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Message-ID: <50795asstr$1111745402@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Frank Braun <mazares@hotmail.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 24 Mar 2005 20:45:11 EST
Subject: {ASSM} RP: HOME IN MANHATTAN - Part I
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Date: Fri, 25 Mar 2005 05:10:02 -0500
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Copyright (C) 2002 by Frank Braun

mazares@hotmail.com

Emailed comments are welcome.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


HOME IN MANHATTAN - Part I

Madison Square Park was broiling with heat and humidity, but was ablaze 
with the green-yellow beauty of the sun and trees as my daughter, 
Gabriela, and I walked through it. We were giving the entire day to 
mindless leisure -- I had promised to take the day off work in order to 
spend it with her -- and it seemed we'd walked through half of Manhattan 
already, though it was only just now time for lunch.

She had rejected my offers of good food in good restaurants, insisting, 
instead, on dining at McDonald's. There is no accounting, I suppose, for 
the culinary taste of a 16-year-old.

"Let's sit and rest for a minute," I said, guiding her, without waiting 
for a response, to a park bench, where we sat down side by side beneath 
the trees.

"You're getting old, Daddy," she said, the light in her deep black eyes 
shining as brightly with laughter as the sun that played in her glossy, 
jet-black hair.

"Screw you," I said, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her 
close, where she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Is that a promise?" she whispered, a mischevious smile on her lips and 
in her eyes as she looked up into my face.

"Don't tempt me," I said, grinning as I lit a cigarette.

We delighted in these moments together out in public. At forty-five, it 
was clear to anyone watching that I was old enough to be this child's 
father. And our general physical resemblance to each other suggested that 
I was, in fact, her father.

But we were always unabashed about holding hands, cuddling, and hugging 
in public, knowing that anyone watching us -- and watch they did, to be 
sure -- had certainly to be confused as to whether we were a loving 
father and daughter, or an amorous boyfriend and girlfriend of disparate 
ages.

"Dear God," I said, my attention suddenly distracted, "I'm in love!"

Gabriela sat up straight, and said, "Who? Where?" She was accustomed to 
these occasional outbursts of mine.

I nodded my head toward the girl I had spotted approaching us from some 
distance up the path leading past where we sat.

"She is cute," said my daughter, squinting as though to see her better.

The girl was gorgeous. She was Hispanic, probably 14 or 15 years old. She 
wore black hip-hugger jeans over an incredibly shapely behind, with an 
orange tube top over breasts that were only barely developed. Best of 
all, she still had just the slightest bit of "baby-fat" that gave her the 
appearance of a voluptuousness with which Nature had not yet officially 
endowed her.

"I have to have her," I said, and more or less meant it. Maybe it was the 
phase of the moon, maybe it was something irresistible in the girl, but 
my libido was suddenly elevated to the level of uncontrollability.

Gabriela and I both looked her over intensely as she passed by where we 
sat.

"She really is cute," my daughter said again. "Want to stalk her?" She 
squeezed my thigh as she spoke, and had a playful, eager look in her 
eyes.

"Hmmm," I said. "We haven't played that game in a while, have we?"

"Let's do it," she said. "It'll be fun. And Daddy deserves a treat."

I looked into her face and smiled. "You are so generous," I said. "Have 
you no jealousy?"

"I know who you come home to," she said, smiling back. "Now let's bounce. 
You go first."

I squeezed Gabriela's thigh, then stood and walked down the path. The 
girl was now some thirty yards away already. My eyes involuntarily 
focused on her beautiful, round ass as she walked -- approaching, then 
crossing, the intersection of 23rd and Broadway. The light turned red for 
me before I reached the intersection. So I stood and waited while, across 
the street, she disappeared into the department store on the far corner.

When the light changed, I, too, crossed the street and entered the store. 
I found her, quickly enough, perusing the lipsticks, nail polishes, and 
mascaras. I pretended to examine the umbrellas standing in a rack at the 
end of that section, watching her from the corner of my eye.

It was her belly that had me fascinated. Exposed, by the short tube top, 
from just below her breasts down to well below her deep, perfect navel, 
it protruded ever so sensually outward, smooth, brown, and unembarrassed, 
before curving back in again where it should, in a line perfectly 
harmonious with the opposing, backward curve of her buttocks. Her 
breasts, barely the size of apples, if that big, pointed nearly upward. 
Hers was the perfect form, and I had to possess it.

From a distance, I slowly and nonchalantly followed her throughout the 
store. Each time that she stopped to look at something, I stopped to look 
at something else, eyeing her as inconspicuously as I could. Through the 
inside of my pocket, I occasionally massaged my stiffening cock, enjoying 
the delicious audacity of gratifying myself at the unconscious expense of 
this child who had no idea I was even there.

Only once did I see my daughter in the store. While I stood at the end of 
an aisle watching the girl at its other end, Gabriela entered the aisle 
at my end. Wordlessly, and without even looking at my face, she groped my 
crotch, found and squeezed my hardening penis, then kept walking toward 
the girl.

