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Message-ID: <63044asstr$1408011003@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Bawdy Bloke <nospam@bawdybloke.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Wed, 13 Aug 2014 23:57:09 UTC
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Subject: {ASSM} And she was ... (MMF, public, short)
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Date: Thu, 14 Aug 2014 06:10:03 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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This is taken from my blog at http://bawdybloke.com/story-and-she-was/

There was no sign of the impending hazard, there was no indication of 
the dangers she faced, but if she was truly unaware of the potential for 
injury while doing her chosen pastime then she was incredibly naïve.

And she didn't look inexperienced or naïve. She knew the score; she was 
dressed to achieve her obvious goal. The low-cut neckline, showing her 
impressive cleavage, was engineered for attention and designed to 
ensnare mens' eyes. The short clubbing dress that ended a few inches 
short of her waist was deliciously tight. It promised so much, 
masterminded to encourage sly looks and free drinks. And the high heels 
that she tottered so convincingly on, holding her calves taut and firm, 
accentuated the length of her legs and brought her from five foot nine 
to six feet in height.

She was a clubber, but she was reckless; pacing towards the dance-floor 
with drunken exuberance and then running onto the polished dancing area 
with unnecessary zeal when her favourite song was chosen by the in-house DJ.

She slipped; her right leg sliding when her high heel skidded on a pool 
of spilt drink: an occupational hazard in any nightclub. She should have 
been more aware; she should have known the dangers on any nightclub 
dance-floor.

But she didn't. She fell: her flailing body adorned with a yelp and a 
cry. She landed with a bump, her dress rising to reveal a white flash of 
lacy underwear. Her breasts spilled, and as no-one else came to her aid, 
my flatmate and I helped her to her feet.

She smiled and thanked us, mildly embarrassed. George and I bought her 
drinks, she flirted. All three of us did. We teased and laughed, making 
sexually provocative small-talk until the club started to close.

We left the venue together, my friend and I walking her through a small 
housing estate fondling her half-naked body, until she stopped at the 
quiet car park, turning to face us with a drunken giggle.

Her fingers loosened the belt on my trousers, her tongue slipped into 
mine: her mouth a potent taste of alcoholic strawberries. Her black 
dress bunched around her midriff by my touch, while her lace knickers 
were removed by George.

She giggled when she noticed and turned to face my friend twirling her 
expensive underwear as a premature trophy. My hands splayed her 
buttocks, gently caressing her soft, peachy ass to a vocal coo of 
satisfaction. Fingers slipped between her crack, and she leaned into 
George, my touch glissading over her wetness. A warm cry exuded from her 
lips as I pressed against the ridge; her legs squirmed obscenely.

I felt the heat of her arousal. The cool air swirled around us on the 
Summer night, as she leant over a low bollard, gripping the attached 
signpost of the wooden walkway as I danced along her slit, savouring the 
subtle moans of delight from her.

She pawed at George's trousers as I rubbed her towards her climax. My 
fingers skated over her clit as my thumb delved into her sopping cunt. 
She mewed into the faceful of George's prick, moaning as my sodden hand 
swept her into a vocal orgasm.

I lowered my trousers, unfurling a condom down my shaft as clubbers 
walked past; a couple drunkenly videoed us on their smartphones. I cared 
not. She gasped into George's cock, sliding past her gag reflex, as my 
dick opened her. She rubbed her clit as I pushed deep, holding the tops 
of her exposed waist.

I gripped her skin, reddening her flesh under my fingertips as I 
thrusted deeply into the groaning slut. She squirmed and thrashed 
underneath me, enjoying my dick pistoning wantonly into her sopping 
pussy. I watched George squeal and come, his face a twisted mess of 
endeavour and pleasure. She spluttered as his semen squirted into her 
mouth as his groans echoed in the small yard.

I felt her cunt pulse as I approached my own point, closing my eyes as I 
concentrated on the lust inside my genitals. The sensations. The sounds 
and the deep feeling of wetness.

With barely a whimper, I could hold on no more and the waves of orgasm 
surged from within. I filled the condom, pressing my prick deep into her 
trembling body to enjoy the final pulses of her pussy.

I invited her back to our place; she declined. I discarded the lifeless 
rubber into the nearest bin and we awkwardly said our goodbyes.

And thought no more of it. Until George found a viral video on the net. 
Two men, screwing a babe underneath a roadsign.

Slippery when wet.

And she was.

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