Message-ID: <47373asstr$1081635002@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Mail-Format-Warning: No previous line for continuation: Wed Aug 14 16:30:23 2002Return-Path: X-Original-To: ckought69@hotmail.com Delivered-To: ckought69@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <20040410155653.15180.qmail@web40405.mail.yahoo.com> From: Planet Dweller X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sat, 10 Apr 2004 08:56:53 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} .17 HMR (MF, varmint hunting, light DS, graphic, menstrual sex) Lines: 322 Date: Sat, 10 Apr 2004 18:10:02 -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, dennyw ===== *** Please visit my completely free online adult erotic story site of my original stories at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www ~~~ Stories about menstrual sex, sex therapy, sex surrogacy, lesbian sex, incest, alien abductions, and more. __________________________________ Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Tax Center - File online by April 15th http://taxes.yahoo.com/filing.html <1st attachment, "Text 17 HMR.txt" begin> .17 HMR By PlanetDweller (MF, varmint hunting with handguns, light DS, graphic, light menstrual sex) "Hey Tweety." "Hey yourself Bigger Guy" giving my bigger-than-most bigger-guy-fiancé' a sweeter- still but hard kiss on the lips as I got out of my old Celica "missed you." "Missed you too" his hands roughly groping me through the heavy duck fabric of my camouflaged coveralls, my hands lightly pushing them away for a moment. "We've got plenty of time for that later, Mr. Horny-Day-Dog, it'll be light soon and we need to go get staked out before the little critters wake up" as I grabbed my Thompson- Center Contender pistol and hunting shoulder-holster rig from the trunk of my trusty old rust bucket, he handing me my new Peterson Custom Armory special barrel in .17 Hornaday Magnum Rimfire / HMR caliber, a twenty grain bullet traveling at a half-mile- per-second velocity (2245 fps) smaller than common .22 rimfire round but speeding faster than any sniper-rifle round I unlocking my old .22-250 barrel from the T-C Contender's single-shot receiver block and locking the new .17 HMR barrel in place, he shoving a couple of small plastic boxes of .17 ammo in my coverall's pockets trying to cop a free feel of my pantied crotch and I letting him before playfully pulling away from him. "Yeah, I know" his smile now a bit of a frown as he put his arm around my waist and we walked down the well-worn path around his old Southern mansion farmhouse to the gate of his fenced-in three nearly four thousand acres of open pasture. "I love you" I kissing him on the cheek as we made our way over the multitude of hills and dales of his family's now only his now that his father now deceased last year his mother gone years before massive old agricultural holding one time one of the largest continuous unbroken stretches of livestock pasture in the state he growing up here just outside of the major metro city of Raleigh and loving it but now not loving metro-area- level taxes even with the so-called farmland property tax break and never loving the hardwork of cattle and horses growing up he now leasing his acreage to neighbors for their cattle to graze on to where he could make enough profit off of it to pay his taxes before in time he would sell out to some developer for yet another family farm lost and another last of landed blueblood gentry millionaires made, hopefully by then we'd be married and I'd be Mrs. Big Guy, actually Mrs. Jonathan Ballaerin-Guerre, thank you. We walked over the ridge of a small hillock and saw three or four of the little buggers we were after scurrying around foraging early in the dewed grass in the easing dawn's light. The main colony of them was another quarter-mile away but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. "Remember, the round is ballistically perfect zero at one hundred yards, drops four-and- a-quarter at one-fifty, twelve and change at two hundred yards out" he prattling on as the whistle-pigs about seventy five yards perked up to notice us for a moment, we freezing in our tracks until they went back to feeding. "It's sweet that you always think of me as a girl" I kidded him back as I opened the factory ammo case up and shook a few rounds loose in my hand, putting one in the barrek and one loose between my fingers and the others back in my pocket. "You are a girl, dear, thankfully, or I'd be gay as a motherfucker" he easing a kiss on my lips and a hand forced its way over the crotch of my heavy cammo coveralls, the thick fabric comfortable in the damp morning chill. "Not now, honey, later, after we've wasted some greasy groundhog ass." "On three as usual?" "Sure." Slowly we kneeled down, sitting on the ground with our knees in front, using them as a base to steady our heavy T-C target pistols, him picking out the fat buck in the middle of the grazing small herd, me picking out a smaller juvenile closer to me out on the edge. "Three, two, one!" he whispered as both our pistols retorted virtually simultaneously and two varmints dropped like they had been hit by lightning where they stood, two perfect single shot kills, my heart rate accelerating, my breathing increasing, my excitement increasing, God, I do love hunting so much. My guy got hit midships in his belly area but surprisingly there wasn't an exit wound, surprisingly because this new caliber of bullet was supposed to be the hottest thing for killing small helpless defenseless critters since the .454 Casull wildcat round was created. Strange. I flicked my folding Buck knife open and sliced his belly open and then saw why Deary and so many others have been raving about this round; his insides weren't there when I sliced him open; well, there were there but were unrecognizable, were an absolute mass of goo, the tremendous amount of energy of the round expended inside his body cavity just turning his stomach and lungs and intestines into absolute groundhog-jello. Cool! Sweetie's single-shot-kill round had passed completely through his guy, leaving a pencil-lead-sized exit wound and having an almost imperceptible entry point in the fur, but the results on his whistlepig was pretty much the same, his insides compressed and relaxed and then Cuisinarted into an unrecognizable mass of raw groundhog-guts tartar stew inside. Cooler! Poor little guy of Sweetie's, he was still breathing a little, still alive somehow, so I put another round between his eyes so he wouldn't suffer, and much to my surprise got some brain-splatter back as his skull exploded at my feet, evidently his skull creating enough resistance to where the bullet prematurely exploded and mushroomed before penetrating through. Oh, well. Don't get me wrong. I do enjoy hunting, enjoy the skill required for long-range