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Subject: {ASS} RP: Allison by Lord Malinov
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by Lord Malinov


I spent half my life, waiting for this moment.  Wondering if all my
dreams could come true.  Allison smiled as she sat down across from

I had known this woman well, a dozen years ago, a blossom in the  
springtime of my life. If I think back on those days, my thoughts 
swim around Allison's kind face, her pretty blue eyes, her soft 
golden hair, creamy smooth shoulders, slender, sigh, arms.  And after 
all these years, Allison looked nearly the same; a little harder, 
perhaps, faint wrinkles tickling the corners of her eyes, a little 
less glimmer and bounce in her hair, a few pounds filling out 
her womanly curves.  Lovelier, in a way, than the day we first 

When I first met Allison, I spent almost a year completely obsessed 
by her.  I thought about her constantly.  Just fourteen, I was very 
much a boy and my heart raced pubescently.  I blush to 
recall wandering in shy, slow circles around our neighborhood, 
desperately hoping fate would let me catch a glimpse of this pretty 
girl as she made her way home from school.  There were days when I 
would stake out her path, lying hours in wait, just because I thought 
I might earn a single sweet "Hello."  Even at fourteen, I cut a sorry 

As it does all things, time eventually cured me of my unrequited
infatuation for Allison and I soon aimed my heartache toward 
other girls wandering the streets of our small town. But through them 
all, I always kept a fond eye on Allison.  I don't think she ever 
knew I was watching her.  Allison had a busy life and hardly looked 
my way.

High school swept us along and I never had the chance to forget
Allison.  We both enjoyed a modest talent for singing and so we spent
at least one hour of class together every school day during those
four years.  She was in my Spanish class, too.  Anyway, we always 
sang together, but we really couldn't have been more different.  I 
became a shy bookish baritone and Allison rose to the rank of 
marvelously popular alto.  Teenage politics being what they were, I 
kept a respectful distance, although I did venture to spend a few 
lusty daydreams ogling her during dull moments of our choir's 

Making our way to the state college, where I studied physics but kept
singing for the sheer pleasure, a lucky turn of events made us
friends.  During the first week of the spring semester of our
sophomore year, I grabbed a cup a coffee and somehow found a seat in
the crowded student union cafeteria.  Two minutes later, Allison was
wandering the same dining room, looking for someplace to sit and
eat. Catching sight of a familiar face, she asked if she could join
me.  I almost choked on my coffee, trying to agree.  Allison laughed
and sat down.

Allison's schedule that semester included an hour break between her
music theory classes and our choir's daily rehearsal.  I had no
academic reason to be on campus just then, but sentimental affection
drew me into her path, and led me to grab a table for us before the 
wave of students could steal them all.  Our little conversation soon
turned into a daily ritual.  Before a month went by, I had grown 
overly enchanted by Allison's smile, once again.

The brief hour we shared became the high point of my day.  We took a
break from the rigors of study with laughter and gossip, especially
poking fun at the pompous tenors and gaudy sopranos who raged during 
practice as if nothing else mattered, a pastime frequently shared by 
altos and baritones world round. 

After a few months, Allison seemed to really warm up to me, filling
me in on the juicy details of her social adventures, her complex web
of friends and foes, and eventually let me into her private
thoughts. I soothed her constant worries about her perpetually wayward
brother, and wisely counselled her through struggles with her tightly
laced parents.   I even dared to listen when she complained about
her oafish boyfriends, gnashing my teeth jealously while smiling

Our relationship managed to grow beyond our habitual cup of coffee,
and from time to time I would go shopping with Allison at the mall. 
She said she liked my taste in clothes.  Once, I even loaned her
twenty dollars when a cute blouse went on sale. Allison never paid
me back and I loved her for that.

But through it all, I remained a friend.  Allison had blossomed into a
truly ravishing coed at twenty and dated only strong, handsome,
witless young men who always drove fast, expensive cars and wore 
Italian shoes.  One day, with a little edge on my attitude, I asked 
her what they talked about, she and her fashionable brutes.

"We don't," she confessed.  "That's why I have you."

I gnashed my teeth, jealously, and smiled.  By this time, I loved
Allison dearly and refused to let pride make me relinquish the crumbs
she offered.  I needed my time with her at any price.

