index


Message-ID: <49182asstr$1095243003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Vivian Darkbloom <vdkblm-OBLITERATE-SPAM!-@yahoo.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7Bit
User-Agent: KNode/0.7.1
Subject: {ASSM} Jasmin (part VII - conclusion) {Mgg rom scifi +}
Lines: 514
Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 06:10:03 -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


  The final chapter ... this one's pretty much pure sex,
  so if you seek redeeming value, please patronize your 
  nearest locally-owned bookseller.
  
  To more fully enjoy this story in living, breathing HTML,
  please visit our website at:

  http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/VivianDarkbloom/www/

  Please also note that there is now a preface, to explain
  the codes.  I removed some of the codes, having realized
  that they pertained to events which did not actually occur
  in my imagination, but which I only imagined had occurred.

  ~~Vivian

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




                            Jasmin (part VII)

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

   The remainder of the journey to and from Capricorn was basically
   uneventful. There were the requisite quantity of "gosh, I
   remember 200 years ago, this was like so..." and so on. But these
   were against a backdrop of absurd traffic congestion and
   monumentally hideous architecture, resulting from mind-bogglingly
   poor civic planning with which development in Capricorn had been
   executed.

   I decided that the McCloud's decision to relocate to Syrene had
   been amazingly foresightful.

   There was one opportunity to meet with the distant descendant of
   a friend Jasmin had known, (in her memory, only months earlier)
   but it was an awkward and weird few hours sitting in an
   uncomfortably luxurious sitting-room, uncovering topic after
   promising topic, each of which disappointingly took a nasty curve
   into a mine-field of less-than-perfect accord. To make matters
   worse, the only drinks served were a positively wretched brand of
   instant coffee, and tea. And poor Jasmin, with not one speck of
   radioactive-lime soda to be located, though she was able to make
   do with some juice extracted from a locally grown Gyadpka fruit,
   which is widely recognized to be an acquired taste (or
   unacquired, in Jasmin's case).

   After news stories about the girl lost in space had been replaced
   by other more spectacular items, Jasmin had basically been
   forgotten on Capricorn, so it was only with great difficulty that
   this woman had dredged up something they had learned once in
   history class years ago. And with the advent of the inquisition,
   the sexually liberal society Jasmin had grown up in had been
   supplanted by remarkably uptight puritanism. The girl Jasmin had
   once loved had ironically given birth to descendents who rebuked
   such love with vehemence.

   It was a moment of unusual reserve in my lover's history of
   discourse. Knowing her well as I did, I fully admired her rare
   moment of politeness, fueled by her anticipation of affinity,
   hopes which proved to be sadly unfounded. Finally we made an
   excuse for courteous and forcedly smiling goodbyes, and made our
   way with relief down the quiet suburban avenue, back into the
   traffic jam which seemed to perpetually blanket the entire
   planet, extending its generous arms the over all major arteries,
   to convert all main thoroughfares into parking lots at all times
   of day and night.

   So, it was that within a month or so we found ourselves back on
   Syrene again
     ____________________________________________________________

   And it was somewhere in the incoherent pitch-blackness that the
   intruder alarm went off in the middle of the night. The beautiful
   ever-sweet love of my life was up in a flash, sitting on the edge
   of the bed and pulling up all the holographic display screens to
   monitor the situation.

   I buried my head under the pillow. Had it been up to me, the
   stupid system wouldn't have been in the bedroom, but at least she
   had acquiesced to installing only the virtual displays, which
   were reasonably unobtrusive unless activated.

   "Sweetheart," I said. "Be a love, and put those archery lessons
   to good use by sending whoever it is, off bristling like a
   porcupine with shafts and feathers sticking out all over."

   "It won't be me doing the archery tonight," she laughed. "I think
   you'll want to see this."

   I buried my head further.

   "Bulls-eye," she continued, "shot by that little guy from
   Valentine's day cards."

   "Cupid?" I asked.

   "Yeah him."

   I cringed, burying my head even further.

   She lifted up the pillow to whisper in my ear. "What's the
   matter, sweetheart. Afraid of Cupid's arrow?"

   I rolled over and faced her. "Zeus was afraid of Cupid's arrows."

   "Bright guy," she said, gesturing.

   On the screen was the image of a young girl with face of
   statuesque Slavic features, and long blonde curly hair trickling
   down her back and shoulders, in delicious colors that ranged from
   butter to vanilla ice-cream (or at least one might extrapolate
   such a thing from the grainy image on the screen).

   Dressed only in a white cotton blouse that fell to just above her
   knees, she walked barefoot up the dirt path, holding single
   candle ahead of her for illumination.

