Message-ID: <44317asstr$1063674605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Original-Message-ID: <3F659D25.7080206@hawaii.rr.com>
From: Robin Neal <robin-neal@hawaii.rr.com>
User-Agent: Mozilla/5.0 (Windows; U; Win98; en-US; rv:1.0.2) Gecko/20030208 Netscape/7.02
X-Accept-Language: en-us, en
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 01:06:13 -1000
Subject: {ASSM} The Best Chest in Vegas {Robin Neal} [1/1]
Date: Mon, 15 Sep 2003 21:10:05 -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/Year2003/44317>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, newsman
This story may be included in the ASSM archive, but may not be
reposted
or published elsewhere without written permission from the
author.
<1st attachment, "BestChest.txt" begin>
Copyright (c) Robin Neal, all rights reserved, reposting without
permission prohibited
THE BEST CHEST IN VEGAS
Scene 1 - Awesomely Totally Great Chick Stuff Galore
Pan-Clorheptanol-D, it was called. Three tiny pills a day, and
Shellie had enough for about another week, which should be
EXACTLY right. It hadn't been hard to get one of her fans, Dr.
Scheidler (in her mind, she always called him Dr. Stinky because
of his cigar habit) to provide the magic medicine. He was an
endocrinologist, which Shellie didn't have to be able to
pronounce to know it meant hormone doctor. She didn't have to
fuck him; he was putty in her hands, totally slutty for any kind
of attention from her. Hey, that rhymed! "Slutty putty, slutty
putty, slutty putty..." she giggled softly as she pranced up the
walkway to the house, glowing with self-admiration.
Fifty thousand bucks, Shellie, you incredibly smart naughty
wonderful brat! And for what? Doing what you already do five
nights a week, just once and in a bigger showroom, for a bigger
audience (WAY bigger counting the pay-per-view, and then the
video), and it isn't going to do your fan club any harm either!
She pinned the Neiman's bag between her hip and the wall, dropped
the Bebe bag on the flagstones (nothing in there was breakable),
shifted the bigger of the two Vicky's Secret bags up to the angle
of her elbow, and tussled with her keychain (GOT to take some of
that shit off of there!) until she got the door key lined up with
the lock. Finally it turned, and without a broken nail. Her
good karma was holding steady.
Carla was home, more good karma. Shellie almost never made it
to the alarm control thingie in time when she came in from
shopping. Then she'd have to figure out how to shut it up and
find the number and call them and tell them it was her again.
Life is just TOO hard on a girl. But Carla's Explorer was in the
carport, so it was all good this time.
Nudging the Bebe bag ahead of her with a her foot as she tried
to stuff her keychain into her purse, Shellie made slow progress
toward the living room. She stopped to get her breath, puffing
her unruly bangs off her forehead in a habitual gesture. The
rest of her hair (well down her back and a
chestnut-auburn-honeyblonde that was TOTALLY the look this month)
was pretty out of control too, at the moment, a hazard of being
out on a semi-windy day with a really big style. But hey, it
goes with the territory and now that she was home, she could put
it up, finally.
With her giant load of treasures dumped at last in their
temporarily proper place on the floor by the couch, she collapsed
in the Lazy Boy and called, "Hey, Carla, I'm home! I went to the
mall, check it out!"
Carla came in from the kitchen, lovely, leggy and athletic in a
little belly top, short shorts and tall wedgies, a wine cooler
fizzing in her hand. "To the mall without me?" she smiled. "You
suck, but I might forgive you as long as you didn't get anything
good!"
"Hah, I got TONS!" Shellie smirked as Carla spied the loot and
her eyebrows rose. "MAJOR damage. They gots new perfume in at
Vicky's, purple stretch jeans at the Runway, don't EVEN get me
started on shoes! You're gonna hate me so bad!" She indicated
the pile with a limp wave of her hand, too exhausted to move
otherwise but managing to exude extreme enthusiasm nonetheless.
Carla looked appropriately blown away.
"Woah!" She genuflected before the shrine of Chick Stuff and
dug in, paper fountaining over both shoulders. "You SLUT! You
WENCH!" She opened a shoebox, the lid sailing across the living
room like a Frisbee. "You back-alley, schoolyard, BARNYARD..."
