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From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm@aol.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Invasion of the Bawdy Snatches [Mgg]
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Date: Sat, 20 Mar 2004 15:10:05 -0500
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            The Invasion of the Bawdy Snatches [Mgg]

                     by Vivian Darkbloom

    Usually I skip CBS on the channel-surf, now that
    they've demonstrated conclusively that you just can't
    get good porn there. But this time as I was skipping
    by, my thumb slipped.

    "...We really have to do something about these
    aliens," The caption underneath announced some
    semi-famous religious icon whose name I have
    forgotten, along with the subtitle `sexually abused
    by aliens.'

    Now that sounded promising.

    "Dragging our hapless youth into sinfulness. Mind
    you, they don't look anything out of the ordinary. In
    appearance, they resembled innocent young girls,
    about age 9 or 10. But filled with sin."

    "Could you be more explicit about the sin?" prodded
    the interviewer. "As I recall, there were 7 deadly
    ones, if you don't count `not recycling your bottles
    and cans.' Were they slothful? Are you telling me
    they slept the entire time?"

    "Nay, man. It was the sin of ...." he lowered his
    voice to a near whisper: " .... Lust!"

    The interviewer shook his head slightly. "Yet you say
    the appeared to be innocent young girls, age 9 or 10.

    "True," replied the preacher, "but, mind you, then
    they took me out to their space-ship and what
    followed was -- " he shook his head. "simply
    unspeakable."

    The interviewer smiled. "Could you tell us more?"

    The preacher growled indignantly: "Did you hear me
    man? I said it was unspeakable. That means, cannot be
    spoken about, cannot be told more about, etcetera ad
    libatum."

    "Well, is there any chance you could be a little less
    literal then?"

    "Less literal? What do you take me for, man? I'm a
    preacher. Say I decided to be less literal about the
    story of Genesis. Suddenly `boom,' I'm branded as a
    Darwinist. Sales would plummet. The fabric of society
    would come apart at the seams! ..."

    Bam! Bam! Bam! Someone at the door. Oh Hell, I
    thought. "Just a minute!" I called out.

    I opened the front door to two young girl-scouts,
    aged about 9 or 10. Only the writing on their badges
    appeared to be in Klingon. Great, just what we need:
    trekkie girl-scouts.

    "Excuse me sir, but would you like to buy some
    girl-scout cookies?"

    They were a cute pair, both dressed in the classic
    Junior-Scout Green, white shirt, green skirt (too
    short in both cases) and green sash. One was a
    fair-skinned blonde with long straight hair, the
    other dark-skinned of vague ethnicity, her long curls
    tumbling lusciously down her shoulders and back like
    an ebony waterfall, moist coal-black eyes sweetly
    burning into my soul.

    "Sorry, gave at the office. Don't have any money.
    Some other time. Bye!"

    "Wait!" said the blonde, as I was about to slam the
    door.

    My next-door neighbor Lydia strolled by on the
    sidewalk behind them. 19-year-old lesbian, always
    having parties next door with dozens (it seemed like)
    of young girls. Wearing sunglasses and semi-short
    dark hair in a black headband to offset her red
    mini-skirt and platform shoes.

    Seeing my predicament, she raised her eyebrows. "Got
    a couple of hotties?" she called out as she
    disappeared around the corner, "Bet you'll enjoy
    their cookies!"

    The girl-scouts conversed briefly in Norwegian.
    "Please?" they both looked up at me with irresistible
    ET/puppy-dog eyes.

    "Look," I said, irritated. "I was in the middle of
    watching TV," I glanced around anxiously at the muted
    flickering tube.

    They conversed briefly again in Norwegian. "We do not
    require money. Only sustenance."

    "Sustenance?"

    "Can we come in?" As they brushed by me through the
    open door, each one innocently bumped her soft
    shoulder directly against the front of my trousers.

    (Bump.) Hmm. (Bump.) Hmmmmmmmmm.

    They closed the door behind them. "We have a
    confession," said the dark one.

    "Yes, we are not in fact girl-scouts, but travelers
    from the planet of Riga in the galaxy of Andromeda.
    Our vacation-guide said that you would find this
    costume pleasing."

    She whipped out a PDA, one of these newer models with
    full color 3-d holographic projecting capability,
    telepathic user-interface, and so on. I think Sony
    makes them, but the damn trekkies had pasted over the
    brand label with something in Klingon.

    She was projecting images into the corner of the
    hallway. First, of the earth, which rotated 360
    degrees, then zooming into a closer shot of the
    various continents, demarcated with lines for the
    countries, as an atlas. Finally, a life-size image of
    the girl-scout uniform appeared in the corner, and it
    swiveled around for a rear view.

