Message-ID: <21093asstr$942455401@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: host-74-48.dial.in2home.co.uk!not-for-mail From: "In2Home User" Subject: {ASSM} First New Story In A Year (MF, SF) X-Post-Date: Thu, 7 Oct 1999 13:16:44 +0100 Lines: 1387 X-Original-Message-ID: <939301240.23775.0.pink.d4e11330@news.in2home.co.uk> X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-Newsreader: Microsoft Outlook Express 5.00.2014.211 X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2014.211 Bcc: X-To: story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us JMDigest-Score: good -9 (failed autocheck) Date: Fri, 12 Nov 1999 20:10:01 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.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ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: assm-admin Copyright Alan C. McDonald (please do not publish elsewhere without permission. Comments welcome at i2h73784-001@18157818.in2home.co.uk The Short Stories Of Alan C. McDonald CRADLE SNATCHER Sex can be a selfish business. But some people are more selfish than others. "You could take me home and fuck me", she said. And Dominic wanted to. There was no doubting that. The girl was an absolute doll. Five four, long and straight black hair, biggreen eyes. Lips with gloss so pink and luminous that they seemed liquid. Pert,elfin nose. Slim, equine neck. A babe. The words had been delivered directly into his ear on a wisp of warm breath.She was on tiptoe, her fingers touching the back of his hand as though to provideherself with an illusion of support. At the points of contact, his flesh tingled. He remembered Linda, and leaned back, half hoping that he'd discourageinterest with his body language. Half hoping that he wouldn't. And he didn't. Despite the increased distance, the girl's fingers stayed inplace. "Wish I could", he told her, his voice catching a little. "Really wish I could." He let his eyes wander down her body for perhaps the fiftieth time, notingagain her slender waist and broad hips, the way that the crotch of her tight blackcotton pants undulated over her pubic bone, dipping into a tantalising hint of avee between her legs. The trousers matched black, low heeled, patent leather shoes and contrasted with a bright pink blouse, open to two buttons, revealing a broadexpanse of creamy flesh. He didn't get the impression that her breasts were large,but they were high and proud. Which, unfortunately, was the way he preferred them. Unfortunately, because she was arousing him, and he couldn't afford to bearoused. He'd only just got back with Linda after a difficult period, and he believedthat he needed to work at the relationship rather than undermine it. The girl raised an eyebrow, a wonderfully teasing gesture. "And you can'tbecause?", she wondered, sing song. "Because, miss, I'm a married man", he told her sternly. "Martine", she corrected, raising her shoulders a little, subconsciouslypresenting herself to him. "Although I do like miss. You're very polite. And I likemarried men. More experience." "Added to which", he strove on bravely, "you're a little too young for me." That wasn't necessarily true. She looked about nineteen, and he was onlyeight years older than that. But it served to place a barrier between them, and hefelt that he needed all the barriers he could get. He tried to remember how he'd got into this position. It was difficult. Linda had come back only two weeks ago after a long affair. Well, a series ofaffairs actually, but he'd only found out about the others because of the last one.He'd confronted her with it after being told by a friend. She'd responded byshrugging her shoulders, admitting that she'd been shagging around for years andannouncing her intention to leave on the spot. To go and live with the wonderfulBill. But the wonderful Bill had not been quite as wonderful as she'd expected.He was, she soon discovered, a morbid drunk. And he was only a few short stepsfrom bankruptcy. Nonetheless she'd stuck it out, obstinately, for six months.Dominic had continued to plead and beg, to abase himself. Eventually, he'd won. She'd returned to him. But there were to be ground rules. She'd continue to go out, on her own,with the girls, on Friday nights, and he would neither complain nor follow her. Inreturn, she'd promise to behave herself. She'd learned her lesson, and he'd simplyhave to trust her. She had friends, he must understand. She wouldn't be shamed infront of them. He, for his part, would be freed on Saturday nights. It would be good fortheir relationship that he should meet new people. It might stop him being so stuckin a rut. So unimaginative. So, although she didn't use the word, boring. Today was the first of those Saturdays, and Linda had told him quite firmlythat she didn't expect him back until two AM. Which, at least after the pubs hadclosed, had limited his options to night clubs, because none of his few friendscould invite him back. All of them had loving partners. The club he'd chosen, the Sundial, was the nearest to home, but it was still atwenty minute taxi ride from it. He'd entered unhappily, had bought a high pricedpint, had made his way to the edge of the dance floor. Only then had he taken hisbearings. The other men here varied widely in age. Some were younger than him, someolder, fifty per cent around the same age. But the girls were all in their late teens orearly twenties, showing more flesh in most cases than a red blooded man could beexpected to have to look at for too long without taking a cold shower. Dominic hadgiven the observation about five minutes, watching the dance floor, then, sensinghis blood pressure rising, had turned to