Message-ID: <43532asstr$1059005407@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Originating-Email: [david_altaire@hotmail.com]
From: "David Altaire" <david_altaire@hotmail.com>
X-Original-Message-ID: <Law12-F87yRLVbNDN4C0000154c@hotmail.com>
X-OriginalArrivalTime: 23 Jul 2003 11:51:14.0287 (UTC) FILETIME=[B7E1EFF0:01C35110]
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 07:51:07 -0400
Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} Sarah 1/? (MF, M+F, slutgf, exhib, interr, ws, anal, rom)
Date: Wed, 23 Jul 2003 20:10:07 -0400
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/Year2003/43532>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, hecate
First, a bit about this story. While it is written in the first person,
Sarah is entirely fictional. If you looked at the subject codes, you
might have found yourself wondering at how the romance tag
found its way into this story--you'll see. I should also caution the
reader that there are a couple of disparaging comments made
about the behaviorisms of devoutly religious people in this story,
which may be offensive to those who fit into that category. So
if you're the type of person who believes that your own
interpretation of the moral teachings of your chosen faith should
apply to everyone, you probably shouldn't read this. Then
again, if that describes you, you probably aren't reading this
anyway.
And of course, we have to take care of the standard disclaimers.
This is story depicting various sexual acts between consenting
adults. If you are not of the legal age to read such accounts
in your region, then make sure that nobody is watching before
you scroll down. If you cannot legally read sexually explicit tales
at any age in your hometown, bookmark this document, move,
and then read on.
The character of Sarah behaves in some very unsafe manners
in this story, particularly in having unprotected sex with
strangers. Remember, this is *fantasy*--it's fine to fantasize
about porking some random person on the streets, but actually
doing so in real life is just plain stupid, especially if you don't
use any form of protection. Fictional characters don't have
to worry about HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases.
We do.
The author (that's me) hereby grants any and all readers the
right to freely download this story for their own private use,
and to maintain a stored copy in electronic or paper form for
the same. Archivists may display this work on their own sites,
provided that full access to their archived works is granted
free of charge, and this introductory message is left attached
in its entirety to the story. Under no circumstances may
this work be displayed on any site which requires persons to
pay for membership or accepts paid advertising, even if the
story is displayed in a free or "preview" portion of the website,
without the prior expressed consent of the author.
-David Altaire
_________________________________________________________________
Add photos to your messages with MSN 8. Get 2 months FREE*.
http://join.msn.com/?page=features/featuredemail
<1st attachment, "Sarah.txt" begin>
"You're the ninth guy I've fucked tonight. You know
that?"
I knew that. She'd told me about it, our own kinky
version of foreplay. Told me the whole time I was
becoming her ninth, described in great detail how she'd
been used as a fuck toy by 8 other men that evening. I
craned my neck, still lying on my back as she cuddled
up against me in the bed, and planted a soft kiss on
her sweaty forehead. "Yeah."
She curled in closer to me and sighed happily. "You
don't mind that your girlfriend is a cheap little slut,
and that everyone knows it?"
I reached around her back with my arm, moving my hand
up to brush a few damp strands of hair away from her
face. "I wouldn't want to change a thing about us,
darling." And it was true.
I've always had a thing for sluts. Near as I can
tell, it all dates back to a whorish girl that I hung
around with back in high school. I'd been a 17 year
old virgin when I met that one; she, a 16 year-old
slut. I was too innocent and naive at first to
recognize the signs that she gave me, and by the time I
finally did figure her out, she'd already typecast me
as a trusted friend. She fucked nearly every guy in
the county--just never me.
The sad thing is, looking at it in hindsight, I know
that she was right. If she'd given it up to me and
been my first, I would've pulled some "love" crap on
her which neither one of us were even remotely ready
for, and it would have thrust an Everest-sized wedge
between us. She told me that I saved her life on a
couple of occasions, and maybe that was true. But that
wasn't enough for me then, and my own jealousy
eventually trashed the friendship anyway.
What it did leave me with, though, was a definite
affinity for women who sleep around and aren't
ashamed of the fact. I've read plenty of stories on
the 'net from guys with similar fetishes, but I've
always felt that mine is a bit different. I know that
some men get off on the humiliation factor of it, of
having his wife or girlfriend whore around town until
all of his friends and family are laughing at his
inability to keep his woman under control--that's not
me. Some guys go the opposite route, and get a kick
out of seeing their girls as fuck toys or sex slaves;
ordering them around and telling them when, where, how,
and whom to fuck. That's not me, either. And some
other guys enjoy the voyeuristic side of it in and of
itself. Still not me; I've watched Sarah in action
before, even participated in some threeways and gang
bangs with her, but most of the time I'd rather that
she just gave me the details afterwards.
I'm just turned on by a confident and sexy woman.
One who isn't afraid of her sexual desires, and has the
courage to thumb her nose at the conservative minority
in the western world, who think that women should only
agree to sex when they want to make babies with their
husbands. I like a woman who enjoys shocking people in
public, who isn't afraid to grab a guy or two or three
in some nightclub and drag them into a back alley for
a quick fuck, then walk back into the bar with her hair
mussed up and an obvious "just fucked" glow on her
face. A woman who enjoys sex for sex's sake, and
doesn't care who knows it.
