Message-ID: <26902asstr$971820607@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: john3365a@aol.com (John A) Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=ISO-8859-1 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 8bit X-Original-Message-ID: <20001017113851.13317.00000080@ng-md1.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Fonda and Cat [23/23] {John A and Virago Blue} MF,MFF,FF, Rom, anal Date: Tue, 17 Oct 2000 18:10:08 -0400 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, kelly This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real persons is unintentional and strictly coincidental. If you are below the age of 18, or 21 depending on your locality, stop reading right now. If your government prohibits erotic literature, stop reading now and delete this. If you choose to continue, that is your decision -- and your responsibility -- not mine. This is intended solely for adults, and any other rebroadcast, retransmission, and account of this game is strictly prohibited by the National Hockey League. Wait -- The NHL doesn't care -- we care. Any unauthorized redistribution of this is in violation of copyright. We authorize the reader to make one copy for reading purposes only. We expressly prohibit posting of this work on anyone's website without our permission. Any distribution without the authors' permission is strictly prohibited. DO NOT REPOST "Fonda and Cat" Copyright (C) 2000 by John3365A@aol.com (John A) VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue) All rights reserved. ----------------------------- Fonda and Cat by John A and Virago Blue Chapter 23 "Shhh . . . Fonda! Your parents might hear us," Trina admonished Fonda with a giggle. Fonda had discovered that behind her knee was a tickle spot and he had crawled beneath the covers of his bed to further explore more tickle spots. Trina squirmed, squealing as his fingers explored the damp warmth between her legs. "It's impossible for them to hear us. We're on opposite ends of the house," came Fonda's muffled reply. "Besides, they've always respected my privacy." Trina looked down at the lump that was Fonda's head under the sheets, giggling as it closed in on her open legs. Trina could only respond with a throaty moan as Fonda once more buried his tongue deep inside the velvety folds of her pussy, licking and sucking her to another throbbing orgasm. She clutched the blankets with balled fists as she tried to muffle her screams. As the pulsing between her legs quieted, Trina arched back against a pillow, spent and sweaty with the tell-tale gleam of satisfaction emanating from her face. "Oh, Fonda . . . " *** "You need to learn. Don't be afraid, I can teach you," Fonda convinced Trina it was time she learned to drive his car. "This is Staten Island. I'll never drive this thing in Manhattan," Trina said nervously. "You're just starting . . . don't worry," Fonda soothed. "Pretty soon, we'll even get you out of the driveway," he teased. "You sure I won't break it?" Trina asked tentatively. "Break it?" Fonda chuckled. "If you do, we'll fix it." "That doesn't make me feel any better, you know. What if I really mess up?" "Well, I'm insured and the car is still under warranty . . . why else do you think I'm letting you drive it?" Fonda grinned slyly and Trina chuckled. "It's easy. You have the coordination. Hop in." Fonda held the driver's side door open and watched as Trina cautiously slipped in behind the wheel. "Seat belt." "I know, I know," Trina playfully rolled her eyes, fastening her seat belt with a click. "Now what?" Fonda lowered himself into the passenger's seat, leaning over to put the keys in the ignition. He explained to her about the clutch, giving the car a little gas as she shifted gears, easing off of the clutch while pressing down gently on the gas pedal. The little car jerked and lurched more often than either one could count. After about twenty minutes, during which Trina was able to drive up Fonda's street a grand total of once, she threw her hands up in frustration. "This is, like, so pointless." Trina shook her head, disheartened. "You're doing fine . . . this was your first day. We'll try again in a few days," Fonda said encouragingly. *** Four days later, after Fonda picked Trina up from the theater, he listened as she spoke on and on about the evening's performance; apparently one of the dancers missed his mark and Mme. Renault blasted him after the show, in front of the whole troupe of dancers. "It was totally awkward for the rest of us. I mean, I'm glad that wasn't me. I would have totally lost it." "You'd best make all of your marks. She sounds like a tough taskmaster," Fonda sympathized. "And a half. But I don't have to worry about that," she said cheekily, grinning widely. "I'm too cute to make a mistake." Fonda laughed and then winced as he shifted from third to fourth gear and hoped Trina didn't notice it. "Is your wrist still bothering you, babe?" He nodded as he turned