She held up a pair of elegantly painful-looking stilettos in a
rich shade of fuscia and adored them, eyes wide. "What were you
doing at North Beach?!!" she accused. "Their sale doesn't start
'til tomorrow!"
Shellie made her wait for a second while she dug in the chair
cushions, came up with a reasonably new scrunchie, and
constructed a voluminous pony tail. "God, I'm sweating like a
mare in heat! It's like the Siberian Desert out there, or
something. Hey, Babe, who needs a sale when you're the
GUARANTEED future Best Chest in Vegas?" That got Carla's
attention, and Shellie batted her eyelashes winningly, sat up in
her chair and arched her back, throwing her hands in the air with
a studied abandon left over from her cheerleading days.
"Whaddaya think?" she chirped. "Ready to give up?"
Carla stared, the delicious shoes forgotten. "Woman," she
asked seriously after a moment of disorientation, "what is UP
with your tits!" She looked like she'd landed in an X-Files
episode without Mulder to explain the madness. Shellie returned
a sparkling smile that would have cost
God-could-only-have-known-how-much if one of her fans hadn't been
a dental cosmetic technologist. She offered not a word.
Scene 2 - Cheaters Cannot Be Allowed To Prosper
Carla's mind churned as she stumbled back into the kitchen, put
down her drink, sat on the barstool where she'd left her Cosmo
open to this month's version of "99 Positions He Never Heard Of"
and distractedly lit a cigarette. Shellie had gone to take a
shower, but not before smugly resisting Carla's pleas for an
explanation. Those were NOT her real... um... her PREVIOUS
breasts. Shellie was a "surgically improved" 36DD. Carla was a
natural 36DD. It was the true order of things, a fundamental
building block of their universe. Shellie was a former
cheerleader, Carla was a former volleyball player. Shellie was a
showgirl at the Bellagio, Carla was an RN who only OCCASIONALLY
worked at Cheetah's, and only when she really wanted to buy
something she couldn't otherwise afford. Shellie gleefully took
jewelry and clothes and cruises and stuff from men, Carla took
men (when she wanted them). Shellie's boobs were fantastic and
artistically done by the best in the business, Carla's boobs were
fantastic and original equipment. Carla was the Boss.
Today, with a thrust and a bounce, that had all changed.
Shellie was at LEAST an E cup and they had a plump, ripe look,
even stuffed into that sports bra, that Carla would certainly
have remembered if it had existed a few days ago. So round, so
firm, so fully packed, as the saying goes; Shellie was absolutely
right about the guaranteed contest victory, and HOW had she done
it? There hadn't been time for another operation, and besides
the Best Chest in Vegas was in six days and the final judging was
topless. Shellie couldn't have counted on recuperating that
fast. And she WASN'T recuperating, she was SHOPPING. And the
brat wouldn't TELL! Carla absently made a smoke ring, then
swatted it into oblivion with her other hand. This was not good.
Casually torturing one another in the name of friendship was
normal for the girls, but there was never any real jealousy.
Their taste in men was diametrically opposed, so they had been
practically perfect roommates for a lease and a half. When they
had heard of the Best Chest in Vegas contest a month earlier,
they had entered together without a thought of cattiness. If the
judges went for sleek, sultry curves and unspoken promises,
Shellie would have a good chance. She had already started
working her magic on the sponsor, a pudgy, florid businessman of
forty-five or so. If they wanted fitness-contest definition and
magnificent natural charms, Carla would do better. Either of
them might win, and it would be a great party afterward no matter
what. But this... THIS wasn't fair. And Shellie wasn't going to
get away with it, not if Carla could help it.
She wracked her brain. A change so pronounced, so abrupt, had
to have a medical explanation, didn't it? There were certainly
medications that could make girls' bodies react radically, but
where had Shellie gotten the stuff?
From a man, of course. Everything was becoming clear. One of
her sloppy old doctor customers, it HAD to be. And what was it?
Well... that could be revealed too, now that they weren't playing
fair.
