Message-ID: <29937asstr$987797404@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: vickietern@aol.com (VickieTern) X-Original-Message-ID: <20010420002618.13820.00000248@ng-cj1.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern 1/9 TG femdom F/m M/M wife Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2001 16:10:04 -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: RuiJorge, gill-bates New TG: Tiny Tim by Vickie Tern, 1/9 femdom, F/m, M/M, wife Much explicit sex here, of kinds some think perverse and others enjoy. Takes all kinds. But please, no readers of a kind too young to read it lawfully, nor any others so impressionable they think any of this is real. Reality is real, and fantasies are fantasies, right? Tiny Tim by VickieTern I shouldn't have trusted them any further than I could've thrown them, Kevin and Marshall, and both of them are way bigger than me and in great shape. I didn't trust them. But that didn't help. It was almost quitting time when they sauntered into my office, and Marshall leaned over my desk and said, "Hey, Tiny, I hear you're taking tomorrow off! Your birthday!" "My name's Tim, Marshall! That's right. So?" I was suspicious of those two, as always. We're all three of us Financial Service Representatives for the same firm. Managing investments for rich clients who don't want to bother. But I work alone, and they're some previous manager's newer idea, a team. That's how the company hired them, and we compete to see which way works better, that's how the company wants it. So from Day One they were out to out-do me, to build their commissions by building their client list any which way, including stealing my clients. "Nothing personal, Tim," once Kevin explained in that reasonable voice he uses on his client prospects. "Just business. We do it better. Or anyhow if we can persuade people we do it better that's good enough." So I'd return the favor and hustle their clients, and after a few years of this push-pull we were just about even. I had to watch them every second -- they were always looking for an edge. Competitive, tricky. They thought all's fair if it's "just business." It was habit for them -- when there was nobody else around they'd trick each other. I'm more a live-and-let-live, who-needs-the-hassle type. Steady and reliable. "Soft" is how they put it. But around them I was always wary. They started calling me "Tiny" maybe two years ago, because I'm short and lightweight I thought, then they kept it up when they saw it got to me. Once during a brief truce they made friendly noises, so we went together for an after-work drink at Charlie's, our local bar, and I asked them how come my nickname "Tiny." "After P. T. Barnum's midget?" I asked. "Or that old comic strip?" Kevin said no, it was after that fat flouncy singer Tiny Tim who used to sing old tunes like "Tiptoe through the tulips" in a high voice. "You got a lot of his mannerisms" he said smugly. "Sort of swishy. Your wife says you'd make her a better girlfriend than a husband." Kevin was as personable and persuasive with women as with clients. Handsome and unmarried, with enormous saleman's charm, and he'd go for anything in skirts, young or old, married or single. He went through the female office staff like a bowling ball and claimed he'd tumbled all of them -- married and single. He'd even bedded down Marshall's wife Ellen, once. Becky, my wife, told me she heard about it while showing a house -- she's in Real Estate -- and she knows Ellen so she asked her flat out and Ellen confirmed it. I could believe it. Ellen was independent, lots of inherited money and not much love for her husband. When she was young Marshall's savoir faire overwhelmed her, but she soon learned that he'd married her for her money and not much else. Like Kevin he still played around, and gradually she'd reconciled herself to it. He managed the family portfolio because she had better things to do, and that was after all his job. Becky told me the word was, Kevin took her on to needle his partner, but Marshall told Kevin he was welcome to her, just keep her busy and off his back. So Kevin dropped her -- if a cuckolded husband doesn't care, what's the point? They were quite a pair. I was offended by their breezy attitudes toward both women and marriage -- I care about my wife and my marriage -- so I usually shut my ears to all of the office gossip. But you can't shut out everything. And now here was Kevin bringing my own wife Becky into our jousting. So I set down my drink and stared at him. "You wanna repeat that?" I asked him. Marshall quickly