Sadly, such women are few and far between in today's
world, particularly in America. Society places a
stigma on women who sleep around, and far too many
people are willing to just roll over and allow that
status quo to continue. I'd found several partners who
were absolute wildcats in the sack, and a few who were
willing to go a half-step farther and flaunt our sexual
relationship to strangers. But I'd never before dated
a woman who had absolutely no inhibitions when it came
to sex, at least not until I met Sarah.
Sarah was 23 when we met; I was 28 at the time. Even
after nearly 3 years, I still remember that night like
it was yesterday: I'd had a particularly unfulfilling
day at work, and rather than spending yet another night
downing beers alone in my apartment, I'd decided to
stop in to a small bar a block and a half from my
residence. I guess I'd hoped to find some company to
give my spirits a lift, maybe even hook up with a
woman, but I'd tried such things without success so
many times in the past that I didn't expect much that
night, either. As depressed as I was, I suppose I was
actually looking forward to sinking further into my
funk when I failed on the singles scene once again.
You know that old Morrissey song, "How Soon Is Now?"?
There's this line in it that goes:
"There's a club if you'd like to go
You could meet someone who really loves you.
So you go and you stand on your own
And you leave on your own
And you go home, and you cry and you want to
die."
That pretty much sums up how I feel about bars in
general, and how my luck in them had gone until that
night. I'm not usually a shy person, but out in some
night club, surrounded by strangers with loud music
thumping so loud that you can't even hear yourself
breath, I've never been good at approaching women. But
I was there anyway, sitting at the bar, my third beer
resting on a coaster on a countertop which tried to
look rustic with its oaken finish, but only managed to
look fake and out of place. I'd been chainsmoking
since I walked into joint, back when you could still
smoke in a public bar, and I was just setting my
lighter down again when she plopped down on the stool
to my left and asked me for a light.
I reflexively reached for my flame and turned to see
the source of the feminine voice, almost dropping my
bic when I saw Sarah. Her blonde hair which hung
barely to her shoulders, several strands askew as I
would discover was her norm. Her hazel eyes which
shone green in the dim, smoky air of the bar that
night. Her full lips, the dark red lipstick smudged
just a little on one corner--I'd later find out that
she had come straight to the stool after sucking a guy
off in the mens' room. The silver hoops which she
wore in both ears, and would explain to me she liked
because they made her look cheap.
I held the lighter up to her cigarette as I took in
the rest of her, Sarah's hand reaching up to cup mine
and lead it to its mark. She wore a red blouse,
sleeveless and with the top three buttons undone, my
view as she bent to light her smoke making it obvious
that she wore no bra underneath it. A short black
miniskirt which covered perhaps 4 inches of her thighs
when she sat, or would have were it not for the slit
over her right thigh, which left that leg bare almost
to her hip. Heeled sandals completed her look and
added 4 inches to her height, when she stood.
I guess it was fate that she happened along right at
that moment, when I had just enough alcohol in my
system to make me forget that I always strike out in
bars, but not yet enough to turn me into a blubbering
idiot. "I love your outfit," I told her, the first
words I ever spoke to the woman I would grow to love as
much as life itself.
It was an obvious come-on line, and with most women
it would get you nothing more than a patronizing smile,
that only if you were lucky and she was in a great
mood. But with Sarah, it's exactly what she likes to
hear when she meets a man--she wears outfits like that
to get attention, to advertise, really, and she likes
to hear that they're having the desired effect.
I was fortunate, too, that I lived so close to the
drinking hole. If my apartment had been far enough
away to require driving, she'd have either dragged
me into a dark corner somewhere or else gone on to look
for easier prey, and that would have been that. But as
it was, ten minutes later, we were all but running back
to my place, and made it no further than my living
room before she had her blouse open and her skirt
flipped up over her waist, revealing her naked and
clean-shaven cunt. I took her on the couch the first
time, the beer in my system giving me enough staying
power to bring her off twice before I lurched a final
time and obeyed her pleas to shoot inside of her.
And then fate intervened a final time: somewhere in
the course of her night, someone had stolen the wallet
from her purse. With the wisdom of hindsight, I can
see how it could have happened--when Sarah is on the
prowl, she forgets about little things like watching
over her money. But that night we were left in a
bind; Sarah had no money for cab fare home, nor even
her atm cards to get more. I was too drunk to drive,
and I'd left the last of my cash on the bar to cover
the tab, plus tip. I offered to let her spend the
night there, promising to take her home or else get her
the cab fare in the morning, and she relented.
I nearly got fired the next day. I'd gotten perhaps
and hour of intermittent sleep during my first night
with Sarah, and between a last-minute quickie and the
drive across town to drop her off, I was almost an
hour late. We fucked in the living room, the kitchen,
the bedroom, the shower...even once on the fire escape
at 3 AM, where I'm sure her vocal encouragements woke
the neighbors, who were at least nice enough not to
say anything about it to me. I couldn't believe the
way that she could wear me down until my entire body
felt like jelly, and then have me rock hard and ready
to go again scant minutes later.
I was so harried at trying to get to work that
morning that I didn't even think to ask for her number
when I dropped her off, but luckily I'm one of those
people who can remember how to get anywhere after I've
driven there once. When 5 o'clock finally came, I
drove straight to her place and knocked on the door.
And when she opened the door, she didn't say a word;
just grabbed me by the tie, dragged me inside, and all
but raped me all over again.