Carla tiptoed barefoot into the bathroom, where pieces of outfit
including the new and heroic sports bra were strewn everywhere,
and listened to Shellie humming brightly to herself as she soaped
and shampooed and probably touched herself inappropriately on the
other side of the shower doors. A glance at the toilet told the
tale. It was only justice that one of Shellie's stubborn bad
habits was going to prove her undoing. Carla slipped the lid off
of a little Tupperware cup that she had just taken from the
dishwasher, easily sterile enough to do the job, and dipped it
in. She could just imagine Shellie's shriek of "Eeeewww!" if
she'd seen Carla purloining the urine sample. Carla was an RN,
though, and this was NOTHING compared to some of the world-class
grossness she'd been through in her Candy Striper days.
Now, off to the lab!
Scene 3 - Busted
Friday morning dawned bright and early. Shellie dawned somewhat
later and somewhat less bright. She had really had her butt
kicked at work the last couple of nights as her startling new
dimensions led to sharply increased attention from sundry
admirers in the audience, and her attempts to fend them off after
the show had often melted under an assault of cash, waved by the
fistful and stuffed into various parts of her costume and...
elsewhere. Last night she had finally succumbed to an eleven
hundred dollar bottle of champagne pressed on her by a dorky
Saudi prince, and while she had eventually escaped his advances
with the help of hotel security, she hadn't escaped the alcohol.
The graveyard security supervisor, who was totally married and
really sweet, had impounded her car keys and sent her home in a
limo. How she had actually made it to her bed was something of a
mystery.
She sat up and looked muzzily around her bedroom, trying with
both hands to get her hair out of her face. Carla, evidently
having heard Shellie's confused groans, padded in and presented a
huge cup of hot coffee ( five creams, seven sugars and a shot of
Frangelico ) and Shellie almost burst into tears. "God, I love
you, you are the BOMB!" she moaned as Carla pressed the insulated
Starbucks mug into her fingers and sat on the edge of the bed
with a fond expression.
Shellie took a big sip, closed her eyes and moaned louder,
swallowed, then set the mug on the nightstand and yawned
mightily, stretching. As she did so, Carla eyed her roommate's
mind-boggling physique and asked, "Are you okay? They look like
they're sort of out of control, y'know."
Shellie didn't have to ask who "they" were. Her boobs had
continued to plump and swell all week, and now the common
"watermelon" euphemism wasn't too far wrong. In addition, her
nipples had swollen and lengthened in proportion. She put her
hands under her bosom and hefted it experimentally. Wow. She
was glad the contest was tomorrow. These things were getting
HEAVY. And SENSITIVE. And what was she going to find to wear
today? No more pills, she decided; she definitely didn't need
them even though she had a few left. In fact, maybe she had gone
just a TEENSIE bit far with it? To herself, she wondered how
long this was going to take to go away. To Carla, she said
dismissively, "I dunno, must be some hormone thing, like when
I'm gonna get my period. It'll go away, prolly." She picked up
her coffee mug and took an even bigger sip, trying to maintain an
expression of total innocence.
"Okay," said Carla with a shrug. "Why don't you drag yourself
out of there and come in the living room. Oprah's on and I want
to chat about something."
"Sure, in a sec." Shellie was mildly curious. "Aren't you
going to work?"
"Nope, I'm going to stay home with you today. I've got some
stuff I need to take care of."
Shellie made it to the living room, plopped on the couch next to
Carla and started digging in the cushions for a scrunchie. Oprah
was indeed on, and the lifestyle diva was holding forth on some
topic utterly crucial to all womankind, managing to be
simultaneously bubbly, incredulous, sisterly and sage. Shellie
had ransacked her dresser drawers for a top after struggling out
of the cotton stretch nightie she'd worn to sleep, and finally
resorted to an old boyfriend's white rib-knit tank undershirt to
wear with her little cutoffs. She was truly bursting out of it,
but at least it covered her nipples. They tingled and stiffened
as the fabric slid across them.
"Okay, whassup?" she smiled at Carla, who was nursing her own
coffee mug.