cast an eye over the darker part of the club. Martine was standing two feet away, leaning against a post. She seemed tobe staring directly at him. He looked away, embarrassed, but was soon conscious that her own gazecontinued remorselessly. So he'd turned back to her. "Hi", he'd said, unsure of howto approach a very unusual situation. "I'm Dominic." She'd grinned, making him think of her momentarily as a pixie. "Hi,Dominic", she'd replied, her voice clear and light over the pounding disco rhythm.Just that. Nothing else. After which, she'd simply carried on staring at him.Frankly. He wasn't good at reading invitations from girls to show a little interest,but this was pretty direct. It really seemed that she was attracted to him. He waited a little longer, disorientated. Then, after a few seconds, he'dbecome a little irritated at the discomfort she was causing him. "Can I dosomething for you?", he had asked. And that was when she'd made her brazen offer. Now, she was pressing it. "Why am I too young?", she wanted to know. "I'mquite some years over the age of consent, that much I can assure you about." Again,he was amazed at the clarity of her voice over the loud background of music andtalk. "I haven't got a place to take you to, Martine", he argued weakly. "Marriedmen have those sorts of problems." Again, she demolished the obstruction easily. "That's alright", she said. "I'vegot somewhere I can take you." He knew that he was beginning to weaken. The heat of her sweet breath onhis cheek was an aphrodisiac. Already, he was uncomfortable below stairs. And herlimpid eyes were intoxicating, holding him, imprisoning him. He started to rationalise, to clear a way through his morals. Linda had indulged herself, hadn't she? That was what the whole crisis hadbeen about. So. Didn't she owe him this? Didn't he need, in some way, to balanceout her sin? Wouldn't this make things better, give them a greater chance? Becausehe would have been there. He would be able to share her guilt. Rather than resentingthe things she had done. Perhaps Martine read his change of mood, and was giving him a final push.Or perhaps she really was getting impatient with him. Whatever her reason, she wassuddenly clear. "Last chance. Train's leaving." He grinned. "Where's it leaving to, Martine?", he asked cagily. She studied him. Cocked her head to one side, again reminding him of apixie or an elf. Then she said, "Come and make me happy." And she turned andwalked away. No handbag, he noted incongruously. And found that odd. He followed her of course. He tried to tell himself that he did so because hewas curious, not for sex. But he knew that he hadn't decided yet how far he wouldallow that curiosity to take him. He realised that for the first time in a number ofyears, his immediate future was intriguing and unpredictable. Martine moved quickly, but prettily, her shapely rear sashaying a pathbetween the bar and the dance floor, then through the foyer. She didn't pause tocollect a coat, but unlike the absence of the handbag, this omission didn't surprisehim, because it was a very warm night. She looked back briefly to make sure that hetoo had nothing to collect, then breezed through the main doorway. When hearrived on the pavement, breathless, she was waiting for him, cool, serene andsmiling. Instantly, she slipped her fingers into his and steered him left, in theopposite direction to his home. Her grip was dry, but warm and strong. They had only walked for a couple of hundred yards when she attracted theattention of a cab driver. He held the car door for her, and she slid in gracefully, but didn't move over,forcing him to walk around the vehicle and get in the other side. He had an illogicalsuspicion that the cab would drive away, that the last thing he would see of herwould be her laughing face in the rear window. But that didn'' happen. In fact, bythe time he joined her in the car, matters had progressed. She'd apparently alreadygiven the man a destination, because he pulled away from the kerb without a word. Sliding across the seat, she snuggled close, her breath raising the hairs onhis neck. He wondered if she wanted him to kiss her, and decided to find out. She most certainly did want that. As soon as he turned and lifted her chin,she responded eagerly, her lips glueing to his. Her tongue snaked into his mouth,sweet and thick like some exotic fruit. He embraced her gently, lost in her musky,intoxicating scent. The kiss, and the journey, seemed to last forever. At some point, he broughta hand up from her waist to cup her left breast, loosening one button of her blouseand snaking his fingers past it. She wore no bra, and he felt the heat and weight andfirmness with joy. It was a young girl's breast, haughty and full, the nipple was bigand already stiffening and throbbing against his palm. Martine broke the kiss, lether head loll back, her breathing deepening. Her hair spread across his shoulder,settling sensuously and softly against his neck. Soon she turned her head slightly, lips parted, wanting to kiss again. Heturned a little too, and this time the contact was tender. Her tongue traced a linealong his lips, and he met it with his own. He trailed his fingers in her hair whilstshe caressed the back of his head. Warm breath mingled. After about a minute, she started to open his shirt. He made to object incase the taxi driver saw what was going on, but the kiss kept him spellbound andhelpless. In any event, she stopped after three buttons, and slid her hand inside totorment his nipple between the tips of her fingers, quickly and efficiently making itstiffen. Then she played in his chest hair for a time before moved the hand down,out of his shirt, over his stomach. Without apparent concern over what might bevisible in the rear view mirror, she closed her fingers gently around his balls,stroked them with the pads of her fingers. Instantly, he was stiff. In fact, he couldn't recall being stiffer. His erectionpulsated, raged against the confines of his zip. As her small hand squeezed andtormented him through the fabric of his jeans, he lifted slightly, unable to helphimself. Occasionally she traced a finger down the entrapped length of his cock, andthat made him shiver. There were times when he thought he might just come thereand then, in the back of a slowly moving taxi, squirting his juice into the waistbandof his boxer shorts. Her touch was insistent and wise, and dominated him, so muchso that he couldn't concentrate on anything else, couldn't give her anything back. Eventually, but without warning, she pulled away, her lips leaving his again,her hand drifting from his groin. "Stop here, driver", she said. "Here's fine." The car pulled in. Dominic struggled into his pocket for money, but therewas no need. Martine was already sorting that side of things out. He was embarrassed. "What do I owe you?", he asked, while she waited forher change. She looked at him for a moment. Her eyelids were heavy, and so was herbreathing. It was clear that she was almost as aroused as he. "Payment in kind", shebreathed. "That'll do fine." He stepped out on to the street. He couldn't have hoped to hide the stalkbulging from his groin, but fortunately there was no one about. Martine summonedhim to the pavement, grasped his hand. He hadn't followed the journey in either direction or time, and didn't knowexactly where he was. So he took a look around. Martine, he realised, did not live in one of the most sought after residentialparts of town. He'd passed through this area in his car, a square mile of tatty highrise blocks of flats, all daubed with graffiti. Suddenly, he didn't feel very safe. He was glad, therefore, that they were not out in the open for too long.Martine pulled him towards a short path which cut through a grass verge. At theend of the path was a doorway which led into one of the monolithic buildings. She opened the door with an enormous bunch of keys which she producedfrom somewhere inside her skirt, and then she led him into a hallway. It was not a pleasant hallway. It smelled musty, with hints of old food andstale urine. The walls were plaster and painted a vile shade of green. The door at thefar end, which presumably led to ground floor flats, was halfway off its hinges.Progress up was by way of stairs or either of two lifts. Martine summonedone of them with the press of an illuminated, arrowed button. Machinery ground, but the carriage took a while to arrive. Martine didn'tspeak while they waited, and Dominic couldn't think of anything useful or chatty tosay, so he contented himself with watching the numbers slowly fall on the lightedpanel above him. The building, he saw, had eighteen floors. The lift arrived, admitted them. It was a dull metal box with a strip light,and like the hallway, it held an unpleasant odour. Dominic had little doubt that itwas used on a regular basis as a toilet. Martine pressed the button which would take them to floor thirteen then,once the doors slid shut, she attacked him again, one hand cupping his balls withjust a little too much force, the other hauling him down by the back of the neck intoanother kiss, this one of the passionate kind. Her urgency restored his full swollenglory. His tool felt like an iron bar. His tongue delved into the well of hers, tastingher sweetness and youth. Relishing her youth. Because he was no longer concerned about how young she was. And he wasno longer concerned about Linda. He just wanted to fuck. He just wanted to feel thewarm, cloying flesh of Martine's cunt slither along his aching erection, ultimatelyto spurt his seed into this eager girl's womb. The lift jerked to a halt with such force that it knocked him off balance,broke the kiss, and made her accidentally squeeze his testicles a little harder,though thankfully not hard enough to hurt. She led him into a musty corridor, where the odours he associated with adamp building assaulted his already abused nostrils. If there was intended to be any illumination here, he decided, then clearly itwasn't functioning, but in the half light cast by a small window to his left, he couldsee two doors, one on each side of the corridor. Glancing to his right, he made outanother two. And right was the direction she chose, guiding him up to one of thosedoors. It looked insecure within its frame, and of very light construction. Darkpaint was peeling around the lock, revealing a white surface beneath. She released him for a moment so that she could magically produce her keysagain. Having done so, she assaulted the lock. Clearly she experienced somedifficulties, because it took a lot of pulling and pushing and maneouvring before heheard a click and they were able to enter the flat. Inside, he was relieved to discover, things were nowhere near so bad asoutside. Martine had flicked a light switch, revealing a short hall furnished onlywith a dark wood stand topped by a substantial aspidistra. The wallpaper was onlyanaglypta, but it had painted a welcoming pink, and there was a pleasant floralborder about two feet up from the skirting board. Two doors led off to the left. He was ushered past the first, which was open,and through which he noted briefly a compact but tidy kitchen. The second wasclosed, but he guessed it would lead into the bathroom. She took him through the only door on the right, into a lounge. A seconddoor