put on a sincere face, seemingly ready to apologize for his partner. "Hey, Tim, he's just making that up about Tiny Tim," he said. "He doesn't really remember why we call you 'Tiny.' All you've got in common with that pansy pop singer is long hair." Sure it was long. Becky liked it long. I kept glaring at Kevin, who didn't seem to notice, but I picked up my drink again. "The real reason," Marshall said, "is that 'Tiny Tim' is what your wife calls you when she's screwing me or Kevin. She says that if your dick was any smaller she wouldn't even be able to pinch it, just waggle it back and forth with the tip of her finger like a clit till you oozed a little and your voice went into an upper register to tell her 'thank you!' and then you turned over to go to sleep. That's how come she thinks you'd make her a great girlfriend!" Okay, they were guying me. I'm below average size, sure, a lot, but they didn't know that. It bothered me sometimes, but they didn't know that either. In fact, sometimes it bothered me a lot. It was a real problem for me. I worried if Becky felt cheated that now and then I couldn't even penetrate her at all unless she sat on it -- if I was on top of her and I did get in it would flop out of her when we began to move. Especially when she was all wet and passionate, I couldn't fuck her, she had to fuck me. I'd asked her a year or more ago if that was a problem for her. She'd just answered reassuringly, "Maybe for you, honey, not for me." I never asked her again. Now I was really annoyed that they'd mentioned Becky at all. I decided though that the better part of valor was to kid them back, keep it supposedly friendly. "You wanna check it out?" I asked them. "My dick? Either of you wanna grab hold of it with both hands and try to lift it?" "Well, Tiny," Kevin said thoughtfully. "That's my best offer so far today! Do you ask many guys to do that, take hold of it for you? You find it exciting? What do you tell them you'll do in return, suck them off? Or do you just ask your wife to do that for you?" That did it! "Listen," I said, as threateningly as I could. "You leave my wife out of this!" Marshall gave Kevin one of those 'maybe you've gone too far' looks, and Kevin shut up. So I left it at that. If they wanted to be obnoxious, I decided, let them. To avenge myself I called their whole client list the next day and made some deals and got a few to shift over to me. And that ended our brief truce. But now here they were in my office supposedly being friendly again, Marshall leaning over into my face. "Right, 'Tim' it is, your name's 'Tim,'" Marshall said as if feeling apologetic. "We'll just call you plain Tim, not Tiny Tim. Sorry, Tim. Don't mean to give offense. We hear that tomorrow's your big three oh birthday. Is that right?" "That's right!" I was still wary of those two. "Well, look, bygones are bygones, and a birthday's a birthday, right?" "I can't argue with that," I replied. What were they up to? "So?" "So how about after work we stop off at Charlie's and you let us buy you a drink in honor of your birthday?" I just looked at Marshall, still leaning over my desk. Then at Kevin, standing further back with his perpetual wiseass look. Both of them trying to act civil. "Why?" I asked. "Look, Tim," Marshall said. "We been talking it over. All three of us've been wasting a lot of time and energy checking each other out, always suspicious, chasing each other's leads and all. This seems like a good time to quit doing that, bury the hatchet, quit trying to stick it to each other. I mean who needs it? You know. Life's too short. Here you are already thirty!" That sounded reasonable. I began to relent. "My wife expects me home," I said. "She's got something special planned. She wants this to be a birthday I'll never forget, she says. So I better call her." "That's OK, Tim," Kevin piped up. "We already did. Becky says what she's got planned won't really be till maybe the weekend, when you don't have to go to work. She likes the idea, you going out with your work buddies. She thinks it's great we want to make it up to you for all the crap we've caused you. That's what I told her we wanted to do. She says sure, wonderful, make a night of it!" "You sure?" I hesitated. "Call her yourself," Kevin said. "Look, buddy, enough is enough, right? How about it?" "OK," I said. "Five thirty at Charlie's. I've got things to do here yet." They were right. Life would be a lot easier if I could trust them, forget about them, tend to my own affairs. This could be the dawn of a new era. "Great!" they both said together, and