"Okay. Now listen... you know you don't always do exactly the
smartest thing sometimes, right? I mean not like you're dumb or
anything, but you get excited and just do stuff. And I've always
taken care of you, haven't I? Like when you're wasted, or when
that guy wanted you to do that modeling thing in the Philippines,
or when your girlfriend from the hotel tried to get you to put
your savings in that marketing thing."
"Yeah, I guess," said Shellie cautiously. Carla was right,
although Shellie hadn't exactly spent a lot of time thinking
about it. Actually, Carla really did take care of her a lot, and
Shellie maybe should have said Thank You more often. She caught
her plump little lower lip between her teeth and looked up at
Carla from under her lashes.
"So now I'm going to take care of you again, because you haven't
exactly been a good girl and I'm afraid something bad is going to
happen if I don't do something." She scooted a little closer,
holding Shellie's eyes, and their knees touched.
Shellie went very still, butterflies starting to flutter in her
tummy. "What do you mean I haven't been good?" she asked
softly. "Is this about some guy? Because I'd NEVER if I would
have known..."
"No, no, Babe," Carla said just as softly, "it's about these."
And she leaned a little closer and slipped her fingers up
Shellie's ribs to the side of one of those outrageous breasts and
gave it a gentle caress. Shellie's breath caught and she tried
to suppress a squirm at the unexpected heat of Carla's touch.
That was just because her boobs were SO sensitive right now.
Wasn't it? Carla didn't take her hand away.
"What... what about them?" Shellie whispered cautiously.
"It's about the Pan-Clorheptanol-D," Carla said and Shellie
said "Uh-oh!" in a tiny little squeak, guilt written all over her
face.
"I'm not mad at you," Carla went on. "Really I'm not. I'm
worried about you, 'cause I know you don't understand how it
works. Whoever gave it to you should have told you. You took
too much for too long, and now other parts of you are going to
start getting like this if you don't get treatment."
"Other parts?" Shellie gasped in alarm. "WHAT other parts!"
"That depends. When did you stop taking it?"
"I... um... I was going to stop today?" Shellie's green eyes
were wide with dread.
Carla started stroking lightly where her hand still rested on
her roommate's breast, calming Shellie with her best bedside
manner. "It's okay, it's okay, I know what to do... Don't worry,
I can take care of it. We can do your treatment right here at
home, you won't have to go to Emergency, nobody has to know."
Shellie sighed with relief. "Really?" It never occurred to her
to wonder how Carla had known about the hormone stuff. Carla was
a nurse, after all, and Shellie was used to her taking over
whenever some medical thing happened. "Okay, what do we have to
do?"
Scene 4 - Emergency Treatment
"Carla, are you sure about this part? It feels weird!" Shellie
hadn't been surprised when Carla had done a careful examination
of her boobs, although it was a little embarrassing and secretly
a little arousing. She hadn't been surprised when Carla had had
her swallow of couple of small pills, and she hadn't been
surprised that she was going to have to stay home today and
tonight to rest and let the treatment take effect; she'd called
in to work and told them she couldn't make it tonight, which was
never a problem, there were lots of on-call girls always anxious
to be in the show.
But now, as she sat on her bed and watched Carla take this tacky
stretchy medical bandage stuff and wrap it around her waist and
up her rib cage to just under her bosom, she wondered just how
the heck it was going to help.
"Compression therapy, it's called," said Carla. "Whenever we
anticipate abnormal swelling of some part of your body, it helps
to use this med wrap to keep light pressure on the area. We do
it all the time, don't worry."
Shellie subsided, a little intimidated by the hospital
terminology. "Oh, okay..."
"It's not too tight, is it?" Carla asked in a professional
tone.
"No... not really." It always made Shellie feel good when Carla
was in charge like this. She just seemed to totally know what
she was doing. Shellie had never really stopped and thought
about it before, but now it just seemed so RIGHT to relax and do
as she was told. And the way she felt when Carla touched her...
that calm, reassuring, but warm and personal way Carla had with
her, why hadn't she noticed that before? Carla had taken care of
her LOTS of times when she was drunk or had the flu or a cold or
something, but she couldn't remember it ever feeling exactly this
way, or this good...
