Message-ID: <40802asstr$1044857403@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: From: eidelon262@aol.com (Eidelon262) X-Original-Message-ID: <20030209193805.14554.00000514@mb-mw.aol.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: 10 Feb 2003 00:38:05 GMT Subject: {ASSM} Nasrudin! Large And In Charge! Date: Mon, 10 Feb 2003 01:10:03 -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: hecate, gill-bates Nasrudin! And the Naked Canadian Waterskiing Team! by Eidelon262 Nasrudin had eaten his last Dorito. The marathon of Doctor Who episodes with Tom Baker was over. This far away place called Wisconsin broke up like so much smoke in a redneck bar. Now the mystic was being poked in the ribs with a stick by Geshtapah officers in the back of a hay wagon slowly making its way through an interstate overpass. "Prophet!" pressed one. "Tell us your vision!" Groggy, Nasrudin made sense of what he had seen. "Daleks have penises. Last episode. Who knew?" The officer rammed his stick into Nas's ribs hard, so he came up with something better. "Oh! And Canada has a naked waterskiing team!" The officer, satisfied that the title of at least one chapter had been fulfilled, eased up. Nasrudin fell back into an uneasy sleep, punctured by the cart-driver's constant cursing at the Northerners who clogged up the interstates of al Haraqim during tourist season. People that old shouldn't be on camels, he said. They drive too fast and don't know where they're going! he yelled, then added: that motherless son just cut me off! a statement he'd repeated twelve times over the last two hours and twenty miles. Finally he could take no more, and pulled over into a shaded dell. "It is time," the driver proclaimed, "to fuck the prisoner." That statement cut straight through Nasrudin's foggy awareness and wedged itself into some primal part of the brain, the one in charge of puckering up assholes for watertightness. But then he saw the guards slide a crate from under the cart driver's bench. When the opened the top and rolled it over, who fell out but Arikash, daughter of Ishmael the Bartender. She was naked and unconcious, and her face was encrusted with old cum. "Those bastards have been using that poor girl like a fuck rag!" he thought. "I will make them pay for that if it's the last thing I ... oh. I did that. Nevermind." "Damn! That skank looks like hell!" said one of the guards, a cowboy imported from Utah for his genetic defects. "Let's us give this bitch a shower! Weeeee haw!" Cowboy died when the captain of the guard lopped his head off with a scimitar. Billy Bob had done more than give offense to Allah; he had broken the idiom. None the less, the captain and his three henchlings did in fact feel the urge to urinate, and once Arikash was bound naked and kneeling with her back against the trunk of a tree, they were powerfully relieved. Then one after another took turns fucking the young girl's mouth. Arikash gagged repeatedly and felt the scratch of hairy testicles slap against her chin. "This is almost as bad as perch night back at the bar," she thought. They were taking turns, making sure this mouth-fucking lasted as long as possible. Finally she felt the captain ram hot gush into her throat (she could tell it was him by the eppaulets), and the rest of his men followed, feeding her what came to be known lore amongst the elite of the Caliph's guard as ... "The Picnic". It was shorter than "That Time We Shot Our Loads Into The Belly Of That Bar Slut And Nasrudin Got Away." "Hang on!" cried the captain! "Narrator! What did you say?" But the narrator was silent. So was the glade where the ruffians had violated the mouth of Arikash. The only sound was her wrenching vomits of sperm. It ran down her perky tits, her tight stomach, her slightly cottage cheese thighs. But there was no horse sound. At least not where they were. Nasrudin, a fair ways down the road, had his ears full of it. It was an amazing escape. Have to tell you about it sometime. -- 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: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+