We ordered out for Chinese later that evening, and
were in the middle of yet another fuck session when
the doorbell rang. Sarah just called out "coming!",
picked herself up off of my cock, and strode calmly
to the door, pausing only to grab the cash I'd laid
out on her kitchen counter. As naked as the day she
was born, her cunt lips still hanging open and juices
all over her thighs from our copulation, she opened the
door, handed two twenties to the gawking delivery boy
in exchange for the bag, and swung the door shut with
a casual "keep the change." She matter of factly sat
the food on the countertop before returning to where
I sat awestruck on her couch and climbed back on top of
me without another word, orgasming again as she rode
me, before managing to squeeze out what few drops of
cum remained in my balls. It was during that time that
I noticed the streak of dried cum which still hung on
her chin.
As we set about eating, I couldn't hold it in any
longer. "I can't believe you did that!"
"Did what?", she asked casually, while sucking a long
noodle into her mouth.
I waited for her to laugh or explain the incident for
several seconds, but she just went on eating, as if
genuinely not knowing what I meant. "Walked to the
door. Like that!" I gestured at her still naked body.
"What? Naked?" She put down her fork, leveling an
appraising stare at my flabbergasted face. "What's the
big deal? People are naked all the time. You can't go
to a movie without seeing naked women on the screen."
"But you had cum all over you!" I exaggerated, but
only just.
"People fuck all the time, too. Even delivery boys."
I just gawked at her, unable to formulate the words
to reply even in my mind. But under the table, my cock
was rock hard once again, and painfully so.
"I'm not going to act all prim and proper just
because some Bible freak tells me I should," she said,
starting to get angry while misinterpreting my suprise.
"I mean, if they want religion, that's all well and
good for them, but I'm not going to let their beliefs
control the way that I live my life. I like to fuck,
I'm proud of my body, and I'm proud of the fact that
men like to fuck me. If you don't like it, the door's
right there." She went back to eating, making the
point that she really didn't care if I left or stayed.
"I *do* like it," I told her, that getting her
attention back in an instant. "I couldn't agree with
what you just said more, and I can't even begin to tell
you how long I've wanted to meet a woman who truly felt
that way about it." I paused, seeing her face take on
a look of mild suprise. "And I don't think I've ever
been as turned on in my life as I am right now."
She smiled at that, a catlike grin. "You like seeing
a woman flaunt her body?", she asked. I nodded. "I do
more than flaunt, too," she said, still grinning
devilishly. "You're not the only man I picked up in
some bar and went off to fuck, not by a long shot. And
I'm not going to change that."
Maybe that was a test on her part, or maybe a part of
her was truly hoping that I'd take exception to her
comment. Sarah would later tell me that she'd been
deathly afraid of entering into a real relationship,
with me or any other man. Not so much afraid of
getting hurt herself, she told me, but afraid of
hurting someone else. She's a slut, and she loves to
be one, but she never sets out to hurt any of the men
she fucks, or sucks, or just toys with. She never
tries to lead any of them on, to make any of them think
even for a second that it's anything more than a purely
physical thing. Or then again, perhaps it was just a
prelude, a preview of the perverted "foreplay" sessions
that we'd grow to love so much over the next couple of
years.
Whatever her intention when she said that, and she
says that she doesn't remember what she was thinking at
the time, I've never forgotten my reaction. My cock
seemed to grow and pulse bigger than it ever had in my
life, and I actually felt lightheaded from the
sensation. I don't know if it's medically possible for
too much blood to rush into your dick, to the point
where it could make you faint, but that's precisely
what it felt like to me.
"I wouldn't want you to," I answered her. "As long
as...as long as you'll tell me about it, afterwards."
It was hard for me to say then, because I'd shared that
fantasy with only a very few women before, and in each
prior instance had been met with reactions varying
between laughter and fury, all of them sharing in the
commonality of being assuredly negative.
She studied me for a long time, the food forgotten
by both of us. The smile on her face remained, but
only as a slight curling of one corner of her mouth, a
wry grin I suppose you could call it. She finally
nodded almost imperceptively and grinned wider.
"Prove it," Sarah said suddenly, clapping her palms
on the tabletop as she stood.
"What?"
She was already retreating into her bedroom, where I
heard a door opening. I didn't know whether to follow
her or not, so I stayed put. A minute later she strode
back out, pulling a short, lightweight dress into place
on her body. "Prove it," she repeated, plopping down
on the couch long enough to slide a pair of shoes on.
That task completed, she stood and walked over to me,
planting a quick kiss on my cheek. "I'm going to go
get fucked. I should be back in an hour or so. If you
decide you can't handle it, just flip the door lock on
your way out." And with that, she pulled the door shut
behind her, and she was gone.
It was actually closer to two and a half hours by the
time she returned. Nowadays, if Sarah finds that she's
running late she'll at least call to let me know that
she's okay. But she would later explain to me that she
wanted to be sure that I had plenty of time to think
things over while she was gone, to make sure that I was
really all right with her lifestyle and hadn't just
gotten carried away in a horny moment.
I didn't know what do to while she was gone. I never
once even considered leaving her place; that's not what
I mean. But I mostly paced around her apartment, my
brain going crazy trying to imagine what she was doing
right at that moment, wondering if she was crying out
as another man slammed his cock into her just as she'd
done while she'd fucked me. My erection never sagged
in the slightest for the whole 150 minutes. I tried
watching television, but I couldn't focus on the
programs in my ultrahorny state. I considered jacking
off, but I wanted to keep this edge right up until she
got home again. I even thought about snooping through
her things, seeing what kinky past experiences I could
uncover through the possessions in her bedroom, but I
fought off that urge as well.
