Message-ID: <29016asstr$982905005@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: "Dana Most" X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 22 Feb 2001 13:55:11.0063 (UTC) FILETIME=[129E2670:01C09CD7] Subject: {ASSM} {ASS} THREE IN THE FRONT SEAT {Dana Most} (MFF cons) Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2001 00:10:05 -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: RuiJorge, gill-bates This is the second (new) story I've ever submitted on the web. Hope you like it. _________________________________________________________________ Get your FREE download of MSN Explorer at http://explorer.msn.com <1st attachment, "Three In The Front Seat.txt" begin> THREE IN THE FRONT SEAT Copyright Dana Most 2001 THIS STORY IS PROTECTED UNDER THE LAWS OF COPYRIGHT. ANY REPRODUCTIONS, ALTERATIONS, AND/OR SALES WITHOUT THE WRITTEN PERMISSION OF THE AUTHOR IS STRICTLY PROHIBITED. "May I ask you to do something?" That was the sort of pointless question that always got me going. The only way to proceed was to listen anyway, so why ask? "Okay," I answered, trying to convey my total lack of interest. The desk clerk seemed unaffected by my attitude. He plunged on, "That young lady in the lounge has just been abandoned by the asshole who promised her a ride. If you're heading for the city, perhaps you could help her out? I'd really appreciate it." I looked in the direction his chin had pointed and saw a very healthy looking young woman, someone I would never have hesitated to accommodate--before I got married. "I'll have to see what my wife says, but it's alright with me." I hated to think what my wife would say, it seemed like she always said exactly the opposite of what I wanted to hear. "And your wife . . ?" the clerk continued, once again pushing my annoyance button. "My wife," I answered with no show of annoyance, "is finishing up getting dressed; she'll be down with the room key in however long she's gonna need. "I'll go talk to the young lady and find out what her story is." I got past her name, Christine, and her destination, along our way, when my wife showed up. "Hello Joan," I said, indicating annoyance at the interruption, "the desk clerk said this young woman was stranded and needed a lift." "I gathered that," she answered, reflecting my annoyance, "if she wants to ride with us, she's welcome. "At least I'll have someone to talk to." "Well, thank you, Joan and umm . . Mike, I'll keep my head down and stay out of the line of fire." My wife developed a crooked grin at the possible sexual reference. The young woman was the kind of passenger men would drive out of their way to accommodate. And that was exactly her problem. Christine had sold her car and was without wheels when the school break started. One of the school nerds offered a ride which she accepted without checking references. When they had to overnight at the motel, she assumed she could keep him under control, so they split the cost of a room. Bad assumption. He took a shower first and when she finished hers, there he was on his bed, with all of his erect nakedness on display. "Cover that thing up!" she'd told him, trying to keep it light, but his cock was in control and he informed her she would either come across, or find another ride. His ultimatum failed, as far as he was concerned, and he took off. That was our good fortune. Chris, on close inspection, was more than healthy looking, she was almost beautiful. A nordic type, long blonde hair, slim with long, long legs, tits that were perfect mouthfuls, and a face that made you want to stare at her. All in all, a major stroke of good fortune for us. She's already got my wife and I to agree on something, I would rather talk to Christine than my wife, any day. "I see your fashion sense id the same as ours," I said to her. "You mean my sweats? Yeah. Loose clothing feels a lot more comfortable on long rides; elastic waistbands don't bite into your waist." "Yeah, that's what I mean. That's about the only thing Joan and I agree on." "Mike!" my wife shrieked at me, "You don't need to jump on every opportunity to complain about your marriage. We can settle that between ourselves--and our lawyers--without bothering strangers with it." With that, we moved our luggage to our car, where Christine discovered the back seat was loaded and we'd all have to ride in front. "Why don't you sit in the middle," Joan asked, "that way you'll be more comfortable." "That way we'll all be more comfortable," I agreed. "Alright," Christine agreed, and we all got in the car. Once we were back on the road, Chris spoke again. "Do you two mind if I make a suggestion?" "No. Go ahead," I answered. "Why don't you two talk to me, and I'll translate, so we don't wind up killing each other. "It seems like you're both about to explode. How long have you two been going at it?" The question surprised me, and while I was thinking about the answer, my wife told her. "Almost a year." "Yeah," I confirmed, "That's about right." "Well stop it for awhile. Make believe you're alone in the car with me. How's that?" And that's how we proceeded. We talked for hours, Christine talking to me, and Christine talking to Joan. What was really strange, was I began to like Joan more as she talked about herself; it even seemed she like me a little, from the way she talked about me. Twice, the women offered to take turn driving, but I said I was happy so they let me. Along about the fourth hour since we left the motel, I noticed I had an erection sprouting and I finally figured out the cause. "Joan!" I said in mock shock, " Chris has her hand on my thigh and she's rubbing me up and down." My wife's answer was friendly and amused, it was magic that we'd started talking again. "Do you need to be rescued?" "No. I like it. What should I do?" "Just enjoy yourself. She's doing the same thing to me." And when I glanced over there I could see she was telling