kills, but this was a matter of necessity. Groundhogs create burrows all over the place, all over Sweety's pastures, and the cattle then step in the gopher holes and break legs and such and have to be put to sleep, creating real economic hardships for the folks that lease his land. Our having some fun by long-range target shooting them helps keep their population in check and helps prevent livestock injuries and deaths too, so it's a win-win. Yeah, I love varmint hunting, love working on engines and yeah can change my own friggin' oil thank you and do my own tune-ups too, love Carolina Packers football and actually know what illegal contact within five yards is, can drink beer with the best of them including Dear but seldom do, can clean my own fish when we go trout fishing up in the mountains and happen to actually accidentally catch a couple of them. As my love says, I am the perfect man's woman, whatever he means by that. "It's almost light, we need to get a move on" he urged as we re-holstered our pistols. At the main groundhog colony near the big pond where all the cattle came to drink and sometimes bathe there weren't any little heads popping up or furry little bodies scurrying around as we took our positions inside our small blind made from cammo netting and natural materials up just below the main ridgeline overlooking the kay-zee. "Damn, those loud reports must have scarred them off." "They weren't much louder than the old .22-250's we used to use, let's just bide our time, they'll come out." "Wanna give me a blow job while we wait?" "Maybe, as long as you'll pay attention and let me know when they start popping up." His cock tasted of piss, again. Guy or no guy, he could have at least taken a shower last night like I always seemingly fuss at him about doing. I'll do anything for him, but he could at least give me the respect of washing his nasty dick off before asking me to suck it. I shrugged and sucked away anyway. "Uhhmmmm, baby, baby, baby." "Pay fucking attention Daniel Boone Junior and let me know when they start coming out." "God baby, you're so good, suck it, suck it!" his hand groping my tits as I think he continued to scan the beautiful vale below us for signs of live furry targets. "Anything yet?" "God, Jeannie, I've got to have you, now, fuck the hogs" he pulling me up to his face and kissing me deeply, my hands now over him his over me, zippers zipping zipping down. "I'm on my period." "Yeah, I know, so?" "So, I'm real heavy this month." "So? We're both used to blood. Out of that coverall now, bitch!" God, I do love it when he takes control like that even though I'd never tell him so. His hand began rubbing padded panties hard, rubbing and rubbing the crotch fabric with my Always Maxi underneath it, inside of it, as he sucked on my nipples and rubbed my maxied panties even more furiously. "My pad's having a lovely time, it thanks you for getting it off, it had a nice orgasm, but now can I have some of that attention too?" his face puzzled for a moment before getting the joke and grinning as a whole bunch of little curious heads popped up from various burrow entrances about one-twenty yards down the slope in front of us as we garnered an audience to watch us, ten then twelve then almost twenty live targets just watching us a little before their appointments to be wasted. Neither of said a word as half-naked to-naked we grabbed our pistols, rolled off each other and quickly took shots at the first hog that came into our sights, me blowing my critter away but Sweety missing his as some scattered and some dove back into the burrow and some just stood there frozen volunteering to be firing squaded. You'd have thought after being hunting almost weekly they would have learned but there was always seemingly a few stupid ones left for next week that needed to be culled out of the evolutionary tree. We reloaded and shot at will for a full five minutes, me naked except for bra and panties in the warming morning chill inside our blind, my flow seemingly gopping heavier in my panties the more excited I got the more I shot and hit three then four then eight then nine groundhogs, a new single morning kill record for me, all but one being single-shot drops over a hundred yards downrange and a couple over two hundred yards and this with a handgun mind you if it was T-C Contender with a ten-inch barrel, all the while slightly freezing in my underwear only and with my period in full flow. Shoot, if I could snag ten kills on a single Saturday morning with this new .17 HMR caliber round while naked and on my period, then, well, let's say the assholes on I-40 going into Research Triangle Park in Monday morning commuting traffic had better watch out! "Damn good shooting, Dear, I've never seen you shoot that good before" he relaxing back in the blind as the last of the non-stupid groundhogs finished going back into their massive burrow complex, pouring me a cup of coffee from the stainless Thermos he always considerately brings along with sandwiches and snacks too. "Yeah, ten kills, nine one shot ones, the best I've ever done, I just love this new round" my uterus cramping a tad from all my excitement of the moment of having sent a couple of furry families to groundhog heaven. I fished a new pad from my gear bag as I made a show of changing it front of him, dropping my drawers to my knees and peeling and rolling up the old one tossing it back in my Cabelo's hunting gear bag and pressing the new one on inside my slightly stained underwear, his eyes big and his mouth almost drooling with anticipation. 'Damn, Dear, you know how much I love you?" he grabbing me and pulling me to his lap, his hand forced past my panties and pad and into my bleeding slit. "You just wanna get laid, Mister, is all" I teased back. "Yeah, and what if I do?" "Then I think Dan'll Jr.'ll get laid if he wants to fuck through some of my hot-blood." "Like a master hunter minds a little blood" he no longer kissing me but forcing me to all fours before him. "Or a missus master hunter minds being fucked through her sacrifice" his cock hard being rammed as hard inside me perfectly with all the velocity of our new point seventeen caliber Hornaday horny round, driving his bullet-cock home to my insides, liquefying my uterus and guts into a dripping goo, my love for him the red of my love- blood and the clear of my G-spot mixing and dripping and flooding all over him and his cock, the hunter now the hunted, the hunted now caught, willingly, hopefully, forever. Email me at: planet_dweller AT yahoo DOT com ~~~ To visit my homepage where you'll find more interesting stories like the one above, please click on: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www And Thanks!, Yours, PlanetDweller ~~~ <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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