Message-ID: <6422eli$9712151627@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Sexy Grrrl" Subject: ASSM/ASS - "Paris in the Spring Time" Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Content-Type: text/plain Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <19971215040952.27975.qmail@hotmail.com> Standard Disclaimers apply. Be of age in your country/city/town/state/universe before reading. Go away if offended by sexual content and playful spanking. All rights reserved - Read and (hopefully) enjoy, but no commerical use allowed. Copyright 1997-1998 Sexy Grrl Inc. Your comments welcome at bigsexygrrl@~remove~hotmail.com ----------------- "Education of a Princess" - Chapter 5 "I Love Paris in the Spring Time" I hadn't really meant to be here, on this plane, sitting beside her. Every time I saw her I promised myself "No more - it stops this minute." And every time she left, I felt an ache in my chest, a pain I'd never felt before. I certainly never meant to love her - not like I did, not like this. It was an accident, the first time, her fault, really. A hotel room, an impulse, and she was over my knee, my hands on her ass. A fatherly spanking from her stern but loving Uncle, just to teach her a lesson. Surely nothing more than that, surely not sex. Not the hot and tumble rush of lust I had felt, and acted on so impulsively. So irrationally. How could I know her head would fall there, on my lap? I didn't put it there, and her mouth on my prick? An accident, what else? An accidental blow job. Yes, don't laugh, it could happen, I should know. It went from there - indulging in something I told myself was just "fun" - a little harmless play time, a little slap and tickle. Not sex, really, not at first. But we fell, the both of us, into deeper games, darker places. "Strange Days", isn't that the saying? We were both living our own strange days, she and I. When had slap and tickle become paddles and whips, anonymous sex with strangers, candle wax and hand cuffs? She pushed me - she pushed me by never saying no, by setting no limits. By always saying yes, by begging me for more. It wasn't like me, this hopeless, mindless want want want. My dick was half hard in the middle of meetings, I was jerking off in the bathroom at work, rubbing against strangers in the elevator, like a dog in heat. I thought of sex everywhere, with everyone. That feeling, that helplessness, made me cruel with her at times, and she answered me with her body, with her own want want want in return. Fuck me more, slap me harder, do it deeper and don't stop ever, ever stop. She set me no limits, and twined me into her soul with her willingness and eager waiting flesh. She was my flesh and blood, my niece, just 18 years old now, and I wanted her more than ever. The man with the plan, the master of business, the chilly old iceberg who had dated women with portfolios and Porsches. Hand made suits and twenty dollar cigars, a stern boss and ruthless opponent, and here I was, tumbled in love with a child, really. Wouldn't they all laugh if they knew? Wouldn't they ruin me? Not that I could stop myself- not that I tried. I loved her the most when she was sleeping - when I could watch her and see the echoes of the innocent girl she had once been. Her face would become smooth and blameless, lashes fluttering on flawless white skin, long rusty curls lace worked over her shoulders. Memories of what I called her, deep in the throes of lust. "Face of an angel, body of a slut", among the milder of them. That sweet face, all innocence, sat on a neck that arched into the body of a woman - high breasts with dark pink nipples, flat tummy and sweet thighs, round hips and curvy ass. That tiny waist and her kissable little feet looked out of place with those rounds hills of flesh surrounding them. I knew that body, knew it's every curve. I had wrapped corsets around that waist, bitten welts into those breasts, cracked whip snap lines on that ass, worshipped at those feet like a supplicant. Sometimes I loved her so much it hurt, so I hurt her in return, giving it back, waiting for her to stop me. She never did, though. She didn't until it was too late for us both. Her father - my brother, my youngest brother - had entrusted her to me, grateful for my "helping hand" with his wayward off spring. She baffled her parents, much as she still baffled me, who knew her better than anyone else on earth. When I mentioned my trip to Europe, she begged to go with me. Begged quite literally, on her knees, my dick in her mouth. Begged me with the tender ass she offered me, with little kisses and sighs. "Oh don't go it's so far for so long please please please" and of course, here she was, tucked in a seat beside me, bags packed, little tiny toes curled under herself as she slept. "Going to Paris with your dad?" the stewardess had asked, as she settled us into our seats. "Oh no, not my Daddy.." she chirped, all sweetness and light. "My lover" with