Message-ID: <30029asstr$988308604@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <200104261333.GAA30434@mail21.bigmailbox.com> From: "Deja User" Subject: {ASSM} "Alphabet Game: Impede"{Dancer}(MF cons) Date: Thu, 26 Apr 2001 14:10:04 -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: t4425, kelly ------------------------------------------------------------ <1st attachment, "Impede.txt" begin> SUBJECT LINE: {ASSM}"Alphabet Game: Impede"{Dancer}(MF cons) ------- Admonition: This story contains explicit descriptions of people engaging in careless and unprotected sexual activity. PLEASE do not emulate these people since they are fictional characters existing in a fantasy world where sexually transmitted disease and unwanted pregnancy don't happen. You don't live in such a world, so "let's be careful out there." Oh, and minors shouldn't be reading this stuff - if you can't place the quote I just made in the last paragraph, you probably aren't old enough to be flipping through ASS*. Bugger off and watch 'TV Land' instead, so you can bone up for little age-testing quizzes like this! :) Copyright notice: Dancer, the author of this smutty little opus, holds all rights of reproduction. Private copies for personal perusal and archives for NON-commercial distribution are permitted by her. Plea for attention: The only reward ASS* authors can expect is the joy of sharing their creation with the rest of humanity. But wait - how does that author KNOW if people are reading and enjoying his story? Yep; if you like a story posted to alt.sex.stories.*, the fair thing to do is email the author and tell them so. I promise that it'll make YOU feel good to send them kudos, after all, Mark Twain said, "The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer someone else up." As always you may contact me (and my wife Dancer) through my 'legacy' Deja News email account: (Wow, I'm not just an author, now I'm an AGENT, too! ;) Editor's Note: Here it is - part nine of Dancer's 'Alphabet Game'; twenty-six hot, little vignettes she whipped out in something like a week or two - Lord Malinov eat your heart out with that semi-annual 'story-a-day' run I remember *way* back in the 20th century! ;) (Is he still around?) And relax - these stories are all self-contained - you don't HAVE to read them in order, or read any of the ones that might squick you... ============= The Alphabet Game (9/26) Impede Copyright Dancer 2001 The door slammed closed behind him. "There. Now neither one of us can walk away this time. Tell me what the hell you're doing here." "To have an affair, why else?" his wife shot back. "With who?" "None of your goddamned business." He jerked her to face him. "The fuck it ain't! You're my wife, for Christ's sake!" He shook her hard. "Tell me the asshole's name, Patty, tell me." "Evan." "Yes?" "Evan." "What?" he demanded. "Stop dicking around and give me the name." "You don't understand," Patty cried. "Understand what?" "The asshole is you. I made the anonymous call about me being here. I knew you'd come. You can't stand publicity, can you, Evan?" She swiped at the tears trailing down her cheeks. "I planned on seducing you, showing you with my body that losing the baby wasn't your fault." She curled into his arms and stroked her husband's face tenderly. "The miscarriage was tough enough. I couldn't lose you, too." Evan moved his jaw against her palm, his heart near bursting with love for his wife. Patty's hushed voice cascaded over him. "Give me another baby, Evan, please." "Here?" "Now." Patty ripped his button-down shirt apart and tangled her fingers in the mat of salt-and-pepper hair dusting his pectorals. Her mouth found one flat nipple, suckling the tiny nubbin erect. He fumbled with his gun belt, zipper and jockeys until his penis was liberated to her touch. Evan rested Patty on the upholstered seat and stripped her naked from the waist down. She spread her thighs and welcomed him into the cradle of her moist womanhood. The coupling was short and deliberate, each taking satisfaction where they could. Patty rained kisses over Evan's crown while he laved and kneaded her breasts and nipples. He thrust deep against her womb with every stroke and she bucked her hips in contradiction to him. She shuddered beneath him as he pumped his seed, quickening her with a second child. When the husband and wife finished climaxing, they embraced each other and the forgiveness offered. Patty found her voice and whispered in Evan's ear, "Okay, smart guy. How are we going to get out of the back seat of your squad car?" End part 9 ============= Editor's Postscript: Ah, classic 'Dancer style' - sucks you right in at the start with "What's going on?" on your lips, and by the end you're thinking "AH! That's why..." - obviously my wife paid attention to the talk about foreshadowing in school. Would that *I* was this good. :) And I AM getting more terse in my coding - I left out 'preg' and 'rom' - the former might have scared off some people, and the latter (though romance is integral to the plot) would have spoiled the surprise.:) <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+