   In a flash, I was sitting up on the edge of the bed, fumbling
   unsuccessfully to magnify the display area. Jasmin smiled and
   touched a ghostly knob hanging in the air, which accomplished
   what I had been trying to do.

   "Need some help, sweetheart?" she asked, smiling at me, resting
   her hand casually on my thigh, under the sheets, her little pinky
   invisibly, gently tickling in a way that she knew was giving rise
   to the rising hilltop in the landscape of bedcoverings.

   The doorbell rang.

   "So would you do us both a favor," she requested, "and let me
   answer the door? I'm afraid you'll scare her away with your hair
   sticking up like that."

   "Right."

   She disappeared down the stairs, while I found robe and a comb,
   the latter of which I was dragging through my tangled matting as
   I descended the steps.

   And there was Angela, standing with a candle on the front step,
   visible through the doorway that Jasmin had just opened. She was
   so lifelike, in real life.

   The two young girls stood staring at each other silently in
   mutual fascination. And here was a moment that was truly rare in
   the life of my ever-so sweet lover, that she was stunned to the
   point of being speechless. Something to witness, to be sure. They
   just stood there smiling and gaping at each other, not knowing
   what to do.

   I cleared my throat. "Would you like to come in for some cookies?
   I baked them this afternoon. Chocolate chip."

   "Um, sure," replied Angela shyly.

   She set the candle down on the little table-stand we had by the
   front door, and they made their way toward the livingroom. When I
   returned from the kitchen bearing the plate of cookies, the two
   had sat down, Angela in the armchair and Jasmin in the seat of
   the couch adjacent, both still just kind of staring at each
   other.

   I set the plate down on the table, and Angela politely reached
   out to take one cookie. She broke the silence, turning to me.
   "So, is it really true? Did you rescue Jasmin?"

   "Yes, I suppose I did," I replied.

   Followed by something else I don't think I've ever seen, Jasmin
   reached out for a cookie, but since she was still staring at
   Angela, her hand missed the mark and she tipped the whole lot
   over onto the carpet.

   Giggling, she put her hand to her lips in and "oops," and then
   both of us got down on the floor to clean up the mess while
   Angela watched sweetly.

   From that vantage point, a glance in Angela's direction raised
   suspicions in my mind that she was not wearing anything under the
   dress, but I did my best not to get distracted. I could
   definitely tell she was not wearing a bra, as the two smooth tiny
   pastries perfectly placed on either side of her flat chest were
   clearly visible through the delightfully diaphanous fabric.

   "What's with you tonight?" I asked Jasmin. "I thought I was the
   only one allowed to be this clumsy around here."

   "I'm so sorry," she said, putting on her best manners for Angela.

   "It's OK. That was only about a third of the batch. I'll bring
   out some more while the two of you get acquainted."

   So, sitting there silently after having brought out the next
   batch of cookies, I began to fiddle. "Want to watch a movie?" I
   offered.

   Jasmin rolled her eyes. "Not one of your movies. All you ever
   want to watch is science fiction, which you know I hate."

   "OK, how about Hero?"

   Jasmin shrugged. "It's OK. Nice colors. Only 2-D, though."

   "I don't know if I've seen it," said Angela.

   "Ancient classic from the 21st century. `Bout the first Chinese
   Emperor."

   "Oh. I'm so glad you were awake," said Angela. "I had to sneak
   out of the house so my mom and dad wouldn't know where I was
   going."

   "Well, it's OK," bubbled Jasmin, finding her voice again. "We're
   always up at this time of night." She looked at me, and I looked
   back.

   "Or instead we could watch..." I started.

   Jasmin turned and slapped my arm. "Hush." Turning back to Angela:
   "So, I think it's time to fire up the hot tub."

   "But I don't have a bathing suit," said Angela.

   "I'm sure Jasmin has one you can..."

   Jasmin hit my arm again, then twitching her eyebrows at Angela:
   "No bathing suits allowed in our hot tub. They mess up the
   filter."

   Angela's shy smile silently grew wider and more devilishly
   secretive.

   "But first you have to get the taste test," said Jasmin.

   "The what?"

   "To see if you're ready for the hot tub."

   Poor Angela looked so bewildered. "How do I do that?" she asked.

   "First, sit over here," Jasmin pointed to a spot between me and
   her on the couch. Delicately, elegantly, Angela arose and seated
   herself between us. I felt her soft, cushiony warmth comfortably
   against me.

   None of us was wearing very much -- I just had on this flimsy
   robe, and Jasmin was wearing a thin silky nightshirt. The scent
   of the two hot young girls' bodies next to me filled me with a
   sense of contentment.

