Message-ID: <54472asstr$1157865005@assm.asstr.org> X-Original-To: story-submit@asstr.org Delivered-To: story-submit@asstr.org X-Original-Message-ID: X-Originating-Email: [cassiopeia11@hotmail.co.uk] From: "Cassi Opeia" X-OriginalArrivalTime: 09 Sep 2006 22:24:02.0383 (UTC) FILETIME=[A7339DF0:01C6D45E] X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 09 Sep 2006 22:23:57 +0000 Subject: {ASSM} Cassiopeia : Urban Night Class MF, nc Lines: 173 Date: Sun, 10 Sep 2006 01:10:05 -0400 Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, emigabe _________________________________________________________________ Windows Live(TM) Messenger has arrived. Click here to download it for free! http://imagine-msn.com/messenger/launch80/?locale=en-gb <1st attachment, "Urban night class.txt" begin> Author: Cassiopeia Title: Urban Night Class Keywords: MF nc ------------------------------------------------------------------ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age (Under 18 years old or 21 in some areas) PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW! The author does NOT condone or encourage abuse of minors. Keep it in your head & off the streets. For fantasy only. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 2002 Cassiopeia. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Urban Night Class We'd been married less than a month when he came home to the flat one Saturday night, half drunk and swearing and with a couple of his mates in tow. I heard him crashing around in the hallway and staggering along the passage. The others laughed and said something I didn't catch. "Just going to say night night to the little wife", he said, and they laughed again; some big joke, and went into the lounge and closed the door. I heard the TV switch on. Football probably. The door crashed back and his figure was silhouetted against the corridor light. For the life of me he looked like a gangster in a movie and I was almost laughing when he reached the bed and tore back the covers. It wasn't meant to be funny, though. He pulled me up by my long hair until I was sitting on the edge of the bed and he held me against his groin. My hands went around his waist but he twisted his fist in my hair and when I cried out to question him he yanked back my head and pulled my face up. He put his mouth next to my ear and whispered, all beer-breath and vehemence, "Shut up and suck me, you bitch, it's time you learned how." He pulled down the top of my night dress, each shoulder strap in turn dragged down, uncovering my breasts. I covered myself with my arms; the door was still open. He straightened, undid his belt with his free hand and unbuttoned his jeans. "Pull them down" he said, and when I didn't move to do it he said the words again "Pull them DOWN!!!" When I still didn't move he brought his face close to me again and whispered, "Do it! Do it now! The other lad's wives all do it, so you do it!" My hands pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees and his cock was up close to me, soft, his strong man-smell hot in my face. I tried to turn my face away but his hand in my hair turned me back. "Suck it baby, come on luv, you can do it." I dipped my head to catch the end and opened my mouth. I sucked him in a little way, hoping it wouldn't work, hoping he was too drunk to get hard. He was a big man, and his cock was long and thick and I didn't want to do this now, tonight or ever. His other hand came to the back of my neck and pushed my face onto him. His flesh went over my tongue and his body hair brushed my face. He was getting harder, growing in my mouth, filling my face. He held my head against his crotch for what seemed like forever, as his cock got harder and bigger, until it reached the back of my tongue and grew into my throat like an infection. I couldn't breathe and my hands pushed against him, my neck rigid and my shoulders twisting to get away from him. He screwed his hips around to follow me, turning his meat in my mouth and then finally, mercifully, he let me breathe for a moment as he drew back from me. Just to the edge of my mouth though, no more. He swayed himself in and out of my mouth, first just the tip, and then an inch or two more, and my lips went slack as I took in the precious oxygen through my nose. He watched me in the light from the door, his head on one side to see. "Make your lips tighter, use your tongue more, come on." I gripped the head with my mouth and swirled my tongue around and around and up and down the length of him as he rocked back and forth on his feet. His knees started to bend a little, and his hands forced my head lower and quicker, my throat stretched out for his length. My forehead seemed to hit his belly with each stroke now, my throat had to open with each pull, the desperate need to breathe only just allowed between each forward invasion. "Yes" he said, "Yes, that's it, yes. Faster." He was impatient now, his voice harsh and ragged, full of rage and of his arousal. Saliva drooled from the corners of my mouth and frothed around my lips. His hand behind my head forced me down on him harder each time as his hips jutted forward, and for longer each time until my stomach retched and I almost vomited over him. I felt the acid in the back of my throat burning and my jaw ached. I gagged at almost every movement, choking on him, constricting the head each time it lodged at the end of each thrust, massaging him, squeezing him. He was loving it. He was groaning, his head thrown back. It went on and on. Again I pushed my hands against him, clawing at his shirt, pressing on his belly, pleading for air, for rest, for time. I pulled on his wrists, trying to make him let go, but he was relentless now, his buttocks, spine, hands working as a blind driving force which fucked my face without thought for anything except his need to come. The grunts he made were loud in the dead air, guttural and animal, wordless. He drew away one last time to his full length and I managed to get one gasped breath before he plunged full into me deep down inside my body, clutching my head in his hands and arching his back. His knees were against the bed either side of me, hips pulsing forward, thighs forward, again, again, chin down, like some rutting beast in the night, growling through clenched teeth with every thrust "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!" I thought my back would break against his power as his sperm pounded my throat and scoured in a hot flood down my gullet. I was panicking, drowning; his cock was filling every corner of my mouth and down deep, concrete hard, hot and inescapable. A final thrust, another, a shudder went though him and the flow slowed and then ceased. He straightened his back and drew away and I heaved and coughed and choked his cum straight back over his groin, spattering it over both of us as I spluttered and sucked in air; unbelievable, blessed air in great sawing gulps. He stepped back, let go, and looked at me, still gasping and heaving, my face streaked with tears and his cum. Pulling my hair forward one last time he used it to wipe himself down, pulled up his clothes and turned back towards the door. "Better get cleaned up, you're a bit of a mess aren't you? Night then, thanks luv." His voice was ridiculously, insultingly calm, all swagger as he walked away. "Love?" I said. My voice was hoarse and full of despair as I wiped the tears and the cum with my nightdress. "Do you love me at all?" I heard the lounge door open; the lads' voices questioning, his voice answering, and then some raucous laughter. The TV got louder as they started to watch the game. I thought about his answer to my question. "What? Course I loves yer, fucks yer don't I?" Copyright 2002 Cassiopeia. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author. Author's notes In 2002, after a period of writing 'nice' stories, I wanted to write something more dark, more violent. I opened a blank document and this poured out, and what you see here is almost my first draft, hardly any editing followed, except for punctuation. The story flowed onto the page as if it were a remembered incident rather than fiction. At the end I sat back and I remember realising that I had a rather tense and fearful expression on my face, so much so that it ached to relax and smile again. Men tend to find this story disturbing. Almost everyone that reads it asks me if it is based on truth, so much so that now I always tell them, when sharing it, that it is not. I have been lucky I guess, in my relationships. Strangely, I believe it is among my best work. Comment and feedback welcome as always to cassiopeia11@hotmail.co.uk <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- 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: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+