left. Marshall turned and gave me a two-fingered wave as he reached the door and went through it. Maybe only one finger? First thing I did was call Becky to tell her I'd be a little late for dinner. And to check up on their story that they'd called her. Because Becky could be incredibly jealous. In our early days she'd act as if any glance I gave a good looking girl in some restaurant was an act of infidelity. The last couple of years it had eased, but still she always wanted to know where I was and when I'd be home, all of my time away from her strictly accountable. I didn't mind, it made me feel wanted. I never asked her where she was. A Real Estate agent's hours and places of business are always irregular. I asked her once why she assumed that girls were throwing themselves on me. "Because you're so sweet," she'd replied. "Any girl can tell at a glance that you're a nice guy, easy, accommodating. Suggestible. Too much so. Maybe available." "Thanks," I replied. I couldn't tell if that was a compliment or a criticism, but I decided to leave it alone. Lots of things Becky said tended to be unanswerable. That was an odd thing about her. She'd make up her mind, and then whether she communicated it or not, that was that. This time there was no problem. I told her about Kevin and Marshall's offer, and she replied, "Sure, honey, take all the time you need with them. That Kevin sounds real nice. Not at all what you've been telling me. Don't you think maybe you've been a little unfair?" I sat silent. Kevin was a terrific salesman, I knew, and obviously he'd done a job on her! This was one of those many questions Becky was always asking I couldn't answer one way or the other. She had a knack for it! "Maybe," I said finally. "Tim, look how often you've come home aggravated about those two, Kevin and Marshall, what they've been doing, poaching on your client list. Unable to eat dinner, sometimes unable to sleep. Sometimes for weeks! They want to try to make it up to you now? You really can't turn down an offer like that!" "No, I guess not," I said. "I won't wait up," she said. "Enjoy yourself." And that's how come I was still leaning over the bar at Charlie's at nine o'clock at night and I was four sheets to the wind, not sure I could even turn my head without falling over, my new buddies Marshall and Kevin on either side of me propping me up. We'd been drinking steadily for nearly four hours. To me! To birthdays! To the number thirty! To women! To all our customers! To the company! The Sox! The Knicks! To getting pie-eyed and shit-faced! Which I surely was! "Time to move on," Marshall said, sort of slurring. Or that's how I heard him. "To what?" I asked, looking straight ahead. "More fun, old buddy. But first, one more for the road." "Kay!" I said. I drank down a glass he handed me. Bitter water this time. "No more booze?" I asked. "What's this?" "To straighten you out!" he said, then paid no further attention. "I'll drive him," he said to Kevin. "I'll get him there. You two follow as soon as you can." "Right," Kevin said. "I called about ten minutes ago. She's ready. She said she'll be there when I come by." Who knew what they were talking about? They helped me stand and get out the door and into Marshall's car. I slumped and almost immediately fell asleep. A while later I woke up and we weren't home yet. We were downtown. A fancy old part of downtown. Renovated residential. Big old houses. Fell asleep again. Woke up, more of same, they were pulling around the back of one. "What's here?" I asked. "A nice bed, Tiny," Marshall said. "You don't want to go home in this condition. We fixed you up. You'll like it. Happy birthday!" Somebody came to help him half-carry me into a house. Big old house. Odd. A huge living room with deep carpets and soft chairs and couches all over and lots of girls walking around nearly naked. Great-shaped bodies exposed to everyone, lacy bras with big ripe breasts bulging out of them, teeny crotch bikinis, long lacy black stockings and garter belts. Some of their bodies with long thighs and plump curves, some of them thin and willowy. Takes all kinds. A few women wore those shiny satin fancy robes that showed the high points of their nipples, or they wore black lace you could see through, peignoirs Becky once told me they were called, she had one. And all of them sitting or standing and chatting with each other, shoulders back and heads held high, all that skin exposed and not one of them ashamed! But the really odd thing was, from the neck up they all looked the same! They were all of them wearing the same doll