SUBJECT LINE:
{ASSM} "Paper or Plastic?" {Dancer} (mF oral anal)


-------

Copyright notice: Dancer, the author of this smutty little 
opus, holds all rights of reproduction.  Private copies for 
personal perusal and archives for NON-commercial 
distribution are permitted by her.

Plea for attention: The only reward ASS* authors can expect 
is the joy of sharing their creation with the rest of 
humanity. So the fair thing to do is email the author if 
you liked what they posted and tell them so.  I promise 
that it'll make YOU feel good to send them kudos, after 
all, Mark Twain said, "The best way to cheer yourself up is 
to try to cheer someone else up."  As always you may 
contact me, and my wife Dancer, through my 'legacy' Deja 
News email account:             <empath69@my-deja.com>  

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

The standard disclaimers apply: don't read this if you are 
under the age of 18 where you reside. The following 
contains explicit, sexual material.

I should write out one introduction, save it and copy it to 
the beginning of every story, but I like typing out 
something different. Think of it as a bit of extra effort 
for y'all on a.s.s.*.

Author's Note: Do you guys/gals/whatever fantasize about 
the stockboys and cashiers at your local supermarket? There 
are a few high-schoolers at mine that I'd enjoy role-
playing 'The Graduate' with! A long time ago, in a now-
defunct grocery store, I did get a little 'something-
something' from one of the stock-boys. The actions are 
based in reality, although the names have been changed to 
protect the guilty...er, innocent.

{Empath: 'long time ago' - bah, she must be trying to 
mislead y'all!:)}


Paper or Plastic? 
Dancer 2001

I counted out the last register and shoved the money and 
receipt tape in the bank deposit bag. I heaved a sigh of 
relief as I trudged through the darkened store toward the 
back room. The manager's office was up a flight of wooden 
stairs and I went inside, opening the floor safe and 
dropping the cash inside. After climbing back down to the 
ground floor, I took off my uniform smock and checked my 
appearance in a small mirror hanging by the time clock.

My hair looked like crap. It lost the curl I put in it this 
morning and hung limply around my face. My skin held a 
sickly yellow cast from the fluorescent lighting and I 
noticed the beginnings of purple circles under my vivid 
blue eyes. This was not a good look for me. I looked fifty-
year-old haggard gnome instead of a twenty-eight-year-old 
perky elf. There was no way in hell that Steve would want 
to sleep with me tonight.

I smiled slowly at the thought of my hunky co-worker. Steve 
Davis was an eighteen-year-old high school senior, the star 
of the wrestling team and an absolute dreamboat. He had 
short, wavy brown hair that curled around the collar of his 
shirt, demonic green eyes with killer eyelashes, broad 
shoulders and the typical, stocky wrestler's build. And his 
ass...mm-mmm! Perfectly rounded glutei that filled the seat 
of his pants. I was getting wet just thinking about Steve 
when he came through the swinging double doors.

He untied his apron and looped it over an empty hook in the 
wall. "Hey Amber, you ready to punch out for the night?" he 
asked.

"Yeah," I replied, feeling guilty about wanting to seduce 
the poor guy. I made my mind up not to jump his bones. 
Steve was obviously tired from working the evening shift 
(3-10p) and I knew he had a wrestling tournament tomorrow. 
I stuck my timecard in the slot, heard the click and 
stuffed the cardboard back in its slot. Steve did the same 
and we left via the back door. He tugged on the handle, 
making sure it was locked up tight. We walked over to his 
car (he was nice enough to give me a lift home) and I 
hopped in the passenger side while he climbed behind the 
wheel. "Do you think you'll win your weight class 
tomorrow?" I asked as I belted in.

Steve cranked the motor and pulled out of the lot. "I hope 
so. Riverton has a couple good guys in the 138# bracket. I 
need to ditch another pound before the weigh-in."

"Don't you weigh-in like boxers do, in your jockeys?"

"Yeah, but I want to be sure of making my weight, you 
know?"

He pulled up in front of my apartment. I undid my seatbelt 
and hit his arm, saying, "Good luck, and if you win, I 
wanna see the medal." He smiled shyly and I got out of the 
car. A thought struck me and I leaned back in. "This sounds 
crazy, but jack-off just before you get weighed. Maybe 
it'll help." His cheeks flushed a rosy hue at my comment. 
"My brother does it whenever he needs to lose a smidge of 
weight and he's a four-time All American at Iowa."