When Sarah finally did walk back through her door,
there was no doubt whatsoever that she'd followed
through on her promise. I gawked openly--part of me
had honestly thought that she was just playing a game
with me, that she wouldn't actually do it. I loved
that she had.
"You really did it!"
She paused to kick off her shoes in the foyer. "I
really did it," she echoed. "You want to leave now?"
I shook my head slowly to indicate my answer.
"That's so hot." And it was.
She looked at me strangely, and I began to understand
that she hadn't expected me to still be there when she
returned. The look on her face said that she wasn't
sure if she was happy or upset that I was, but I've
already explained that contradiction of feelings. She
finally walked into the living room, settling down on
the couch beside me. "That really does turn you on?
That I just fucked another guy?" She sounded doubtful.
"It really does," I told her, meaning it. I went for
broke. "A woman as beautiful and sexy as you are
shouldn't have to feel like she's tied down to one guy,
or even that she should be."
That earned me another long, appraising stare. "So
what are you saying, Josh?" Did I mention yet that my
name is Josh? Hi, I'm Josh.
I looked at her. Her hair was a mess, most of it
from the intense fucking we'd done before she left, but
some of it from the sex she'd had while I waited for
her return. She absolutely reeked of her own cunt
juices, and in fact I could quite clearly see large
amounts of it, and some dried semen, on the thighs that
her short dress left bare as she sat. But what really
had me turned on, almost at the point of shooting in my
shorts, were the large amounts of cum, still wet, which
coated her cheeks and chin.
"I'm saying that I would love to keep seeing you,
Sarah. Beyond tonight, beyond this week. I'm saying
that I would never want you to change in any way, not
for me or for anybody else. And I'm saying that I have
never wanted anyone or anything the way that I want you
right now."
And we were on each other in a flash when I'd said
that, my cock pistoning into her recently used pussy,
my gaze locked onto the fresh gism which still ran down
her cheeks while we fucked, cum that wasn't my own.
And my heart fluttered when I saw the single tear which
trickled from the corner of her right eye, and heard
her calling out to me in a voice different than the one
she'd used before. Much more intimate.
Some people scoff at the idea of love at first sight,
but that's because they misinterpret what it means.
You can't fall in love with the appearance of a woman,
or a man, the instant that your eyes first pause on
their form--that's called lust. But you *can* fall in
love at first sight: the first time that you actually
*see* a person, and not just the facade that they throw
up for the rest of the world to see. That first
instant when you crack the walls that we all build
around ourselves, that protect us from the fears of
intimacy and the lack of trusting which accompanies
growing up. That first glimmer that you see in a
person's eye; the first time you feel something more
than skin when you touch; the first time their voice
carries something more than words; the first time you
see those tears which come out, not when they're
hurting, but when they begin to realize that maybe,
just maybe, the person they see in you is the person
that they've been waiting their entire life to meet.
You can fall in love at first sight, and that night,
looking down on the beautifully complex, caring,
compassionate, sensual, and outright wonderful woman
which Sarah truly is...that night, I was head over
heels in love. And yes, I still am.
We staggered into her bedroom when we'd finished,
collapsing on the unmade sheets and assuming what has
since become our traditional post-coital position: me
on my back, my left arm cocked out at shoulder level,
with Sarah snuggled against my side, her left leg
thrown over mine, left arm across my chest, and her
head resting on the meat of my bicep. Between the lack
of sleep the night before, the incredible exhertion of
our coupling then and earlier this evening, and the
intense emotions which we'd both struggled through over
our mutual revelations, we were both exhausted. But
not yet ready to sleep.
"So what did you do, exactly?", I asked.
She stirred slightly, out of nervousness and not from
waking. "You really want to know?"
"Yeah. I really do."
Sarah seemed to hold her breath for a long while,
obviously considering whether or not to believe me, and
then how much to tell me. "I caught a cab," she began,
"and took it to the supermarket about a mile away.
This time of night on a weeknight, I figured there
would be a lot of youngish guys that just buy as they
eat."
"Uh huh." That made sense.
"So I went in and kind of wandered around until I saw
this guy checking me out, so I went over and asked him
if he wanted to fuck me."
I almost choked. "You just walked up to the guy and
asked him that?!?" I wasn't put off--just shocked.
Where were women like that all these years that *I* had
been single?
She laughed at my tone of voice. "Well, not exactly
like that. You're sure you want to hear all of this?
You're not going to change your mind?" Her voice held
worry.
"Reach down with your left hand and you tell me."
Her fingers brushed against my miraculously renewed
erection and she chuckled under her breath.
"Fair enough." She raised herself up to a seated
position beside me, her face angled towards mine. "I
didn't put anything else on besides that dress. Well,
and the shoes, I mean. So when I saw him looking at
me, I turned around to face him and I lifted up the
skirt above my cunt."
She laughed again as my jaw dropped open, and I saw
her steal a quick glance at my crotch to be sure of the
current barometer reading. "*Then* I walked over to
him and asked if he wanted to fuck me. I'm not
subtle," she laughed.
"I can tell."
She smiled and stretched her back, my eyes
instictively drawn to her bare chest at the motion.
"At first, he just kind of stood there gawking, so I
took his hand and put it up under my dress, so he could
feel how wet I was. And yes," she teased in answer to
my smirk, "your efforts had a large part in that."
"Just so I get credit where credit is due."