   "And now," said Jasmin, "I give you the taste test."

   They gazed at each other, smiling lips only a centimetre or so
   apart, when Jasmin abruptly dove in and kissed Angela
   passionately on the mouth.

   This went on for awhile. Their arms wrapped around each other as
   each finally gave in, relaxing into each others' passion. A tiny
   part of me felt like I ought to leave, but the rest of me sat
   transfixed, fascinated, and very turned on.

   Finally, they parted, and Angela asked, "So how do I know if I
   passed the test?"

   "Well, let's examine the gauge."

   "The gauge?"

   Jasmin pointed at my lap, where the needle of the gauge had
   indeed risen.

   "Oh." It was more a reaction than a reply. An expression of mild
   shock.

   "The eyes deceive," said Jasmin. "The only way to be positive is
   the touch-test."

   "Another test?"

   "Try it."

   Angela hesitated, so Jasmin demonstrated. "Like this." She
   reached out and squeezed gently. The needle rose further.

   Angela gingerly reached out and gently stroked.

   By now, the needle had risen to the point of being uncomfortably
   constricted, so I shifted to give it some slack.

   "Did that hurt?" asked Angela drawing back.

   "Oh no. Not a bit," I replied. "By all means, carry on."

   She reached out again, and ever so gently caressed, her beautiful
   china-blue eyes watching in fascination the effect she was
   having. My breathing accelerated.

   "I think you pass the test," remarked Jasmin.

   Jasmin caressed Angela's hair as Angela continued her loving
   caresses, and looked up at me. "Did you ever put this inside of
   her?" she asked innocently.

   "Sure," I said.

   "Several times a day, generally," elaborated Jasmin.

   Angela's eyes widened. "Can I watch you do it?"

   I shrugged. "I think it could be arranged."

   Jasmin smiled, chin on Angela's shoulder "I bet you could even
   convince him to put it inside of you."

   Angela's expression grew in amazement as she imagined my hardon
   disappearing inside the lovely smooth folds of her vagina.

   "But first," I remarked, with unusual forwardness, "I think you
   need to give Jasmin the taste test."

   "Another test?"

   "Yes," I said. "Here, let me demonstrate." With uncharacteristic
   audacity (guess I was in quite a mood that night) I knelt in
   front of Jasmin and lifted her nightgown, to reveal the petals
   her flower.

   Angela's devilish smile widened imperceptibly.

   I stuck out my tongue, kissing and caressing a bit while Jasmin
   watched placidly.

   "Like that," I said. "Taste?"

   Angela leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips, lingering to
   savor the flavor of my sweetheart's delicate flower.

   Jasmin leaned close, cheek to cheek with Angela, studying her
   reaction as the two of us continued kissing. I noticed Jasmin's
   hand, reached behind around Angela's waist, exploring down below
   through her thin blouse, and felt an inward gasp from Angela's
   lips on mine, as Jasmin's fingers hit home. Jasmin lightly drew
   lines across Angela's cheek with her tongue, breathing close.

   This went on for a while, then when we parted Angela looked at
   Jasmin, with mild anxiety, afraid of rejection. "Do you mind if I
   taste?" she asked awkwardly.

   Jasmin gaped as if she had just slammed into an inaudible
   barrier. "Mind?" she repeated. "Uh, no. By all means."

   Jasmin twitched and squirmed her legs wider apart with long
   built-up anticipation, as Angela knelt in front of her, gently
   kissing my sweetheart's clitoris. "Holy shit," shouted my true
   love, in words much more characteristic of her typical
   expression, stroking Angela's beautifully flowing vanilla curls
   as she threw her head back and convulsed with passionate ecstasy
   in response to Angela's coaxing tongue.

   Angela paused for a minute, taking in the moment of the occasion.
   "I can't believe, I'm finally making love to you. All that time
   when you were lost in space I knew you'd come back for me. Do you
   know how many times I stood by your statue and wished I could do
   this?"

   "She still spends a lot of hours lost in space," I said.

   Jasmin slapped my arm again. "Don't listen to him."

   She smiled lovingly at Angela. "Whatever it is, it works!" She
   pulled away the belt that had been keeping my robe shut, and
   tossed aside the two halves to reveal the skin shaft poised to
   impale, and absent-mindedly held on as Angela resumed, while
   Jasmin rode the face of her fantasy, with my rod like the handle
   on the bus as it tosses you from side to side.

   They resumed, filling my heart with satisfaction (and, of course,
   lust) to see such a beautiful pulsation of elastic pushing and
   pulling, a gently playful tug of war between the two of them,
   Jasmin battling to avoid the orgasm, Angela pushing it higher and
   higher, until finally Jasmin caved in to her cavorting
   convulsions, completely lost in the blissful explosion.