down W. 10th street, heading toward Trina's building. "Shifting from second to third or fourth to fifth bothers me the most. Cutting bothers me a lot too. . . . Not good for a restaurant owner not being able to cut things." Trina smiled sympathetically, brushing her hand down Fonda's arm, as he found a parking space a half block from Trina's apartment. The pain in his wrist was more acute than he indicated to Trina. Whenever he had to do anything strenuous with it, the burning sensation shot from his fingertips up to his elbow. It had been getting progressively better, but the pain still plagued him more than doctors and Kimberly estimated that it would by this point. "Umm, babe," Trina said as they walked down the street. In the chill of the early autumn air, Trina's breath steamed in front of her face."The lights are on. Margie's home. I thought she'd be at her boss's place tonight" "That's ok . . . I'm going to have to deal with her eventually. Nothing ever gets accomplished if you're not willing to confront matters. This thing with her boss has gone on much longer than I expected. Doesn't Margie usually blow through men faster than this?" Trina chuckled. "Usually. Margie's whole problem is that she can't keep her legs shut for long enough to get to know a guy. I think the only thing holding her back now is that she's afraid what will happen at work. She's gotten a big raise and has been getting paid for working half-days or not even at all, and I don't think she wants to risk giving that up." Fonda shook his head as they approached the door on the fourth floor. "One of these day's she's going to have to grow up." Trina playfully placed her hand over Fonda's mouth as she unlocked the door. The last thing that she wanted was to deal with a confrontation between Fonda and Margie and his making comments that were possibly within earshot of her roommate wasn't going to help matters. The sounds of the television filtered through the door as Trina opened it. Margie was sitting in an easy chair, dressed casually in a sweat shirt and spandex shorts. When they walked in, Margie smiled sheepishly, and quickly removed her hand from underneath her shorts. The television was tuned to a cable channel airing some late-night soft-core film. Margie blushed slightly as she scrambled to find the remote control and change the channel. She looked nervously at Fonda as he entered the apartment, smiling wanly at him before glancing Trina's way. "Hello Margie," Fonda took a deep breath. The look of contrition on Margie's face was genuine, and Fonda could tell that she was sorry about what had happened. "Hey Margie," Trina said with a smirk. "You keep that up and your fingers will start looking like prunes." Margie stuck out her tongue playfully at her best friend and blushed deeply. "Hi guys." Trina went into the kitchen to get a bottle of juice as Fonda sat on the couch. The atmosphere in the room was tense, neither one of them really sure of what to say to each other. "Uh, Fonda . . . I, uh . . . I just want to say how sorry I am abou -- " He cut her off with a generous smile. "I know, Margie. What's happened has happened. It's over. And everything has worked out fine." "Yeah, but you were mugged and in a coma. I feel like total shit for that." "Circumstances," he shrugged off understandingly. "Who's to say things would have been any different?" Margie smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, the weight of the confrontation with Fonda now eased greatly. "So we're all cool?" "Yes. As far as I'm concerned we are." Fonda nodded, before getting up to follow Trina into her bedroom. "'Night guys," Margie called out. "Don't do anything that I wouldn't do." Trina turned and smiled. "Is there *anything* that you wouldn't do?" When Fonda closed the door behind him, Trina immediately stripped her clothes and flopped playfully on her bed, a wide grin gracing her face as she stared into Fonda's dark eyes. Fonda undressed slowly, carefully hanging his clothes on the back of a chair before sliding next to the woman he loved. He kissed Trina passionately, his hand tracing circles on her breasts and stomach. She moaned into his mouth and could feel herself getting wet already. She closed her eyes and reveled in the pleasures he could bring her. Never had any man had such an effect on Trina and she was overwhelmed at how easily she got aroused by the slightest of contact with him. Sex for Trina had never fully been the 'special' event most of her friends had made it out to be. Sure, she enjoyed it if her partner was any good, but too often for her it had been a diversion, something to do at the end of a date instead of an event all of itself. More often than not, Trina had gone through the motions, playing her role as her partners played theirs, locked into the miasma of meaninglessness. With Fonda it was different. Where once her orgasms had been weak or non-existent, now they were powerful and bursting with life. She