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Message-ID: <47820asstr$1084486202@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: goldrush@aussiemail.com.au (Goldrush)
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 18:30:39 +0000 (UTC)
Subject: {ASSM} A Poetry Recital, part 1 (MMF, rp, v, oral)
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Date: Thu, 13 May 2004 18:10:02 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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I guess the problem is this.  I don't have a whole lot of 
self-control.  Sometimes I act on impulse, and when I do I 
can often end up doing things that I feel sorry for later.

I guess Alison Holmes comes under that heading.

Alison was in her first year at one of the Oxford colleges, 
studying English Literature.  She used to come into the coffee 
bar where I work most days, and I have to say I really fancied 
her.  A petite blonde with very large breasts, a slender waist 
and full hips, her huge blue eyes and heart-shaped face made 
her look a lot younger than her eighteen years.  But then I 
guess you are still young at eighteen.  Certainly, Alison was 
naïve about some things - and it got her into a lot of trouble 
in the end.  Or, if you look at it another way, I did.

I do read a lot  and I try to keep up to date with reviews and 
stuff, so when the lit crowd were in I could usually keep up 
with their discussions.  I got to know most of them by name, 
and although I'm a high school drop-out in my early thirties 
I had a sort of honorary status at the edge of the crowd.

Alison wrote her own stuff - poems, mostly - and she used to 
talk about it a lot without ever showing it to anyone.  She 
had a thick, soft-covered notebook with IDEAS written on the 
cover that she took with her everywhere.

Anyway one day she came in by herself when the place was quiet 
and I coaxed her to read me one of her poems.  At last she 
agreed.  It was shit - a load of sentimental arse about how 
her heart was a locked silver box - but I pretended to be 
really impressed and I told her that she should get herself 
an agent.  She was pleased and flattered, and she went out 
of the café really happy.

She'd have been a lot less happy if she'd known what was 
in my mind.

After that I worked on her gradually over the course of a month 
or so.  Whenever she was in I'd ask her to read me something, 
and whatever old cobblers it was I'd always say I loved it.  
And I banged on about how she should get herself an agent and 
start to get her work published.

"But I don't know anyone," Alison protested.  "I wouldn't even 
know where to start."

"Well I'm having a party at my place tonight," I told her one 
day.  "And one of the guests is a literary agent up from London.  
I'm not saying he'd take you on, but he could look at your 
stuff and give you an opinion."

Alison was really excited.  I gave her the address and an 
approximate time to arrive, and I emphasised that the place 
would be full so she'd have to come alone.  No boyfriends 
or mates.  She gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug as she 
left, and thanked me about ten times for being such a 
good friend.

Well, it was good that I was getting my thanks up front.  I 
seriously doubted she'd be thanking me once the eveing was 
over.

I called up a few mates and told them what was going down.  
Steve was into it right away, because we've done similar 
tricks in the past and he enjoys the set-up almost as much 
as the party.  He promised to be there early and I told him 
to spread the word.

In the event he turned up at half past seven and then Alison 
rang the doorbell dead on eight.

"Blimey, you're keen," I said as I looked her up and down.  
I'd said casual, but she was wearing what must have been 
her best white blouse and tartan skirt, and one of those 
floppy bow tie thing that girls wear sometimes.  She looked 
like a schoolgirl on a day trip.

I led her through to the living room, where Steve was sitting 
on the sofa.  I introduced them, telling Alison that Steve was 
the agent I'd talked to her about.  Then I left them to talk 
while I fixed her a drink.

Steve listened to a couple of her poems,  nodding solemnly.  
"Great imagery," he'd say, or "yeah, love the rhyme scheme 
there."  Alison still hadn't smelled a rat.  She was glowing 
under this praise, and it didn't occur to her as funny that 
the party was still just the three of us when I'd told her 
the place would be packed to bursting.

Finally Steve took Alison's IDEAS notebook out of her hands, 
stopping her in mid-flow, and put it down on the table.  
"Alison," he said solemnly, "I can call you Alison, can't I?"

"Oh yes," she blurted, "please."

"Well here's the thing.  And there's good news and bad news, 
as it were.  The bad news is, there's a shit lot of poetry 
around at the moment.  A glut, really.  The market is saturated.  
You see what I mean?"

Alison nodded, looking almost comically serious.  She was waiting 
for the good news.

"But I do have an opening," Steve said, "and I think you'd be 
perfect for it.  But you'd have to prove to me that you're 
flexible and open."

"I am," said Alison.  "I really am, very."

"And that you can take on big things when they're put in 
front of you."

"Oh yes.  I'm happy to do that."

"Okay, here's the thing, then.  I've got a mate who's producing 
a film, and they need a leading lady for it.  Would you be 
interested?"

Alison was floored for a moment, but she bounced back.  
"Well, yes," she said, "I would.  I suppose you've got to do 
whatever offers, at first, haven't you?  To get yourself 
better known."

"Exactly," said Steve.  "Now this film is a sequel to one 
that's already on release, so I thought I'd show you that 
first.  Okay?"

Alison nodded earnestly, and Steve picked up the remote 
which was on the table.  He pressed PLAY, because we'd 
already set this up and the DVD was in the machine, cued 
up to the scene that he wanted.