She patted my chest lightly before going on. "So at
that point I guess instincts took over, and he started
to finger me."
"Right there in the store?"
She giggled. "Yeah."
"Did anyone else see?"
A shrug. "I don't know; maybe. It wasn't very
crowded, but I didn't exactly look around either."
"Daaaamn."
"I take it you like that, too?"
I nodded, and Li'l Josh was still seconding my
approval.
She shook her head and smiled. "So anyway, that's
the guy I fucked."
Now I really was wide-eyed. "You fucked him right
there in the store???"
She guffawed. "No, silly! I may be crazy, but I'm
not stupid--I'm not going to get arrested."
"Well that's a relief." I was grinning ear to ear.
"I asked him if we could go to his place." She
paused and the smile faded. "I, umm...wasn't sure
about bringing him back here, because I didn't know how
you would react if you were still here, or how he'd
react if he saw you."
I nodded. "Understood."
She looked at me for a long second. "I guess we can
figure that one out another time." Another nod from
me--like I said, I'm not really a voyeur, and in truth,
I'm actually a fairly jealous guy. Now, after a couple
of years together, I can get a handle on that facet of
my personality, but back then, I'm honestly not sure
how I would have reacted if she'd brought a guy home
for a fuck when I was there.
"Anyway, he couldn't do that. He was married." She
swatted away my finger as I pretended to shame her.
"He still had his finger in me, and I guess I should
tell you this. Once I get going, I do kind of start to
lose control, if you haven't noticed. Stop grinning
like that!" She laughed.
"So I was ready to just drag him into the storage
area in the back of the store or something, but he said
he had his car there, so we went out to his car and I
fucked him in the back seat."
"In the parking lot?"
"Yeah. I mean, he moved it first, so it was out of
the way, but then we just climbed into the back seat,
and he fucked me."
"Was he good?"
"You're *sure* you're not going to get jealous about
this?"
"Sarah," I began, "I'm not going to pretend that I'm
superhuman or something, and that I don't ever feel
jealousy. I do, sometimes. I'm not feeling any right
now, and anything you could say short of 'He was so
good that I never want to see you again' isn't going to
make me jealous of him. And since you're back here,
and you're sitting here in bed with me telling me this,
naked after we just fucked, I'm not too worried about
that."
She smiled back at me. "I just might hold you to
that."
"You can hold me any way you want to."
Sarah swatted me again in response to my cocky grin,
drawing a breath before saying, "Well....he was great.
I mean, so are you, but....okay, you've had some
girlfriends, right?" I nodded. "And more than one of
them was good in bed, right?" Another nod. "But you
couldn't really say that one in particular was hands
down better than all of the others. It's more like,
one of them was really good in one way, and another was
good in some other way. I don't know, maybe one had a
great body, but another one gave better blowjobs?"
I thought about it, and I did understand what she
was saying. While I had little doubt that Sarah had
far more experience than I did, and now know that for
a fact, I had managed to bed a few women before she
came into my life. I didn't really agree with her, as
even then I could have told her that she was hands down
the best lover I'd ever had, in every regard, but I
understood what she meant and told her so.
"So this guy was really good in different ways than
you are, that's what I mean," she told me. "He
was....fuck! Be honest, okay? Do you have a size
issue?"
I laughed at the earnest look that accompanied her
question. "No more than any other guy, or at least I
didn't until you just asked me that." She punched my
arm at that, but smiled as she did it. "So you're
saying that he was bigger than me, right?"
She smiled awkwardly. "Yeah."
I shrugged. "Bound to be at least a few that are."
"Well...if it makes you feel any better, I've had a
*lot* of cocks, and his was bigger than just about all
of them. You know what they say about black guys?
It's true."
"He was black?" I must have looked shocked.
Sarah pursed her lip. "Yeah. You don't have a
problem with that, do you?"
"No! Of course not!" I didn't, and don't, but in
today's politically correct world, I guess we're all
more than a little scared of being labeled intolerant.
"Good. I'm starting to like you, and I'd hate to
have to kick you out now." She smiled after she said
it, but we both knew how serious she was on that
regard.
"I dated a black woman for a while," I told her,
truthfully. "Beauty comes in all colors."
She nodded at that, placated. "Anyway, he was
fucking *huge*. I was trying not to get too loud,
being that we were in his car in the parking lot and
all, but I think I started screaming pretty good when
he got close to cumming and really started pounding me.
And God...I guess he and his wife don't fuck very much,
because it felt like the Hoover Dam burst when he
started shooting in me." Even just remembering it,
she looked a little dazed.
"In you? Uhhh..." I pointed to her face, still
covered with dried streaks of cum.
She looked puzzled for a second, then laughed when
she caught on. "Oh! Okay, remember that I still
wasn't sure about how you were going to really react
when I got back, all right?"
"Understandable."
"So after that guy fucked me, I caught another cab
back here. That's part of why I took so long, I was
waiting for the taxi," she explained. I nodded. "When
I got back, I saw that your car was still parked on the
curb, so then I knew that you were still here. I
wasn't sure you would be."
"I never even thought about leaving."
She smiled down at me on hearing that, one of those
special smiles that I've never seen her give to another
man. She didn't say it, but I knew then that she was
glad I hadn't left.
"Weeeeell...I'd gotten fucked, but you'd already cum
in me so many times that I was afraid you wouldn't be
able to tell the difference. And I wanted to be sure
that you didn't think I was just pretending, playing
some sort of game."