Shellie looked up, surprised, as she realized that Carla was
wrapping more of that stuff around her thighs, binding them
together. And what had happened to her cutoffs? She still had
her cotton thong on, but nothing else, and Carla was finishing
up, the clingy, stretchy stuff snug and smooth from Shellie's
knees to right under her butt. It didn't feel sticky, like tape,
exactly, but it sure wasn't going to come loose.
"Wow, I'm not going to be able to walk, I don't think... do I
have to stay in bed all day, Carla?"
"Pretty much, but it's all right, I'll be here to help you. We
do this stuff all the time at the hospital, people get used to
it." She smiled kindly.
"What about my... my boobies, are you going to wrap them up
too?"
"No, they're already affected and it'll be better to let the air
get to them, and massage them periodically as the inflammation
goes down. You'll see, they'll be better real soon. Here, you
sit up, Babe, while I get a couple of pillows behind you."
Carla got another roll of med wrap out of her little work
suitcase. She seemed to have an endless supply of the stuff.
"Okay, now let's get you to put your arms behind you, here, like
this..." Carla took Shellie's wrists and gently positioned them
behind her back. "Reach up a little, now, I want this to be
comfortable."
Shellie looked a little perplexed. "Are you going to keep my
arms back there like that? I mean... how am I going to do stuff,
you know?"
"We can't have you wiggling around too much, Sugar, the point is
to rest. And especially you're going to need to keep from
touching your breasts, there's going to be some sensitivity, some
tingling, maybe a little soreness." Carla seemed so sure of all
this, Shellie just found herself going with it. Carla helped her
fold her arms up behind her, her hands reaching up toward her
shoulder blades, elbows close together, and wrapped her wrists
together snugly, then started doing her whole torso, around and
around, under her breasts, around her elbows, then above her
breasts, up to her shoulders, around and around and around...
Carla sat back and breathed a heavy sigh, feeling the warmth
between her legs, a little slippery sensation, which she chose
not to pay much attention to at the moment. She smiled
encouragingly at Shellie, who was breathing a little hard.
"There we go, all done! How does it feel? Hurt anywhere? Too
tight?" Shellie was sheathed in smooth cream-colored stretch
fabric from her shoulders to her waist, arms neatly packaged
behind her, only her immense bosom left free. Then from below
her buttocks to her above her knees, and from below her knees to
her ankles, with a little more wrapping securing her insteps.
She looked down the length of herself and wriggled her toes.
"No, it's not too tight, it just feels really funny. Carla...
how come you did me like this?" She looked at her roommate with
a level, speculative gaze.
Carla smiled. "Because I'm going to take care of you, like I
said. You know I'd never let you be hurt, don't you? You're not
in danger or anything."
"Yeah, I know, but... it's not just about the
Pan-Chlor-Whatever, is it?"
"Uh, no." Carla admitted with a wry smile.
"So how long is it FOR?"
"Until you're better, of course, until we're sure you're not
going to have any adverse effects from that stuff you've been
taking." Carla leaned forward and brushed Shellie's bangs off
her forehead, then put her hand gently under her roommate's chin.
"And until after the contest."
"Ohhhhhhh..." Shellie wailed softly in frustration. "I knew
it, I just KNEW it! I'm SO mad at you, Carla."
"Then how come you don't LOOK mad?"
Shellie ignored that. "You're sneaky and mean and I hate you
and..." She caught her lower lip between her teeth, dropped her
lashes and pouted. "And I gotta go to the bathroom."
Scene 5 - Private Nurse
It didn't turn out to be as hard as Shellie had thought. She
WAS a dancer, after all, and her balance and flexibility allowed
her to handle the odd restraint pretty well. Her elbows were
wrapped closely together behind her, arching her back and forcing
her to stand very straight. She wasn't going to get loose, but
she might have made it to the bathroom by herself, even. Carla
helped her shift around until she was sitting on the side of the
bed, then Shellie stood up and Carla stepped behind her and
steadied her shoulders as Shellie took a little experimental hop.