got aroused by simply holding his hand, walking with him in the park, or down the block on a Sunday morning to the little Jewish bakery where they'd get their bagels with cream cheese and lox. Their mere togetherness was more special to her than any countless number of relationships that she'd had in the past and it at once both enthralled and terrified her. She had fallen hard for him, of that she was certain. She was also without doubt as to his feelings for her. But love was all such unchartered territory for Trina, a beachhead calm and tranquil on the surface, yet beneath, fraught with dangers and pitfalls both subtle and gross. The enormity of the emotions she felt was almost too much to bear. She looked down at him, her shining light, her hero, eagerly sloshing his tongue over her impassioned and swollen sex. She ran her hands through his thick black hair and allowed herself a smile as she thought that she -- and only she -- was at the center of this man's universe. Her smile grew even broader as she realized that it was only Fonda who was at the center of hers, too. *** Trina looked over and smiled at Fonda in satisfaction. She had just driven from the marina where Fonda's boat was moored after spending a couple of days sailing around New York Harbor. Fonda wasn't comfortable going too far from land with his wrist still in pain, but it didn't matter to Trina. She knew that she would go with this man wherever he took her. "See? I knew you could do it, Cat. Now, why don't you drive us to the restaurant?" "Really? You trust me to do that?" Trina asked, looking at Fonda as if he was crazy. "Yes, I trust you completely. . . . Plus, my car has a passenger side air bag." She chuckled. "No way. Not into the city. I mean, I've gotten so I can tool around Staten Island ok, but I am *so* not ready for the city." "Why not? It's Saturday and traffic's not bad." "Really? You think?" she asked again. She was nervous and excited at the same time. She was beginning to like driving and she knew there wasn't a challenge for a driver as tough as Manhattan this side of Indy. Fonda nodded and Trina smiled, easing the car into first gear. They arrived at the restaurant a little before the lunch crowd. Trina sat at her favorite table by the window while Fonda disappeared into the kitchen to help with preparations. She watched the crowds on the street outside her window, wondering if those people were as content as she was at this very moment. She smiled, sipping at her water, not noticing Stavros when he sat in the chair opposite. "Good morning, Trina. How did you enjoy the boat?" "Oh, Stav, it was so cool. I loved being out on the water," she gushed, then leaned forward and began to talk softly. "Don't tell Fonda this, but I was so nervous going out there. We started talking about it a couple of weeks ago and I was, like, irrationally afraid." "Why?" Trina shrugged self-consciously. "I guess because we were going to go on the boat and then we had the big fight and then he was attacked. . . . I don't know." Stavros smiled reassuringly. "That's over. You two are together and happy. Corky and the two attackers are in jail and everything is back to normal." She smiled. "I hear from Fonda that you had a busy morning," he said "I actually drove into the city, myself. Can you believe it?" Trina gushed. "I mean, I was so afraid, you know? But he's so patient and everything. I'm, like, just so lucky." Trina blushed at Stavros, bringing the water glass to her lips. "It's a good thing you learned to drive. Fonda has still been having some problems with that one hand. He needs to give it a rest and this might be a big help to him." "I know. I think it's worse than he admits." "I see how he holds it sometimes. Kimberly has been seeing him frequently . . . hell, he sees her more than I do," Stavros laughed. "She says it's getting better, but not as quickly as it should be." "Anything I can do, just let me know." Stavros nodded, turning to look at the door as a crowd of people milled through the door. "Another busy day. Gregory didn't show up today. We're going to be short-handed," Stavros said, turning back to Trina, "I better check on things in the kitchen. You'll be okay?" Stavros asked, a hand on Trina's shoulder. "Oh yeah, I'll be fine. Hey, if you need any help maybe I can do something," Trina offered with a shrug, "I could, like, seat people or take orders. I think I can do that." "I'll keep that in mind." Stavros hurried back to the kitchen, nodding a greeting to one of the customers. Trina turned back to her people-watching and day dreaming. A noisy lunch time crowd was beginning to gather and more people queued out front, waiting to be seated in the popular restaurant. Fonda, Stavros and few of the other wait staff ran back and forth between tables, taking orders and filling requests. Trina watched and worried about Fonda, noticing how he held his injured hand close to his chest at times. Fonda disappeared once