Message-ID: <22990asstr$951675000@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: "Cymmery" Lines: 235 X-Original-Message-ID: <89a974$u67$1@nntp6.atl.mindspring.net> X-Server-Date: 27 Feb 2000 04:29:24 GMT X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V5.00.2615.200 Subject: {ASSM} Raping David Duchovny Date: Sun, 27 Feb 2000 13:10:01 -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: IceAltar, english Raping David Duchovny It all started out as a joke between myself and three friends. I never thought we'd actually pull it off. When the announcement was made that there would not be an eighth season for our favorite show, we were mad. Most plans, good or bad, are born in moments of madness. This was one. We drank our way through three pitchers of margaritas, and planned this out perfectly. In the end, it was far easier than we ever dreamed. We nabbed him in Malibu, right there on the beach. He was swimming, and when he came out of the water we approached him as a group of fans. His ego knew no bounds. He soaked up the attention like a dry sponge tossed into a full bathtub. Trace is a nurse, and had access to certain pills, as well as chloroform. So, one gauze pad liberally soaked and slapped over his face and *poof*. He was out like the proverbial light bulb. It did take all four of us to load him into the back of my 4Runner. That was when I expected us to get caught. I still laugh like hell over the fact that we didn't. I mean, come on, four women carrying a guy off the beach looks pretty unusual, even for California. But no one really spared us a second glance. We hauled tail up to Malibu Lake, where Becky has a cabin. He was out cold the entire trip. It was easier hauling him into the cabin, than it was hauling his ass off the beach. Trace said we had at least forty-five minutes before he came around, so we took our time about strapping him down. Plus, it was a lot of fun when we stripped him naked and took the pictures. Lots and lots of pictures. Thank god for the new Polaroid PopShot cameras. We had him tied, spread-eagled to the bed, when he woke up. "What the fuck is this?" Sort of expected that to be this first thing he said. "This, is a wet dream come true for most guys," I laughed in reply. "If you let me up from here now, we can forget any of this ever happened," he wasn't scared, he just looked perturbed. I sat down on the bed next to him, and patted his cheek gently. "Can't do that," I sighed with faked remorse, "It's too late now. Now, I have something for you." I held up a single pill. "Are you going to swallow it willingly, or am I going to ram it down your throat?" "What is it?" "Viagra." All of us laughed at the irony of it. "Not that I think you need it, but just in case. You know, to save you from any performance anxiety." He blushed then, and gave me a hateful look. I sighed, and gently pinched his nostrils closed. When his mouth gasped open for air, I dropped the pill in, and shoved his jaws closed. I could tell by the grimace on his face, that it wasn't as sweet as honey as it dissolved on his tongue, but hey, I *had* given him a choice. After twenty minutes, I released his chin, and offered him a drink of water which he took eagerly. "Why are you doing this?" He asked after I had pulled the straw back from his lips. "Well, after seven years of being your fans, you fucked us all. So we decided to fuck you in return." I smiled primly at him. "You know I'll report this." He snarled angrily. That was when I showed him the pictures. They were pretty damming evidence. With good poses, and a goofy smile on his face, from the chloroform, he appeared to be having a great time. "Those don't mean a damn thing." He objected. "Those, and your reputation, and the word of four against one, will go a long way toward convincing everyone, especially the media, that this was your idea." Becky said. "But I'm a married man!" "And if you keep quite about it, you're likely to stay that way," Trace suggested. "My wife will believe me! She'll..." I'd heard enough. I pulled off a six inch strip of duct tape and shut him up, while we all giggled. We took turns tormenting him while we waited for the Viagra to kick in. By tormenting, I mean we stroked his balls, licked his nipples, played with his cock; measured his cock. 10 and 3/4 inches, in case you are wondering. Nothing cruel. Just mildly humiliating. And he didn't seem to humiliated after forty-five minutes when the pill had taken effect. He had a regular blue-veiner going then. We drew straws to see who would get to be the first to ride him like a Harley on a bad stretch of road. Jade won. She slapped a condom on him and rode him hard, came three times, always stopping just before he could get off. He was horny as hell when she climbed off him, and we all heard the groan of frustration he muttered behind the duct tape. "Don't worry," I soothed him, "You'll get yours too." Trace went next. It was one hell of a hot scene to watch. His hands had curled into fists around the rails of the head board, and his hips arched and flexed eagerly under her as she came repeatedly on his cock. His body drawn tight as a bow string. She got off of him, and he whimpered again. She pulled the condom off and stroked him twice before he shot all over the place. The good thing about Viagra, it *never* lets you down. We cleaned him up, slapped on another rubber and then it was Becky's turn. She did things a but differently. She rode him backward, facing toward his feet, so she could play with his balls. The poor guy couldn't keep his ass still on that bed. He was grunting and thrusting as far into her as he could, his heels planted firmly against the foot-rail of the bed. I think he was close to coming again, when Becky ran out of steam. She wiggled off his lap, letting his hard cock flop back to lie against his belly, his hips still moving and thrusting into nothing. Then it was my turn. I took a minute to pull the duct tape from his mouth, and give him some water. He was bathed in sweat, and it wouldn't do to have him pass out on us. "I'll leave it off, if you'll keep your mouth shut." I told him. "Fuck you." "Yeah, now you're catching on." I grinned wickedly at him. "You're a good looking man, Mr. Duchovny, but your mouth is your worst feature." I slapped the tape back on, and mounted him. He's got an impressive cock, and it felt great. I came four times, and he came once. I got off him, my knees shaking, and looked up at my friends. "Anybody want seconds?" I laughed, stumbling from the bed to the bathroom. Apparently they did, because when I came back out they had swapped condoms again, and Trace was riding him. We kept him there for four hours. We took turns coming our brains out on his cock, and by the end he was barely ejaculating at all, but not from lack of trying. I even took another turn at him, myself. Hey, you know, why not? When were we all fucked out, we got dressed and chloroformed him again. We pulled his clothes on and dropped him right back on the beach. Almost in the same place we grabbed him. He had clearly seen all of our faces, and we watched for any kind of news about an assault, but there wasn't a peep. We've still got all the pictures, and we still get a big laugh out of raping David Duchovny. I have to wonder how he explained the Viagra induced hard-on to his wife. LOL Anyway, we all have our secrets... Don't we David? -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+