"I did think that a few times, at least until I saw
your face when you got back." I chuckled.
"That's why I did it. I wanted to be absolutely sure
that you knew I was serious, and that I really did it.
Because..." She paused and looked at me for a long
moment, her eyes serious now. "Well, just because.
So I gave the cabbie a little something extra with his
tip, before I came upstairs."
"You fucked him, too?"
She laughed. "No, I just gave him a blowjob. He
wasn't really my type."
I just stared at her, awestruck once again. "You
are so fucking hot," I finally managed to say.
She laughed hysterically. "Because I blew a cabbie?"
"Because you went out and fucked some guy you met at
the supermarket, and *then* you blew the cabbie, just
so you could prove to me that you really fucked the
guy at the supermarket."
She batted her eyes flirtaciously and spoke in an
innocent, little girl voice. "I had to make sure you
really knew what a slut you were dating."
"Then we *are* dating?" I flashed a cocky grin.
She looked like she hadn't meant to say that, but the
cat was out of the bag now and there was no getting it
back in. She finally smiled at me and reached down
to grasp my still-erect cock. "Let's just call it a
trial run. For now." And there was no point in
saying anything futher, because her mouth was busy with
other pursuits.
By the start of the next week, I had given up any
pretense of living in my own apartment. Sarah's pad
was the nicer of the two, and ironically enough, she
actually lived closer to my office than I did. It was
never a spoken agreement, but after the first couple
of nights I started bringing a change of clothes rather
than waking up an hour early in order to go home to
change for work, and somehow the dirty ones never made
it back to my place. Every morning I'd race off to
work after a wake up blowjob, and every evening I'd
return to her apartment for several incredible fucks,
often while she told me about one or more sexual
encounters which she'd had that day. We went out from
time to time, especially on the weekends, but for the
first few months all she would do was flirt with other
men while we were out, along with flaunting her lovely
body. She would occasionally go out by herself when I
was too tired to accompany her, but only after assuring
me that she'd stay home with me if I'd rather. I never
asked her to, and no matter how tired I'd be when she
left, I always managed to muster the energy to listen
to her tales of what she'd done without me, and to
reclaim her well-used cunt.
We developed a kind of game on these evenings, where
she would go through her closet and try on one outfit
after another, asking me if I thought she looked slutty
enough. To be honest, she really didn't have any
clothes which *didn't* look slutty, but it was fun to
see how far she was willing to push things, and even
more fun to hear about the results when she'd come home
later, reeking of alcohol of sex. Usually, she would
start out with whatever she could find in her wardrobe
which came close to being demure, the unspoken
challenge being for me to decline that outfit and force
her to find something more daring. I remember one
night about three months after we'd started dating when
she was in rare form, though--even for her.
I'd had a particularly rough week at the office, so
when Friday night came along, I just couldn't muster
the willpower to go along with her for a night of
clubbing. Sarah offered to stay home and "help take my
mind off of work," and she actually looked like she
would have preferred that, but I told her that my job
shouldn't be ruining her fun, and that she should go
out and have a great time. God knows she brought
enough joy into my life, despite what the office did to
suck it back out of me, and I didn't want to keep her
from a Friday night out on the town. She finally
consented when she saw that I meant it.
I guess she wanted to give me something to take my
mind off my troubles regardless, though, because the
first outfit she put on was one of the ones she'd
generally pick out third or fourth in our game. It was
a long white summer dress, twin shoulder straps holding
it aloft above where it dipped between her otherwise
bare tits, the hem of the skirt falling almost to her
ankles. What made that particular dress so sexy,
though, was the fact that it was almost completely
transparent--anything more than a casual glimpse at her
chest would reveal her nipples shining through the
thin material, and in the right light, you could
clearly see the bare lips of her shaven pussy. She
gave me a twirl, the long slit flying open to bare one
leg to mid-thigh and her delectable ass very visible
from the rear.
"What do you think, Josh? Does this make me look
slutty enough, or should I find something else?"
I was at a loss. Even in the somewhat seedy hangouts
that she preferred, she was pushing the limits of
public decency with that outfit already. But the way
she asked made it clear that she wanted me to nix the
dress. "It's pretty slutty," I temporized.
She stopped and looked down to study her appearance.
"Well, yeah, I guess it's pretty slutty. I mean, you
can see my tits and my cunt right through it, right?"
"Yeah, anyone can."
"But I mean, is it so slutty than any man who sees me
will want to fuck me right there on the spot?"
She was daring me, and I was curious to see where
this would end up. "No, it's not that slutty," I told
her, my cock already at full mast inside my pants.
She smiled on getting the answer she'd wanted.
"Okay, just a sec while I find something else."
I waited as she went back into the bedroom, taking
a good 5 minutes before she finally returned. And when
she did, she nearly took my breath away!
She had changed into one of her many little black
dresses. Okay, you think you have an idea of what I'm
talking about, but you're wrong. There are the
average, run of the mill little black dresses that
typical women wear to a semi-formal occasion, and then
there are Sarah's little black dresses. This one could
easily have passed for a t-shirt--it was sleeveless,
with a curved neckline which plunged so far down her
chest that it was a minor miracle it she managed to
cover her nipples. Any sudden movements would quickly
undo that miracle, though.