again into the kitchen and Stavros followed. Minutes later Stavros burst through the door of the kitchen, waving Trina over. She hurriedly walked over to him. "What is it?" "Fonda needs some help in the kitchen. It's his hand." Trina pushed past Stavros and entered the busy kitchen. Fonda stood at a cutting board, clutching his hand to the front of his white apron. "I'm sorry, Cat. I need to ask a favor," Fonda began apologetically. "Ask me anything," Trina said, looking askance at the dead fish on the cutting board. Fonda sighed. "That big crowd that just came in -- the ones dressed all in black and with the earrings all over the place -- they've requested a special order. I considered telling them I didn't have this fish today but since Marcus Venicia is in the group--" "Marcus Venicia? The one that just directed the film that won at Cannes?" Trina gawked, peering out the kitchen door's porthole window. "That's so cool." Fonda harrumphed. "Yes, I think that's the one -- what a pain in the ass they are. Anyway, he wants a special fish prepared a special way and I'm having some problems with my hand. Stavros is running his ass off trying to keep these people happy and Gregory decided that he just wasn't going to show up today so we're short-handed," Fonda paused, grimacing as he gripped his wrist, "I hate to ask this, knowing how you feel about fish . . . " Trina swallowed. "No, Fonda, that's okay. I want to help out. Really. Do you need me to take it back to one of the guys in the market or something?" Fonda shook his head, "No, Cat. I need you to help me prepare it." "Oh, like, help you get the ingredients and all? I can do that," Trina said with a hopeful nod, once more casting a glance at the large fish positioned on the cutting board. She held back the urge to grimace and shudder. Fonda sighed, shaking his head. "Oh. Wait. You need to *prepare* the fish? Like, clean it?" Trina asked, biting her lip. She breathed deeply. Finally, she had a chance to show Fonda how much she could help him by taking some of the work load from him so that he could recover from his injuries. She still felt somewhat responsible for his pain and wanted to do anything possible to help him -- even if it meant gutting a slimy fish. "Okay. I can get over the icky fish thing if it means I'm helping out. Just tell me what I need to do." Trina groaned inwardly as she stared down at the huge fish, its one bulgy eye staring back at her. "I mean, it . . . uh, can't be all that hard, right? Can it?" She scrunched her brows and looked distastefully at the fish. Fonda smiled apologetically. "I know how you feel about fish. But really, this will be a big help." "That table is very demanding, Fonda. Very demanding. Fresh salt shakers now," Stavros appeared behind Fonda and sighed in exasperation, waving a handful of crystal salt shakers in front of him. "What will it be next?" "Oh, I can do that, just show me where the salt is kept," Trina replied eagerly, trying to distance herself from the fish. "I've already sent Valerie over with fresh salt, of all things. And the centerpieces today. The one with pink hair says the mixing of stargazers and daisies is aesthetically dull. You know what I say? 'The mixing of pink hair and black eyebrows is aesthetically nauseating,'" he joked and Trina giggled. "She has actually removed all the daisies," Stavros continued, shaking his head. "And now she complains about pollen from the stargazers. And get this: I have to bring fresh linens since now she feels the others are contaminated." Stavros emerged from around the corner, a pile of crisp white linens in his arms. "Let's hope they tip well." "Add an extra twenty percent for a pain-in-the-ass fee." Fonda looked back at Trina, the exasperation showing plainly on his face. "You see? It's a madhouse today." Fonda shook his head, massaging his wrist. "Ok, what do I do?" She steeled herself. There was nothing in the world that Trina could think of that disgusted her more than touching the fish that lay in front of her on the cutting block, staring up at her with it's one lifeless eye. "Reach inside the stomach cavity of the fish, where the cut has been made, and jerk out the insides." "Ewww. Aren't there places that people get their fish cleaned and stuff? You should use one of those." "You mean, like a fish market?" he raised an eyebrow and grinned. Trina blushed, scrunching her face in a slightly embarrassed snicker. "Okay. Ha ha." "All you have to do," Fonda instructed, "is to reach into the stomach cavity, grab on tightly, and tug." "You mean, like, with my hands?" "Would it be easier with your feet?" he teased, then held up a pair of blood-spattered gray gloves.. "I have some gloves." "Uh, no. That's okay. I can do this . . . really." Trina washed her hands at the sink before flexing her fingers and hovered over the fish, taking a deep breath. "Just, like, shove my hand in there and pull out what I can grab?" "Yes, that's right." "Okay." Trina