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Message-ID: <62652asstr$1366974603@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Cheryl Allen Tessler <cat47@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} A Sex Memoir, part eleven, M+g, Fg, bondage
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Date: Fri, 26 Apr 2013 07:10:03 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Memoira_pt_eleven.doc" begin>

A Sex Memoir
Chapter 11

"So what do you want to know about me?" I asked.

"Just tell me the first thing that comes to mind," said Ann.

"Like how long I've had a thing for boys?"

"If you want to, sure."

"I think I've liked boys since I knew there were boys," I said. 
"In third grade I was hung up on this really cute boy, Bucky
Davis."

"His name was Bucky?"

"His real name was David, but everyone called him Bucky.  He was
absolutely gorgeous."

"And how old were you?"

"Nine.  He didn't pay much attention to me, but one day during
recess he talked to me and I thought I would die.  I wanted to
get a picture of him and keep it in my room.  For a month I wrote
a note to him every day, telling him how much I liked him and how
much I wanted to be his girlfriend."  I sighed.  "I never gave
him any of the notes, though."

"You didn't have sex with a boy when you were nine, did you?"

"No," I said, "I didn't even know what sex was.  But I still
thought he was beautiful."

"So how did you find out about sex?" Ann asked.  "Was it with a
boy?"

"No.  When I was ten, a girl used to babysit me when my mom and
stepdad went out.  One night I saw her and her boyfriend have sex
after they thought I was in bed.  The babysitter sent me to bed,
and before I fell asleep I heard someone come in.  I sneaked out
on the landing and watched them.  I couldn't see them very well,
but I could tell they both took their clothes off and I could see
they were doing stuff.  It looked like she sucked his dick for a
while, and then she lay down on the couch and he fucked her.  Not
that I understood what they were doing.  I didn't know what a
blow job was or what fucking was, but I could tell they were
doing something.  Anyway, it stuck in my mind and a couple of
weeks later I was in a bathroom at school, in one of the stalls,
and I heard two girls talking about an older sister.  One girl
said that her older sister had given her boyfriend a blow job, so
I thought maybe that's what the babysitter had done.  The
babysitter was over again a week later, again with her boyfriend
after they thought I was in bed, and this time when I watched
them I figured that the sitter must be giving her boyfriend a
blowjob.  He was a really cute guy and I could see why the sitter
liked him.  So the next time she was sitting me, about a month
later, I asked what it was like to suck a boy's dick."

"And?" asked Ann.

"She got all flustered and told me it was none of my business,
and that she'd never done it anyway.  When I told her I'd seen
her with her boyfriend a couple of times, she got really mad and
told me I shouldn't spy on people.  That's when I got a little
smartass with her and said I'd tell my parents if she didn't tell
me how she gave a guy a blow job.  I guess she needed the money
she was making, so she told me."

"What did she tell you?"

"Basically, three things: that the girl should be naked, she
should have her hands tied behind her back, and she should always
swallow when the guy cums in her mouth."

"Ahhh," said Ann.  "Now we know where your thing about being tied
up comes from.  But did the babysitter have her wrists bound when
she sucked off her boyfriend?"

"It didn't look like it to me, but it was dark both times I
watched them and I couldn't be sure.  I just assumed she knew
what she was talking about."

"Now I get it," said Ann.  "But don't you think the babysitter
was trying to get back at you because you threatened to tell your
parents on her?"

"Maybe," I said, "but it doesn't matter now.  Nearly every time
I've given a guy a blow job I've had my wrists bound."

"By the guys at the college?" Ann asked.  "Every time?"

"Except the first time, yes," I said.

"So tell me how that worked for you last night.  I could tell you
were really turned on, but did you really like being bound and
bent over a log?"

"Oh gawd," and I nearly growled, "it was fabulous.  The first guy
who fucked me held my tail down with his hand.  I couldn't move
forward and I couldn't lift my tail when he stroked me.  It was
really, really intense.  And all the other guys did the same
thing.  I was very, very well fucked when it was over."

"I guess so.  We both must have done ten guys."

I leaned into Ann and hummed.  "Does your master ever make you
gang bang?" I asked.

"Sometimes," said Ann.  "He'll loan me out for some guys now and
then.  He also takes me to a private club at least once a week. 
Masters bring their slaves and the customers who don't own a
slave can use one for a price."

"Does your master ever punish you?" I asked.

"Depends on what you mean by punish," Ann replied.  "Sometimes he
punishes me at the club or at a gathering of just masters and
slaves, but that's just to show everyone that I'm obedient.  It's
never very much.  But if I've done something wrong or disobeyed,
then the punishment is serious."

"How often has that happened?"

"Not often, two or three times, I think.  I'm pretty
well-behaved."  Ann paused.  "Have you ever been punished?"

