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Subject: {ASSM} Bonnie's Tea Party ( bg, gdom, tv, true )
Date: Mon, 18 Aug 2003 08:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Bonnie_Tea_Time.doc" begin>
Bonnie's Tea Party
by bluepervina
bluepervina[AT]earthling[DOT]net
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/bluepervina/www/
Copyright 2003 by bluepervina
( bg, gdom, tv, true )
* * * * *
IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18, or otherwise forbidden by law to
read (any or specific kinds of) electronically transmitted
erotic
material, please do not read anything else in this file.
This material is copyrighted by bluepervina. All rights are
reserved. The author specifically grants to an individual user
the right to download and keep ONE electronic copy for that
individual's personal reading so long as all original copyright
notices by bluepervina remain included with the work.
Any and all reposting requires prior written permission from
bluepervina.
* * * * *
This is a part of my new "I really don't want to work that hard"
series, wherein I briefly gussy-up a bunch of tales about
adventures I've had in my life with various former girlfriends,
all of whom are now lumped into one great, wild girl called
Bonnie. More installments should follow.
(Note: In this story, Bonnie is a little older than the
narrator; in other stories, their ages are the same, or he is
older. This is a by-product of the fact that "Bonnie" is just a
persona that represents a handful of different girls, so
sometimes she's younger than the narrator, sometimes she's older,
etc.)
* * * * *
One strange year I became very close to a girl who lived across
the street from us; she was in the 8th grade, I was in the 5th
grade. Her mom and my mom decided that she could "watch me" after
school until all the parents got home from work, etc., the usual
latch-key kid stuff.
I remember she liked to affect an English accent. She had this
absurdly funny way of saying the word "again". It was like a
full minute long by the time she finished with it. The first few
times we were together, she simply dragged me throughout her
house and yard, pointing out anything and everything that was
important to her. The whole time, her voice wavered in and out
of this odd courtly lilt, like she'd been practicing it for so
long but couldn't exactly get it just right now that she finally
had somebody to really use it on. It charmed me utterly, and I
looked at whatever she wanted me to look at, played whatever
board game or Atari cartridge she wanted.
Her name was Bonnie. She looked exactly like a princess long,
soft brown hair; large, round, dark eyes with lashes that she
liked to bat at me constantly; a slim, virginal body with tiny
breasts and pointy hips; she possessed an easy grace like a
ballerina, and she always held her chin very high. It was mostly
an act to impress, I know now. But she *was* beautiful, and she
knew she could use that to use me. However she wanted.
I'd just begun to really notice girls and how good it felt to ram
my hard dick against the pillows at night. It wasn't difficult
for Bonnie to lead me down all kinds of paths, but the one that
we traveled the most was right into her closet.
She was big-time into getting me to dress up in her clothes.
Sitting back on her bed, leaned against the pillows, her long
legs crossed at the ankles, Bonnie would direct the whole scene.
I would stand dumbly for a while and gaze at her bare feet, her
shorts where they billowed out to reveal the edges of her
panties, her tanned arms crossed and pensively covering her
knobby little breasts. Then she would alternately smirk and pout
and order me to strip down to nothing. Then I'd have to put on
her panties, skirts, bras, blouses, sandals.
Everything she wore, I wore. We went through the whole closet
over the course of a few months. Her panties were the nicest
thing to put on, of course. They were simple cotton, nothing
fancy, but they were *hers*. Plus, they had that extra little
strip in the crotch, and they rode up my ass nicely when she made
me walk around. She let me wear more than a few pairs home, and
for many years I kept that small collection hidden inside a
shoebox that was shoved way under my bed.
I like the bras OK, but they seemed so ridiculous. Even though
Bonnie had very small breasts, there was still this pocket of
nothing in the cup, and the things pooched out on my chest as I'd
stand there under her inspection. It was nice to feel the straps
around my body, of course, but the sight of such a useless
garment on me was a bit of a letdown sometimes. Bonnie
eventually solved that problem by stuffing a panty inside each
cup for me, and that pretty much immediately improved my
opinion.
Skirts felt deliciously naughty to me, the way they swished
around my legs, the way the air blew up under them, between my
legs, tickling the little hairs on the insides of my thighs.
Sometimes Bonnie made me pull on her pantyhose, which slid so
soft and cool and tight up my legs. Then the skirts would swish
against that hose and keep a cool silky sensation running up and
down my lower body. It was easy to love how that felt.