a quick kiss on my cheek and charming giggle, the look on the stew's face saying it all. I had to wait a long time for drinks on that flight, first class service be damned. In the taxi she grew flirty, wide awake from her nap on the plane. "Playtime?" she purred in my ear, one hand on my thigh, then higher still. "Play time for a bad little girl?" Hackneyed phrases, I should be able to laugh them off, dismiss them. But, oh, "Play time" in my ear, warm husky voice, all suggestion and sweet intimate caress. So forbidden, naughty little thing, so needy. My hand now in her lap, always finding a warm welcome. The power of her eager response always made me want to punish her , to make it into a lesson, to make it dirty. Not love, surely. Never love, but there it was, that tug at my heart. How could I tell her I wanted to fuck her slowly like a lover, a husband, a bridegroom? Slow sweet and tender, murmur love songs in her ear, hold her hand. Give her a baby, a ring, birth and communion. Come home to her at night, to domestic bliss and intimate dinners. To marry her - oh sweet Jesus. So I pinch her, tell her to stop, pinch her nipple, grind my finger into her. Grind the thought of her in virginal white out of my mind. My niece, for God's sake. My flesh. Picture this now. The hotel room, sumptuous and slightly over done. A bed with a canopy, lovely four poster bed, swathed in brocade. And her there, spread eagle, tied at all four posts. My face in her cunt now, tongue lapping her sweet juice. She can almost throw me from the bed, her response is that strong. Her cries are soft and low - I've taught her that much. Our love making has often been quiet of necessity - when you are fucking your niece on the partner's desk in your office, silence is truly a virtue. The words come from me with no volition of my own - "Suck my prick now, yeah, that's it, you dirty little thing. Suck it all in." Thrusting in her mouth, deeper harder faster. My hands in her hair, her lovely hair, like fists full of blood in the night. Using it to ram her to me, her pink lips sucking me. What a little ingenue, really. Quite the dedicated study to the fine art of sucking my prick, she knew every trick, every move. Now on her knees, my hands on the paddles I use to slap her ass with, and she leans up for it, giving it back to me. Her skin glows a delicate shade of rose violet, can I describe the beauty of it? Of having her offer me her pain, to moan at the feel of it? Do you think I imagined it? No, I did not - her pussy was never as wet as when I was done with her then, never as ready for me. She needed that, I think. Needed to be punished for her pleasure, to feel she had earned it. Who was I to deny her, she who never denied me a single thing? See her then in the huge hotel tub, on her back, and what's that hand held shower attachment for, if not to make her come? Later I'll wash her hair with it, as she leans into my chest. What would she do if I told her I liked that part best? What would she say? It was never enough, then. We could never go too far. A stranger in a bar, a gorgeous boy she made idle small talk with, flirting in her broken French, became a partner in our passion one hour later. His dick in her mouth, my dick in her ass, watching him shudder with pleasure at the feel of her tongue. His surprise when I wanted to watch them, as he fucked her for what seemed like hours. But that was not what I wanted, not like that. Not for him to make love to her, to kiss her gently, lick her nipples, make her sigh. To whisper sweet names to her in French, to kiss her tender eye lids. It was lovemaking, when I wanted fucking, to see her fucked and ridden. The sweetest orgasm I had ever seen, and why was mine mine so bitter? She fucked him right in front of me, and I was all alone. Her smile as she looked up at me, pleased with herself afterwards. She kissed him good bye at the door, then curled up in my lap. Eager to be reassured, yes I'd liked it, she did well. And did I see him from where I was sitting, could she have been angled better, a little to the left? Could we go again tomorrow, should she dress like more of a slut? I let her give me head in the bathroom, in the plane on the way home. The last time, I said. No more, never again. She slept on my shoulder, with my face buried in her hair, and I can still smell it, even now. If I said it smelled like Paris, in the spring time, you'd think me an old fool. You could think that, but it wouldn't change things. It wouldn't change that smell. ----- "The Education of a Princess" Chapter 1 - "Expelled" Chapter 2 - "Letter to an Absent Lover" Chapter 3 - "pierced" Chapter 4 - "She danced for him..." Chapter 5 - "Paris in the Spring Time" comments? critiques? email me at bigsexygrrl@~remove~hotmail.com ______________________________________________________ Get Your Private, Free Email at http://www.hotmail.com -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |