Message-ID: <22176asstr$947236201@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail X-Original-Message-ID: <38754910.7F12611@netinc.ca> From: Chris Church X-Accept-Language: en MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit Lines: 192 NNTP-Posting-Date: Thu, 06 Jan 2000 18:58:29 MST Subject: {ASSM} SPORTS ILLUSTRATED Date: Fri, 7 Jan 2000 04:10:01 -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: newsman, dennyw Sports, Illustrated Cigarette smoke curls up overhead while a glass of cabernet, warms beside her. She sits perched against one of the only two windows, in her small New York apartment that over looks the deep cut alleyway between her building and the next. The other window is that of an old woman who is in bed every night by 9, surely not watching the scene below. She has seen this scenario a half dozen times now, never tiring of it, always amazed by what transcends. Tonight, however, she was fortunate enough to catch the event from the beginning, always discovering it in progress a little late when roused from her sleep or a good program on TV. She watches the woman in the long wool coat, pacing the dark cavernous berth between the two buildings. “So this is how it begins,” she mutters pressing her cigarette to her lips. She had the advantage over the woman, of being able to see the man approaching before she could and although she had been witness to this a few times, she watched on with fresh curiosity. The man she knew from her building, which had always struck her as odd, that he would choose to act so close to home. She had seen him only in passing a couple of times, without greeting or event, finding him here more than inside. He was a tall man, roughly 6’3, solidly built on a sturdy frame, hair dark that was always kept neat. As for his facial features, she was unsure. He usually kept his head lowered when she’d seen him in the garbage room or hallway. Not obviously low, just enough to make it nearly impossible to make out his face. Here in the alley, there was no hope for detail but she knew that he was the same man. She had made herself available the last time she saw him enter the building before her, trying to catch up to him, hoping to share the elevator but when she arrived, near panting from her quick pace she was just in time to see the door to the stairwell swing shut. Indeed, he was a curious man and she felt herself drawn to his mystery. She recalls the first time she was privy to his escapades, staring blankly out her window at the lone woman down below. It was five maybe six months ago when she heard the first scream followed by the thrashing of garbage bins. In the city, one hears these things regularly and nearly no one ever pays any attention but the program she had been watching was setting her adrift so she decided to investigate the source of the ruckus. She came upon her large window, switching off the only lamp on in the room as she passed it. She took a moment to let her eyes readjust to the darkness before scanning the alley below, her head moving slowly from left to right. At first she couldn’t make out a thing but movement deeper into the alley caught her eye in an instant. There was a bare bulbed light hanging over a doorway on the opposite building just a few feet from the mouth of the alley, that being the only source of light. One really had to focus in order to see anything at all past that light. Though hard to tell at a moments glance, she could make out two forms in a scuffle of some sort. By what she could see, it was a man and a woman causing the commotion, the man was pushing the woman, clothing torn, face to the wall. She struggled under his force, her legs and arms flailing in all directions in a bid to make some form of contact with whatever got in her way. Her screams where audible but muffled by his large, clasping hand and he took her by the hair and swung her around to face him, thrusting his knee hard between her thighs to pin her there. He kept the palm of his hand pressed firmly against her mouth, her stifled groaning hard to detect even through her open window but the sounds of the woman’s despair where unmistakable. She watched on with fascination, never dawning on her that she could put an end to it merely by calling down to the pair and scaring him off. She could feel her body rise with the heat of need. It had been sometime since she had last engaged in any form of sexual intervention, let alone something so primal and deep seeded. She continued her investigation, watching now as the man shoved his knee up and out, prying the woman’s legs apart. To her, the woman now looked like a macabre painting, her wrists and hair gathered up in his right fist, high above her head, his left hand fiercely cupping her mouth and her legs wide, back crushed against the brick wall. In a flash, he reached down, slipped his fingers into the elastic waist of her panties, and tore them away, jerking her forward and stuffed them entirely into her screaming mouth. Now with a second hand to work with, he tore open her blouse, the odd button catching the faint light as it sailed through the air like shrapnel. She was braless, good thing for him, she mused, and he leaned into her instantly like a slobbering animal to a carcass, taking the right nipple into his mouth. The woman’s head twisted from side to side, her face full of the agony she was now feeling as he bit hard into her nipple, pulling it taut as he chewed. He kept her hair and wrists pinned under both of his hands then dove to ravish the other breast. Periodically, he would stop to tuck her panties back into her mouth, shoving them hard with his fingertips. It was easy to see how brutally he had made the first breast, it was glowing red and in a few spots she could make out the little rivulets of blood as they trickled over the woman’s pert tits. The woman began to ebb in her struggle, splayed there, exposed aside from her short skirt that was gathered up around her waist, her cunt bared to the damp night air, to him. He pulled back slightly to bring his right hand down and instantly she took advantage and brought her knee up only able to nudge his groin in the attempt. He brought his risen hand down hard across her face, smashing it against the wall and sending her upper body reeling. He steadied her immediately and uttered a threat that made her eyes widen in terror. She had no idea what he had said to the woman to provoke such a reaction but she was certain he would stand for no more of the her foolishness. Instinctively, the woman subsided; her body racked with pain, though her eyes still wide with fear. The man wasted no time, slipping his hand harshly over her blood smeared breasts, slapping each before pressing his hand down her belly, pushing at the flesh until he reached her mound, cupping and squeezing with digging fingers. With her head against the open window frame, she saddled up closer, ashamed by the dampness that had gathered at her slit but without moral enough to aid the victim. Secretly, she rooted for the man saying over and over in her mind, “Fuck her…FUCK HER” and as if to hear her silent plea, he began fumbling with the zipper of his pants with his free hand. She watched now with rich suspense as he held the root of his fully erect penis, working his way between the woman’s legs as he positioned himself awkwardly, still keeping his grip on her wrists. She looked directly into his eyes for the first time, suspended in time, her eyes pleading and he reared his head back and gave a hearty laugh at her misfortune. In one violent thrust, he entered her, impaling her completely. The woman replied with a deep but muted scream and he laughed once again as the woman wept. He held her balanced there for a moment while he took a wrist in either hand and brought them down to her hips, holding her steady as he violated her brutally. He used her hips to pull her on and off of him, making her meet each one of his pounding thrusts, his head lowering to her neck and shoulders to gnaw on her. She looked half dead with exhaustion but she managed to endure in her semi-detached state. “What must be going through her mind?” the woman in the window thought to herself. She shook her head knowing that there was no way to even imagine. She knew that her own heart was racing dangerously and that her own body trembled now, her stomach a thick nest of twisting knots as she remained an admirer to this dark spectacle. The woman now seemed transfixed, staring off somewhere else. It seemed to have her complete attention. Of course there was nothing, the woman just hung now in the balance and the watcher nodded her approval muttering under her breath,” Yes, that’s what I would do if I where her, concentrate on something else.” She soon thought better of her idea when she saw that the man had flipped the woman roughly over a large trash bin, kicking her legs wide then moving up between them, her wrists still pinned to her hips. She screamed now begging with every fiber of her existence, “Pleeeeease nooooo…oh gawwwwwd no, no, no, no, NO!” Without moisture or spreading her ass cheeks, he tucked himself under her then bobbed her into position and buried his cock completely in her dark hole. He grunted in response to each of her pathetic cries. Faster, in a rage known only to beasts and demons, he pummeled her wildly on his cock, her body mashed against the filthy bin. The watcher looked on with sheer excitement, her own hips rocking back and forth to the rhythm of his slamming. His body tensed as it jarred against the weak woman’s ass. He let go of her wrists, satisfied that she was worn down and slipped his hands around her neck, constricting them as he fucked her raw body violently. She gasped and sputtered, coming to life, her moans carried through the entire alleyway. He reared back once, slammed in hard and stayed still, spasming as he dropped his seed in her ass. He caught his breath and pulled out harshly, leaving the woman slumped over the garbage bin, her legs unnaturally wide, his cum seeping down the back of her right thigh in globs. The scene was truly surreal. All was quiet now. He tidied himself up paying no attention to the woman as he did. As she watched the man straightening himself she could see the woman’s movements from her peripheral. She had tried to right herself and ended up staggering back a few steps before plummeting to the ground. Curiously, she thought she could hear a cars engine and looked to the mouth of the alleyway and indeed there was a car there and not just any old car but a shiny white Bentley. She continued to watch with strange fascination as the man walked over to the woman, bent, slipping his hands under both thighs and beneath her shoulders and lifted her with little effort. Stranger still was the way the woman instinctively brought her arms up and wrapped them in a draping fashion around his neck. The woman was in bad shape, that was obvious even to her but how bizarre it was that she was now lifting her head up, lips pursed to kiss the man the just raped her and that he too was wanting this kiss. Confused and unbelieving, she watched as he carried her to the beautiful car and gently set her inside, arranging her in the back seat as if concerned now for her comfort. The driver stood holding the door and looked on as if this was perfectly ordinary. The man stepped back, said something to the driver causing him to smile and ease the door closed. The driver then tipped his hat, moved to the driver’s side of the car and got in. The man stood and watched as the vehicle drove away then turned, lifted his head and smiled at the woman in the window before rounding the corner of the building, disappearing completely from view. She sat for a few moments dumbfounded, not ashamed for peeking but for being caught. Her entire face was flushed with this shame and then a thought hit her making her laugh and kick her legs out to ward off hysterics. She was pondering the thought that rape may indeed be a spectator’s sport and if so, who just won? Who was keeping score? And who was refereeing? It struck her as funny and she laughed nervously remembering that he had seen her watching. That night she slept very little, feeling riled by the nights event. Tonight would be no different. Oh sure, the woman would wear something different and he might change the pattern in which he uses her body, he might be rougher, he might be gentler but either way the game would be played the same. L /1999 -- 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: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+