   Angela looked Jasmin's hand wrapped lightly around my
   upward-facing sword, then up at me. Without asking, she stuck out
   her tongue and touched lightly. Shudders of intensity.

   "It's like those things a king holds," said Angela.

   "A sceptre?"

   "Yes, and now it's been sacredly blessed, by being inside of
   her," she glanced at Jasmin.

   "Do you think you could..." she pointed at her butt.

   "I don't know," I replied, "Let's find out."

   I got up and knelt behind her, waterfall of deliciously buttery
   curls before me, as Jasmin watched in fascination.

   "Fuck her good, baby," said Jasmin. "Give it to her. Show her
   what I taught you. Show her what you can do."

   Angela raised her butt and spread her thighs to let me in, as I
   lifted her blouse -- I had been correct, she wasn't wearing
   underwear -- and gently began exploring with the tip of my
   impossibly stiff holy rod.

   It didn't take long to find the feverishly dripping cavity, which
   welcomed me in as Angela backed up to impale herself on me.

   "Oh," I said, more a breathless response than a word, and Jasmin
   calmly watched with obvious enjoyment as the nerve endings zapped
   and popped in the most amazing ways, as I watched my hardon
   smoothly disappear Angela's amazingly cute little butt.

   Angela smiled up at Jasmin. "I just love knowing his thing that's
   been inside of you, is inside of me. It's like some sort of
   sacred honor."

   "It's kinda fun to watch," Jasmin replied, leaning back, absently
   fingering herself.

   Angela began to get into a rhythm, gyrating her pelvis in subtle
   but excruciatingly delightful ripples. "Oh, rescue me," she
   called back to me. "Rescue me, rescue me!"

   Each ecstatic moan she gave from me being inside of her fanned
   the flames of my pounding heartbeat, sent it raging higher an
   more furiously, until I could barely take any more, then she
   stopped.

   I caught my breath as she lifted her head, motioning me forward
   along with her as she placed her lips once more on Jasmin's.
   (Lips. No, not her mouth).

   From this point on, the course of events proceeded with gleeful
   certainty to the inevitable.

   The three of us danced in slow-motion synchronization, with the
   beauty and rhythm of a well-oiled pleasure machine, each of us
   sharing a secret pleasure sensation of another, I and my true
   love sharing the object of our mutual fantasy, Jasmin enjoying
   the beautiful face on her labia, Angela blissfully squeezed
   between masculine and feminine, and I cavorting in the beauty of
   two lovely and innocent maidens.

   OK well, lovely maidens anyway.

   I felt Angela convulse and arch several times, but a real trouper
   she was, and she kept up the dance, feeling the heat intensify on
   both sides of her, inside and outside, as Jasmin, hands on the
   back of Angela's head, pressed the skull of her fantasy into the
   depths of her dangerous sweet spot.

   Finally as Angela played Jasmin and me off of each other, Jasmin
   once more tipped over the edge, causing me to erupt into a long
   ecstatic explosion of amazing intensity as I thrust again and
   again under the sweet crack of her behind into her luscious
   vagina, feeling the drops of my love penetrating deep into the
   depths of her deliciously cute body.

   Jasmin leaned forward and kissed me.
     ____________________________________________________________

   Later that evening, as the pale dawn light began to creep into
   the sky, the three of us sat surrounded by candles in the hot
   tub, facing together holding hands in a solemn but joyful
   triangle, singing the only song we could think of that all of us
   knew:

   Bring me my cross
   my burning shield,
   Bring me my arrows of desire...
     ____________________________________________________________

   And as the darkness of dreamtime fades into the light of reality,
   let me add simply that our lives continued placidly and happily
   as they had before, in our lovely home on Syrene, with the
   addition that Angela became a frequent and welcome visitor.

   We often visited other planets in the Syrene system, giving
   Jasmin a chance to hone her piloting skills, plus offering the
   opportunity to explore the sexual possibilities between three
   people who deeply and dearly love each other, in zero-gravity.

   As for the outside world, and the struggles between right and
   wrong, good and evil, Mac vs. PC, they have left us so far alone;
   but should any further events transpire worthy of note, (and
   given the restlessness of my true love, it does seem likely) I
   will be sure to send a copy along this same time-shifted network
   to that crude and unreliable predecessor to the Galactranet known
   as "usenet," back-linked via a simple Euclidian time-reversal
   into the 21st century, for their entertainment and edification.

                                THE END




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


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



  

-- 
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}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+


  index