Message-ID: <47008asstr$1078279805@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: <virgosun@internode.on.net>
X-Original-Message-ID: <009a01c40041$1982e720$6501a8c0@penguin>
From: "virgosun" <virgosun@internode.on.net>
X-Priority: 3
X-MSMail-Priority: Normal
X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200
X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 21:28:27 +1100
Subject: {ASSM} Tales of the Lorelei 09/10 {virgosun} (msolo mf 1st cons rom voy pett oral)
Lines: 622
Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2004 21:10:05 -0500
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/Year2004/47008>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Story-Submission: <ckought69@hotmail.com>
X-Moderator-ID: hoisingr, dennyw
<1st attachment, "09lorelei.txt" begin>
Lorelei part 9
It was dark outside, really dark, inky. The fairy-lights
were switched off, and all the regular outside lights.
The kitchen window emitted just enough of a gleam for me
to see the ancient tree and a pale arc of the tyre. All
I had to do now was pitch the noisome thing in that
direction, at the tyre and the creek, and it would be
gone. Sliding one foot along the ground after another, I
felt my way closer to the tree, so that I could be sure
of my toss...
"Jesus-fuck!" someone yelled out, with Kieran's voice. A
shadow loomed up from the garden blackness. I gasped and
tossed the cat-skull underarm and poorly toward the
creek, but instead of splashing it jingled; luckily, a
sound that Scrote would make.
"Kieran! Um, hi, you're not supposed to be here!" I
stammered.
"Jo? _You're_ supposed to be in the office, you scared
the fucking crap out of me!"
"Speak for yourself!"
"What you doing sneaking around out here in the dark?"
"Um, nothing, nothing..." My lie sounded thin and weak
beneath the thunder of my heart. There was a cat-skull
laying not far away, and if the lights came on it would
be in plain view, my betrayal obvious. I had to distract
him somehow. "Um, you know, it er, gets a bit steamy
when you watch those movies, I was just taking some air,
cooling off a bit, you know what I mean," I babbled.
"What were you doing hiding out here?"
"Keeping a date with Mrs Palmer, since I thought
everyone else was busy," he said gruffly. I was too
strung-out to catch his drift at first, seeing as there
really is a Mrs Palmer who is the Infants Mistress at
the primary school - a very stuffy fifty-plus and
matronly type. So I actually _looked_ for company, and
he realised what I was thinking. "No, no, not _her_,
what do you take me for?" he growled, outraged. I burst
out in slightly hysterical giggles, and he started
laughing too.
"So," I said saucily as we sobered, "did I miss the
show?" My hearing was too clotted to have heard the
quiet sound a zip might make. "You know I like to
watch." Had to get him away from the scene of my
interrupted crime, had to!
"I thought you'd had enough watching." He was standing
quite close by, the silhouette of his head nodding
toward the office. I was thinking I could leap up and
kiss him to distract him, but for once in my life, the
right words entered my head.
"I sure have! It's about time I had some doing!" When I
reached out I caught his arm, quickly slipped my hands
down to his - and pressed it into my crotch.
The world froze for a breathless instant. We both stood
stock-still. My hissing ears made a whine like feedback.
"Really?" he said, dryly, as the whistle faded away.
Suddenly my ears had cleared and I could hear all the
night noises; the soft trickle of water, cheeping of
crickets, distant purr of traffic...his breathing. His
fingers twisted minutely beneath mine, just enough that
he could work them slightly further in, curling their
tips to hook them around my pubic bone. I could feel the
tendons moving in his hand where I held it, as he
started making small back-and-forward movements with his
middle finger. My clit, buried under flesh and fabric,
began to buzz.
"Really," he purred again, waggling that probing finger
from side to side. This rubbed my shorts seam against
everything good, and parted my labia. His fingertip was
a delightful hardness I could rub against - and best of
all, it wasn't my own finger! Clutching his hand, I
leaned against it.
The catskull didn't matter any more.