exited this room on the other side, and was slightly ajar. Through that, hecould see the back end of a bed. Martine followed his eyes. Then she squeezed hisarm. The sexual tension between them now overwhelmed all else. Consumed by it,he reached for her, but she discouraged him momentarily with a gesture, directinghim to sit down on a maroon two seater sofa lodged beneath the accomodation'smain window. Obediently, he took a seat, making sure that she registered hisdisappointment. She did, and smiled at him, surprisingly shyly for her. "I'll only bea minute", she said. "I promise." And then she disappeared into the bedroom. He waited. In an effort to diminish the discomfort of his desire, he assessedhis surroundings. As with the entry hall, the lounge showed evidence of both good taste and ameagre budget. On the walls, anaglypta again, this time painted yellow. Anotherfloral border. Two easy chairs, matching the sofa. A small TV set, with videoattached. A dining table, old but polished, with three non-matching dining chairs.Tiny ornaments, cats and dragons mainly, distributed on just about every flatsurface. A gas fire, with a soft white rug laid in front of it. A bookcase, full ofwell-used paperbacks, amongst which Stephen King was well represented, as wasPatricia Cornwell. He heard Martine singing softly to herself and tried to identify the tune, butcouldn't. It was, he supposed, something way too modern for him to have heard onRadio Two. She took her time, and despite his efforts to calm down, the combination ofmemory and anticipation kept him uncomfortably hard. He needed to adjust theangle of his erection on three occasions. After about five minutes, he hit on another scheme which he hoped mightmoderate his libido. There was a mirror over the fire. He stood, and reviewedhimself in it. Because Martine was no doubt "getting ready", the least he could doin return was ensure that his hair was tidy. The idea was a good one, because his ardour started to dissipate as soon ashe saw himself. Instead of lust, his head was suddenly full of questions. Questionslike, what was going on here? And why on earth had this girl fastened on to him inthis way? Dominic analysed the reflection carefully, guessed that even his own motherwould not have viewed him as a person capable of attracting someone like Martine.His hair was receding, and there were enough lines around his eyes and mouth toadvertise his age. His shoulders were slumped from months of worry, and his blueeyes were a little duller than he remembered. He wasn't running to fat yet, whichwas a good thing, and there was no grey in his moustache, which was always a deadgiveaway. But Martine could not possibly have looked at him, even in the gloom ofa nightclub, and mistaken him for any younger than he was. He shrugged the weak shoulders. Perhaps she was mildly perverted. But intruth, there was no value in speculation. His lack of understanding was unlikely tobe remedied, either tonight or in the future. Excitement was there to be enjoyed,not challenged. She called him, and he went to her obediently. His mood of low self-esteemcompelled him to that obedience, as did resurging lust. The first thing he noted was that the bedroom, like the other rooms, waspleasantly maintained. It included inbuilt wardrobes, subdued lighting and adouble bed with a luxurious top cover, predominantly pink but carrying a light,intricate floral design. The most interesting thing about the cover, though, was that Martine waslying on top of it. Clearly she didn't plan any slow build up. Which suited Dominicjust fine. She had indeed, as the saying goes, changed into something morecomfortable. The something was a short black satin negligee which toured herstrong, nut brown thighs at least an inch above the knee. It was fastened by a sashat the waist, and the position which she had adopted, propped up on her left elbow,meant that the swell of her right breast almost as far as the nipple was on show. Her eyes were bright. Her smile was relaxed, and heavy with invitation. It seemed that, finally, she expected him to take some control. But he wasconfused. Sex with Linda followed a routine. How did he approach a girl with whomhe had never been intimate? His youth was too far behind him for him to extractany guidance from it. She gave him a moment or two, then seemed to understand his predicament."Get undressed", she instructed gently. Well, that was a start, he supposed. An embarrassing one, potentially. But astart, and he was grateful to her for it. He opened his shirt to three buttons, hauling it over his head. Then he removed his shirt, socks and pants. Only then did he look at her again, standing forher inspection. "Those too", she said, indicating his maroon briefs. He slid them down, noting as he did so that his body, like him, wasresponding to Martine a little nervously. There was a heaviness in his cock, but itwasn't erect. The maroon glans peered out warily, nudging only a quarter of the waypast the protection of the pink foreskin. Martine, he realised, was studying the same part of him. He waited, let herdo so, and in being observed, he found that the problem started to cure itself. Shenodded, as though deciding favourably on a potential purchase, then she let hereyes wander, taking in the rest of him. "Is madame satisfied?", he asked, momentarily brave enough to tease her. She held out her arms. "Very nice", she complimented him. "Bring it here." He moved to join her on the bed, and she skipped under his arm, her lipsmeeting his in a soft, luxurious kiss. From the start of it, her tongue flirted withhis teeth and squirmed along his gums. He let his body burn against