Then there was a dance, something truly special, some Kingdom by the
Sea cotillion, and I accompanied Allison to the mall to help her
pick out her gown.  Rod, who drove a Stingray, I think, had asked
her to the ball and Allison nearly swooned every time she said his

I fought waves of nausea, as we walked the aisles of the department 
store looking at the racks of satin and chiffon.  I knew I was being 
asked to wrap my love in finery that some other man would open, 
sacrifice my tender feelings so that she could squander them on a 
brute.  But I was also powerless to deny Allison anything she asked.

She picked up two dresses and tossing them over her shoulder, Allison 
motioned for me to follow.  

"Stay right there," she ordered as she closed the latticed door of a 
small dressing room.  My stomach ached as I listened to the rustle 
of fabric.  "Here," she said, opening the door.  Her blue eyes 
shining, beauty struck me hard.  I wanted to fall to my knees and 
swear my love.  "Zip me," she said smiling, turning around.

I could hardly move a finger.  The breach parted down the full length 
of her back and as I pulled the zipper toward me, I could see the 
swell of her bottom hugged by a pair of cotton yellow panties.  I 
stared at that intimate vision for only a second, but burned it so 
deeply into my mind that I can still recall the soft curve with 
technicolor brilliance.  

"What do you think?" she asked, turning a quick circle.  I tried to 
breathe and swallow.

"Stunning," I said, finally.

"I think so, too," she said with an eye on her image in the trifold 

"Wow," I said, a sincere ejaculation.

"All right," Allison said.  "Let me try on the other one."  

Again she slipped into the dressing room and I stood where I had been 
told to stay, obedient puppy that I was.  The door swung close but 
then drifted slowly open, a few inches at most.  Allison had her back 
to me as she stepped out of the gown.  I felt flush with a lusty 
fever as I drank the illicit vision of her full pantied bottom, the 
supple bend at the small of her back, the long stretch of her legs.  
Allison turned to retrieve the second gown.  She wore no bra and a 
supple breast hung heavy below her outstretched arm, as a faint 
nipple tightened slightly.  Allison stepped into the gown and finally 
looked through the gap between the door and frame.  She blushed and I 
blushed.  Stepping toward me, she turned her back.

"Zip?"  I raised the zipper.  "Well, what do you think?" she asked


The night of the dance, I sat at home in the dark with some angry 
rock roaring from the stereo while I started on a bottle of Scotch I 
had borrowed from home.  I remembered the half-dressed vision of 
Allison I had managed to steal.  I tried to forget.  I remembered the 
long talks we had.  I tried to forget.  I remembered wandering the 
streets of our home town, ready to give up everything, only 
to hear her greet me.  I took a long drink and tried desperately to 

The phone rang.  I didn't want to talk to anyone, but after the third 
ring I picked up the receiver. 

"Steven?"  Allison said.

"Allison?" I replied.  She burst into tears.  I tried to calm her 
down, tried to get some reason out of her, but she cried harder.  I 
listened to her sobs for a long time, patiently, repeatedly saying, 
"It's all right," like a mother rocking a crying baby.  Finally she 
calmed down a little.  

"Can I come over?" Allison asked, sounding more like a little girl 
than the bold confident woman I had come to know.  

"Sure," I said.  She hung up the phone.  Ten minutes later, she
knocked at my door.  Allison was a sight, her make-up smeared by the
damp tissue in her hand, the gown exchanged for a grey sweatshirt and
jeans, her golden mane still floating angelically in a well-arranged

"You all right?" I asked.

"Can I have a hug?" she replied.

I wrapped my long arms around her.  In the six years I had known her, 
I had never seen Allison look so fragile.  She held me tight, resting 
her cheek on my chest.  I patted her back and told her it was all 

The story was old and the details depressing and after I poured her a 
drink, Allison walked me through the whole ordeal - the argument, the 
rude phone call, the gossip, the other woman, the jilt, the wait, the 
final cruel realization that Rod wasn't coming.  Allison spit nails, 
sobbed relentlessly, laughed with a demonic fire in her eyes and 
shrank into fear, pain and loneliness.  By two in the morning we had 
extinguished half the Scotch and she was nestled in my arms.  A 
pregnant pause caught us looking into each other's eyes and the 
magnet's pull of an overdue kiss suddenly drew us together.