"Amber, get out of here!" Steve told me gruffly. I stepped 
back and waved goodbye as he drove off. 

All that happened Friday night and Steve was gone all of 
Saturday wrestling in Omaha. Sunday rolled around and I was 
in the middle of folding my laundry when Steve dropped by 
apartment in the late afternoon. The first thing he showed 
me was his medal for winning his 138# weight division. It 
was gilded gold and hung off a red, white and blue striped 
ribbon around his neck. "Steve, this is great!" I said with 
a grin and hugged him hard. "I knew you were gonna win."

He just stood there, then gently hugged me back. I pulled 
away but his arms kept me close and I felt his hands slide 
along my waist, his thumbs brushing the under slope of my 
breasts. They swelled at his touch and the tips puckered 
up. I waited for Steve to move and he did, cupping them and 
rubbing a thumb over the hardened peaks. My face tipped up 
as he bent down and our mouths met, frantically tasting 
each other.

I tore at his letter jacket and faded jeans, demanding to 
caress his muscled body. We broke apart and stripped naked. 
Steve held the medal out and looped it over my head. The 
cool medallion rested in the valley of my tits. I traced 
the raised letters and wrestling image on it. "I won it for 
you, Amber," Steve informed me. "Since I started working at 
Teller's, I've had fantasies about you being naked and 
wearing one of my medals." I brought his hands up to cover 
my aching mounds, then stroked his maleness.

I pitched my voice low, softly replying, "I dreamed about 
you, too, Steve." I moved as close as possible and licked 
at the hollow of his throat. "Will you take me from behind? 
That cover *really* gets me hot." Turning my back on him, I 
got down on all fours with my legs spread wide open and my 
ass high in the air. I snaked a hand down my belly to my 
damp snatch, sliding two fingers up my hole. "Right here, 
Steve-o, stick your meat right here."

He didn't need to be told twice. He knelt behind me and 
stuffed his thick rod quickly, fully inside. I peeked over 
one shoulder and saw his eyes shut tight, head thrown back 
and mouth agape. "Man, you are sooo hot and tight, baby. 
God, you feel good." He grabbed my hips and started plowing 
me like there was no tomorrow. I braced my forearms against 
the plush carpeting and let this hottie boy-toy fuck me but 
good. Being the experienced, older woman, I knew Steve'd 
cum soon and then I'll show him how to truly fuck.

The first cumwad steamed the walls of my pussy as he 
unloaded. His rhythm eased off somewhat and I slipped 
myself out from under him. Flipping onto my back, I latched 
my mouth over his still hard prick and watched him fall to 
his knees. Putting a foot around his head, I dragged 
Steve's face to my cunt and heard the slurping sounds of 
him eating me out. I coated my index finger with the creamy 
goo along the shaft and hurriedly jammed it up his asshole.

Steve tried to protest but I cut him off by rubbing my 
dripping twat against his lips. I sucked the boner between 
my lips and stroked my finger in his rectum, looking for 
the elusive prostate gland. I swallowed his dong, working 
my throat muscles along the length and probing his ass. He 
bucked hard, smothering my nose with his hairy ball sack 
and shot his second load straight down my esophagus. I 
pulled my finger out and rimmed his hole with the long 
nail. He climbed off me and pinned me to the floor. "What 
the hell was that for?!" he demanded angrily. "You think 
I'm a fuckin' homo?"

"I guess you didn't study biology very much, huh, Steve-o?" 
I breathed sexily at his frowning mouth. "Know what the 
prostate is? It's a tiny gland that helps make your cum and 
gets a guy off nice and fast when played with." I trailed 
my hands across his heaving chest, tweaking his flat, male 
nipples. "Which hole do you want now? You've had my pussy 
and my mouth, so how about fucking me up the ass, huh? I've 
never been reamed before. Wanna pop my ass cherry, Steve?"

He was confused and startled at my pointed request. "We 
need K-Y, right? Or something like that?"

I wrapped a hand around his dick and pumped up and down. 
"Stick this in my twat and fuck for a while until it gets 
soggy, then ram it on home."