her soft skin,trailed rolls of her hair between his fingers, breathed in her clean, floral scent. Itwasn't very long at all before his erection was thick and strong, straining to thepulse in her pubic bone. He played his fingers in her hair a little longer, and then grew moreadventurous, trailing them down her ribs, over her lower back, across her amplerear. She shivered with delight, and his travels consequently became more reckless.He danced his hand into the surge of her belly, then out of it into a wispy forest ofpubic hair. He broke the kiss to look at her face, wanting to study her when he delvedinto the warmth between her thighs. But Martine had an agenda of her own, whichinvolved swifter progress. Her big eyes bore into him, intense and hopeful. "Godown there", she whispered. "Please." Her meaning was clear, but it was something he rarely did. Linda wasn't aparticular fan of it, at least not with him, and neither was he, at least with her,because the taste of her was never predictable. He did, though, harbour goodmemories of old girlfriends, and Martine was about the same age as they had been,then. So why not? She had, after all, asked so nicely. He slid down her body, tacking his tongue between the bunched muscles ofher neck and shoulders, inhaling that perfume again, a fragrance so breathtakingly,intoxicatingly sexy that it made his head spin. Down and down, her body lifting andundulating beneath his quest. He missed her breasts, a joy for later, but tormentedher navel, tasting the salt of the sheen of sweat that was beginning to appear on herskin. Past the sharpness of her hip bones, detouring to the smooth meat of her rightbuttock, returning over the tautness of her raised thigh. Her legs were long and brown and smooth. Desperate now to find out whatlay between them, he pushed sensitively at her knees, and she parted them,revealing herself to him. Her cunt was beautiful. Tiny, it was the most finely sculpted thing he hadever seen. Cherry pink outer lips flowed smoothly, mirroring one another precisely.The already moist flesh between them surrounded a thin, short, glistening slit. Herdark pubic hair, whilst curly and luxurious atop her plump mound, spread onlysparsely beneath it, allowing him unrestricted access. The sharp aroma of herexcitement was as clear a request as her words had been. He started with her clitoris, touching the tip of his tongue to the little greybutton. Responding to the contact, her back arched, and she moaned, an almostmasculine growl that seemed to originate from her throat. Encouraged, he grippedher unsteady thighs and burrowed deep inside her, enjoying the ribbed, slick textureof her vaginal walls, relishing, as he'd hoped that he would, the taste of her, orrather the lack of any distinctive tang. Determinedly and vigorously, he worked on her, his hands massaging hercalves and buttocks as his mouth moved wherever it could, over her slick surface,sucking and biting, up and down her tight slit, around her stiff little bud, into hermoist mystery. Martine was whimpering, and after a time which might have beenmoments or minutes, her legs started to shake, her hips to grind. Recognising thatclimax was imminent for her, he plunged his tongue deep again, rotated it, trailedit along the roof of her passage. She was sodden now, juicy enough that his caresseswere no longer silent. He was congratulating himself about that when her bodyjacknifed. Suddenly, she was wild. Her thighs gripped his neck and her hips drove up athim, with such force that he had to grasp them, try to hold her still. Huge shudderscoursed through her, and she heaved up, so that only her head, feet and shoulderswere in contact with the bed. "Oh, baby", she panted over and over again. "Oh baby,oh baby, oh baby...." It seemed an age before her body relaxed. By then his neck and his backached, and his face was slick and hot. He came up for air, not even trying to hide his grin. Looking up at her acrossthe luscious landscape of her body, he evaluated his achievement. Martine's eyeswere heavy, and she seemed exhausted. In truth, he felt a little weak himself, but itwasn't a weakness which affected his virility. He was painfully hard. He grinned at her. "Was that satisfactory, milady?", he teased. She smiled back. "One of the best", she assured him. "You can give up theday job." He made a grimace of mock disappointment. "I was aiming for best", he toldher, but his mind was only half on the conversation. He was equally interested inwatching her high breasts rise and fall with her breathing, the nipples rigid andhaughty. She reached down to stroke his hair. "I'll need to give it some thought", shesaid. "You do have a lot of competition." Dominic wasn't sure whether she was joking or not. "A lot is what?", hehunted half-seriously, knowing that he was being unforgiveably ungallant but toocurious to resist. He hoped for a clue to the conundrum of why she had brought himhere. "Twenty? Fifty? A hundred? The entire male population of London and thehome counties?" Martine sighed. A sadness seemed to come over her, descending instantlyandd unexpectedly, stealing her light. A cloud blocking the sun. For a long time,she didn't answer. He was about to apologise when she spoke, morosely. "Too many toremember, Dominic", she said. He studied her. Too many to remember? It didn't seem possible. "You're tooyoung", he challenged mildly, "for that to be true." Her smile returned then. The gesture changed her entire face, but itsreappearance wrong footed him. He couldn't work out what he'd said to attract it. "I've been around a while", she pronounced. "Well, if you have", Dominic responded dubiously, "then you must