The TV screen jumped into life with a shot of a schoolgirl 
in uniform - a pretty little thing of about fourteen, 
blonde like Alison - walking down a city street.  She walked 
past a van that was parked at the kerb, and three men 
jumped out of it.  In spite of her struggles they dragged 
her inside.

"You'll need to emote a lot," Steve said, deadpan.  "It's 
a very demanding role."

I stole a glance at Alison's face.  The penny was dropping, 
and the expression on her face was worth a tenner.

On the screen, the girl was now kneeling on the floor of 
the van as the three men got their dicks out.  Her face was 
shoved down into the crotch of the first guy and he forced 
his hard-on into her mouth.

Alison tried to get up at this point, but Steve and I held 
her down.

"I'm not interested," she said, her voice tight and tense.

"Still," said Steve, "I'd like you to watch before you 
make up your mind."

"No thank you," Alison said, and she made a second 
attempt to stand.  Steve got a good handful of her hair 
and pulled her down again, then gripped her shoulder 
and shoved her hard against the back of the couch.

"Fucking stay where you're put," he said sternly, 
"or I'll smack you one."

Alison looked at me, for a moment expecting me to jump to 
her defence.  But one glance at my amused expression must 
have been enough to make her realise that I was in on the 
joke.

By now the little schoolgirl on the screen was getting her 
mouth used by all three of the guys, pretty roughly.  And 
there was a lot of accompanying dialogue to bring the point 
home, like "take it in the throat, you bitch" and "eat my 
cock, whore".  Alison stared at the scene, her face pale.  
She was beginning to guess where the evening was going.

We watched the scene out.  It was one of Steve's DVDs, 
and it was new to me.  It was pretty bloody arousing stuff - 
the kind of rape film that they don't sell in shops because 
at least some of the stuff is obviously real.  There was a 
mattress in the van, and the three guys proceeded to use it 
to give this little kid a very comprehensive sex education.  
Alison watched with a tear trickling down her cheek.

At one point the kid was lying on her back on the mattress: 
there's one guy kneeling on her chest, humping away at her 
face, and a second guy buggering her with a cock the size 
of a rolling pin.  The third guy is squeezing and mauling 
her little tits.  That was when Steve paused the film and 
turned to Alison.

"Okay," he said, "now you know how it is, Alison.  The 
sequel's always got to be better than the original.  So 
you can see what we've got to beat..."

Alison looked at me, her tear-stained eyes pleading.

"Please don't do this, Joe," she said in a tiny voice.  
"Please don't do this to me."

"Alison," I told her gently.  "We're about to rape the 
shit out of you.  You'll be lucky if you can walk out of 
here tonight.  But I'd hate to think that what we're 
doing wasn't okay with you.  So tell me you want to be 
raped."

"Please..." she tried again, and I reached out and grabbed 
her by the throat, squeezing hard.  She tried to draw a 
breath and failed.

"Tell me," I repeated, only loosening my grip a fraction.

"I - - I want - - " she choked, her voice barely audible.

"Yes...?"

"T... to be raped!"

"By both of us?"

"B... by both of you!"

"That's great."  I let go of her and unzipped my flies, pulling 
out my painfully stiff cock.  "But before we start, you can give 
me a bit of a blow job."  Alison stared at my hard-on like a lost 
soul staring at Satan's pitchfork.

"Suck it, you little whore" I said, giving her a light smack in 
the face to emphasise that I wasn't kidding.  She flinched and 
yelped, but she still didn't move.  She just couldn't make 
herself do it: she was still paralysed with shock.

"Use your mouth, you stupid slut," Steve growled.  He pushed her 
head down into my crotch and she opened her mouth, trembling.  
She was breathing hard.  Her tongue touched my swollen glans, 
just for a second, then again - terrified, gingerly flicks, 
involving the smallest amount of contact she could manage.

"Alison," I said, "suck me like you mean it, or you'll have 
to do it with Steve's fist up your cunt."

That inspired her to more sincere efforts.  It probably wasn't 
the first cock she'd sucked - I imagined she'd had a few 
boyfriends at college, and whether or not she was a virgin 
she'd have to have gotten involved in some sex play at some 
point - and although she was very reluctant she knew what 
it was she was meant to do.  She sucked on my shaft, her 
tongue rasping very pleasantly over my knob.

By this time Steve had got his own cock out and was wanking 
it slowly as he watched.

"You're ignoring my friend," I told Alison, after a minute 
or so of her head bobbing on my knob.  "What kind of selfish 
bitch are you?  Give him some plate before I lose my temper 
with you."

Blinking away more tears, Alison straightened up and then 
went down on Steve.  "Oh fuck, yeah!" he groaned as her 
lips went around his glans.  "That's great!"  Alison sucked 
and slurped on him, wretchedly unhappy but diligent, and a 
broad grin spread across his face.

"Hey," he said after a minute or so of this.  "You're leaving 
Joe out, you self-centred little cunt.  What are you like?"