"If you're sure..." Steve said and thrust his cock deep in 
my cunt. He fucked about six or seven strokes before 
withdrawing and nestling the sticky cockhead against my 
sphincter.

I held my legs up under my knees. "What are you waiting 
for? Pop it in before everything dries up!" He let my knees 
rest over his broad shoulders and shoved himself up my 
shitshute. "Ooohh, Steve, you've got it, honey. Mmmm, 
yeah..." I groaned shakily. It felt wonderful to be 
stretched there no matter how many boy cocks had been up my 
colon. So I lied to the little shit, BFD. Like he'd ever 
find out how a virgin asshole really feels around his 
schlonkey. Steve made a futile attempt to pull out but he 
was sheathed too snugly to move much.

"I can't move, Amber," he said. "Now what?"

"Put a finger or two inside my pussy and stroke yourself 
through the membrane between the holes," I sighed, 
wondering if I needed to move my next lover's age up a few 
years. He eased one finger in my channel, finger banging me 
and rubbing his cock at the same time. The familiar tensing 
of my gut indicated an impending orgasm any second now. 
Steve stopped his movements and I cried out, "Nooo, don't 
stop, baby, *pleeeze* don't stop!"

He gazed down at me with his emerald green eyes. "I just 
remembered that I was supposed to tell you 'Hi' from 
Randy."

Uh-oh. "Randy who?"

"Randy Lehigh, the Riverton junior I beat to win my weight 
class," Steve replied and began fucking my rear hole with 
small strokes, building them up to long, full thrusts. The 
lunges grew more viscous as he continued talking. "We 
caught each other jacking-off in the school's toilet. I 
asked him if he was trying to make weight, too, and he told 
me that his old girlfriend told him that that was how her 
All-American brother made weight before a meet. He said her 
name was Amber Richards and I must be dating her myself if 
I knew about this trick."

I touched his rippling biceps but he jerked my hands away, 
holding them high above my head. "Look, Steve, I can 
explain!" I argued.

"Then start talkin'...*baby*," his warm breath tickled my 
ear as he spoke. His teeth found the fleshy lobe and 
nibbled around the piercing.

"I lived in Omaha a year ago and worked as a cashier in 
Randy's dad's store. Randy was a stockboy, like you, and 
I've always had a thing for wrestlers with their tight buns 
and compact bodies. I couldn't help myself! It was just a 
couple a months, then his folks found out and threatened to 
call the cops, accusing me of statutory rape." The words 
tumbled out of my mouth and tears streamed down my face.

"Was Randy the only one? Were there others?" Steve shouted. 
My asshole was hurting a little from his deliberate, cruel 
thrusts.

I confessed every sexual encounter I had from grade eight 
up till now. The boys had been wrestlers, all of them, and 
they'd each fucked my ass, mouth and cunt at one time or 
another. Through my tears, I saw Steve's jaw clench as he 
got more and more pissed off at me. "Steve, please, I swear 
to God I'll stop, I promise. I won't do it again, Steve! 
Please believe me!" I begged him. My body shook so hard 
from bawling that I never felt him pull out. 

He tucked his flagging dick between our bellies and leaned 
all his weight on top of me. He still imprisoned my wrists 
over my head as he brushed his lips across my wet cheeks. 
"Wrestling is a lot like sex, Amber, did you realize that? 
The grappling and takedowns and pins are the same moves in 
both games. I think that's why you've got this attraction 
to my sport. It's not how we guys look physically. It's 
that we already know the right actions to get a girl in the 
sack."

Our open mouths met and our tongues tangled together. We 
closed our lips and kissed each other fleetingly. "When did 
you figure all this out?" I sniffled.

"I didn't," Steve replied and waggled his brow. "My seventh 
grade wrestling coach told me that after Pattie Martin gave 
me a fat lip and bloody nose for trying to steal a kiss on 
the merry-go-round." I giggled and he kissed the tip of my 
chin. "And that, m'dear, is why I went out for wrestling 
instead of football."

End

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

Editor's Postscript: "And that, m'dear,"?  Sounds a little 
erudite for a high-schooler!  Indeed, giving an insightful 
lecture to his woman while he *should* be busy fucking her 
to a wild screaming orgasm (and not the drink:) sounds like 
a chap I know rather well, to be totally candid...