havestarted young." "I must have, mustn't I?", she agreed, the smile still radiant. She was playing with him. He knew that. But he was intrigued, and decidedto be direct. "Let's cut to the chase", he said. "How old are you, Martine?" Now she giggled, a narcotic, light sound. "Does it matter?", she askedlightly. "Do you want to know my shoe size too? Or shall we really cut to the chase?Meaning, can't all this relationship building stuff wait until later? Meaning, do youwant to fuck me or not?" That was an easy question. So he didn't answer it. Or at least he didn'tanswer it with words. Instead, he gave up on the questions and slid back up herbody, kissing the taut skin of her belly, lingering to nibble her swollen nipples. Hiscock was pulsing, aching. Nobody, not even Linda in the early days, had ever madehim feel quite so aroused. He was going to plunder her. He was going to fuck heruntil she screamed with pleasure. He was going to pump enough semen inside herto float a battleship. And the wonderful thing was that she wanted him too. Wanted himdesperately. She was clawing at his shoulders, hurrying him up, her body writhingin anticipation of penetration. He obliged her. Leaving her breasts, he locked his lips to hers, tonguesquirming into her sweet mouth, and maneouvred his hips until the head of hisprick found wetness and warmth, registered depth. Then he pushed forward.The ring of muscle surrendered with only a token struggle, separating toskate over his glans, over the top third of his erection. Nerves singing, erectionalready pulsing, he withdrew a little and pushed again. She was tight. Marvellously tight. He squeezed into her slowly and carefully,luxuriating in the sensation of temporary ownership. Her warm, slippery fleshopened grudgingly to allow him progress, and for a moment he thought that hewould impale her fully without further need for pause. But soon her passage becameless helpful, closing like a noose as her muscles bunched from the excitement. Hewas more than five inches into her, but he nonetheless had to retreat a secondtime, skating out on her lubricant, and drive forward again. On the new attempt, he was at last able to penetrate her fully. Martine'snails dug into his back. She drew in her breath, a sigh of satisfaction, and raised herknees, locking them into his hips. He took time to luxuriate. His manhood pulsated in the slick. warm, tightembrace of her magnificent vagina. His groin pumped a beat against her pubic bone,received a beat back. He smiled down at her, and his hands moved to her buttocks,roaming them, stroking the full, firm flesh. Martine didn't smile back. She was very serious now. Passion centred in hereyes, a blatant, commanding heat. "Fuck me", she whispered tautly. "Fuck me, baby." He nodded, and started to move slowly within her, withdrawing a couple ofinches, plunging back home. The supple channel flexed and grasped at his intrudingorgan, delighting him. He picked up the pace a little, rocking in and out of her welcoming body.Every time he penetrated her, she gasped with pleasure. Her knees drew up evenmore, with the result that she spread herself wider. He glided past her defences, andyes, now he was truly doing what she had asked of him. Now he was fucking her. She was getting very wet indeed down there, and occasionally an inwardstroke made her pussy gurgle slightly. Dominic thought the sound was the sexiesthe'd ever heard, and he tried to encourage it as often as he could, adjusting hisangle of entry to drive in low, coming up beneath her pubic bone. His room formaneouvre was, however, quite limited, because he felt huge down there, felt longand swollen. It seemed that he was filling up all of the space that Martine had, thatshe laboured to accommodate him. He imagined that her vaginal walls would bestretched so thinly that any carelessness might tear her, and the groans whichissued from her whenever his tip rocked against her cervix only strengthened thatvision.For some time now, his eyes had been closed as he lived in pure sensation.Now he opened them, watched Martine for a moment as she rocked her body up tomeet his, as her head tossed from side to side. This brought him closer to the edge,because he could actually see her pleasure when she fully accomodated him, couldlink the amazing feelings in his groin to the person who provided those feelings. Hewas close now, and every thrust brought him closer, but he was also getting tired.He relaxed into the coition, laying his head upon her shoulder, slowing himselfdown. Martine sighed deeply, didn't seem to mind that he was taking things moreslowly. She wrapped her legs around his back, began to push more firmly backagainst him. Her increased involvement helped, and he was confident that togetherthey would make a less exacting climb towards orgasm. The new rhythm established, he returned attention to her bum and herthighs, running his fingers lightly over the skin. The hot meat of her passagewayopened without a sign of protest by now, and she clung to him as he pushedthrough it, the assault steady, the rhythm a metronome. He'd read Martinecorrectly, because the pressure was clearly building in her too. Occasionally butunpredictably, the muscles of her tube would twitch, squeezing the bulb of hisweapon, whirling him each time a little closer to the point where he would spendhis seed. He hoped that she would come too. For the second time. But he didn't thinkhe would wait for her, wasn't even sure that he could if he wanted to. This was forhim. Afterwards, he would address her needs again. It was selfish, and she might notunderstand, but his body was wild, and had to be calmed. She pulled at