I remember trying to imagine if other boys liked that sort of
thing. After all, other boys had to spend time playing with
girls, right? Were there classmates of mine who wore girls'
panties and bras, who liked pantyhose and embroidered hemlines?
Our feet were quite different, so I couldn't wear Bonnie's shoes.
She solved this problem one weekend, when she went to visit
relatives out of town, by stealing a pair high heels from her
cousin. They were black, strappy, and expensive-looking. I
remember Bonnie told me she'd get killed if she got caught.
"But it's worth it, *dah-ling*," she intoned, in her best fake
accent.
Eventually, she started putting makeup on me; then she began to
get dressed up herself. We had "tea parties" (with her old
Barbie set) and "walks in the royal gardens" (the scrubby
backyard behind the privacy fence). She was my princess, so happy
and carefree and giggly/thrilled that we could do what we were
doing. I knew I was her slave and that I loved her with all my
heart and that she'd let me marry her someday. Then I could do
everything she wanted, forever.
Of course, the payoff for me was that, when she finally got
around to dressing herself up, I got to see her naked. Like it
was part of what she expected, she'd go all the way down to
nothing, turn a few times on her tippy-toes, then dip into her
dresser for a fresh pair of panties and some fancy knee-length
socks. She grew to like her own nudity with me quite a bit, and
sometimes I'd even get to undress while she was laying back naked
the whole time herself, only getting herself dressed up after I
was finished.
But the greatest part of it all was that she finally decided to
let me pleasure her. We didn't know it as such back then. She'd
just strike up that accent and order me to "lick this... lick
this... yes, *dah-ling*, that's divine...." I would suck and
nibble lightly on her little breasts. The nipples, budding like
they were, felt so soft and tender in my mouth! Her toes went in
my mouth a lot, too, and began for me a casual fetish that I
still love to indulge even to this day. (In fact, nowadays if
I'm around a pretty woman who is barefoot or in a nice black
strappy sandal, I have a serious concentration problem.)
I learned to lick and suck on her pussy until she orgasmed.
Without a doubt, I was there when she had her first. The look on
her face! She even lost her English accent for a minute, long
enough to say, "Fuck! That felt so *good*!" In the nicest
little clipped southern drawl I could've ever imagined. She
liked just the tip of my index finger to be in her asshole,
wiggling, while I slurped her pussy like a sloppy dog. Then, as
she neared her peak, her hands would push on my head, and I'd
know to zero in more and more on her clitoris, making my tongue
ride it until she was satisfied.
(And she tasted exactly, perfectly, like a luscious, ripe kiwi.
The same tart-sweet flavor. The same juicy, sticky mess. I
didn't know that was what her pussy was like at the time, of
course; but imagine my surprise a few years later at a wedding
reception when I got my first-ever taste of a real kiwi fruit! I
was asking Mom to buy them, week in and week out.)
We had a thrilling, delirious time the princess with her long
legs and disdainful gazes and soaking-wet pussy, and her faithful
lady-in-waiting, with a penis that wasn't old enough to come yet,
but it sure did want to! Bonnie had no interest in putting it
inside her, though, not even out of curiosity. She said, quite
simply, that no boy would ever shoot his baby-making seeds inside
her; and that was that. Even if I wasn't old enough to really do
it, she wasn't the least interested in letting me try. After
all, she was getting off already, what did she care?
Her mom and dad kept to their schedules with amazing consistency;
never once did they come home early. So by the time they arrived
we were always back in normal clothes, makeup washed away, pussy
smell banished by Lysol. But Bonnie kept the English accent.
Clearly, it amused her parents.
Then she moved away at the end of that school year, and naturally
I stopped wearing girls' clothing every day after school. (Where
else would I get access to them, after all?) I did get out the
panties I'd hoarded, though, and I liked to wear those quite a
bit. Never having bothered to explain it to me, Bonnie had
always taken a permanent marker and drawn her name in cursive on
each one, right on the outside of the crotch. I liked to think
that my hard dick was fucking her, in a way, when I finally
started coming: I'd wrap those panties around my dick and spurt
rope after rope of my cream onto her finely scripted name.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Copyright 2003 by bluepervina.
Feedback welcomed!
bluepervina[AT]earthling[DOT]net
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/bluepervina/www/
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