He twisted his finger so that it slipped around the
crutch and hem of my shorts; the backs of his fingers
went right up my inner thigh and burrowed under the
elastic of my knickers. I rose up on my tiptoes and
parted my legs, and ran my hands up and down his
forearm, feeling the muscles shifting as he worked. His
fingertips inched through the pubes of my outer labia,
creeping until they found the liquid lake of my slot.
My breath was catching in my chest, and I heard him
swallow. I rocked against his fingers, my body making
slow, sensuous motions, while those fingertips slipped
along and amidst the folds. My clit was afire, and I
arched as high as I could, wanting to slide those
fingers in deeper, deeper, to places I had never been
able to reach by myself. But then, he started to pull
his hand away, his other hand gently disengaging mine.
"Hold that thought," he murmured, and backed toward the
house. A cold thought that he was going to turn on the
lights chilled my fires with a moment's dread. Instead,
he leaned into the kitchen door.
"Sean! Go down to Chessy's and get us a super bacon
burger, will ya? And get a bucket of passionfruit
gelato, and we could use some more cola while you're at
it! And something for the girls, too!"
A muted protest rose from inside. Kieran tugged his keys
from his tight jeans pocket. "Hey listen, you're gonna
get yours later and I've got nothing, so the least you
could do is get me a goddamn burger! I'll give you my
keys, even, just don't get caught yeah?"
This produced the desired effect as footsteps thudded
about indoors. I went to the back door as he went
inside; there were some murmurs, then the front door
squeaked and Sean was gone, so I went in. Kieran shut
off the television, then turned and looked me over
soberly. His eyes glittered with lust, focused on my
crotch. "Come with me," he murmured.
I followed him to his room, a place I had never been
before, watching his backside moving in those black
jeans, wondering what I was about to see...to
experience. He switched on the light, and aside from all
the drawings tacked to the walls, his room was plain and
bereft of the murals that adorned the rest of the house.
His bed was before me, dark blue sea-patterned sheets.
Now I could see his face, and admire him, for he was
indeed attractive. His eyes were intense and earnest,
and he licked his lips. "Now," he said, "we can
continue."
I had thought he would push me down to the bed. Instead,
he knelt before me, and drew down my shorts and panties
together, slowly, as if unveiling a work of art. He
brought his lips to my belly, and started kissing me,
softly, down into my bush. At the apex of my triangle,
his pink tongue peeked out, and lightly probed the
entrance to my slit.
Nothing I had ever done to myself prepared me for the
soft, warm caress of a man's tongue. I parted my thighs,
and he brought his hands to my hips as this time, his
tongue snaked between my folds. My juices were already
running thick and slippery, which was why he did as he
did. When that soft warmth, feather-light yet powerful,
folded around my clitoris, I stepped out of my shorts so
that I could get my legs wide, and snagged my fingers in
his hair. His whiskers were deliciously rough on my
labia and inner thighs, and every flick and sweep of his
tongue made me moan and writhe for the pure joy of it. I
pulled him harder against me, and he responded by
pushing his tongue in deeper, licking strongly the full
length of my gash. Every time he reached my clit he just
tipped it, teasing, each time bringing a flash of
sensation so good it was painful. I couldn't stand.
Every touch was agony and I wanted to pull away as much
as I wanted to grind him inward.
I dropped to the bed and he followed me down, kneading
my hips with his fingers, thrusting his tongue in as far
as it would reach. My legs scissored the air; my body
didn't know what it wanted as I writhed, sometimes
clenching his head between my thighs, then arching and
wriggling away, pulling my legs apart to let him
breathe. The orgasm was simply indescribable. Just one
touch of his tongue upon my aching clit was enough to
almost shoot me off the bed. Where his tongue wouldn't
reach, his finger did; while my body thrashed he pushed
his finger deep, deep inside, magnifying every sensation
threefold.
How I didn't break his finger or suffocate him, I don't
know.