steeled herself, flexing her fingers again. "Okay, here goes. Man, you're lucky I love you," she said, smiling. Trina eased her hand into the gut of the fish, grimacing in disgust as her hand felt around. "Oh . . . oh yuck. This is *so* freakin' gross, babe. . . . Okay, I got the squishy parts -- wait . . . am I supposed to feel something like, really hard?" "Hard?" "Yeah, like, this fish must have . . . oh, gross . . . swallowed something." She yanked her hand from the fish and took two fearful steps back, afraid of what she might find inside the fish. "Swallowed something? That's possible. We keep an old coffee can under the sink full of all the little treasures we come across while cleaning the fish. Once Stavros pulled out a subway token, and a partially digested--" "Whoa! Okay. That's more than enough information," Trina winced. "I'll just yank it out and you take it. I don't even have to look at it, do I?" "I suppose not. But aren't you just a little bit curious as to what a fish that large can swallow? It's amazing sometimes. We added a glass eyeball to our collecti--" "No. Nuh uh. Just . . . shhhh," Trina interjected before Fonda could finish. Her stomach was lurching enough as it was. The last thing Trina needed was for Fonda to be giving her color commentary. Fonda smiled. "Sorry. The fish is dead, babe. You shouldn't feel anything move," Fonda reassured her with a playful smile. "Oh, great. I hadn't thought of moving parts." "Just pull it out and let's see," he said, looking over her shoulder. "This is just too disgusting." Trina forced her hand back into the fish, inching it toward the hard obstruction. Grabbing ahold of it and yanking, she pulled it out from the insides of the large fish. She swallowed again, not wanting to look down at her hand. "Ooooh . . . oooh. Gross, Fonda . . . What is it?" Trina squeaked, her curiosity getting the best of her. Fonda guided her to the sink, running her hand under the water. Trina chanced a look down at her hand and gasped. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" She squealed repeatedly, looking down at her hand, then at Fonda, then back down at her hand. Fonda smiled. Stavros appeared from around the corner, a big grin on his face. "What . . . what's this?" Trina stammered in disbelief, holding a large diamond solitaire in front of her face. Fonda slowly bent down on one knee and Trina's lower lip started quivering . "From the first day I saw you, Cat, I knew I had to get to know you. At first I was attracted to your beauty, but my attraction to you grew as time went on. I fell in love with the inner Trina -- the Trina who could make the dog from Hell warm up; the Trina who blushes when I open a door for her. I fell in love with the Trina who tries to wear such a hard-bitten facade, yet can't help but show her soft side at the most touching moments. "I've never forced anyone to clean fish for an unpaid bill but I couldn't think of any other way to convince you that you should be in my debt -- the fish-cleaning was Stavros' idea, anyway. Now, I'm the one who is indebted to you, forever. I love you, Cat. Will you marry me?" Fonda's face grew serious as he studied Trina's shocked expression. Trina stared down at Fonda, her mouth agape, and thrust herself into his arms. "You . . . and . . . oh, Fonda, I love you so much. Yes, I'll marry you!" EPILOGUE "Five, six, seven, eight --" Trina counted, demonstrating the steps once more. "There ya go, very good. That's it." She watched as the little girl, a tiny mirror image of her father, danced around the studio. Fonda slapped a hand over his face. "Cat, the child should be dancing in pink tu-tus and making like a butterfly. This, this . . . " Fonda sighed, giving up with a smile as his daughter launched herself into his arms. "Daddeeeee . . . tu-tus are like for babies." Fonda chuckled as he hugged their daughter close. "Right. For babies. How silly of me." Fonda smiled at his wife over the top of their five-year-old's head, squeezing once more before she wriggled from his lap. Fonda looked into his wife's eyes as she watched the young dancers go through their movements, supervising the various groups.. "Do you miss it Cat?" "Miss what? The dancing?" He nodded as their daughter ran off with her group. "A little. I had a nice run. I danced with the ballet for 6 years and got to leave on my own terms. I mean, the last two years I was the lead dancer -- a prima ballerina. How many people get to live out their life's dream? And by opening this school, I can share my dancing with kids and do some choreography, myself. I don't have to give it up. I'm having fun with this. Teaching these kids to dance has been more fun then I ever thought it would be." "You never cease to amaze me," Fonda wrapped his arm around Trina's shoulder and kissed the top of her head "But, for now, I have to get back to work. With Stavros on vacation, things are very hectic. I parked the Volvo on 68th street, near 7th avenue, so