the truth. Now her touch became even more familiar as her thumb began rubbing my cock. Poor cock. Pushing up and trying to get out as this temptress kept teasing it back into life. "Dear. My cock is getting too big. What should I do?" When I didn't get an answer, I looked and my wife had a hand in her pants. She was slumping down in her seat and I could hear how loud she was breathing. "The hell with it!" I said, so I let the wheel go so I could pull my pants down to my thighs. Boy! It felt good, letting my engorged cock stretch out. Christine, bless her beautiful heart, was not saying a word. She was doing something with Joan's pussy that had her acting crazy, and she grabbed hold of my cock and began wanking it up and down. Two can play that game. I took my left arm an slid it under Christine's sweatshirt, around her slim body, and gingerly fondled her right breast. Heaven. Such a beautiful woman, and she was letting me. So that's how we proceeded down the road, one of her hands in my wife's crotch, the other one fondling my cock, and me, loving it all, playing with a perfect tit. "Oh. Oh. Oh my god! Here I come. I'm coming, I'm coming, don't stop it." Joan was screaming and panting and clutching my hand through the shirt, as it continued fondling the tit. "Oooooh." And then she was just collapsed in her seat, panting like she'd finished her marathon. A gentle laughter emerged from Christine, the first sounds she'd uttered in miles. "That was fun," she said. "Are you an angel?" I asked. "Do I look like one?" "Yes. Very much." "Well. Maybe I am. But it's news to me too." She was looking at me, her right hand had been retrieved from its mission, and she was looking with amusement at me. Suddenly, she leaned over my lap to become angelic again. First I could feel her breath, then her hair, tickling me. She kissed the tip of my cock with a quick sisterly peck. Then she took my breath away. Her closed lips began pushing down as the tip of her tongue followed. I could feel my cock entering this tight, warm, moist opening. Then deeper, deeper, as her tongue began caressing the underside of my cock. "There's a rest are coming. I'm gonna pull off. Please don't stop what you're doing." She hadn't even finished the instroke and already she'd profoundly affected my breathing. It was a large rest area; we pulled into the most remote parking spot there, and as I turned off the engine and leaned back, Chris reached a hand around to grasp the base of my cock. What a beautiful heaven my body had traveled to. The hand that was on her breast moved down into her pants, it traveled across her buttocks, slid down the valley between the, and tickled her anus before reaching and clutching her pussy. It was so wet, so inviting, so I slipped a finger in. I could feel her sweatpants sliding down her body. Joan was at work. I could feel her head as it moved up between Christine's legs. Down on the floor, Joan was doing a job on Chris, and my hand, in the middle, was sometimes caressing Joan. Now my blowjob was in full swing. Sometimes her hand held me still as her mouth took me in and let me out, sometimes her mouth stopped while her hand jerked up and down. But what started in perfect rhythm became staccato. I could feel tremors in her stomach, hips twisting, moans blowing past my penis. Joan was dividing Christine's attention, between the job at hand and the job being done on her. The suspense was working on me. "Would I come first or would she?" I was jealous of Chris, I wanted to have my orgasm. And almost as if she knew I was worried, the tempo of the jerking increased. The suction and tongue-diddling, the rhythm of her mouth, . . until my cock gushed an instant before she lost it. She stopped. She was gurgling. She was grabbing my wife's head and pulling. My wife must've plunged her tongue in a frantic final effort. "Owww," Chris was shouting, "Oh good. Oh good. Oh Thank you. Thank you." And a huge expiration of breath. Christine and I lay there, spent, as Joan lifted her head with chin dripping. We lay there for what must have been fifteen minutes. "I wanta do some more. Can we?" Joan's question was like a child's. "Me too! Me Too!" Chris echoed. "Now children," I answered, going along with their game, "We will play some more. But first you must tell me how. "Do you want to go to a motel?" "No daddy," Chris answered, "Please can we do it in the car? Please? Please?" "Yes, me too," from Joan. "I wanta do it in the car. Can we? Please sir?" "Alright, children. But how? "Do you have any ideas?" "Well, when your thingie is working again-- Is it working?" Joan was more and more like the woman I married, it was amazing how soon I started loving her. "As much as I wish it was ready, it'll take a while to recover." We sat there a few minutes more, talking about our lives, until Joan interrupted. "Here's what I think. Christine really deserves it because she's been so nice, so . . . I know I can wake your little man up with some cock-sucking, then you fuck her while she eats me out. That's what we'll do!" "Once again," and I hate to be the practical one, "how do we manage all that in the front seat of a car?" "Let me tell him!" Chris chimed in. "First. You sit with your back to the door while your wife stretches out on her stomach to suck you off. Meanwhile I'll lay, stomach down, on top of her and lick her asshole, . . maybe play with her pussy. You can diddle my bottom whenever you want too." She paused to consider the next step. "Then I lie down on my stomach while you fuck me, and Joan sits with her back to the other door while I eat her out." It was a triumph of positioning, so Joan and I applauded. "Thank you, thank you, it was nothing." "Are you ready?" Joan asked. I was, and as I got into position I reflected on how nice it was to have my wife suck my cock. Christine's bottom presented itself, too far out of reach to lick. So with cock in Joan's