The hem, if it even qualified as one, was so short
that it barely, *just* barely, covered her ass when she
was standing stock still. If she bent over so much as
a hair it would ride up to expose her bare orbs, and
lifting one of her feet even to take a step left the
bottoms of her cunt lips in plain sight. Not content
to settle for even that blatant an image, she had also
put on one of her garter belts, black in color, along
with matching stockings. The "dress" was so tight that
you could easily see the outline of the garter belt
through it (not to mention her barely covered nipples),
but that hardly mattered, as at least 2 inches worth of
the straps were visible below the garment, until they
hooked onto the tops of her hose. Her feet were tucked
into her tallest pair of "fuck me" heels, 6 inch
platform sandals, also in black. Literally, you know
the porno spreads you see on the internet that are
meant to depict a "bad" girl? Sarah made those women
look like girl scouts.
"Is this slutty enough?"
I didn't know what to say, and even if I could have
thought of any words, it would have been hard to utter
them with my jaw hanging down to my knees. She'd be
lucky to make it 10 feet outside of our building in
that outfit before someone was propositioning her.
"I mean...I know it's slutty, but I'm not sure it
really says it strong enough. I want to get a lot of
cock tonight," she said innocently.
"Uhhh...I guess you could go...sluttier?" I wasn't
sure how, but if that's what she wanted to hear, my
own cock was certainly interested in seeing her try.
"You're right!", she smiled. Sarah reached down to
grab the bottom of the dress and pulled it up over her
head, tossing it aside and standing before me in
nothing but a frilly garter belt, black stockings, and
6 inch heels. "How about this?"
I silently willed my heart to start beating again.
She couldn't be serious!
"I mean, whatever I wear, it's just going to be in
the way when I'm showing all those men my cunt and my
tits, not to mention when they're fucking me and
spraying cum all over my body. So why bother with
anything more, right?" She smiled cheerfully and
turned on her heel, grabbing a coat from the foyer
closet and pulling it over her shoulders. The coat,
also black, and leather, made things a *little* better
(or worse, depending on your take)--it hung down to
just barely cover the tops of her stockings, until she
took a stride or bent at all. She didn't even bother
to zip the jacket up; just picked up her purse as she
walked over to kiss me goodbye, my eyes stuck on the
sight of her bare, hairless twat exposed between the
open flaps of the coat, and then walked to the door.
"I should be home by 1 AM," she called happily as
she opened it and stepped outside. "Do you want me to
wake you when I get home, if you're asleep?"
Me falling asleep wasn't going to be a problem. "Uh,
sure," I croaked.
"Okay. Love you!" She blew me a kiss and let the
door fall closed. I jumped up and ran to the windows
to catch a glimpse of her as she walked away from
the building, seeing her appear a few seconds later.
Sarah was at least holding the coat closed over her
body, I saw with some relief--I'm all for her flaunting
her beautiful body, but I don't want to end up bailing
her out of some jail any more than she wants to be in
one. Of course, my relief turned to cock-hardening awe
when she raised her hand to hail a passing cab, her
other hand clutching her purse. Of course that caused
the jacket to fall completely open, helped no doubt by
the way she lurched up on the toes of her platforms as
she waved. I could only shake my head and laugh softly
as I saw the cabbie literally slam on his brakes,
laying a short streak of rubber on the pavement below.
My beautiful, slutty girlfriend hopped into the cab,
giving me (and who knows who else) a great shot of her
legs and one bare tit, and then they were speeding
away into the night.
True to my instincts, I was wide awake all night and
resisting the constant urge to jack off at the thought
of Sarah walking around town like that; and true to her
word, she walked through the door at 12:55 AM.
She was a mess, even for her. Her hair was matted
to her scalp. Her stockings had huge runs and tears
all over them. And there were telltale white streaks
all over her face, legs, shoes, and even the top of
her jacket. She looked like she had just fucked a
small nation.
Sarah glanced quickly at the clock (she never wore
a watch). "Oh thank God, I was afraid I'd be late."
That's one of the things about Sarah that keeps me
from ever questioning her feelings for me, despite the
number of other men that she fucks. She's always
saying little things like that, or doing sweet things
for me; giving me constant reminders that I'm always
the #1 man in her life, and the only man in her heart.
Some of you may think that she was just saying it for
form's sake, but she really means things like that. As
I said earlier, when Sarah gives me a by time which she
expects to be home, she's either home by that time,
or else she calls me before she's late to let me know
that she's okay, and when she will be home that night.
I don't worry about her leaving me or forgetting about
me, don't think that--but with her lifestyle and some
of the men that she hooks up with, I do sometimes worry
for her physical safety. She's very adept at taking
care of herself (I guess not very many guys see any
reason to hurt or detain a woman who's willing to do
anything they ask of her anyway), but the masculine
guardian part of my persona still feels the need to
"take care of her", such as I can.
"What happened to you?", I asked her, even after 3
months shocked at her appearance.
Sarah took off her coat and flopped down on the couch
next to me, displaying even more dried cum all over her
breasts, stomach, cunt...hell, all over her. And she
smelled like the subway. "What *didn't* happen is more
like it," she groaned happily. She noticed my nose
crinkling before I could stop myself. "That's piss,"
she said matter of factly.
"You let a guy piss on you?"
She laughed at my expression, a kind and cheerful
laugh. "Not *a* guy, five guys. I hooked up with them
at the club and they took me back to their place.
Well, only one of them actually *lived* there, but you
know what I mean."
"You let *five* guys piss on you?" I couldn't help
but chuckle myself.