    "For sustenance, our equipment is able to replicate
    all of the substances our bodies require, save one."

    The blonde continued: "The only place where this
    substance is known to occur is in the sperm of the
    human male."

    The 3-d holographic projection had shifted to display
    a complex molecular diagram.

    I laughed out loud. "I swear, you girl-scouts will do
    anything to sell a box of cookies these days."

    They looked at me blankly. "You do not believe that
    we are from another planet?"

    "Heck no. For starters, where's your bloomin' flying
    saucer?"

    She punched a few buttons on the PDA, and it
    displayed an aerial shot of our neighborhood. "We
    decided that your back yard was the superior location
    in this vicinity for concealment."

    "Whoa, now. Watch what you say about my back yard.
    OK, so I haven't mown the lawn in a while. But
    everything is under control, understand?"

    The blonde blinked at me. "Would you like to see our
    ship?"

    "Hell, yah."

    "Then just walk out into your back yard."

    "OK, that does it." I strode angrily through to the
    back of the house, to the back door, and turned the
    knob, and pulled. Nothing happened. Well, maybe the
    few tendrils of vines had made the thing a bit
    sticky. I pulled harder. I put my foot up on the
    door-jamb and pulled with all of my might. OK, so a
    LOT of tendrils had sealed the thing totally shut.

    The girls, who had followed me, stood there watching
    curiously. "May I?" gestured the dark one with her
    PDA.

    I nodded slightly.

    "Stand back," she warned, and I did.

    A ray of orange photonic laser-light burst from the
    PDA and seared the air for several seconds. When it
    was gone, the black wisps of plant-smelling smoke
    trailed in the air.

    "Whoa, you should be careful with that thing. I
    swear, kids nowadays. When I was your age, I was
    happy with a simple penknife..."

    She gave me a look. "When you were my age? I am 90
    years old by your earth-years."

    "Yeah right, that story again." I tried the door
    again, and it swung open gently, to reveal a wild
    raging savage jungle of biodiversity, tangled vines,
    lush green trees, wild animals. I though I caught the
    glimpse of a Bengalese tiger, but it vanished in the
    shadows.

    "Hey look. I used to have a lawn out here. And wow,
    There's my old soccer ball! Needs a little pumping
    up, I'd say." I picked up the flattened, cracked,
    black-and-white moss-encrusted plastic pancake, and
    four or five scorpions and a millipede that had been
    living beneath it scuttled off into the underbrush.

    "Yep," I said. "just pump that baby up, it'll be as
    good as new."

    "Would you like to see our ship?" asked the blonde.

    "Yeah right. This I'd like to see. You girl scouts
    will say just about anything to sell a box of
    cookies. OK, where is this ship?"

    Without a word, she cut forth with another blast from
    the PDA-laser device, and a swath of green
    disintegrated, revealing the contours of a dark metal
    saucer-shaped object, large enough to hold several
    people. The entire surface was covered with complex
    patterns of tubing and Klingon writing.

    "Hey, you can't fool me," I said. "That's just my old
    barbecue."

    She sighed with genuine exasperation, and flicked a
    switch on her PDA. A circular hatch swung open on the
    side of the saucer, revealing a dazzling multicolored
    array of knobs, dials, switches, and blinking lights
    and displays.

    This caught me by surprise. I could have sworn they
    were just trying to sell cookies, and believe me I've
    seen what those girl-scouts will do to sell cookies.

    "Cool! Can I have a ride in it?"

    The blonde rolled her eyes.

    "First," said the dark one, "we require sustenance."

    "Sustenance. Human sperm. Well," I looked down,
    glumly.

    "What is it?" asked the blonde. "What's wrong?"

    "It's just that ... before we engage in sexual
    activity," I said, "I feel like I should know your
    names. I want it to be all proper and everything."

    "Of course. My name is ..." followed by a long string
    of bizarre syllables, many of which I am incapable of
    pronouncing. "and this is ... " another long stream
    of such syllables.

    "Well, that's a bit unwieldy," I replied.

    "I know! You could give us names. Earth-names."

    "You could baptize us!"

    "Well, I was planning to, in a minute. But before
    that."

    "No, no, silly. Baptize us by giving us names!
    Haven't you ever been baptized?"

    "Well, no."

    The dark-haired pulled out her mega-PDA again,
    flipping through meta-pages. "On this planet, they
    baptize via infusion, immersion, or sprinkling.
    Infusion means `pouring.' Sometimes immersion into a
    river or the ocean."