him, jerked her shoulder, perhaps sensing how close he was. "Iwant to look at you", she said. He raised his head. She looked lovely. Her hair was spread across the pillow in a fan, and themiasma of coitus had settled upon her, making her pupils big and moist and limpid.Her lips were parted, inviting a kiss. He obliged her, pushing his tongue without force between her teeth. Hers,sweet tasting, slim and strong, met it, and they fenced in the heat of her mouthwhile his organ continued to skate slowly, firmly, fully, in and out of her gurglinghole. He had never before experienced such bliss. It seemed that his body wasmerging into hers. Every time he pushed forward, his rod seemed to become part ofher, shuddering with pleasure as though returning home. Her flesh seized him,squeezed him, caressed him, worked sloppily up and down his shaft. Orgasm screamed from hiding, begging to be set free. He kissed her urgentlynow, as though she was the only woman he had ever loved. His hands wandered herbody, tracing her ribs, her arms, her strong, smooth thighs. Then, without warning, she pulled out of the kiss, and for a second or twohe felt dizzy and sick. He was empty, as though she had stolen his spirit, and lossassailed him. His head fell again to her shoulder, but he fought the malaise,concentrating on his thrusting in, on her thrusting up, on the cloying, tight caverninto which he would soon deposit his semen. Soon... Despite his tiredness.Very soon... He lifted up again, looked at her again. It was such an effort to do so. But hewas rewarded by her smile. Sympathetic. Gentle. Benign. "Thank you for my life", she said. It was the strangest comment, too strange for him to even try to get into it.So he let it fall, let it spin away from his grasp, and instead he continued to breachher, unhurriedly, lavishly, sliding his full length into her, stretching the gateway toher womb with the spongy head of his pole. Stars, he thought, she was still sotight.... He became aware that his brain was pounding, that he felt even weaker thanhe had moments before, and for the third time, his head returned to her shoulder. There were other problems, too. He seemed to be struggling for breath, andhis chest was tight. But none of it really mattered, at least not yet, because he stillhad the strength to move his rigid shaft into the constricted embrace of her sodden,clutching honey pot, in and out, a little more powerfully now despite his miasma, alittle more decisively as he approached release. An unusually philosophical thought came to him. Martine owned him. Morecompletely than Linda ever had. And it would be the spurting of his semen thicklyinside her which sealed the deal. A deal which had consequences which Martineunderstood, and he did not. Then he let that thought escape, just as he'd let Martine's words escape,because the time for ownership had come. It seemed that his skin was vibrating. It seemed that his spine was beingdetached from his body. Climax swelled in him like an emotion, like the urge to cry,with purity and strength. It warmed him and hurt him, suffused and overwhelmedhim. He stretched his legs, hunched his shoulders, clenched his teeth in order tobear it. Joy surged through his blood, through his sinews, through his bones. Heground his teeth and dug his nails into Marine's hips, riding her violently,uncaringly, plunging into her. For a time, he thought that it would never end. Hisbloated member sliced into her, plunging to its full length, slicing back, jerking andjumping inside her. Then his balls jerked, and semen squirted through his urethra, thrilling him,making him scream, sluicing into Martine with the relative force of a tsunamiwave. Again and again he spurted, his buttocks lifting and falling, each release ahuge offering, until it seemed that there could be no more cunt to fill. He felt cometrailing down the sides of his prick, felt it running down his testicles. Martine was stroking his hair again by now, shoring him, helping himthrough. "Yes, baby", she hissed. "Yes, baby. Yes." Her hips were raised to make iteasier for his lower body to remain still, feeding her his juice, while the rest of himshuddered. She lay like a sacrifice, skewered on the instrument of his passion. The ejaculations moderated, eventually ceased, but when they were done,Dominic stayed where he was, lying comfortably across her, his pump locked withinher. She seemed content to let him do so, and after a minute or two, during whichno words were exchanged, he drifted off into sleep. When he awoke, an indeterminable time later, his prick was soft, and hadwithdrawn itself from his lover. But she was still holding him. He became aware that sleep had not helped him in the least. He seemedwithout energy, and breathing was still a labour. In those first moments of wakefulness he understood something which,entirely alert, he would have believed impossible. He gave voice to thatunderstanding, but he didn't rouse himself to look at her."You've taken something from me", he stated. A moment passed. Then she replied, "Something, yes. More than something.I've taken some of your life, Dominic. Most of it, if I'm honest. Put simply, I'vestolen your future." He thought about that, as best he could. And while he couldn't comprehendeither the how or the why, he knew that she spoke the truth. He didn't know how helooked now, whether her theft was visible in his skin, but he knew that he was goingto die."You didn't ask", he observed calmly, tiredly. It was, he knew, a piddlingcomplaint, but it was the only one, in his debilitated state, that he could find. "I never ask", she responded. "I simply do what I need to do." Sleep pulled at him