"Yeah." She actually bounced a bit. "I'd never
tried that before, but I think I kind of like it. It
makes me feel really dirty and slutty." She purred
the last part.
"It *is* really dirty and slutty," I told her.
"But you still love me?" She batted her eyes at me,
already certain of the answer.
"But I still love you," I confirmed. "I'm not sure
the cabbie on your return trip did, though."
She guffawed at that. "I got dropped off. They were
making me late, and I told them that I absolutely had
to be home by 1AM, so one of the guys drove me home
instead of making me wait for a cab."
"Very gentlemanly."
Sarah laughed again. "Well, I did sort of have to
suck him off while he drove me. But I didn't mind
that." She gets such a magical gleam in her eye when
she tells me what she's done.
"I'm sure you didn't."
"So anyway, if you ever want to piss on me, you can.
Even right into my mouth--they made me do that, and it
wasn't so bad."
I just shook my head, an amazed grin on my face.
Okay, so I wasn't going to kiss her on the lips
tonight, but she *was* a slut, and anything that turned
her on turned me on, too.
"It didn't taste all that great, but it was more the
act. Plus the way they made me do it."
"How did they make you do it?"
She stretched out, and I could see that her lips were
still hanging partially open. "They told me that if I
wanted to be such a little slut, they were going to
treat me like one. So after they'd all fucked me for
a few hours, they made me kneel down in the guy's
shower, and they all let loose on me. At first I just
kind of sat there and let them do it, but then I got
more into it, and I was holding my mouth open and
sticking out my tongue. Oh, and I kind of took one of
them into my mouth while he was pissing, too."
"Damn Sarah!"
"I know, that was *really* slutty of me, wasn't it?"
The sparkle in her eye said how proud she was of that
fact.
"Yeah, it was."
"I think that was the guy who'd just fucked my ass,
too." She wrinkled her nose, but Sarah was still
grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
I knew that she liked being fucked in the ass, and
I'd buggered her on numerous occasions myself. And
since she'd never shown any shyness for taking my cock
into her mouth right after, that didn't suprise me at
all. She was just trying to pour on her sluttiness for
my benefit, and it was working.
"Stand up," I told her.
Her grin got wider, if that was possible, and she
complied. I led her over to the bar which stood
between the kitchen and the living room. "Bend over."
"Yes, sir!", she giggled.
I quickly pulled off my boxers (the only thing I'd
been wearing when she returned) and positioned myself,
sliding with ease into her well-fucked cunt.
"You're feeling 5 other guys' cum in there, baby,"
she panted to me.
"I'm seeing it all over you, too. And their piss."
"Mmmmm, yeah. They fucked me so many times, Josh. I
couldn't even count."
"And you loved it, didn't you?"
"God, yes!" She was moaning now, reaching down to
twiddle her clit as I rammed into her. Sarah likes it
hard, especially when she's on one of her superslut
trips.
"You were their little slut for the night, weren't
you? Their bitch."
"Yes! I was their bitch, I'm a fucking slut Josh. I
love it!!!" She started howling out her orgasm.
"Yeah, that's it, you little cunt. Cum all over the
sixth cock that's been in you tonight. Smelling like
a fucking pisser, too." That's the other thing--when
she's in one of these moods, Sarah loves to be talked
down to.
"Mmmmmm God! Fuck me like the slut I am!"
"You want it in your ass slut?"
"Yes! Fuck my ass, baby!"
I pulled my shaft out of her cunt, barely pausing
before I pushed into her rear opening. That's one of
the benefits of having a slut for a girlfriend--you
don't need to do a whole lot of prepatory work before
you ram into her rump.
"Mmmmm, it feels so good, Josh. Tell me when you're
gonna cum, baby. I want you to shoot in my mouth."
"You want me to pull my dick out of your slutty
little ass and stick it straight into your mouth?"
"Yes!! I want to taste it!"
I looked down at her, bent over the bar counter, her
shredded stockings barely clinging to her legs, one of
the garter straps broken, dried cum and piss all over
her body after her recent gangbang. I listened to her
urging me on, trying to outdo herself in carnality. I
felt her ass clamping down on my shaft as she squeezed
me, trying to milk the cum out of my balls. I thought
about all the things she'd done that night, and on so
many others; all the men she'd fucked, sucked, and
teased with her body. And then I was pulling myself
out of her ass, holding my cock and stroking quickly,
Sarah nearly falling over as she spun around and
opened her mouth.
She grabbed my ass and pulled me to her, my cockhead
disappearing between her lips just as I started to
shoot, her hand tugging at my wrist so she could get
more of me into her mouth. I could see her
cum-streaked cheeks hollow as she sucked on me, see
her throat muscles ripple as she swallowed the load
which had been brewing ever since she walked out the
door in nothing but stockings, heels, and a tiny
jacket, so many hours before. I felt her tongue all
over my shaft, licking, tasting her cum, my cum, the
cum of 5 other men which had come along with me out of
her cunt and ass.
I grabbed her hair and pulled at her until her nose
lay buried in my pubes, my cock lodged into her throat.
Sarah has no problem deepthroating me, or even men with
dicks far longer than mine. She's a slut, and that's
one of the things she does.
She released me with a loud sucking 'pop' when I was
done, still stroking my dwindling rod while kissing and
licking at the head. "God," she panted as she looked
up at me between licks, "I've been waiting all night to
do that."
Now do you see why I love her?
---To be continued---
<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> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+