I grimaced.  "Gawd, I guess I shouldn't have asked you about
it,"

"So have you?" asked Ann.

"Can I tell you later?"

"Yes, of course.  But only if you tell me you're not mad at me
for eating your pussy."

"I'm not really mad, but it's not my thing.  I'm for men."

"You had an orgasm, though," said Ann softly.  "You didn't like
it?"

"I don't want to answer that question, either," I said.

"OK," said Ann, squeezing my shoulder.  "Will it bother you if I
tell you you're really pretty?"

"No, I guess not."

"Then I'll tell you.  You're as sweet and pretty as a girl can
be."

"Ohh kaaaay," I said, standing up, "maybe we should do something
else."

Ann laughed.  "We both know what that will be and we won't have
to wait very long."

When the men returned, I was very anxious to have sex with them,
mostly to forget that I had had sex with Ann and also to convince
myself that I really was for men only.  The men, however, weren't
interested.

"Put a lid on it, Cat," said Lance when I walked over to him and
rubbed against him.  He turned to Eddy.  "What do you think,
now?" he asked almost angrily.  "Yesterday we had one girl to
take care of.  Now we have two."

"Cat's not going to run away," said Eddy.  "We should just let
them go and do what they want."

"Dummy," said Lance.  "What if Cat finds a room full of guys and
decides she'd rather stay with them than with us?  We'd never
know where she went.  We may not want her right now, but tomorrow
will be different."

"Maybe I can help you," said Ann meekly.

"You?" asked Lance.  "You're just a much a slut as Cat is.  What
can you do?"

"Well," said Ann in a very chastened tone, "I can go out and find
a party for Cat and me.  Once I find it, I'll come back here and
you can take the two us there.  You can loan us to the guys at
the party, and come back and get us later."

"Or stay there and drink their beer," said Eddy.  "Hell, I'll
take them."

"Not you," said Lance.  "You'll get shitfaced and you won't even
notice when the girls leave."

"It's worth a try," said Johnny.  "If Ann doesn't come back, it's
none of our business."

"All right," said Lance grudgingly.  "Go out and see what you can
find, Ann."

Ann nodded, put on her tank top and shorts, and walked out the
door.  I must admit I felt like the property of men who didn't
want sex.

Ann was gone for only ten minutes.  When she returned, she
informed us that there was a group of men, about ten doors down,
who were perfectly willing to have two girls join them.  Lance
told Ann to lead the way.  He took me by the arm and led me out
onto the balcony.  The balcony wasn't crowded, but there were
men, and the occasional girl, standing about drinking and
talking.  As we passed the rooms on our way to our destination,
all stopped talking and stared as our little procession passed
by.  We weaved in and out of onlookers for three minutes before
we reached four men blocking our path.  Ann stopped.

"So who's this, Ann?" asked one of the men, a tall, barefoot,
shirtless man with light brown hair.  He was strikingly handsome
with a nice set of pecs and muscular shoulders.  "I thought you
said you had another girl who wanted to join us.  You brought us
a little teeny bopper and a guy."

"This is Cheryl I mean Cat," said Ann, looking down.  "Cat can
party with the best of them."

The four men laughed.  "And what's with the guy?" the tall man
asked.

"I'm just here to make sure she gets where she's going," said
Lance.  "I don't plan to hang around."

"Hey, you're welcome," came the reply, "but the little girl is
not what we had in mind."

"Can't tell until you try," Lance deadpanned.

The tall man looked me up and down.  "I probably won't, but I
know someone who might."  He stuck his head inside the door of
his room, looked around, then turned to us.  "OK, little girl,
come with me.  You," he said, pointing at Ann, "you can come in,
too."

The tall man grabbed me by the ass, maneuvered me through the
door, and to the right.  There were another four men in the room,
lounging on couches and chairs, but the tall man didn't introduce
me to any of them.  Instead, he headed for the right corner of
the room, where the kitchen table was.  There, sitting on a chair
wedged between the table and the wall, sat a boy.  As the tall
man led me over to him, he stuffed a finger in my pussy.  "Whoa,
shit," I heard him mumble.  Then we stopped in front of the boy,
who quickly stood up.  His eyes were open very wide and there was
a look of pure astonishment on his face.

"Hey, brother," said the tall man, "I told you we'd find a girl
for you and here she is.  This is Cat.  She's a real party girl.
Have a good time."  The tall man turned and walked away.

Timmy, for that was the boy's name, was about five nine with a
thick head of curly blond hair.  He had blue eyes, a fair
complexion, and hadn't ever shaved.  There was nothing effeminate
about him, but he very pretty.  I judged he couldn't be more than
sixteen.  Timmy did nothing.  He just stood staring at me.

"Take off your shorts and let her blow you," came a voice from
across the room, a piece of advice that was followed by a round
of laughter.  Timmy's cheeks flushed.

