a student visa without any problem, and
you could live with me and go to school until you were
old enough to get married. That is, of course,
provided that you are my selection. I am not going to
take you to the states and let you live with me for
two years without having sex with you. Period. If you
insist on waiting until you get married, well, like I
said, we have nothing more to discuss. Besides, if I
were to agree to that, which I won't, what happens if
I take you to the states and let you live with moe for
two years until we can get married, then I find out
you are lousy in bed and have no interest or talent
with sex? What do I do then?

	I picked up the phone from the desk and referred to
my notebook, looking for a number. I selected the
number of a seventeen year old that I had not been
able to contact yet, and started to dial the number.
"Who are you calling?" she asked. "Another girl." I
replied. "I want to meet as many as I can while I'm
here, and it looks like I need a date for this
afternoon."

	"Wait." She said. "Maybe you don't. I hadn't
considered any of what you are talking about, but now
that I do it makes some sense. I won't promise that
I'll let you have sex with me, but we can at least
talk it over some more, get to know each other better,
and see where it leads." "Okay," I responded, putting
down the phone, "We can do that." I picked up the
phone again, and she asked "Who are you calling now?"
"Room service," I said, "I'm going to order us some
lunch."

	I ordered lunch, and, of course, a bottle of wine to
go with it. We chatted over lunch, and I used the time
to show her some pictures of my house, motorcycle, and
cars in Dallas, which, of course, got her attention. I
made a point to keep her wineglass filled, and ordered
another bottle when the first one was gone. I made
certain that she drank more wine than I did. Based on
her small body size and age, I figured she would get
drunk easily. She did.

	I could tell when it began to hit her, because she
got giggly and a bit looser. She changed her position
in her chair frequently, and each time she did, her
skirt worked it's way a little higher. It was to the
point now that I had a clear panty shot. She also
started leaning toward me to make a point now and
then, and when she did, I could get a shot down the
top of her blouse. Not far enough to get a clean tit
shot, but enough to tell for certain that there was no
bra. I had little doubt now that I would be fucking
her today. I got up and went to the bathroom, and as
soon as I came out, she went in. She was walking very
unsteadily. I didn't go back to the table, though. I
went to the bed and sat on the edge of it. When she
came back, she started to the table, then saw me on
the bed. She paused for a moment, then went on to the
table. She got her glass of wine, then came back and
sat on the bed next to me, between me and the
nightstand. She sat her glass on the nightstand, then
laid back on the bed, keeping her feet on the floor.
"Whew!", she said, "that wine is really getting to
me."

	I wasn't paying much attention, though, because I was
concentrating elsewhere. When she laid back, her skirt
went very high, and I could see part of the crotch of
her panties. I laid back next to her and draped my
right arm across her. I laid there silently for a
moment, just looking at her. I leaned over and kissed
her full on the lips. At first, there was no response
at all, but she was soon responding well. My dick was
already getting hard, and I had done nothing but kiss
her.

	I kissed her again, harder this time, and when I had
her distracted with it, I moved a hand to her breast
and massaged it through her blouse. I had been right
about there not being a bra. Her body stiffened
noticeably when I did this, but she did not react
otherwise. I could feel her nipple beginning to pop up
as I kissed her and caressed her breast. When I broke
the kiss, I left my hand there, massaging her tit. She
made no move to stop me. My dick was already hard in
anticipation of fucking her.

	The next kiss was even longer, and this time I moved
my hand inside her blouse. I massaged her nipple
between my fingers while kissing her, and her breath
began to get raspy. Keeping the kiss going, I moved my
hand from her breast to her crotch. She twisted away
from me. "Stop!" she said, "I don't want to do this!"

	"Look," I told her, standing up "I think you had
better go now. Apparently, you aren't interested in
making this work, and I really don't have time to
waste on you." I got up and walked toward the phone,
picking it up when I got there. My notepad was still
lying out and open, so I started dialing the seventeen
year old again. In the meantime, she got up off the
bed and went back to the bathroom, closing the door
behind her. 

	I got the seventeen year old on the phone and had
talked to her just long enough to set up a meeting
with her later that evening at a dance club just down
the street from the hotel. I was still on the phone
talking to her when I heard the bathroom door open. I
turned to look, and saw her coming out. She was
completely nude. "Okay," she said, walking toward the
bed and lying down, "I want this to work. Let's do
it." I missed most of the rest of what the seventeen
year old was saying, because my attention was more
than distracted. I got off the phone as quickly as I
could, and joined her on the bed. 
	