My cries subsided to mews and whimpers; the stabs of joy
softened to aching, tingling coronae of pleasure. My
body relaxed, the bedsheets rumpled and pulled awry
beneath me. Now he lapped me gently, like a cat, as if
to wash me clean; then kissed my thighs reverently. When
he looked up, the sharpness of his earlier gaze had
gone; his face was gentle, eyes soft with love and
perhaps, amazement.
"Kieran," I whispered, caressing his hair, his face. He
kissed my hip, my belly.
"Why should we play alone, when we can play together?"
he breathed, putting his arms around my hips and lower
back, nuzzling my groin. We lay there together for a
while in silent accord, me stroking his hair while he
hugged my pelvis. My virginity no longer mattered, and
neither Lyn nor Cathy had anything on me. I had a lover,
nestled between my legs, and he was all the man I could
want.
"What about you?" I asked. He smiled, and pushed himself
to his feet, feasting his eyes on me sprawled there. And
I wanted him to enjoy me. I still felt wonderfully
mellow, and didn't want to move.
"You'll get your chance," he promised, and turned toward
the door. "Take your time." He closed the door partway
as he left, heading toward the bathroom. I heard the
back screen door slam.
_Shit! Cathy, and she's probably wondering where I got
to!_
But the bedroom door was pulled-to, and I still didn't
feel much like moving. That was when the ceiling drifted
into view; I hadn't noticed it earlier. Although a pale,
nondescript undercoat colour, a mural had been outlined
there in blue ink, sketched ready for completion. It was
her, the Lorelei rampant, glaring imperiously at me.
_Oh yeah?_ I smiled up at her, then moved my body into
the same arrogant, legs-spread posture. And laughed.
I could hear water running in the bathroom, and Cathy
walking into the loungeroom calling for Sean. I sat up
then and yanked up my pants, taking a moment to check my
appearance in a small dresser mirror. Not too hot and
tousled? Check. I was sticky as hell downstairs, but who
other than Kieran would know that? The bed was a mess,
sheets rumpled and pulled as though we had...well.
And I was ready not a moment too soon. "In here," I
answered when Cathy called my name. Casual, like. My
eyes fell to the top of the dresser, where a sketchblock
and charcoals lay askew. "I was just checking out some
of Kieran's work."
Astonished, I realised I was looking at my own face. It
was the same sketch he had made at the office that day,
although he had put a lot more work into it since then.
Properly shaded, there was no doubting it was me, a
striking and flattering likeness. That he had completed
it without me sitting for him only deepened my
admiration for his talents.
"Oh, wow!" said Cathy as she joined me. "He said he
wanted to draw you, but wasn't sure how to convince you
to sit for him."
"I didn't sit for him. He's done this pretty much out of
his head." A second head had been rough-sketched right
beside mine, as if someone leaned close over my
shoulder, almost cheek-to-cheek. There were no more than
a few lines, a squarish shape with a few strokes at eye
and mouth level.
"Who's that?" Cathy asked. I shook my head.
"I don't know!" We stared at each other. Then the
bathroom door clattered; Cathy startled, and I quickly
put the pad down face-down. Kieran appeared in the hall,
scruffing his face and hair dry with a towel.
"What're you two doing in here?" he growled. "Git!"
We giggled as we scarpered. Before long we were back in
the kitchen, chatting about not much, and then Sean
returned from his errand. We all ate together, Cathy and
Sean trading coy glances, and time was getting away. I
asked after the Lorelei painting, and Kieran admitted
he'd been busy with paying projects and had only barely
started her. Then he offered me a lift home.
"You've got my number," he said as we drove off in his
ute, eyes on the road. "Call me when you need me."
I drew an unsteady breath. I wanted him already. But if
I was home any later, I'd get grief from Mum and
Thursdays would be permanently cancelled. "Thanks," was
all I could find to say.
The catskull was laying somewhere in his garden by the
waterside. Perhaps he would find it out there, and
wonder how it had gotten there. Or perhaps it was hidden
in long grass. Whatever happened, I could deny any
knowledge of the incident. Maybe the Lorelei stole it.
He didn't kiss me when we pulled up, but he did grip my
hands firmly in his, and gazed intently into my eyes.