Toes splayed on the carpet, Shellie caught her balance easily,
but whimpered a little at the heavy bounce of her bosom. Carla
made a little clucking noise of sympathy, reached all the way
around the shorter girl and put her hands under her breasts,
supporting them as Shellie hopped again. They were in the
bathroom in a minute.
"Now what?" asked Shellie as she regarded the toilet
uncertainly.
"Just like in the hospital, Babe. I've done it for
ninety-year-old men, I can sure do it for you." She had the nail
scissors in her hand. A snip, a snip, and a gentle pull, and
Shellie's panties were gone before she could object. Carla
positioned her on the throne, lowering her gently. "Okay, you're
good to go!" Shellie couldn't help a grudging snicker.
When she finished peeing, though, it was SO embarrassing to have
Carla wipe her. She averted her eyes from her housemate's
sardonic smile, cheeks blushing cinnamon. "This sucks, Carla.
C'mon, if you let me go, I won't go to the contest. What do you
say? Pleeeease?"
Carla just shook her head with a sympathetic expression. "Not
this time, Hon. You need a lesson. Cheating on the contest,
keeping secrets from me? Risking your health? How many times
have you PROMISED me you'd never take a pill if you weren't sure
what it was and what it would do?" She fixed Shellie with a
stern look. "Ashamed of yourself?"
Shellie chewed her lower lip, eyes on the floor. "Kind of..."
"All right then, let's get you back in bed so you can rest."
Carla stood in front of Shellie this time, walking backwards to
the bedroom while Shellie hopped carefully and Carla held her
boobs steady.
When they were next to the bed, Carla said softly, "Y'know, you
really do look awesome like this, Shel. Maybe you should think
about getting them bigger permanently. But maybe not quite THIS
big." She lifted Shellie's breasts and pressed them together a
bit, admiring the view.
"Carla..." Shellie whined, squirming, unable to do anything but
present her charms for the other girl's inspection. ALL of her
charms, now that she was without her thong. "This isn't fair,"
she finished lamely, blushing again.
Carla relented. "Okay, I'm sorry. Just turn around here and
we'll get you settled."
When Shellie was propped up comfortably on a couple of pillows,
had her face washed and a drink of water, and admitted she felt
tired, Carla left her with a fond touch and said, "I'll be right
in here. Call if you need anything, and try to get a nap."
"Yes, Carla," said Shellie softly, and resignedly settled
herself.
Carla went to the kitchen, poured herself another cup of coffee,
grabbed some carrot sticks from the fridge and went to watch the
soaps. She should have been congratulating herself on how
masterfully she'd outfoxed her bratty friend, but somehow that
wasn't exactly what she felt. Actually, she wasn't quite sure
WHAT she felt. The contest was tomorrow and she wanted to work
out later, but for now she lay back on the couch and tried to
concentrate on today's episode of her favorite daytime drama.
She didn't get to watch it much now that she'd been working the
day shift, although it was sometimes on in the nurses' lounge.
There was the hunky doctor she used to like, but he was with a
different girl now. Wow, this scene was pretty steamy, it always
surprised her how much the censors let these soaps get away with.
The girl was doing a pretty good job of looking turned on as the
doctor pulled her into his lap and kissed her ears and neck, then
her mouth. There went a couple of blouse buttons. Maybe these
two were lovers in real life, they sure looked enthusiastic... a
few weeks earlier, Carla and Shellie had been at an after-hours
party and one of those kissing things had gotten started, where
people kiss each other just for fun with everybody watching, and
people start suggesting who should kiss who, and they all dare
each other. Shellie had been pretty toasted and the guys
inevitably wanted Carla and Shellie to kiss and started offering
them money, and Shellie was into it so Carla said what the hell.
The first time was pretty quick and the guys booed, so they'd
done it again, better, and then again. Shellie's lips were so
soft and full and she'd tasted like a raspberry Cosmopolitan, and
that last time she'd gotten her arms right around Carla's neck
and obviously wanted her tongue, so...