you'll only have to walk a few blocks when you leave. I'm going to grab a cab downtown." Trina leaned up and kissed her husband of ten years and then called out to her daughter. "Isabella, come give daddy kisses goodbye, he has to go to work." Isabella ran and jumped up into her father's strong arms, and planted a sloppy kiss on his lips. "Bye, daddy. I love you." "Bye, princess. I love you too. You listen to your mother and have a nice class. I'll see you at home later." He placed the child back on the floor and watched his daughter prance away to the group she was in. As Trina watched a group of older dancers, Fonda grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back against his chest. "Oh, what's this?" she asked, snuggling into her husband's broad chest. "A hint of what's to come later tonight," Fonda replied, breathing near his wife's ear. He playfully nipped her earlobe. Trina turned her head and met his open mouth with hers. "Mmmm, I can't wait." Trina kissed Fonda one last time before pulling away with a sigh. As he exited the dance studio, he looked back at his wife and smiled. All through his life he had worked hard, always succeeding at what he did but wondering if he'd ever find the woman of his dreams to share it with -- until Cat walked into his restaurant and his life. He thought about the last ten years and realized that with her, his dreams had come true. END A note to the readers: Well, it's finally over. After twenty-three chapters (plus epilogue) that encompassed almost 50,000 words, Fonda and Cat has finally come to a close. Did you enjoy it? We certainly hope that you did. If you did, do you know what you can do now? You can send us an email about it. Why, you ask, should I do that? Well, for one thing, Virago and I put in about nine months of work on the story. And how much did we charge for that effort? Correct, exactly nothing. ZIP. ZILCH. NADA. It was free. FREE. Do you know what's the only payment we get for all our effort? Emails from readers. That's it. That's our only payment. Is it too much to ask for you to spend 2 or 3 minutes in writing an email to us in payment for something that we spent nine months on? I don't think it is. And it doesn't have to be this huge literary critique, either. Some of the nicest emails I've gotten have been ones that simply read, "Thanks for the story, I loved it." Now that's not to say that we don't enjoy letters that go into detail about what you liked about a story. Those are very enjoyable and rewarding and some have been very influencial and inspirational in my writing. But, that being said, I know how time can be short. Everyone of us is busy and I know how going into something long and thought-out just might not fit into your schedules. That's why a short simple letter would be very appreciated and would show to us that our almost year-long effort was not in vain and was appreciated by you, the readers. Now, I know some of you out there might be afraid of someone finding out that you read sex stories, and that's valid. Before I started writing, I was a reader too and afraid of someone finding out that I read the stories too. But one day I decided to create another mailbox at AOL and send some letters of thanks to writers whose stories I enjoyed. And they responded, which felt kind of good, knowing that my letter made them feel good about their writing. But I do understand the need for anonymity. Hell, I wouldn't write these stories if it wasn't anonymously. But you can get anonymous e-mail boxes from hotmail, or yahoo, or any number of other places. And know that if you send something in, it will be very much appreciated. Now, here's a personal note. I have to say that my work with Virago Blue has been an amazingly rewarding and fun experience. Bouncing ideas and dialogue lines off of each other was more fun than I would have thought, and watching the story progress from its infancy to its conclusion was truly a fantastic collaborative experience. I truly think that the story merged our two styles well and would not have been nearly the story it was if we'd worked on it individually. I must say that it was a pleasure, privelege, and honor to work with someone as talented as Virago. And it was truly enjoyable to have collaborated on such a large a project with someone whom I would describe with a word I do not use lightly: friend. --John A 10/17/00 (tomorrow we'll be reposting all 23 chapters, the complete story will be on our websies, listed below, in a day or two.) ----------------------------------------------- Copyright (C) 2000 John3365A@aol.com (John A) and VBwrites@aol.com (Virago Blue) All rights reserved. --------------- Visit our story sites and with twelve visits get a free hummel figurine* http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/JohnA/www/ http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/ViragoBlue/www/ *while supplies last -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+