	Although I was more than ready to mount her, I took
the opportunity to examine her body. Her tits were
small and pointy, almost cone shaped. They had not had
fleshed out yet. She was not curvaceous, and in fact,
had only the slightest hint of curve at her waist. Her
pussy was lightly covered in very fine hair. I opened
her legs to get a look at her pussy. She had no
visible pussy lips, just a slit. I opened her legs
even farther, which caused her pussy to gap open a
little. It looked moist, but not wet. I couldn't wait
any longer to fuck her.

	I got up from the bed and started undressing. She
watched me with great interest, especially when I
started to undo my pants. She watched intently as I
dropped them to the floor. I had on no underwear. She
gasped lightly when she saw the size of my painfully
hard dick. I think she was concerned whether she would
be able to take it all. Frankly, so was I. I laid back
on the bed next to her, and rather than get on top of
her, I pulled her over on top of me. She was very
small, and I wanted her to ride me instead of the
other way around. I wanted to see if she had any
natural talent, and letting her do the work would be a
good way to find out. If she didn't, well, she was
petite enough that I could put my hands on her waist
and move her any way I wanted, basically using her to
jack off with.

	She straddled me, sitting on my lower stomach. "Tell
me what to do," she said, "and I'll do it." "Raise up
just a little," I said, "then go back down when I tell
you." She rose slightly, and I used one hand to guide
her lower, and my other hand to guide my dick to her
pussy. I had to move it around quite a bit to get it
lined up with her pussy, but eventually, I managed to
do it. I could feel her pussy opening barely touching
the head of my dick. "Sit down." I said.

	She lowered her weight, driving my dick inside her.
The head was almost completely inside her when I felt
the obstruction. She had not lied about being a
virgin. My inclination was to place both my hands on
her hips and force her down, burying my dick inside
her, then fucking her hard, but I was determined that
she was going to fuck me to completion, and not the
other way around. I would only take over if she wasn't
doing a good job.

	I made no move, and neither did she. I was almost
ready to put my hands on her hips and pull to bury my
dick in her, and had actually started to reach for her
when she started a light side to side rocking motion.
She continued doing it, but it was making no progress
that I could detect. Suddenly, though, I felt my dick
slip deeper inside her, and I knew that her hymen had
broken. Once that was done, her continued rocking
motion was effective in getting more and more of my
dick in her. In no time, I was buried in her up to my
balls. Once I was fully inside her, she stopped,
adjusting to the size.

	I could wait on her no longer. I placed one hand on
each of her hips and literally picked her up, then
dropped her back down on my dick. I continued doing
this, actually using her to jack off with. She was so
petite that my hands made a complete circle of her
waist. My thumbs were touching in the front, and my
fingers were touching in the back. I watched my dick
slide in and out of her as I lifted and dropped her. I
noticed that her lower abdomen actually swelled when
my dick was inside her, and retracted when it was out.
I was already on the verge of blasting my load into
her, but was doing my best to hold back.

	I hadn't concerned myself at all with making her
come, concentrating instead on shooting my load inside
her. Nonetheless, she began to breath heavily, and her
face started to contort a little. I could feel
convulsions in her pussy, and she began to work with
me. I tried to hold back until she had completed her
orgasm, but it was impossible. I blasted my load into
her pussy, filling her with my come. I kept fucking
her until I had no more left to shoot in her, then I
remained in her until my dick got too soft to stay
inside. Only then did she get off and lay on the bed
next to me. A lot of my sperm had leaked out of her
when she got off, and it was collected on my lower
belly. It had a light pinkish tinge to it. Still, even
though a lot had leaked out of her, I was certain that
there was at least three times as much still inside
her.

	I fucked her one more time that afternoon, missionary
syle the next time, and again filled her to
overflowing with my come. I set up a date to meet her
two days later, and she left. I went to sleep,
exhausted from the afternoons activities and the jet
lag. It was dusk when I woke up, and I had a headache
that would have killed a normal human. It was a
combination of exhaustion, wine in the afternoon, the
afternoon's activities, jet lag, and lack of food. I
was starved, and figured I would go eat and then come
back and go to bed. About half way through dinner, I 
remembered that I had set up a date for that evening.
Shit. I really wasn't up to going, but I didn't want
to miss out, either. Sleep would have to wait. I
finished dinner and headed to the club.

---------------------to be
continued-----------------------




















    *---(:>     Double for Nothing!!  Tricks for
Free!!!     <:)---*


                               www.mrdouble.com


                             Anyone's Daughter....


                         *---(:>   Mr Double   <:)---*



=====
Spangles Muldoon
A Mr. Double Resident Author

__________________________________
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Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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