mask, a face like on one of those life-size blow-up dolls, big wide blue eyes staring straight ahead in all innocence, big, round, red-lipped, cock-sized mouths permanently open and looking surprised. "Oh!" all those faces said, "Oh, let me suck your cock!" And all the women had the same long blonde hair, wigs attached to the masks I guess, wavy hair that fell full around their faces and tumbled down to their shoulders. Creamy white naked skin everywhere! Two of these dollfaces came over and pressed their bodies against mine, soft, warm tits, and one of them said "Just hold me around the waist here, honey, and we'll get you upstairs and into bed." Which I did. I was all the way asleep before my head hit the pillow. When I woke up, I could make out dim early morning light in a big window across the room. I stretched my arms far back for a big yawn, then found I couldn't get them down. I tugged, and realized that they were tied to the bed with something soft way high overhead where I couldn't see. I squirmed and wrestled, then quit for fear the knots around my wrists would get too tight and cut off circulation. I felt my legs tied together too, the same way. Was this some practical joke? A warm yellow light suddenly snapped on, a bedside lamp. There sitting beside me was some woman wearing one of those wide-eyed cocksucker masks. Her long blonde hair fell all over a narrow leather bra that thrust her boobs high up and way out and straight at me! They came toward me until they filled my field of vision as without a word she climbed onto the bed and over me and sat down straddling my crotch! No panties. I could feel her slit naked and damp and hot against the undefended underside of my bare prick. Bare! I'd been stripped as naked as she was! And I felt myself growing hard under all that warm, moist pressure. Her cunt pressed against my flat tool and seemed to wriggle just a little! She leaned forward, and both of those fabulous breasts fell out of her bra into my face, the leather lifting them to my mouth from underneath. She rubbed a nipple against my lips and let out a moan. Oh, God! I opened my mouth and then closed it again on that fat nubbin, then began to suck, suck, pulling the whole engorged peak of that generous breast into my mouth, closing my eyes and pulling it deep inside and licking and tonguing away at it. "That's it, baby," I heard her whisper from behind her mask. "Suck me! Lick me! Make me excited!" I was only half-awake, but as my erection swelled I came more and more aware that her hot wetness was now sliding up and down on my cock, pressing it snug against my belly, making me as moist and slick and yielding and eager as she was! "More! Suck more!" Now her whisper was a low growl. I sucked more! I nursed passionately! A faint flowery perfume arose from her breasts, and I filled my mouth with the exquisite flavor of her skin! And those long, swollen teats filled my heart and soul, and my groin filled with a marvelous craving, a yearning for more, and I pushed my hips up toward her voluptuous open cunt to increase its pressure on my prick. I was now rock hard, painfully swollen! Then, suddenly the pressure ceased. My cock felt nothing. My mouth suddenly was empty. I opened my eyes. There she was, this wide-eyed, blonde princess with the perpetually open round mouth, risen up on her knees, my swollen penis aimed straight toward the middle of that mysterious dark space between her legs. It's helmeted head almost touched her slot and strained to get closer. I saw that her whole pussy area was shaved. The tips of her breasts jutted out, dark nipples and areolas poking at me. I couldn't help myself! I lunged my midriff up as high up as I could to push myself into that sweet spot, to enter her, bury myself in her! She lifted herself just high enough to evade the thrust, and then she traced a long, dark-painted fingernail across my chest. It lightly scratched a nipple, and I cried out an ecstatic "Ohhhhh!" "You wanna fuck me, baby?" Her voice was now hoarse, tense, the whispering gone gutteral. Strained! Lusty! "You wanna put that hard, hot pole into me?" "Yes!" I said. I could see my prick straining toward her, erect beneath her. "Oh yes! Yes! Yes!" "How much? How bad?" "Oh! More than anything!" "Beg!" "Please! Please let me fuck you!" "Please?" I remembered a ritual of childhood. "Pretty please!" "With?" "With sugar and honey!" "Sugar and honey? How sweet! Whose is it?" I didn't understand. "Whose cock is this!" "Mine!" I cried out. "My cock!" "No," she said. "Wrong answer!" I caught on. "Yours!" I said. "It's