
Message-ID: <55692asstr$1177308622@assm.asstr.org>
From: Russell Hoisington <hoisingr@hushmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} RP GSN31 - Girl Guide Nookie Sale {Crap for Brains}(Mg, blowjob, footsie, illegal sale of livestock, no thesaurus)
Lines: 285
Date: Mon, 23 Apr 2007 02:10:22 -0400
Path: not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

===================


                   Girl Scout Nookies 31
                   Girl Guide Nookie Sale


                   Girl Guide Nookie Sale
                      Crap for Brains

************************************************************

Welcome to the Girl Scout Nookie story collection.  In
honor of the Girl Scout Cookie season, this collection is
being reposted in the story order sequence we used in the
Girl Scout Nookie Collection story site at

    http://www.asstr.org/~denny/

This is story number 31.

The 69th London Girl Guide group gives Mister CFB the same
offer that the Girl Scouts in the US are giving their
special customers. If only he can survive the sales pitch.

************************************************************

Disclaimer

Let's see...there is nothing in this story that belongs to
anyone else. OK, not quite true, the idea of the Girl Scout
Nookie belongs to Kenny N Gamera, and the Girl Guide
Association has full ownership of itself as well. How I put
these things to use within the framework of this story,
however, is entirely original, and the said arrangement of
words on the screen, along with all hardcopy of such
printed out to use for whatever reason (wrapping
fish'n'chips, making spitballs, lining pet's cages; or,
going out on a limb here, actually READING...) belong to
moi.

All spelling mistakes contained herein also beelong soully
to me. So there.

Why am I writing this? Well, I read the GSN collection and
thought that, rather than providing a platitudinous "thank
you" or some such similar response, I'd thank them by
making my own short story in the same universe. Actually,
maybe less of a "thank you", more of "now look what you
made me do!", but so...lol.

I make no apologies for occasionally using English
terminology rather than American terms (for instance, we
have Girl Guides rather than Girl Scouts--as our Scout
groups are actually unisex). If you don't know what a
certain word means, try a dictionary. Or a thesaurus...I
know you have one right next to you as you read this...

Copyright March 2006


************************************************************

Mr. Crap for Brains--or as he was otherwise known, simply
CFB, was spending his afternoon in the usual way before
going out to work--surfing the web looking for hot,
perverted pics of anyone in a skirt; preferably the
shorter, the better.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang. CFB raised an eyebrow, as the
doorbell to his flat hadn't been working since long before
he moved in.

Suddenly, there was also a knock at the door.

"Why are door knocks always sudden?" he wondered, as he
got up, grabbed a nearby thesaurus off the top of his
telly, and moved quickly to answer the door. Then he had a
second thought, and grabbed a seaside deckchair--with the
"£1/hour" sign still stuck to the back of it--and held it
like a weapon as he cautiously approached the door.

Standing behind the still locked door, he said loud enough
to be heard, "Who is it?"

From the other side of the door, a young feminine voice
floated to his ears, saying "I'm Rebecca..." Figuring she
wasn't connected with his landlord, or any of the dodgier
punters who frequented his and his mate's betting shop, CFB
unlocked the door and opened it.

And looked out.

And looked down.

And looked down further.

Finally, he saw a girl of only about ten years of age
standing there on his doormat. She looked like a little
angel, with straight brown hair hanging loose down to the
middle of her back, and deep brown eyes, and very ruby red
little lips.

"Hi, I'm Becky!" she chirped, in a voice much higher than
he had heard just a few seconds before. Hadn't she sounded
much more like a hot young woman just then...?

"It's this", she said, holding up a mic with a small power
pack on it. "I can use it to change my voice," she said,
switching it on and making herself sound like a 20-
something with a huskier voice, "to lure sad old loner men
out of their homes."

CFB just gaped at her, doing his very best goldfish
impression. Finally, drawing up to his full five feet ten
inches, he shot out, "actually, I'm only 23".

Becky's eyes bugged out in shock.  "Whoa....you have my
sympathies Mr. Brains", she said.

"Anyway, we..."

"We? Who we?"

"The 69th London Girl Guide group", she explained. "We're
having a sale, and you were recommended to us as someone
who may be interested in buying some of our merchandise."

"Recommended?" CFB queried, apprehensively. "By whom?"

"The council estate caretaker", said Becky, brushing past
CFB on her way into his flat. She pushed deliberately yet
briefly against his crotch on her way in, fast enough for
him to notice, yet still think he'd imagined it. She was
still talking.

"He monitors all the internet traffic in and out of this
tower block. Your IP fitted all of our criteria. So, want
to see the catalogue?" she said, helping herself to a
bottle of Coke from his fridge; CFB was too stunned to say
anything, so he just followed her to his sofa, and sat down
beside her as she pulled a small booklet out of her
backpack, which was sky blue to match her Girl Guide dress.

"So, these are the girls," she said, showing him the first
few pages, filled with pictures of various girls of
different ages, all in full Girl Guide uniforms and all
smiling for the camera.

"They sell the cookies?" CFB asked, and Becky shook her
head and sighed.