"Well go on," said another voice.  "It doesn't get any easier
than this.  Just drop your shorts."

As I once heard a Marine say, Timmy didn't know whether to shit
or go blind.  But the second bit of advice put him in motion.  He
took off his shorts, nearly falling over as he stepped out of
them, but did nothing else.  His dick was swollen and perfectly
erect.  I'd had some experience with boys, and I knew the first
time with a girl could be unsettling, at least at first.  "Sit
down," I whispered to him.  He did, I got on my knees, and began
stroking his dick.

I knew that if this was Timmy's first time, he would consider
anything I did to be wonderful.  I also knew he could cum in two
minutes if I stroked him vigorously, so I spent a good three
minutes just giving him head.  The girth of his dick was
unusually large, so it took me another minute, getting a little
more of his dick in my mouth with each stroke, before I could
comfortably get the head of his dick to the back of my mouth. 
Timmy lurched back on his chair when I did.  I couldn't be sure
what his reaction meant, but I assumed he wasn't displeased.  I
inched closer to him, and got his dick far enough in my mouth to
press against the entrance to my throat.  This time he drew a
breath so sharply I could hear the air whistle by his teeth, and
his hands clenched the sides of the chair.  It was all very
sweet, and very predictable, but I thought he might explode if I
took him down my throat.  I returned to the top half of his dick
and stroked firmly pausing, after every three or four strokes, to
work the head of his dick.  He seemed to relax a little, then
began thrusting up slightly every time I stroked down.  Having
established a pattern that pleased him, and certainly pleased me,
I continued, safe in the knowledge that he would soon have an
orgasm.  About seven minutes into the blow job, he came with a
force and a volume that was overwhelming.  I didn't come close to
swallowing half of it.  As he shot his cum in my mouth, his hands
again gripped the side of the chair, and he thrust his dick up
far enough to nearly get it down my throat.  I got quite a rush
myself, though not an orgasm.  After he stopped filling my mouth,
I gently ministered to his erection with my tongue and he, for
the first time, stroked my hair and then squeezed my trapezius.

Once a man, or a boy, has cum in my mouth, my attitude toward him
usually changes.  In a very real way, he's no longer a stranger,
but rather someone I'm really drawn to, to one degree or another.
 With Timmy, I had gone from just a girl who liked giving a boy a
blow job, to a girl who was attached.  I spent another five
minutes licking his dick, and from his touch I could tell that he
had suddenly developed a fondness for me.  I would have continued
as long as Timmy would have wanted, but we were interrupted by a
voice across the room.

"Turn her around and screw her," someone said loudly.  When Timmy
did nothing, I obligingly disengaged, turned around, and put my
tail in the air.

"All right," a voice called out, "she wants you.  Go ahead and
screw her."  The voice was absolutely correct.  I did want him.

I am sure that Timmy was theoretically familiar with the process
of intercourse.  Translating theory into practice, however, was
anything but smooth.  He didn't immediately make the distinction
between the two places he could insert his dick.  He tried
pressing his dick against one, then the other, but had little
success.  Anal is something I've rarely done, and though the man,
or boy, may enjoy it, I never have.  Three times, Timmy tried to
butt fuck me, and each time he tried, I raised my tail a little
to redirect his efforts.  The fourth time he tried, he applied
some real force to his effort, and I raised my tail just in time
to get him inside my pussy, though at a very awkward angle.  Once
inside, though, everything became clear to him. Very clear.  He
shoved his dick inside me with as much force as any man had since
I arrived at the motel.  As it is with me when giving a man a
blow job, desire is the characteristic that trumps everything
else when a man, or a boy, fucks me.  Boys are nearly always more
eager than men, and Timmy was the penultimate example.  He fucked
me hard enough to make me cry out several times, though anyone
listening could tell there was little pain.  Timmy was rocking
me, almost violently, but there was no intent to it.  A man might
fuck me the same way to prove that a little girl like me couldn't
take him.  But a boy isn't interested in proving anything.  He
just wants to fuck.  It sounds strange, but I can tell the
difference.  Teenagers speak the same language, and that includes
sex.

When Timmy came, he lingered inside my pussy for two minutes,
long enough to make me think he would get excited enough to try
to cum again.  But at the same time he was stroking, he was
rubbing my back and sides in a way that showed he was quite taken
with me.  When he pulled his dick out of me, he embraced me from
behind, pulling me upright and softly squeezing my tits.  It was
very sensuous, and my hands were in just the right place to
grasp, and squeeze, his dick.  His dick was sticky, but it
mattered not.  He was making love to me, and not just with his
hands.

"I think you're wonderful," he whispered in my ear.  "Can you
stay with me tonight?"

Since it was mid-afternoon, the question was slightly ridiculous,
but sweet nonetheless.  Fortunately, or not, I didn't get a
chance to answer, for a man came up to us just as he whispered in
my ear.