yours! It's your cock! Take it! Make it all yours! Please!" "All right," she said. "It's mine. It belongs to me now!" And she sat down on it. I slid in and her body surrounded her cock, enveloped it in the sweet wet warmth of her quim. Then when it was fully inside her, all hers, my pelvic bone pushed against hers and she began to writhe on it. Ohhhh, bliss! Bliss! I thrust up and up into her mindlessly, blindly. In a few minutes she was in orgasm, lifting her masked face to the ceiling and crying out a breathy, rhythmic "Ahhhh! Ahhhh! Ahhhh!" to the air over me.. And I did the same thing a few seconds later, lifting my hips into her and holding myself high there, my back arched like a bow. And then I came. Buckets and buckets! And more buckets! Then with our crotches still tightly clamped together, my prick still swollen and impaled inside her as deep as it gets, she slumped over me. I could still smell the perfume on her breasts. I could feel the full weight of those breasts on my chest. Those hands with their long, dark, red-tipped fingers came forward and clutched my head on either side, covering my ears, taking possession of it, and she leaned the forehead of her mask against my face. Becky liked doing that too sometimes when she was coming down from an orgasm, just after we'd just finished making love. Becky. My wife. Making love. My God! OH my GAAAAHD WHAT had I DONE? What had I just done! I'd just fucked another woman! A whore! This was a whorehouse! I'd been inside a whore! I'd cum in her! For the first time since our marriage I'd been unfaithful to Becky! To my sweet, trusting Becky! My jealous, suspicious Becky! My cock immediately shrank and slipped out of this woman. Now it was a worm too small to close off the opening of her cum-filled cunt, which was still clamped tight against my groin. Warm wet fluids begin to trickle out of her onto me. "No!" I cried. "Get off me! I don't want this! Get off me!" She sat there a moment, those wide, blank, blue eyes staring innocently at me. That mouth saying "Oh!" in silence. Then she suddenly whispered, "You didn't want this?" "Please," I said. "Get off me! Untie me!" "You said 'Yes!' You begged for it! You pushed up for it, to put it into me! You gave it to me, your cock! You told me it was mine! You couldn't wait to put it into me!" I lay there, silent. She seemed to be getting increasingly hostile, angry with me for some obscure reason. Her anger building in some crazy, irrational way! And I was still tied up! Now I was afraid of her. With what I had just done, she could destroy my marriage. Just by telling Becky! Oh, God! How could I have been so stupid!" "You said it ...! You ...! You!" she said in that same hoarse whisper, but now incoherent, irate. Furious! Was this woman insane? "Please!" I said helplessly, near despair. In reply she shinnied up my body on her knees, leaving a wet streak of slimy warm cum on my belly and chest and neck, and then she lifted up her pelvis and she sat down on my face. "You want this?" she said. 'Oh, God!' I thought to myself. 'She's going to make me eat her cunt!' Early in our marriage I'd given head to Becky often, enjoyed it enormously, and I'd thought she enjoyed it too. But a couple of years ago she decided it was wrong, perverted. Who knows why? One night when she'd been working late and we'd finally gotten into bed and I made my muffdiving moves as a preliminary to our regular lovemaking, she'd said, "No, Tim, I want the real thing!" Then when I finished giving her the real thing and was surprised to find I still wanted to go down on her, she'd said, "No more! I'm messy, you wouldn't like it!" The same thing the next time. And the time after that. So after a while I'd quit trying. She'd made her choice, and I chose to go along with her. Marriage was compromise. A phase of our lives was over, that was all. But this masked whore gave me no choice at all. Her soaking cunt clamped down tight on my nose and mouth and immediately I couldn't breathe. My eyes peered up at her, past her bare mound, past her belly, past those monumental breasts now hanging pink-tipped high over me, peered up at that implacable, wide-eyed, innocently surprised expression on the mask on her face. And I couldn't breathe! She twisted her snatch down onto my face almost cruelly, smearing my jaw and cheeks with my own cum mixed in with hers! My nose and mouth buried even deeper into her slit. I heard a sucking, sloshing as my head twisted back and forth trying to free up a way to air, but I couldn't find an opening anywhere! I was drowning in cum! Airless, about