Message-ID: <19766eli$9902080429@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: ArtaDeux@aol.com Subject: {NEW}<*>Kristianna's Adventures III(12/?)(FM, teen, mast,pub) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-transfer-encoding: 7bit Content-type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII 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: The following work contains sexually explicit language and may contain graphic descriptions of various sex acts. If you are not 18 years of age, or this sort of thing is prohibitted in your town, city, county, state, country, province, or erotica is offensive to you, STOP READING. I, the author give permission for this work to be posted and archived on ASSM and ASS, according to their standards and welcome reviewer's (Celestial and Annex) comments. This work may not be posted to any pay sites or reproduced for profit, other than for the author's own monetary benefit. If you have a personal comment, please feel free to e-mail me at 'Art aDeux@AOL.com'. I will only respond to nice people so don't bother e-mailing me if you're going to be a jerk. Copyright 1999 Art aDeux@AOL.com (Sasha) Various Adventures of Young Kristianna III Steve. Stephen G. Nineteen. Programmer. Made his Dad's small company national, then multi-national. All over some computer games. And all at the tender age of sixteen. He was more than a little sheltered and the only reason I met him was through another guy I had been fucking. (We didn't date, it was a purely sexual thing. He loved my tits and I loved his red '57 Chevy. Combine the two and get nostalgic teen sex in the backseat of his car that wasn't half bad.) Steve drove a black blazer and attended the local college. His dipshit brother was a year younger than me in school. He was from the upper crust side of town. Actually Granite Bay. It was out by Folsom Lake and just a beautiful community. Took me two months to get him into the sack. Nice normal sex. No oral work on his part. Man on top, woman on top were the only variences tolerated. We didn't have much privacy and were usually limited to the blazer. I practiced my best talent relentlessly on him. Our favorite parking place was behind the Roseville adjunct library where we'd sit in the shade and I'd suck him off nearly every day. Some days when my allergies were at a peak, I'd just sit back and jack him off, getting hotter and hotter until he shot his load and watched me finger myself off. Bar none, the funniest night we had was when we were parked up behind Circuit City in Citrus Heights, just off of Greenback Blvd. The windows were all fogged up and Steve was just sliding his hard cock into my slippery pussy when we saw the telltale red and blue flashers. We weren't the only car out there though and simply continued while the officer went from car to car, checking ID's and who was who. By the time the officers tapped their nightsticks on the window, I was in full bloom moaning Steve's name top volume as I came, alternating, "Yes, oh yeah, fuck me harder baby!" with "I'm going to cumm! Oh, yeah fuck my pussy Steve make your little girl cumm for you!" He was just about laughing his ass off as he came and pulled out, grabbing his clothes and puting them on as quickly as dressing a nearly six foot frame in the interior of a blazer allows. The cops were not to happy about our raucous finish and were reading him the riot act when I stepped out of the truck to applause all around. I just smiled and flirted a little, making the younger cop smirk at me. He suggested that perhaps we should get a room while his partner tried to judge my age and Steve's to see if he could get him on statutory. I claimed 18 and spouted the proper birthdate and they let us go without checking my non- existant ID. He gave me a beautiful sapphire and diamond ring that night when we pulled up to the front of my house. That killed it for me. It screamed comittment and I wasn't ready for it. But I didn't tell him that. I guess I loved him, but not enough. He offered safety for me. Not from other men, but from my great- grandmother. He was the first boy I was 'officially' allowed to date. Steve actually got to come into the house and Lila was on her best behaviour while he was there. He understood how restrictive and downright abusive my homelife was, and he sought in some way to relieve that. My second 'rescuer', Brian being the first of course. His method of rescue was always thrown off by me though. The look on his face when I knelt down and began to suck his cock with the bitch in the very next room was nothing short of sheer amazement. I deepthroated his six or so inches easily as Lila carried on a conversation with him over the sound of the television in the den, unaware that her precious Ti was swallowing her boyfriend's sperm 30 ft and a room away. The simple fact was though, that if I saw someone I wanted, I took him. I couldn't be faithful to Steve, or any other guy I dated. There was always somthing out there that I just had to experience. He caught me only once, and the tears and pleadings were enough for me to swear up and down that I'd never do it again. What I meant was that I'd never let him catch me at it again. We double dated more than a couple of times with his friend Bill and girlfriend Chrystal. The most memorable was when we all went out on Folsom Lake in the sailboat and got sloppy drunk on Jack Daniels. I don't know how much anyone else had to drink, but I must have had at least eight shots. That's the number that sticks in my mind anyway. I remember looking over across the deck as Bill stripped and began stroking his dick while leaning over Chrystal as she licked his balls. The whole episode is fragmented because of how much alcohol I consumed, but there was a point where the four of us were all naked