mouth, Christine's tongue in Joan's anus, and fingers exploring every which way into whatever offered orifices, we proceeded to the next stage. Joan's mouth wasn't as effective as Christine's in getting me off, but she was only after arousal so my cock experienced the benefit. Now, I was ready and we shifted again. My stiff cock slid easily into Christine's wet cunt, while Christine's clever tongue went to work on my wife's eager pussy. The friction was sublime as my cock slid in and out. I could feel the muscles in her vagina milking my engorged penis. I could see Joan's heavy breathing build and build. It took a little longer before I ejaculated, it was a little more painful, but it was an oh so satisfying completion. Chris continued, and Joan climaxed a moment after I did. For the next two or three minutes, three satisfied orgiasts panted heavily in the front seat. No one had enough energy to even utter a "Wow!". Then, in sadness, I observed "I guess it's over now, I couldn't come up with one more seed." Except for heavy breathing, silence followed. But amazingly, Christine wasn't finished. "No! Before we go, I want to watch one more sex act. I want to see you and Joan fuck in plain old missionary position." "How come?" I asked. Then, realizing what I'd said, we all broke up laughing at the double entendre. As the laughter petered out, Christine answered, "How come, indeed, let me count the ways: "One," she said, "You don't have to come, I just want to watch you two loving face to face. "Two. Missionary position . ., as much as it's not great for stroking--which was true, since Joan and I almost never fucked that way--it's the most intimate position for lovemaking." "We don't have to come? How come?" I asked, which provoked another two minutes of laughter. "I mean . . wait a minute, . . I mean why don't we have to come?" "I just want to watch you two making love," Christine answered, "I know your cock is wilted but it would be fun. What about it? I'll make sure you're hard." "Joan?" I asked, showing I was willing. "Okay with me. What do we do?" "You just stretch out on your back and I'll get on top." Somewhere along the way, I couldn't remember when, all of us had got rid of our clothes. "And I'll be on the floor, fondling you two." There wasn't much of a choice for Christine. With us filling the seat, the only place she would fit was the floor, . . even then, she had to lean over us, because . . well, because. So that's how we began, Joan flattened out, and me lying on top, trying to ease my weight by lifting with knees and elbows. My limp dick lay in the crack of Joan's pussy, and I imagined "limp" would describe our experience. Chris leaned in to kiss Joan, and I could tell it was full of passion. Her hands were fondling Joan's breasts, then sliding down to fondle genitalia. She put her hands on my buttocks and poked into my anus; my erection was starting to rise. Then she planted a big, wet kiss on me, fully equipped with tongue. My cock reached out at full attention. This woman sure had a way with her. As Joan and I shifted our bodies, Chris grabbed my cock to guide it into position. Joan, still wet, sighed happily as I slid in and our bellies touched. "Chris is fondling my balls," I told her. "Good! Why don't we tell each other what she's up to. She must have let go by now because she stuck her finger in my ass." I began slow, even strokes, all the way in, pause, then almost all the way out. With the need to ejaculate gone, it was much more enjoyable, and I could play with Joan as we fucked. I rubbed our bellies together, I engaged her in long, tongue searching, kissing, I twitched my cock when it was deep inside her, and cock-diddled her labia majora. It was so much fun, playing with my wife, I wanted to love her forever. And she responded. Theway she looked at me, it was a way of looking I'd missed, and never realised until now. She ran her hands all over me, and pulled my mouth onto hers. I could feel the muscles in her cunt caressing my cock. Feel her cunt squeezing and pulling as my cock laid waiting for her. That was more too. The sensation I got when I would stop and she would take over love-making. Christine was there, hovering over us, guarding and guiding our love- making. She would, once in awhile, engage one or the other in long drawn-out kissing. She caressed my balls, and stuck her hand between us; she'd diddle Joan's clit, she'd run her finger in alongside my cock, and she'd toy with Joan's and my anus. I never thought of an orgy this way. I never imagined it as being about love. Never thought of it as bringing couples together. It was a deeply spiritual experience, for both of us; I could tell by the love in Joan's eyes. And in spite of all this loving, despite looking into eyes and remembering our life together, despite the original idea we were not reaching for orgasm, my cock began to climax and I felt an ejaculation on its way. "Oh my god, I'm going to come," I told them, with gism only seconds away. "Me too!" said Joan in a panting voice, "I'm coming too. Oh my god, I'm coming too." It was the first time in our life. We'd never orgasmed simultaneously. And the fact we'd done it without trying made it all that much more miraculous. As we came I fell down fully on top of Joan, and we kissed and held each other for moments. Then I pulled Chris over and kissed her as tenderly as I was able. Joan did too; she put her hand behind Christine's head and kissed her profoundly and with passion. For the first time in my life, I fully understood "anti-climax." We rode the rest of the way in near silence, this time I sat next to Joan as she drove. When we got to the address Christine gave us, we exchanged numbers and swore we'd all stay in touch. But as much as we tried, we could never find her again. THE END <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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