to die, asphyxiated in a whore's cunt! I looked at her masked face helplessly! For a moment she lurched onto my jaw and my nose was uncovered, and I sniffed in quickly, as deeply as I could, filling my lungs before she slid back and buried my nose again between the lips of her slit. That one gasp didn't last long! My eyes turned pleading! Hers looked down on me unperturbed! "Oh dear!" her mouth still seemed to say. I suddenly realized that she wanted to kill me! To choke me to death! Then she leaned way forward toward the head of the bed, up where my arms were tied, and that lifted her buttocks a little and freed my jaw. I could gape my jaw open! I opened wide and gasped air, sucked it deep into my lungs! Then she rocked back and clamped down again and tensed her belly, and my open mouth filled suddenly with hot, bitter, salty, slick gloop from inside her. What was it? What else could it be? Our mingled cum now squeezed out of her deep cunt into my gaping, gasping mouth. Then she rocked forward again against my nose, which sank even deeper between her fleshy labia, clamped closed. My mouth was free again, but to breathe in through it I had to swallow those phlegmy excretions! I did just that with all my heart, and managed to gasp air once more before she sat back again, and again I felt her muscles tighten as she squeezed more of my sperm and her own fluids out of herself and into my mouth! Then again she rocked forward again! I swallowed again, then gasped air again! It was as if she were spoon-feeding me! I realized that while I was gasping and swallowing, tonguing and gasping, my nose was pleasuring her clit, rubbing it gently through the slick lubrication. Her breathing grew short, and her rocking grew faster, until she began to make those same "Ahhhh!" cries to the ceiling all over again, over and over! Her pussy spasmed, more glops of sticky cum squeezed out of her, and more, and I swallowed them all! And as she permitted me, sucked in air. Then she leaned back once more, at her ease now, and wriggled. Again she buried my nose against her clit. But this time it was as if establishing who was helpless and who was in sole charge of my life. I looked up at her silently, my eyes pleading for mercy! Her wide blue mask eyes with those pursed "Oh" lips stared back down. She said nothing. I whimpered in my throat with the last of my spent air, my lungs now empty, exhausted, and I closed my eyes, prepared to die for my sin, suffocated to death inside a strange woman's cunt. "You bastard!" she suddenly said. No doubting it. She was insane. This was my last moment on earth. "You really don't know who I am, do you?," she said in a hiss. "Do you?" And suddenly she lifted up her whole body and sat her bare bottom down heavily on my chest. My face was free! Despite her thumping weight on my ribs I was able to suck in sweet air, and I gasped and gasped, my chest rising and falling even under the weight of her buttocks, until I could again speak. "Who?" I said. "What?" A terrible premonition now began to grow below my fright, something deeper and more ominous than my recent certainty that I was about to die tied to this bed, my body eventually tossed by the whorehouse caretakers into some dumpster, there to be squeezed and compressed and buried with cast-off garbage peelings and used cardboard cartons. "What?" That hiss was familiar! It was an anger I knew. But now not just angry, but a choking paroxysm. livid fury! Who? Not my secretary, she was never angry, though often stressed out and exasperated. Never angry at me, anyhow. Who? "They didn't tell you, did they? Your friends. Your so-called friends! I was still terrified. "Tell me what?" I gasped. "You went ahead and did it anyhow, didn't you? With a total stranger as far as you were concerned! How could you! How could you!!" A pause. Then with a cold contempt yet heated fury, "How often? How often before this!?" Baffling! What did this woman want? I started to babble excuses at random! "My friends brought me here," I said. "I didn't want to come here!" "But when you were tied up here you were all set, weren't you! You were more than willing! You wanted to fuck me, didn't you?" Then in a calmer, clear voice, "You begged to fuck me, didn't you? You gave me your cock in exchange for me to let you fuck me!" That last sounded horribly familiar when finally spoken in that clear tone of voice. Horribly! I was stunned. It was my wife's voice! "My God! Becky! Becky! Oh, God, Becky! What are you doing here?" end 1/9 VickieTern@AOL.COM -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+