Carla shook her head suddenly and sat up. A commercial was on
and she had no idea how long it had been, and she realized with a
shock that her shorts were partly unbuttoned and her hand was
down the front of her thong. She looked around the living room
guiltily, breathing hard, and reached for her coffee mug,
wondering what in the world was happening to her. Trying to
collect herself after a couple of swallows of coffee, she picked
up her cigarettes and lit one, put down her lighter and blew
smoke at the ceiling. She felt totally confused. And totally
hot. And she wasn't sure at all why.
Carla shifted uncomfortably on the couch. God, her panties were
soaked! She got up and put out her cigarette, and started for
the bathroom. In the hall, she changed direction. Better just
look in on Shellie...
Scene 5 - "... JUST how to take care of her."
Shellie had tried to relax, but a minute after Carla had left
the room she hadn't been able to stand the frustration of her
bindings and had started wiggling around on the bed, trying to
see if there wasn't some way of getting loose. She'd never get
her hands free, that was hopeless. But maybe if she could kind
of rub one of the ends of the wrappings loose, she could start it
unwinding, maybe by rolling over and over, or something. She
could see where one of the ends was, down near the back of one
thigh just below her bottom, and she twisted around as far as she
could, scraping that part of herself against the edge of the
mattress. Oops, she almost lost her balance and tried awkwardly
to change her position, straining against the snug sheathing.
She bounced herself back to the middle of the bed, but that made
the box spring squeak and she froze, breathing a little hard,
afraid that Carla might hear her and be mad. After a minute, she
tried starting at her ankles and rubbing, but there didn't seem
to be an end of the wrapping down there. Maybe up by her
shoulders? It made sense that there should be at least one end
there, even though she couldn't see it. Should she risk hopping
over to the mirror?
She decided to try it. Levering herself to the edge of the bed,
she stood up again. QUIETLY now, girl. Trying to hold her
breath and be super quiet, she made slow progress toward the
mirror. Her hair, up in a pony tail, seemed to want to get in
her face nonetheless. She shook it back impatiently. There, now
she could see.
Yeah, there was an end right by one shoulder. Was that the
right or the left? Mirrors always confused her. She started to
turn back toward the bed, then stopped when she saw her profile
in the mirror. God, LOOK at that! On her very tiptoes, her back
arched extremely and her butt clenched, those incredible boobs
thrust out as far as they could possibly go, the image in the
mirror was very strange and so very, VERY sexy. Embarrassed even
though she was alone, Shellie tried instinctively to change her
posture and found that she absolutely couldn't, not even a
little. Her face flushed with shame, she turned away from the
mirror and started slowly back toward the bed. She was breathing
even harder, and the room felt warm despite the air conditioning.
She made it back to the bed, turned and sat, then scooted back
up toward the headboard. She lay down full length, got purchase
with her toes and tried to get that end of the wrapping against
the sheet. Her struggles became almost gymnastic as she tried to
rub it loose, twisting around, but SLOWLY, carefully, not too
much noise. Was she making progress? Shit, she couldn't tell!
Grrrr... Sweat started to trickle through Shellie's hairline as
she squirmed on the bed, boobs rubbing on a stray pillow,
swallowing a moan at the accidental stimulation of an
oversensitive nipple...
Uh-oh.
Carla stood in the doorway, one finger unconsciously in her
mouth, staring at her with an unreadable expression. She had a
flush over her beautiful features, her deep brown eyes wide with
emotion, breathing heavily. Shellie tilted her head up and
looked at her, not knowing what to expect, unable to think of
anything to say, as Carla took a couple of hesitant steps toward
the bed and stopped again. Her heavy, rounded breasts seemed far
too large for her clingy crop top, her nipples impossibly erect.
With a shock, Shellie saw that Carla's shorts were unbuttoned and
open, her panties pushed down until a few wispy pubic hairs
curled out, damp with sweat or... Shellie felt the sexual heat
like a thick fog in the room. Maybe she was SMELLING Carla, her
roommate looked so excited. Shellie felt dizzy and out of
breath, her whole world narrowed down to just Carla and herself
and the bed.
Suddenly Carla seemed to catch herself. She stepped over to the
bed, lifted her chin and looked down at Shellie imperiously. "I
thought I told you to rest!" she said. "If you can't be
good..."