I'm not exactly proud of what happened next, for it seems clear in 
retrospect that I took advantage of Allison.  I never planned 
anything, or even considered what I was doing.  I held a beautiful 
woman in my arms, one I had loved for many years.  The scene that 
followed remains one of the best moments of my life, one I have 
treasured for twelve lonely years, poring over each perfectly 
memorized detail with an archeologist's particularity.  Sometimes I 
wondered if she remembered any of it.  At any rate, I did.

We kissed for hours, like adolescents who think they have invented 
the sport, and eventually my hand found the bare flesh of her waist 
under her loose grey sweatshirt.  My fingers curled around the 
warmth as I drew her closer still.  Allison's eyes were closed and 
she exhaled heavily, sad and surrendered as I started to fondle the 
soft swelling of her breast.  She laughed when I tickled her nipple.

Actually, I remember several versions of our motion from the floor of 
my living room into my bed.  Sometimes I think I picked her up and 
carried her.  Other times, I led the way and she followed.  I think my

favorite pseudo-memory is of following her into my room, smiling 
hungrily as she stripped off the sweatshirt and pounced into bed.  
Dawn was just beginning to color my bedroom window.  

"Come here," she said, excited and happy, kneeling on the mattress and

unbuttoning her faded blue jeans.  I crawled onto my bed, grinning 
madly.  Allison fell back and stuck her legs toward me.  I started 
pulling on the frayed cuffs, drawing the denim from her uplifted 
limbs.  Allison laughed as the jeans slid past her feet, twisting 
with the last release to lay down on her stomach, her bare ass 
forming a plump little hill.  I kissed the back of her thighs, 
ascending slowly.  Allison moaned and then rolled again to let me 
kiss the tops of her thighs.  I stole a peek at her soft brown muff.

"You know what I really like?" she asked with a shy giggle.

"No," I said, still kissing, "but I can probably guess."  Allison 
spread her lean legs and I quickly worked my way to the junction, to 
kiss the soft pinkness of her blossoming flower.

Licking Allison's pussy sorely affected me.  A thousand night's 
fantasy suddenly erupted in the unfolding of her pretty sex.   I 
nearly came in my shorts, taking that first long lick between her
swollen lips, drinking the dew that tasted of pure Allison, feeling 
the shudder of excitement as I teased her stiff clitoris, her ass 
cupped in my hands, her laughter and moans mingling in my head.  I 
pushed my tongue deep into Allison's cunt, wild with devotion and 
lust, stroked steadily while a river of her desire, desire Allison 
felt at my touch, poured over my chin to drench my hands, my sheets, 
my soul.

"Oh, God, Steven, Yes," she groaned, pulling my hair to force my lips 
against hers while my tongue tormented her clit.  Allison squealed 
and shook and ground me down hard against her shudders before she 
finally yanked me away to let the orgasm fade.

"Roar," she said, rubbing her spread pussy between aftershocks.  I 
pushed down my shorts and pulled methodically on my throbbing hard 
prick, staring at the naked goddess before me, illuminated by the 
glowing fires of dawn.  Allison moved herself around to kiss the 
crown of my cock.  At the first touch of her lips, I baptized Allison 
with six years of wanting, thick streams pouring over her cheeks, 
over her lips, down her bare breasts, into her hair.

"I'm sorry," I said, horrified.  I still don't know why the sudden 
release mortified me.  Allison laughed hysterically as she wiped her 
face with my t-shirt and nestled herself in my arms.  

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," she sang, resting against my 
chest.  I tried to find the harmony, but grew confused.  I 
quickly drifted into sleep.  When I awoke, Allison had gone.

I called her, but she didn't answer.  I waited at the Union, but she 
never showed.  I saw her at choir practice but she kept away, never 
looking at me, always keeping people between us.  I cornered her once 
and she shook her head, her face flush with shame and dashed away at 
the first opportune moment.  I gave up, knowing what had happened.  A 
moment's ecstasy cost me more than I could bear to pay.

Once the semester ended, I didn't see Allison.  I stopped singing.  I 
focussed on my other studies and graduated at the top of my class.  I 
took a job doing research, published some papers, patented some 
inventions, started a company and in a decade built a small empire.