    "Isn't ejaculation in there somewhere?"

    "Moistening what is dry," said the blonde. "I think
    we could handle that," she said, absently digging the
    heel of her hand into her crotch.

    "I thought they fucked you in the asshole, but maybe
    that's just for the boys," I added.

    Both girls smiled and exchanged raised eyebrows.
    "That sounds fun. But later. What are our names?"

    "Oh jeez. How about ... Carmella," I pointed to the
    dark-haired one. "And, Vanilla," I pointed to the
    blonde.

    "Beautiful," said the soon-to-be Vanilla. "On our
    planet, we baptize with a single gentle kiss on the
    forehead."

    "French?" I asked.

    "FORE-HEAD, GENTLE, don't you listen?"

    "Yes, yes of course. So what do I say?"

    "Make something up. Go on." They both got down onto
    their knees and looked down solemnly.

    Good grief, I thought. "By the grace of the Holy
    Buddha, the Great Oz and various other subdeities, I
    invoke and arouse the Ominous Chartreuse Spirit of
    the Almighty and the forces of the seven chakras, the
    seven chocolates, and the seven dwarf-nymphets in
    congenial and otherwise pleasant ways to the ends of
    affixing to each your respective names to your cute
    little fannies; namely:"

    "Carmella," (gentle, loving kiss) and

    "Vanilla." (gentle, loving kiss).

    "That was beautiful," said Vanilla, wistfully. "OK,
    let's have sex."

    I later discovered that the phrase used on Riga as
    "hello" roughly translates to "OK, let's have sex,"
    keeping in mind that Rigans are entirely a race of
    females, which is why they often travel to other
    galaxies for varietal entertainment.

    "Sex? Hey," I said. "I thought it was just for
    sustenance. Sa-a-ay, how do I know this isn't just an
    excuse to conduct wild unbridled kinky bizarre sexual
    experimentation on humans?"

    They both hung their heads guiltily, looking up at me
    with sad ET/puppy-dog eyes, standing there in
    silence...

    I exploded. "Well I didn't say to stop, did I?"

    "OK." Faster than a speeding submarine, Vanilla had
    my jeans unfastened, whipped out my hose and
    commenced on hungrily chomping away, hands busily
    probing and stroking in all the right spots, sending
    moiré shivers of ecstatic energy up and down my
    spine. The hose rapidly turned into a spear, a cruise
    missile...

    "Whoa, don't just stand on ceremony or anything," I
    said. "Whoa, oha, oh, you're very good at that, you
    know? Have you lots of experience?"

    Pausing briefly with a little slurpy-sucking noise,
    "Never," she replied. "Our travel guide gave explicit
    directions." She continued voraciously.

    "Oh, oha, oh, you know, they should publish that
    thing on this planet."

    "Does it distract you to have me watching?" asked
    Carmella.

    "Oh no. Don't go away. In fact..."

    Vanilla was pulling me down onto the lush, silky-soft
    carpeting of herbiage that had once been my lawn. Now
    I was on my knees.

    "In fact, if you could come over here so I could see
    what's underneath that skirt..."

    "Would you like me to take off my clothes?

    "No, no, not yet. Who, oho. oho. Vanilla, that's very
    distracting."

    "Thank you," she mumbled, mouth full.

    "In fact," I added, "the outfit is a nice touch."

    Carmella curtsied. "Why thank you. It was my idea.

    "I like the way you think. Just come over here for a
    sec. What have you got under that skirt, anyway?"

    She smiled, moseying over. The sparkling mystery
    behind those dark beautiful eyes burned into my soul.
    "I don't think you'll be disappointed," she
    whispered.

    Vanilla had me nearly horizontal by now, and Carmella
    sat down in front of me, still smiling. "Would you
    like to see?" asked Carmella, as she spread her thin,
    delicate legs, and pulled up her dress, thrusting her
    pantied crotch towards my face. The intoxicating
    aroma washed over my mind like laundry detergent, the
    enragingly sweet smell driving a crown of thorns into
    my ecstatically longing yearning to explode in the
    face of the sweet young girl who had me in her mouth.

    "Oh, oha, hoa, oh,"

    "Try this," said Carmella, quietly, ebony curls
    cascading. Her gentle girl-soft dark skin glowed with
    an aura colored lightning energy-turquoise as she
    reached gently down and placed her tiny cute little
    delicate fingertips on my forehead. My mind sensed a
    jolt, like a wheel suddenly engaged, starting to
    spin. My vision burst into fractured-glass shards of
    white light.