Reaching her, Gabriela very deftly lost her balance, steadied herself 
with a hand on the girl's hip -- then collected herself, apologized, and 
disappeared into the next aisle. The girl suspected nothing. It was a 
trick I had taught my daughter long ago.

The girl at last tired of the department store and left. Some distance 
behind her, I, too, left the store, passed Gabriela window-shopping just 
outside the store, and followed the girl east on 23rd. She entered the 
McDonald's there across from the park.

I stopped in the store next door to buy a pack of cigarettes, then myself 
entered the McDonald's a few minutes later. The girl was already seated 
with her meal, facing the front door, at a small table along the wall.

My appetite now overwhelmed by lust, I ordered only a shake, and sat down 
with it on a stool at a bar-like counter opposite her. My view was of her 
profile as she stared, eating, out the front window. Her face was 
beautiful with a healthy radiance, and her straight black hair, just like 
Gabriela's, hung all the way down her back.

The counter at which I sat was mounted on a half-wall separating my half 
of the room from the girl's. I sat alone in this section, so I blatantly 
but inconspicuously lowered my zipper and let my now-erect penis stand 
free. While she was absorbed in her thoughts and oblivious to my 
admiration of her, I stared at her unspeakable beauty and stroked my cock 
under the counter.

There is an unspeakable eroticism in knowing that one is supposed to be 
too intelligent to be a "pervert," in having too much to lose if ever 
exposed as a pervert -- yet behaving as a pervert anyway.

But there is yet higher eroticism in contemplating the forbidden, in 
planning its execution, and in knowing that one will get away with it. If 
my cock was erect to its full nine inches, it was because I knew how 
today's evil game would end.

My daughter entered the restaurant, ordered her meal, and sat down to eat 
at the opposite end of the counter occupied otherwise only by myself. As 
I would look at a stranger, I turned to look at her, and saw her 
lasciviously lick her lips for just an instant as she stared at my 
throbbing hard-on.

I soon put it away, with difficulty, and zipped up my pants. I was too 
dangerously close to orgasm to play with it any further. After a while, 
the girl finished her meal and rose to leave. My daughter and I watched 
her walk out of the building and head further east on 23rd.

I rose to follow. Before leaving, I went to my daughter and roughly 
kissed her, thrusting my tongue deep into her mouth, holding her chin in 
one hand and groping one of her firm, apple-sized breasts with the other. 
Her eyes darted around first to make sure no one was looking, then she 
grabbed my cock through my pants and squeezed it as I turned to leave.

"You are a filthy slut," I whispered.

"That's why you love me," she whispered back.

I had waited nearly too long -- the girl was just barely visible now, 
nearly two blocks down the street and on its other side. I followed, and 
saw her enter a drug store.

Some minutes later, I entered the store behind her. She was near the 
front door, trying on pairs of sunglasses hung on a round, mirrored rack. 
The way she tossed her thick hair back with a quick turn of her head each 
time she tried on a new pair was enchanting to me. My desire for the girl 
grew more unbearable with each minute.

The store, nearly desolate of customers, was on two levels. Beneath the 
street level was another whole floor reached by a staircase on the left 
side of the store. Concerned that I was being too conspicuously present 
in the same places that she was, I decided to gamble that she would 
eventually reach the lower level, and to go there immediately myself 
before she did. Thus, she would be following me, rather than I her.

I wandered the rows of aspirin and paper towels with a full hard-on 
struggling in my pants, knowing that my unwholesome lust was about to be 
consummated. Apart from the pharmacist, who seemed nearly asleep behind 
his window on the far side of the room, I was alone in the bottom level.

The pharmacist's view of the store was completely obstructed by the tall 
aisles of shelves running perpendicular to his window, and I quickly saw 
that, though the store was heavily equipped with security cameras and 
large bowl-shaped mirrors, thanks to the lowness of the ceiling not one 
of these devices could see me so long as I stayed near the very center of 
the store.

Finally, I saw the girl descend the staircase.

A little more time and wandering, and she was at last in the center of 
the same aisle at whose end I stood pretending to inspect antibiotic 
ointments. It seemed an eternity before Gabriela finally appeared at the 
other end of the aisle.

Clever child, she had been shopping! In her hand, she held a new kitchen 
towel, and from the waistband of her cut-offs hung a toy pair of 
handcuffs, both items found on the upper level of the store.

With the measured nonchalance of bored shoppers, my daughter and I, 
coming from opposite ends of the aisle, moved gradually toward the center 
of the aisle, where the beautiful child stood comparing prices on 
feminine napkins.

It was in the same split-second that I grabbed both of the girl's wrists 
at once, that Gabriela deftly flipped the towel over her head and wrapped 
it across her mouth as a gag, tying it tightly in the back. Our movements 
could not have been more perfectly synchronized!