"Cookies? What do you think--that anyone could actually
make money selling badly made cookies to a bunch of
strangers who don't give a beep about us?" CFB was shocked
by the aggressiveness of her tone. "We tailor our marker
better these days--look for people who are
more...amenable", she said, placing a hand on his knee and
squeezing it slightly.

CFB gulped; heavily. His leg shook a little. In the
background, his stereo started playing Toxic by Britney
Spears for seemingly no reason.

"No; these girls don't sell cookies", Becky continued ",
they sell themselves. We sell each other. Look..."

She flipped to the next page. This one showed a twelve-
year-old girl with short blonde hair, in an evening dress
with a giant slit up the side all the way to her waist. Her
still yet to develop chest was visible over the sagging
front of the dress, as there was nothing there to hold it
up in place. Becky's hand moved higher up CFB's thigh.

A succession of such photo-pages were shown to the man,
who gradually found his pulse quickening, his breathing
shortening, and other vital signs doing other things ending
in "ing". Becky kept talking all the time, to keep him
occupied while she worked on his trouser zip.

"You see, we sell Girl Guide NOOKIES, not cookies. Nobody
wanted our cookies 'cos they were lame, but then we
realised there was a market for Girl Guides 'cos my older
sister read this online story that proved there are loads
of dirty old men out there willing to pay good money to
have nookie with us. A prize goes to the girl who sells the
most nookies, and another to the one who has the most of
her own nookies sold. I'm going for both prizes."

"A...a...a-a-and just what are the prizes, e-e-exactly?"
CFB stuttered out, as Becky's hand sought out his cock.

"Breast enhancement surgery, and £1000", said Becky,
matter-of-factly. She gently pulled his dick out of his
trousers, and began stroking it quite publicly (or should
that be pubicly? Lol)

"Er....I....ohhh...."

"So how many nookies can I put ya down for, CFB?" Becky
asked, as she stroked him off like the pro she was. At the
same time, she flipped the magazine to the back page, which
showed her barely modelling a "Catholic-schoolgirl" type
uniform. CFB felt a blood vessel in his temple pop at the
sight.

CFB did the gentlemanly thing; he blushed and struggled to
keep his breathing even as her hand worked wonders on him,
and valiantly did NOT look at that picture with every ounce
of his energy. Instead, he stared fixedly down toward the
carpet, where he saw Becky was running a sandalled foot up
against his calf, rucking up the material of his trouser
leg in the process. Most of the blood went to his head, and
the remainder went to his other head, where the sound of it
in his ears drowned out nearly every other sound.

Becky noticed CFB's fixed gaze, and followed it downward.
"Oh don't worry CFB, I like to study my customers before I
make the deal." She reached down, unlaced and removed her
sandal, and ran her wriggling little foot, still in its
innocent little white ankle sock, up under his trouser leg
to the knee.

"Errrr.....ahh....ummmm..........ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
hhhh...."

Finally, pulling out the big guns, Becky lowered her mouth
over his throbbing member and sucked as though her life
depended on it, leaving a big thick ring of ruby red
lipstick around the base of his cock as she took almost all
of it right down her throat, before pulling back and
pushing forward again. Then, pulling off his leaking shaft
for a moment, she handed him a clipboard with an order form
and a pen out of her backpack.

"So how many nookies will you be wanting, Mr. Brains?" she
said. "This is just a free sample--if you choose to
purchase, the girl you purchase will go as far as you wish
to--all the way, if that's what tickles your fancy."

At that last statement, his cock rose up again and smacked
her in the chin lightly, before she took it in again and
continued to suck him off.

Before CFB could do anything else, his eyes rolled back in
his head as the ultimate pleasure hit him full force, and
he collapsed unconscious. His face was as red as a beetroot
from all the exertion, but Becky didn't notice for a few
seconds until she had finished swallowing every drop of his
cum. Then he spurted a last little drop that caught her
right on the tip of her nose. She licked it off.

Then she noticed that CFB was out for the count.

"Huh, happened again. Oh well..." she mused, and filled
out the form on his behalf, marking herself for 10 nookies,
and signing it "Mr. Brains". Then, having second thoughts,
she added another zero, making it a round hundred nookies
instead. At a quid each, that wouldn't exactly break the
bank, but she'd be reaping the rewards soon enough, that
was for damn sure.

Taking her time, Becky washed herself up, had some more to
drink--"Wuss, not a drop of alcohol in the whole place"--
and watched a spot of telly before shoving her sandal back
on, not bothering to lace it up, and strolling casually out
of the front door to the flat, leaving it wide open behind
her.

A few minutes later, CFB's mate showed up, wondering why
CFB was late to open up their shop.

"CFB, where are ya?" he called, making his way in, noting
the open door. Then, noting the slumped form of CFB on the
sofa, dick out and covered in lipstick and cum, eyes
staring.

And a small box marked "Girl Guide Sale", sitting next to
him on the sofa.

************************************************************

Copyright Crap for Brains 2006

--
Get preapproved for a mortgage in minutes.  Great rates and service.  Click Here.
http://tagline.hushmail.com/fc/CAaCXv1KZGBzcPaX0aAhKGcwaz77azQY/

-- 
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: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
20070423021022