on the boat, fucking and sucking each other with abandon. The last thing I remember is jumping in the lake from the bow and realizing once there, treading water, how drunk I was and that there wasn't a swim ladder to climb up on. When I came to the next day, the bruises on my arms and torso were just darkening to purple. Bill and Steve said they had been so drunk, it had taken them nearly twenty minutes to haul me in because we were all laughing so much. I guess I got them back when I threw up once they got me into the boat again. The good news is that drunks rarely if ever have to clean up after themselves, and I was no exception. The inside of my upper arms looked like a tug-o-war had been played with me as the rope though, and they didn't fade for nearly a month. Lila was getting worse again and the abuse stepped up even in front of Steve. Her verbal assaults were blinding and I internalized it all. Soaking up her accusations and becoming the slut-whore she accused me of being. The night it came to a head I was wearing a short tank top and jeans on my way to the store to buy a pack of cigarettes. "Where do you think you're going young lady?" the deceptively querelous voice inquired. "To the store just up the street, I'll be right back," I replied. I wasn't just going to the store for smokes, I was going to meet my old friend with his '57 Chevy and ease the ache between my legs with his hot cock. Steve had gone to Hawaii with his parents for break and although he had gotten back the night before, I was in need of sex, or diversion. And he had said he couldn't get away just yet. Sex as diversion was a good idea. "You're not going up there to meet some guy are you?" Lila questioned. "No Grandma, of course not!" I lied, thinking as I did that I could have chosen more demure clothing for a trip to the 'store'. We stood face to face in the living room and it was a battle of wills. Over something stupid really, but it was her choice, not mine. "You're just like your mother," her voice elevated a little, "Always looking around the corner to see what boy is looking at you." "Stop," I said low, the pain of not being with my mother, whom I loved very much making me strong. "You're a whore!" Lila said with emphasis. "Okay," I allowed, used to her barbs and not willing to pour gas on an already potentially explosive situation. I was still thinking in the back of my mind that if I could just get out the door, I could get laid tonight. "You'll spread your legs for any man just like your mother did!" she suddenly screeched. "She didn't even know who fathered you! How can you be so ungrateful to me? I've taken care of you when she left you.." she trailed off, looking at my face. I hadn't spoken a word against her since I'd been back from my mother's house those few years ago. I still talked to my mom, and we were building our relationship back slowly. I had come to understand that Fred had never told her, from what she had related to me and from what I deduced in my mind. (Why on earth would a thirty-five year old man tell his fiance that he'd been engaging in sex play with her twelve year old daughter?) I'd fought against Lila's propaganda for years and at least where my mother was concerned, was winning freedom from the lies that had inhabited my mind since I was little. I turned around and walked to the den. I didn't have to listen to this anymore. I was fifteen years old and could call my boyfriend to come pick me up and call my mom and tell her to come get me too. I got one call. Steve. He said he was on his way and I knew it was a matter of about ten minutes to make the drive. When I went to call my mother however, Lila ripped the phone out of my hands. "You got your phone call you little tramp," she hissed, "You're not going to run my household anymore. Go wait for your pimp on the curb." I turned and headed for my room in search of a coat and a change of clothes, anticipating my leave taking. Lila followed me and when I reached the closet, took ahold of my tank top and pushed me hard onto the bed. Her fingernails dug into the soft skin of my breasts above my bra and the shirt tore. She continued to rip the remains form my torso, clawing at me at the same time, leaving red weals across my upper chest and arms. "You'll take nothing from this house you whore!" she shouted as she held me pinned by my hair to the bed and tried to divest me of my jeans as well. I struggled and broke free, grabbing a tee-shirt that had been carelessly tossed on the floor. I sidestepped her and rushed to the front room, still clutching the shirt but clad only in my jeans and bra. My chesnut, shoulder length hair made the perfect handhold as she pulled me back from the doorway and slammed it shut. We stood opposite one another again and her hand made contact hard with my face a few times. When Steve knocked on the door she answered but I pushed past and ran, jeans and bra, to his truck, sobbing. It took a while to calm me down, and the best way to do that was with sex. Steve caressed me tenderly in the back of the blazer, kissing and licking my nipples while trying to avoid the scratches that covered the upper half of my body. I sobbed and cried and sobbed some more, begging him all the time not to stop. "Please don't stop!" my anguished voice called to him as he entered me slowly, his cock pulsing. I shut my mind to everything that had happened and concentrated on the feeling of his thickness buried in my wet cunt, pushing in and pulling out, working me to orgasm. Our mouths melded together as I shoved my hips up to meet his thrusts and when I finally dissolved underneath him in a mind-bending climax, his dick twitched and flooded my pussy with cumm. "Slut!" an insidious voice whispered in the back of my mind. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----