"Call me," he said again.
I promised I would.
***
Friday at school, I didn't pay much attention. As
lessons droned on around me, I gazed into the middle
distance, thighs squeezed together beneath the table as
I remembered the touch of his tongue, the rasp of his
whiskers.
I wanted to phone him as soon as I got home, but Mum and
seemingly a hundred noisome chores got in the way; then
I had to admire my new car, as brought home by Dad, and
be impressed by how reasonably they had bargained the
price. All I could think was that it would allow me to
drive up to Kieran's whenever I felt like it.
Then I remembered that Sean and Kieran usually went
surfing Friday afternoons. So I volunteered to drive Dad
back to the station, then drove by the surf beach, and
managed to park right alongside Kieran's ute, at the far
end of the parking lot. I could see them both, even from
there, and recognised Cathy sitting on the sand watching
them. So I stayed in the car; she didn't know it was
mine. She would go to Sean when he came ashore, and they
would take a long, romantic sunset walk together along
the beach; Kieran usually went and bought some dinner,
and picked them up at the other end. At last the boys
came ashore; Sean and Cathy greeted with a hug and a
kiss before walking off hand in hand, Kieran bringing
both his and Sean's boards back toward the ute.
I stepped out of the car, wondering at how much older it
made me feel. He smiled as he climbed the steps to the
park when he saw me waiting.
"I'm sorry I didn't call you first," I said huskily,
admiring how the wetsuit emphasised his body.
"You didn't have to." He went around the far side of his
ute and loaded the boards, then came around to where I
waited.
"Your steamer's the wrong colour," I stated. It was
patterned in green and blue, not black. He grinned
fiercely, cupped my face in his hands, and drew me into
a long, hungry kiss. I tangled my fingers in his wet
hair and answered in kind, with all my lust and
excitement, pressing myself against him. He tasted of
salt water and something warmer, sweeter, his own musk.
He really did want me. Last night had not been a dream,
or a one-night-only.
"If you don't like it, I can take it off," he purred.
Stepping back, he ripped the velcro shoulders open. I
was suddenly keenly aware of our location in a public
carpark at a popular surf beach.
"Hey, you can't!"
He opened the door of his ute, then looked at my car.
"Yes I can. Don't you think I'm wearing anything under
it? This your new car?"
Men! "No, it's my new old car," I said tartly. He
reached past me and opened the back door, so that now we
were surrounded by a makeshift dressing-shed of car
doors.
"Looks orright," he nodded. "Gotta watch 'em for rust
behind the parcel shelf, though, that model." But his
eyes were on me as he peeled down the wetsuit, and the
lustful way I watched his body revealed. Lean and fit,
nipples sharp with cool air and more; dark hair down the
midline, down past his waist to...racers, of course, a
teasing grin on his face.
But then I realised his suit had tugged them low, and
there, just off-centre, a grooved pink crescent of flesh
peeped over the band.
"Oh, sorry, that happens," he smiled. He knew me well
enough to know there was nothing I wanted to see more!
But he bent down to unzip the legs of his suit and
finish taking it off, and while he did I ran my hands
across the smooth curves of his back. When he
straightened up I pressed myself against him, wanting to
feel his hardness against my belly. Our mouths and
tongues met again, promising what we could do to each
other as he cupped his hands beneath my rump, squeezing
and lifting as he rocked his pelvis down. Yes! Nice as
he felt against my stomach, I wanted to feel his rod
against my crotch. Thighs parted around his, I went
right up onto my toes.
I ran my hands down his back as we rocked and rubbed,
feeling the way his butt rippled as he moved. He hadn't
tightened the drawstring of his racers, so it was with
ease I slipped my fingers beneath them and pushed them
down. He chuckled deep in his chest, and cradled my face
in his hands.
"No matter what the future brings, I will remember the
hunger in your eyes for the rest of my life."
Swallowing, I sank to one knee as I took his costume
down. Yes, I had seen many penises now, "live" and in
"hard-core action". But this one was _real_, and was
being given to me to touch and hold. It really is an act
of trust, when given so gently and willingly rather than
being thrust in your face.
He was gorgeous to behold, shaft rising to the pink,
fleshy, smooth head, contrasting the plush dark nest of
curls at his root. I touched him in wonder, feeling his
heat, and the rigid strength of what lay beneath the
velvety skin. He sighed with pleasure as I ran my
fingertips down to the soft, rounded mass of his balls.
I knew his shape, every pattern of skin, every ridge. I
wanted to kiss him. Instead I cradled his balls in one
hand, and slipped the fingers of my other around his
shaft, feeling him all over. Looking up, I met his gaze
wide-eyed.
"It was you," I said. The sketch he had given me, the
one that had kept me company for many nights.
His face reddened ever so slightly. "Well, who else's
live wang was I going to sketch?"
"You're wonderful," I whispered, pressing my lips
against the groove beneath his head, tasting the salt of
sea and skin, probing with the tip of my tongue.
"Oh, yes," he breathed, one hand cupping my head,
fingers in my hair. Last night I had thrust his head
between my legs greedily and revelled in every second of
what his tongue could do. Now I had to show him what I
could do - and I wasn't sure how exactly to go about it.
Lick, suck, pump, went the smut-surfing. But they were
professionals and it was all in a day's work for them.
I let my tongue softly trace that groove, and parted my
lips around his tip, squeezing gently and feeling his
resilience, then slipping away to a kiss. Each time I
did that, I took a little more of him in. My tongue-tip
found the hole at his end and explored it, tasting
something salty. My lips slipped over the rim so that
his whole head was captive in my mouth. Lips closed but
jaws open, no teeth allowed, gently! My tongue sliding
back and forth, round and round, up to that salty notch
and down, doing to him what he had done to me.
My cheeks were aching, and it seemed ridiculous - I
didn't know you could get a stitch in your tongue.
Drawing back one last time, I let him slip from between
my lips and looked up. His fingers had made little
spirals of my hair; his eyes were closed, face slack
with rapture. His other hand was clenched about the
windowframe of the car, and his knuckles were white.
"Was that right?" But even as I asked, it sounded like a
stupid question.
He opened his eyes and grinned, then lifted me to my
feet. "But you didn't come," I protested, a bit
disappointed. After what he had done for me!
"Ohh, I will, don't worry," he murmured.
"God," I muttered, "my face hurts!"
He gave a fond laugh. "What you need, my dear, is plenty
of aerobic training!" He tipped my chin up and kissed
me, gathering me close and snug. "I think I'm only just
getting over oxygen starvation from last night."
We laughed together. "What'll we do now?" I asked.
"We're not finished."
We got into his ute, where he put a towel in his lap and
I wriggled my shorts down. There's no room in modern
cars to do much more, and with occasional walkers on the
beach we didn't want to be too obvious about what we
were doing either. "I want to watch you," he said,
pumping his shaft with negligent ease, his eyes on my
muff. So I got my shorts down and my legs as far apart
as was possible, and slid my fingers up and down; all
the while watching his cock and imagining how it would
feel. Very quickly I was gasping, shuddering with need,
clitoris jangling like an alarm bell.
"This is so intense," I panted, reaching for his groin.
With one hand he guided my hand on his pole, and with
the other he worked my cunt, fingering me to a much-
needed explosion. Then I felt him twitch and jerk to his
own orgasm, his head thrown back as he gasped, veins
corded in his neck.
We got ourselves decent; he pulled on a pair of shorts
and a teeshirt. And kissed a passionate farewell. "Are
you home tomorrow?" I asked huskily, knowing Sean and
Cathy were going out together for most of the day.
"I can be. I was going to get to work on a certain
painting, but if I get distracted, too bad. How much
work I get done on it is up to the customer."
***
It was the start of the weekend of my life, one that was
pure magic.
The next morning, I discovered something wickedly
pleasureable. I dressed in one of my longer skirts to go
up to Kieran's, and Mum wanted me to run an errand in-
town, so I needed to feel safe and demure. But I left my
knickers off! I was breathless with excitement and more
than a tad scared at the newsagent, and all I can say is
it must have been good for my complexion! And by the
time I pulled up at the cottage, I was already red-hot.
His warehouse doors were shut, closed to general
business this day. I went around the front path to the
office, and found him in the doorway wiping his hands on
a paint-cloth, wearing his overalls. He looked me up and
down with a smile, one eyebrow cocked appreciatively.
"That a spraycan in your pocket or are you just glad to
see me?" I said, then burst out laughing at how
ridiculous it sounded. Laughing too, he gathered me in
his arms for a bear-hug.
"Why don't you frisk me and find out?" he invited. Now,
I know about overalls. Some designs have a hole that
looks like a pocket but goes right through so that when
a man wears them over his trousers he can still get
access to his trouser pocket. But let's face it, it's
too hot in this climate to wear much under one's
overalls, really. I slipped around behind Kieran,
hugging him from behind, and ran my hands into the right
holes, finding the hot velvet of bare skin...that nest
of springy hair and soft scrotum, and his stiff cock. At
first it was enough to feel him, to slide his skin up
and down; we purred and rocked together in our embrace.
But then I wanted to see him too, so I went around to
his front and undid his lowermost studs, bringing him
out to be seen. And now that I could see him, I had to
taste him.
So my day started with some "aerobic training". Then I
sat down on the edge of his office chair with my legs
wide, and he discovered the delicacy exposed beneath my
maidenly skirts. While I sat with my knees hooked over
his shoulders, he tugged himself to his own pleasure,
which only helped me along.
We rested with a light lunch, then took a ride in the
afternoon. If you think driving a car in a skirt with no
panties on is sexy, you should try riding a motorbike! I
had my pussy pressed as close to Kieran's rump as I
could get it. He took me into the coastal ranges, to a
favourite bushwalk of his, and beckoned me to a secluded
spot. We had to crawl and scramble somewhat, and walk
along a rough creekbed; but then, screened by dense
thickets of heather on the side of a chuckling creek, he
dined upon me again beneath the wide blue sky. Too much
simply wasn't enough. I trained again, reading from his
bulging muscles and the hardness of his nipples how
close he was to the edge. He shot his load into the
stream, his milk swirling and eddying out of sight,
perhaps feeding the fish downstream.
That night, we did something rather different to hanging
around the mall or the broadwalk, the beach or the local
snogging lookout like all the other local couples. We
didn't do the movies or pizza.
We'd spent a lot of time over dinner just talking. Yes,
talking, about all kinds of stuff from the sublime to
the ridiculous. And later on, we went for a drive in my
nondescript little car, up to the darkened and deserted
loom of the high school. The buildings were all locked
up, of course. But we hadn't come here to make strife.
The art rooms were of those tacky prefabricated,
demountable design, cheap boxes that were hot and
uncomfortable, as stifling to creativity as the demands
of teachers and the strictures of school uniform. They
were set on brick piers up against a plushly-grassed
embankment below the sportsfield. It was here the tough
kids came to smoke; here that a boy called Kieran had
crouched in the hope of seeing up the hockey-team's
dresses. On the field above, Cathy and Lyn and I had
raced about brandishing hockey sticks, three good
friends, without boyfriends getting in the way. In the
room behind us, the Art Mistress had called Kieran all
kinds of sexist filth for daring suggest the teenaged
human body was a thing of beauty and worth celebrating.
That night, we celebrated. We laughed with wicked glee.
Writhing for joy on my back in the grass, I gasped and
cried out in orgasm, Kieran's tongue the softest of
brushes tracing Nature's finest work of art. With my
tongue to help, he paid homage to Jackson Pollock too.
It wasn't late, but after all that I headed home. I'd
been out all day, and as any kid knows you have to look
after your privileges; tomorrow I would visit him again.
Both Lyn and Cathy had called while I was out. That just
put the icing on the cake.
<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> 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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+