Shellie didn't let her finish. She felt like she was melting.
Staring into Carla's eyes, she arched her body shamelessly and
panted, "So what are you going to do with me?"
Carla caught her breath, but hesitated only for a moment. She
slid onto the bed next to Shellie and pulled her close, her
fingers moving over the helpless girl's body until she had one
hand behind Shellie's neck and a firm hold on her ass with the
other, pulling their hips together tightly. She began to rub
against Shellie's pussy with an insistent circular motion,
grinding her, and Shellie gasped, "Oh God, Oh Carla please, not
so... wait..." Carla silenced her by covering that wet, begging
mouth with her own and rubbed harder, ignoring the girl's stifled
moans.
After a few moments of wild pleasure, Carla realized that she
still had her shorts on. Maybe the buttons were hurting Shellie?
She sat up impatiently and skinned out of them, flinging them
against the wall and following them with her sticky thong, then
her top. She turned back to Shellie, growling deep in her
throat. The bound girl was on her back, limp and ready,
breathing hard as she offered her incredibly lush body to her
lover. Carla kissed Shellie again, hungrily, prying her mouth
open and going ruthlessly after her tongue. Shellie's eyes went
wide and she bucked against her and squealed wordlessly, and
Carla clamped her hand over her mouth, threw a knee over her hips
and mounted her. She got a grip on one heaving breast, took the
huge nipple into her mouth with a wet slurp, and went to work on
it. Shellie's eyes rolled back in her head and her toes curled
and uncurled spasmodically. She fought her wrappings as hard as
she could, not to escape them now, but to feel them hold her, and
Carla pinned her down and moved to her other nipple, rubbing
their groins together harder and faster.
Shellie arched against Carla frantically, picking up the rhythm.
"Mmmph! MMM-mmmm MMMmmmmph!!" She was begging to say
something. Carla lifted her hand for a second. "Carla, Oh God
Carla touch me, put your finger down... Yeah, like that, yeah...
faster, I'm so close, PLEASE faster..." Sure that she had it
just right, Carla shut her up again and pumped her until Shellie
had a glassy-eyed, screaming seizure, her nipples so erect they
looked freakish. Even bound as she was, it was all Carla could
do to stay on top of her. Carla's forefinger moved to her own
clitoris and pressed with a circular motion and in seconds her
own orgasm slammed her so hard she couldn't breathe and the room
seemed to flash and change color. And, after a few seconds,
another.
She felt Shellie go limp at last and took her hand from her
mouth, and Shellie rolled her head to one side, gasping and
drooling. Under their hips, there was a wet spot two feet
across.
"Yes, both of us, I'm calling for Shellie Everhardt too.
Neither of us can make it, we're really sorry but something's
come up." Carla lay indolently across the couch, cigarette in
one hand and cell phone in the other, wearing nothing but a
skimpy bikini top and a really wicked pair of fuscia stilettos.
The ceiling fan was turned up all the way, and the cool swirl
ruffled her dark, glossy hair. A wine cooler fizzed and sweated
on the end table.
"No, it's nothing serious, thanks, Shellie just isn't feeling
well. And she REALLY wanted to be there, she wanted me to be
sure and thank you for choosing her."
Carla put her cigarette down, took a gentle handful of
chestnut-auburn-honeyblonde hair and lifted Shellie's face from
between her well-tanned and well-defined thighs. She waited for
Shellie's eyes to focus. Shellie licked her lips a couple of
times, swallowed hard and looked up.
"SLOWER!" Carla mouthed silently, and Shellie nodded wearily,
sniffled once and Carla patted her head, pushed it back down and
Shellie went back to work. Carla smiled a Cheshire cat smile and
turned her attention to the phone.
"I know, it's a shame, isn't she just a doll? She told me she
thought you were really sweet. She wanted to be in your contest
so bad, you wouldn't BELIEVE all she did to get ready. Yes, I'll
tell her... don't worry, she's going to be fine. I know JUST how
to take care of her."
<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------
------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.
--
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> Moderators: <story-ckought69@hotmail.com> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr-mirror.org> Hosted by <http://www.asstr-mirror.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+