"I think I'd like to take a turn with this girl," he said.

Timmy looked up at him.  "I've got her, now," he said
defensively.  "She's mine."

"She's at a party and she's for everyone," the man replied.  "You
can have her again later."

"Not a chance," said Timmy indignantly, "Randy gave her to me."

Just then Randy, the tall man who turned out to be Timmy's
brother, walked up.

"Let her go, brother.  Adam's right.  She didn't come to a party
naked just for you."

"No," Timmy shouted, as he jumped up.  "She likes me."

At this point, Adam grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet.  As
soon as he did, Timmy took hold of my other arm.  "Let her go,
kid," said Adam.  "She's got plenty to go around."

"No," Timmy shouted again.  "Ask her who she wants to be with."

Adam and Timmy, holding me like a wishbone, both looked at me. 
They were both holding me by the arm very tightly, and I was
afraid to say anything.  Fortunately, Randy intervened.

"Let her go, little brother," he said gently.  "You'll get plenty
of time with her."

Timmy was reluctant, and angry, but he let go of my arm, pushing
me away as he did.  I heard Adam say 'Good job' as he led me away
to the couch.  Ten seconds later, I was on my knees sucking
Adam's dick.

It wasn't the ideal way to transition from one man (I mean boy)
to the next, and I really felt for Timmy.  He didn't want me as
just a slut, but as a partner.  He was infatuated, and I knew
what that was like.  Adam, though, didn't give me much time to
contemplate.  He knew, if Timmy didn't, that I was available for
all, and he proceeded to make that clear to the other men in the
room.  I wasn't sad to be sucking Adam's dick, but I felt bad for
Timmy.

That is exactly how the afternoon developed.  Adam was soon
joined by man who took me from behind, and before I started with
my third blow job of the afternoon, Timmy was barely a memory. 
It wasn't a marathon, though.  I don't think there were more than
ten men in (or outside) the room, and since I was sharing with
Ann, who was busy at the other end of the couch, I never got the
feeling of being oppressed or surrounded.  Within three hours, it
reached the point where Ann and I were on our knees without a man
fucking either one of us from behind.  It was then that the man I
was stroking spoke to the man Ann was stroking.

"Before you cum in her mouth, tell her not to swallow.  I'll do
the same with this little bitch.  Then they can kiss each
other."

"Hey, hey, all right," the man to my left said.  "That should be
sweet."

I had kissed Ann the night before, several times, but then we
were alone, and it had been very romantic.  Now I would have to
kiss her for an audience, and romance and soft lighting wouldn't
be any part of it.  I tried to slacken my pace, hoping that Ann
would finish long before I did, but the man I was stroking would
have none of it.  He pulled my head down until his dick was down
my throat, then continued to fuck my mouth very roughly.  I knew
the man to my left had cum, because Ann sat up slowly.  I
couldn't see her face, but a minute later I could.  The man I was
sucking came in my mouth, then pulled me up by my hair.  He
pinched one of my nipples very hard.  "Go ahead and kiss your
girlfriend," he said gruffly.  He pinched my other nipple very
hard.

I could see that Ann's cheeks were puffed out, and I swallowed at
little, trying to reduce the amount of cum between us.  My mouth,
though, was still full.  Ann obviously had no qualms over kissing
me with a mouth full of cum.  Since her hands were free, she
moved easily to my side, put her hand behind my head, and planted
a very firm kiss on my lips.  Then, still kissing me, she put a
hand on my ass, lifted me off the floor, and slipped her thigh
between my legs.  With nothing now to keep us apart, she put her
hand on my back and pulled me against her.

I didn't provide any of the passion in our kiss, but Ann made up
for, and easily.  She kissed me, tongued me, let our lips part
with her tongue still extended, and swapped cum with me.  I was
simply the object, and felt like it, of Ann's desire.  There was
a moment or two when Ann's kiss was very sensuous, and I was
nearly coaxed into the spirit of things.  But it was hard to let
myself go with the men laughing and cheering us on.

That was the last act of the afternoon.  Ann kissed me for ten
minutes, long enough for the men to lose interest in watching. 
When she stopped, she fetched her clothes, took me by the arm,
and led me out of the room.  We heard much encouragement from the
men to come back as soon as we wanted, or as soon as we could,
whichever was sooner.

Once out on the balcony, Ann put her arm around my shoulder. 
"You OK?" she asked.  I didn't answer.  She led me down the
balcony and back to room 213.

2013, by Cheryl Allen Tessler.  Other works by the author can be
found at <a
href="https://sizzlereditions.com/?s=SearchResults.asp%3FCat%3D25
0&search_404=1">https://sizzlereditions.com/?s=SearchResults.asp%
3FCat%3D250&search_404=1</a>


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