A late night at the lab left me hungry.  I stopped at an all night 
restaurant and ordered a steak.  Two minutes later, Allison walked 
in.  I recognized her at once.  She sat down across from me.

"How have you been?" I asked.  The touch of sadness in her azure
gaze spoke more than the simple, "All right."

"You?" she asked, the single word touching a forgotten chord in my
heart strings.  

"I've been getting by," I said.

"Did you ever . . . ?" Allison asked, her voice trailing off before
she finished the thought.  I knew what she wanted to know by the coy
smile that followed.

"No," I said.  "I haven't had time.  I haven't let myself get close
enough for that."

"Oh," she said.

"Surely you've been married," I said, noticing her naked ring 

"Twice," she replied.  "Catastrophe's."

"I'm sorry," I said.  She smirked, a rude smile of hers I had almost 

"You haven't changed," she said.  "Well, you look older and smarter."

"Thanks," I said.  "I think."

"So what have you been up to?" she asked.  I traced the long trail I 
had travelled, holding back a few of the details.  I didn't want to 
make Allison feel bad.

"That's great," she said when I reached the end.  "I always knew 
you'd make something of yourself."

"That's funny," I said.  "I never did."

"No, you didn't think much of yourself back when I knew you."

"No, I guess not."

"I always thought you were a genius.  You want to know how I knew 
that?  You intimidated me.  No one else could.  Not a soul,"  Allison 
said, seriously.  I laughed with a snort.

"Me?  I was a buffoon."

"No, don't even say that.  I thought you were incredible."

"But," I started and stopped.  Allison looked at me quizzically.

"What?" she asked.

"But then why did you leave me?" I asked. 

"I'm sorry," she said.  "I couldn't stand . . .  I just had to.  I 
was afraid.  You would have left me."

"Never," I confessed.

"No, you would have.  You had these ideas, that I was some kind of 

"You were."

"No, I wasn't.  Don't you get it?  That wasn't me.  That whole 
thing you had was just you, thinking about me.  You kept looking at 
me, but you never saw me, not for me.  Once we, well, you know, I 
knew you were bright enough to figure out that I was just a pretty 
girl and that you deserved more than I would give you."

"I don't buy it, but maybe," I said, "you could have stuck around 
to find out."

"I know.  Don't you think I know that.  I've thought about that 
night with you for years, regretting the fact that I acted like such 
a stupid bitch.  Everything was just a mess for me that semester.  
Nothing was working out and then this thing with you and I couldn't 
bear to get dumped again."

I paid the check and we left together.  Neither of us said anything 
about it, we just did.  She smiled as I opened the passenger door 
of my car, a fast sports car, just her type.  Now that I think 
about it, my shoes are Italian, too.

I took her back to my place and poured us a drink.  Allison wandered 
through the apartment, ten times the size of the last one we had been 
in together.  She walked back to my bedroom and I followed.  She sat 
on the bed.

"Come here," she said, laughing.  I crawled up beside her and we 
kissed.  Memories competed with passion as I tasted her sweet lips.  
Pausing, Allison pulled my shirt over my head and fiddled the button 
of my trousers.

"I didn't get very far last time," she said, pushing down my briefs.  
"Think you can hold back for ten seconds?"

"I don't know," I said with a smile.  "You still excite me."

"Mmm," said Allison as she slipped my prick into her mouth.  So much 
had happened, so much had been lost and her tongue teased the length 
of my staff while I knelt on my bed and wondered if this would just 
be another night for us both to regret.  I caressed her golden hair 
as she suckled my senses, remembering the pain, thinking about what 
she'd said, that I would have left her, that she was just a pretty 
girl, that I deserved something better.

Allison lifted her skirt and I saw the thin yellow cotton panties 
that covered her firm bottom.  The orgasm welled deep within and I 
said her name over and over as I poured my soul into my Allison.

"How's your brother?" I asked as I laid back to catch my breath.

"He's in jail," she said.  I laughed and then apologized.   Allison 
kissed me gently and laid her cheek to my chest.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," I sang softly.  Allison picked 
up the song, in perfect harmony.  "Daddy's going to buy you a mocking 

by Lord Malinov



Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude

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