In the second or so that it took for the girl to realize what had 
happened and to begin to struggle, I had wrestled her wrists around her 
waist to her back, where Gabriela closed the toy handcuffs around them.

With my left hand at the small of the girl's back, pressing her closely 
into my crotch, I took her throat in my right hand to raise her head and 
stare into her eyes. She was terrified, and her terror turned my desire 
into fire.

"Me first," Gabriela whispered.

"Shh!" I responded. There could be no sound! The girl made a whimper, and 
I strengthened my hold on her throat for a moment as a sign that further 
noise would be dangerous. And we had to hurry; this could not occupy more 
than just a minute or two. God only knew who else, if anyone, might 
wander down the stairs.

I turned her around to face my daughter -- still holding her by the 
throat with one hand while my monstrous erection, yet imprisoned in my 
pants, pressed hard against her beautiful ass which wiggled with 
delicious violence as she silently struggled against my grasp.

A little roughly, I thought, Gabriela raised the girl's tube top to her 
armpits and began ravaging her breasts with her hands. With my free hand 
reached around her, I, too, began fondling the child's just-starting 
breasts.

Suddenly, the girl tried to kick my daughter. Her legs, after all, were 
free. Gabriela, in just a single, deft motion, instantly unbuttoned the 
girl's jeans and yanked them, along with her panties, down to her ankles. 
With her pants wrapped around her feet, she had now lost her ability to 
try kicking.

I held the girl still as my daughter greedily groped her genitals.

"Not a virgin," she muttered, then fell silent again in response to the 
black, angry darts that my eyes cast at hers. At this point, as a means 
of evading my daughter's explorations, the girl eluded my grasp on her 
neck and dropped to her knees on the hard tile floor.

Instantly, Gabriela pushed the girl's face all the way to the floor and 
sat on the back of her neck, facing me and the girl's naked behind, 
which, since she was still on her knees, was thrust up into the air.

I opened my pants, without really dropping them, and let my cock stand 
free. We had not much time. I moved to my knees, quickly wet my hand with 
my mouth, and lubricated the child's vagina with my fingers.

Grasping one of her thighs with my left hand for balance, I used my right 
to guide my cock -- really too large for this girl -- into her blossoming 
womanhood. It was painfully slow going, but at last I worked it all the 
way in and began pumping her as hard as I could, my hands now grasping 
both her thighs as she struggled in vain to get away. Finally, I 
possessed her!

Meantime, my sweet, depraved daughter was becoming aroused; her hands 
frantically fondled her own breasts through her tee shirt, and she licked 
her lips obscenely, as she sat on the girl's neck and watched me rape 
her.

It was time, now, to come. I withdrew my cock and pressed the girl's 
beautiful, round ass downward until she was lying flat on the floor. Then 
I motioned to Gabriela to get up. She did, and I turned the girl over.

I had but a split-second in which to take in the full frontal beauty of 
her brown, near-naked body before I had to throw my weight across her to 
restrain her. Re-entering her with my cock was difficult, as the jeans 
around her ankles prevented my spreading her legs, and my thighs 
therefore were on top of hers, rather than between them. And, the child 
simply would not lie still, making her now-moist warmth a moving target.

Nevertheless, I managed to get back in, and began pounding her toward her 
final stretch. I rested the weight of my upper body on my forearm, which 
was pressed hard across her throat, and watched her eyes open to an 
unnatural width with mortal fear as, gradually, her face began to turn 
vaguely blue, then darken into purple.

Her conscious struggle against me, as I fucked her, diminished, now 
replaced by the spasms of death. There is no other feeling like this -- 
with incredible force and violence, and with no rhythm or coordination, 
the muscles of her back and hips and thighs jumped erratically beneath me 
in her body's last, disordered struggle against death -- and it was with 
these rare and delicious spasms literally sucking the life out of my cock 
that I at last came in great convulsions of my own, shooting what seemed 
like endless gallons of seed into her dying body.

Spent, I lay for a moment still inside her, letting my cock absorb the 
last of her movements as they gradually grew weaker and weaker, before 
they, too, died with her.

Conscious, again, of time, I rose quickly to my feet and fastened my 
pants. For a brief instant, my daughter and I both, wordlessly, looked at 
the child on the floor. Her face was darkened by the strangling, and the 
position of her cuffed hands beneath her back thrust her belly 
uncomfortably upward. Still, she was a beautiful child. And, once more, I 
had gotten what I wanted thanks to the help of my daughter.

"You go first," I whispered to Gabriela. "Straight home."

The dead girl's body released its last urination. The puddle of piss grew 
quickly beneath and around her, mixed with blood and semen.

"Yes, Father," Gabriela whispered obediently. She hugged me, then turned, 
and she was gone.

A few moments spent admiring the beauty of the child on the floor then I, 
too, was gone. I regretted that I wouldn't see her again. But that is the 
one consequence I too often forget to consider...

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