again. He tried to resist it. And succeeded, although hestill couldn't open his eyes. "What are you?", he asked, then instantly answered hisown question. "You're some sort of vampire." "A vampire." She considered the description, then he felt her nod slowly. "Ina way, yes, I suppose I am. But I don't steal blood. I steal spirit. Essence. Vitality." He tried to find anger, knew that he should rant at her, rave at her, perhapstry to kill her. But he was too weak to even consider such things. His words came out brittle, like straws in the wind. "What gives you theright, Martine?", he wondered. "What in all creation gives you the right?" He forcedhis eyes open, found himself looking directly into hers. Hers were twinkling. She shrugged. And her light expression told him all that he needed to know.At best, she found his predicament humorous. At worst, she didn't care at all."I'm a predator", she responded easily. "I survive. I've lived for over twohundred years, Dominic. But only by doing this. And I intend to live for twohundred more. You're not the first, and you won't be the last." "You survive, yes", he said, the bitterness sweetened by exhaustion. "Butwhat about me?" Martine merely shrugged. "These things happen", she advised softly, asthough comforting a child. Or an old man. Old man... Yes, perhaps.. The thought horrified him. "I want to see myself", he told her. She shook her head. "Not a good idea", she judged. "Truly." Dominic recalled that he had seen a mirror on the dressing table, before allthis began. With enormous effort, he sat up a little, tried to reach for it. Martine watched him for a time then, with a sad and resigned sigh, rolledfrom the bed, retrieved the glass and held it in front of his face. He looked like a peach that had been left too long in the sun. His skin wasthin and stretched, taut against his flesh. Not so much old and withered as dried,drained of life. He felt a great weariness in his bones, but oddly he also recognised asad but grateful sense of surrender. He had not been happy. And at least he wouldn't have to deal with Lindanow. Martine came to stand beside him. He glanced at her and noted that sheseemed sexier than ever, more curvaceous, her hair of stronger lustre, her eyesmore vivid. She smiled at him, a smile which came from those eyes as well as fromthe luscious mouth. "So how long does tonight buy you?", he croaked at her. She shrugged again. "Six months", she estimated. He realised now that evenher voice had changed, becoming lighter, more assured. "Eight, tops. But I usuallyfill up after three. Before I get to the point where it's difficult for me to interestanyone. In the way that I need to." "And me?", he wondered, studying in the mirror the milky pinkness of hispupils. "How long do I have?" She moved closer, knelt behind him, placed her arms around his waist, herbreasts solid yet soft against his back. Her grip was gentle, but he had no sense thatit was also concerned. He understood so many things now. Particularly the thing which had mostconfused him. Martine had chosen him not because he interested her, but because he wasan easy target. She answered his question. "A few days", she said. "Or I can finish this now,if you want. By a kiss. The end, in a kiss." Her sultry tone indicated that the kisswas her favoured route. "It's an easier way, Dominic. A nicer way. But I won't forcethat. If you decide against, if you want time to think, to review your life, all thatsort of stuff, well, fine. But you'll have to do it here. I can't let you leave." Dizziness assaulted him again, and he rocked forward, supporting himselfwith the heels of both hands against the dressing table. "What's a kiss worth foryou?", he enquired mournfully. "Another couple of days?" "Hours", she replied. "Just hours. You have to understand, there really isn'tvery much left for me to take. The kiss is a service I provide. When my men requestit. No more, no less." Dominic took a few moments, during which he stared at her reflection,behind him, in the mirror. She, in turn, watched his. Giving him that time. Oneeyebrow raised in continuing enquiry. In truth, it wasn't a hard choice. He turned his head, and in his last labour,he raised his heavy arms to embrace her. It was a sexless contact. They hugged, skin to skin, her breasts crushedagainst his chest. But his cock, the thing which had steered him here, didn't stir. Ithung guilty, limp and useless. He let a few more seconds pass, relishing Martine's softness and warmth. Hedecided then that he wouldn't hate her. She was, after all a predator. And he waslegitimate prey. "Kiss me", he requested finally, raising her chin with his hand. And she did. END ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ This post has been reformatted by ASSTR's Smart Text Enhancement Processor (STEP) system due to linelengths exceeding the 75 character limit. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ <1st attachment begin> <1st attachment end> 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. -- If you enjoyed this work, take a moment to email the author. Your comments are their only payment. Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | ASSM Archive site +-----------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | | --- | +--------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | This newsgroup is moderated by ASSTR, an entity supported by donations. | | If you enjoy this newsgroup, please consider making a donation to help | | Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository keep providing this free service for you.| | Donations: | \_________________________________________________________________________/