    "Our minds are now one," she said. "our feelings
    melded. Our passions shared. What I feel, you feel.
    What you feel, I feel."

    "Really," inside the depths of my mind, I could sense
    the turnings of her thoughts.

    "Touch me," she implored.

    I reached out and gently stroked her cheek with the
    tip of my index fingernail, and with tingling
    immediacy I felt a finger stroking my own cheek...

    "Yes," she said, "Our sensations are now combined."
    She ran her fingers gently through my hair.

    I did likewise, fingers eagerly palpating each tiny
    strand of her soft beautiful black curls.

    She must be feeling the sensation of Vanilla, coaxing
    my throbbing spear to orgasm. Reading my mind, she
    nodded `yes' in answer, moaning gently, rocking her
    pelvis as if she were having sex.

    I looked down at Vanilla, my eyes tracing the gentle
    contour of her tiny face, her silky long blonde
    eyelashes, her soft moist thin red lips encircling my
    organ, making little slurping noises.

    I reached up and kissed her lips. Ultimate intensity.
    Breathless, heart pounding, her beautiful face flush
    with excitement. As I lowered my face towards her
    crotch, her pelvis writhed in suppressed
    anticipation. Eagerly, she lifted her dress once
    more, and thrust her pantied crotch to my mouth. I
    bit, gently, and she moaned. I felt everything she
    did, and she lovingly held my head in her elegant
    tiny hands as I drew the waistband of her panties
    down, gradually revealing the tiny chocolate rose,
    dainty and dripping, aroma assaulting my nostrils
    with prodding fiery ground glass of yearning.
    Perfectly smooth, not a trace of hair anywhere, the
    vagina of an 8-year-old.

    Slowly my tongue reached toward the soft, smooth
    recesses, and the contact sent sparks of shuddering
    electrical waves connecting to Vanilla's tongue
    relentlessly caressing and kissing my glans.

    I grasped Carmella's thighs, a thumb each on the
    inside of her thin, beautiful dark legs, as I
    commenced to lovingly kiss and prod and cajole her
    sweet pearl of joy. She tasted every bit as wonderful
    as she smelled, and my brain melted with the dueling
    sensation of how she felt my tongue on her and
    Vanilla's tongue on me...

    "Pretty intense," I commented, "this mind-meld."

    "Yeah," she said. "helps avoid the situation where
    somebody's down there slurpin' away but it just ain't
    turnin' you on."

    "Everythings OK today, I hope?"

    Carmella grinned. "You bet. Anyway, just as long as I
    get my sustenance, I'll be happy."

    I was puzzled. "Except, I'll be coming in Vanilla's
    mouth,"

    "Don't worry," said Carmella, "we can share."

    I went back to kissing her love-spot again, waves of
    orgasmic energy building and falling like the to and
    fro of a young girl on a swing.

    From the corner of my eye, I saw an eyeball in the
    center of a knothole on Lydia's side of the fence. A
    hushed whisper : "Hey, check it out. The guy next
    door is getting it on with a couple of girl scouts.
    Cool!" More nervous giggles.

    In the heat of melting synapses, I lost all
    orientation with reality, and found myself believing
    that these two girls were actually girl scouts trying
    to sell me cookies, invited in on a dare, exploring
    the secret naughtiness of the dirty deed, crossing
    the forbidden boundary, boldly coming where no girl
    had come before...

    As I coaxed Carmella's body to orgasm, she came
    willingly and tenderly into my mouth, and I felt the
    sensation of her orgasm pulsing through my own body.

    The swirl of blonde hair at my belly button and the
    caramel and vanilla spiral of sensuous heat and
    sweetness and longing reached its fiery cherry-red
    yearning to release, and release it did, as my orgasm
    erupted, Vanilla lovingly held my sensitive balls and
    cannon, meticulously capturing every molten drop....

    "ah - ah - ah - ah - ah - ah - ahhh......"

    As I collapsed in blissful exhaustion, Carmella knelt
    down, Vanilla reached up, and they shared a long
    kiss, as Carmella sucked my juices lovingly from
    Vanillas mouth, savoring, luxuriating in the rich
    salty sweetness.

    I got to thinking, now, girls scouts wouldn't
    probably smoke after sex, so what --

    Vanilla reached into her bag and pulled out a brown
    disk, which she offered to me. "Thin mint?"




   -------------------------------------------------------


   For more stories, visit our site on asstr-mirror.org
   http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VivianDarkbloom/www/

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