With an involuntary moan of dismay, Alison once more turned 
her attention to me and started sucking my cock again.  I 
grunted in pleasure.  I felt a little sad that I'd be 
losing Alison's friendship tonight, but at that moment, with 
her lips wrapped around my prong and her tongue lashing my 
helmet, it seemed like a very fair exchange.

But it was still early in the evening, and we had a lot to 
get through.

"What the fuck?" I said sternly.  "Steve, is this little 
slut blanking you?"

"It's like I'm not even here," said Steve mournfully.

"Well that's unacceptable," I said, shaking my head.  Alison 
raised her head and looked at us, terrified and at a loss.  
"I'm sorry," she faltered, genuinely scared.  "I'll - - "  

That was all she had time for before we grabbed her.  We didn't 
hit her hard, but we roughed her up quite enjoyably.  I grabbed 
her by the hair and shook her head around, and Steve punched her 
in the stomach twice.  Then I ripped her blouse open and tore it 
off her while he held her by the throat.  She was crying 
hysterically now, too scared even to defend herself, staggering 
and almost tripping as we hauled her skirt down and off.  This 
left her just in her underwear, stockings and shoes.

"Get the shoes off!" Steve yelled at her, giving her a mighty 
slap across the face.  Sobbing and flinching, she stepped out 
of her shoes.  "Bitch!" Steve growled, and punched her a lot 
harder in the stomach, making her double up and collapse 
moaning at our feet.

"Now the bra and pants," I said, more gently, and winded as 
she was Alison hastily struggled out of her underwear.

She was now naked, more or less, and we feasted our eyes on 
her very lovely body.  Obviously we were going to feast our 
cocks, too - but we're men of strong aesthetic leanings.

"Get up the fucking stairs," Steve said.  "We're gonna 
fuck you on the bed."

Trembling and sobbing, Alison walked in front of us to the 
stairs, Steve occasionally shoving and pushing her to make her 
move faster.  We enjoyed the view of her shapely arse as she 
walked up the stairs ahead of us.  At the top we took over 
again,  manhandling her into the bedroom and throwing her 
roughly down on the big double bed.

We shrugged off our own clothes under her terrified 
eyes.

For whatever reason, she decided to try one more 
appeal to me.

"I - - I thought we were friends, Joe," she half-whispered. 

"We are friends," I agreed.  "I don't do this sort of thing 
with just anybody, Alison.  I think after tonight we'll know 
each other a lot better."

We climbed onto the bed with her and started to enjoy ourselves.  
Pete is a tit man, so he began by sucking and licking on 
Alison's big breasts.  I shoved a finger up her cunt and started 
to frig her roughly, enjoying the gasps and moans this elicited 
from her.

A beautiful woman is the best toy in the world, as I'm sure all 
you guys will agree.  Before long Pete was making Alison cry and 
squeal as he gave up sucking on her nipples and started chewing 
and biting on them instead.  By that time I'd gone from having 
one finger inside her gash to two and then three, and I was 
using them to give the inside of her cunt a fairly rough mauling.  
She was lying between us on the bed with her eyes tight shut as 
if she couldn't bear to look, breathing in shallow gasps as we 
got our jollies on her beautiful body.

Soon we were good and ready to fuck her.  Stone paper scissors 
gave Pete the first go up her cunt, so I shinnied up the bed 
and shoved my dick at Alison's lovely, tear-stained face.

"Suck my cock," I ordered her.  Shooting me a glance full of 
misery and reproach, Alison opened her mouth and I shoved my 
swollen knob between her lips.  It felt great.  She made a 
muffled sound of protest as I forced several inches of shaft 
into her mouth, but I ignored it.  This was about my pleasure, 
not her comfort.

Pete was spreading her legs and getting into position between 
them.  Looking down, I saw his massive cock nudging against 
the entrance to her cunt.  "This might hurt a little," he 
said, with a grin - and he shoved hard, getting half his 
huge organ up her gash in one thrust.  Alison stiffened 
with a strangled grunt, and her back arched slightly from 
the shock and the pain.  Then she had a lot more to contend 
with as Pete started to rape her snatch with deep, hard 
thrusts, groaning in pleasure.

"Tight?" I asked.

"Very tight," gasped Pete, appreciatively.  "She hasn't done 
much of this!"

"Well tonight's the night," I said.  I started to thrust in 
and out of her mouth.  The pain from Pete screwing her 
dry vagina had made her forget to suck on me, but in any case 
I wasn't interested in a straight blow job - I could get that 
anywhere.  I fully intended to rape Alison's face.

At first what was going on between her legs distracted her from 
my increasingly passionate shafting of her mouth.  But as I 
started to make my strokes deeper, her gag reflex was triggered 
and her eyes rolled in panic.  She tried to pull back from me, 
and I responded by gripping her head tightly in my hands, 
holding her in place as I continued to thrust.

"Sorry, Alison," I panted, "it's gonna get worse before it 
gets better."

She gave an urgent but muffled moan around my plunging dick, 
which was cut off as I forced more of my length into her face.  
Then she made a choking, gagging sound, her face going red.  
I fed her another inch or so, my knob well into her gullet 
now, my balls dangling on her chin.

I fucked her throat, and Pete fucked her twathole.   And 
fantastic as it was, it was just the start...

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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