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Subject: {ASSM} This is Not a Story About Andrew <*> {Vinnie Tesla} (MF anal oral spank) 
Date: Mon, 26 Nov 2001 14:10:05 -0500
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<1st attachment, "not2.txt" begin>

This is Not a Story About Andrew
by Vinnie Tesla

We were having a party for...hell, I forget who or what. It was a
chance for our little crowd to dance a little, drink a little, talk a
lot. A chance to drive back the encroaching solstice with noise &
human warmth.

As usual, Andrew arrived late, this time with a girl I didn't
know. After they'd deposited their coats on the front porch, he led
her over to me. "Molly, this is Vinnie, the host organism." Molly
briefly squeezed my hand with her cold fingers, and her eyes lit up as
she grinned infectiously, "You're Vinnie Tesla!" she exclaimed.

"You're Snufkin, from the mailing list," I guessed. She nodded. A new
user on the e-mail list for our crowd had appeared a couple weeks
ago. She (or he, as I'd assumed, embarrassingly, at the time) had
waded merrily into our usual political battles, displaying an
impressive nose for bullshit (including some of my own), and staking
out surprising and unpredictable positions that had alternately vexed
and charmed me.

Snufkin in the flesh was a short woman, with ash-blond hair cut very
short. Her cheeks were freckled, and still rosy from the chilly air
outside. A tiny jewel sparkled on one nostril. As she pulled off her
heavy rag sweater, she revealed faded bib overalls over a bright red
tee-shirt. "I was gonna say to your last post--" I began.

She shushed me, with a mock-stern look. "No politics--I'm here to
dance. You wanna dance?" 

No. I'm not really a dancer. And I've got to run around and do hosty
things. "Sure!"

We squeezed through the crowded hallway into the rather less crowded
darkened front living room, where about equal numbers of people were
dancing and arguing about what to add to the Winamp playlist next.

I wouldn't presume to say whether she was a good dancer, but I
certainly enjoyed watching her when I wasn't too preoccupied with
shaking my own booty in a remotely plausible and non-destructive
fashion. She was obviously having great fun, and her motions betrayed
evidence of a sensual and limber body beneath her baggy and
androgynous clothes

Near the end of the song, I noticed Andrew standing in the doorway,
sipping a beer and watching us with a small smile. When the song
ended, Molly hugged me tightly for an instant. "Thanks," we both said
at once. I made my excuses and started to leave the dancefloor. "I'll
talk to you soon," she said, and turned her attention to separating
Andrew from his beer so he could dance. This soon degenerated into a
tickle fight, as her jabbing fingers forced him to lose his habitual
cool reserve.

I watched the tussle for a few seconds, and then moved into the
kitchen, where one of my roommates recruited me to help him set up a
batch of margaritas. The party proceeded as parties do. I floated
around, dipping into conversations, nudging smokers out onto the
porch, picking up empty glasses from the floor, disposing of a couple
margaritas myself. Around 1, I was doing some dishes in the kitchen
(go figure--I *hate* doing dishes sober), when I felt a hand on my
waist. It was Molly, close enough at my side that she would have been
invading my personal space if she weren't so damn cute.

"Hey Vincent," she said, with a direct gaze, "It's good to finally
meet you."

I was about to correct her--people always call me Vinnie; but I
discovered I liked the way she said Vincent. Instead, I said, "How did
you--" no, that's no good either. I knew how she got on the
list--through Andrew, and for some reason I didn't want to hear her
say it. "Can I get you--" shit, she's holding a Cider Jack already. I
grinned idiotically. "It's good to meet *you*."

For a moment, we listened to the cacophony in the next room of a dozen
simultaneous conversations. Her hand dropped from (Oh my god! the whole
time it was at) my waist, and dangled. "It's really nice to be meeting some
people around here." 

That's good. I can work with that. "So you moved here recently." This
close, I can smell her sweat from all her dancing faint and sharp over
the smell of the soap in the sink. And, aw shit, I'm getting
hard. Guess I'll be standing at the sink for a couple more
minutes. And as soon as I notice, she's moving away to lean against
the counter across from me.

"Yeah," she says, "I moved up two months ago from Virginia." And we're
off. We have achieved conversation. We go through fifteen or twenty
minutes of biography--hers is a confusing mix of dot-coms, organic
farms, and four (or was it five?) little liberal arts colleges. From
there we verge into books and comics, and soon we're in a genial
argument about which Hernandez brother. I'm a Jaime man, where she's
a Beto partisan. In the harsh light of the kitchen fluorescent, I feel
strange and isolated, the next room miles away. I'm at the phase of
tipsiness where I feel like the world's greatest wit. Molly laughs
merrily at my jokes, throwing her head back, exposing the pale skin of
her slender neck. At some point we moved to the kitchen table and sat
down. Now she's demanding that I produce my copy of Poison River, so
she can demonstrate a point.

"C'mon, let's see it," she's shouting, "you'll eat your words, Tesla!
You'll rue the day you questioned *my* judgement!" Laughing, I rise, a
little unsteadily, to find the book. Laughing, she follows suit. She
tries to balance herself by gripping my shoulders. I'm not quite steady
myself yet, and we're suddenly very close. Our eyes are darting over
each other's faces, searching for the source of the sensation washing
over us.

Without my volition, my hand comes up and touches her cheek. Her eyes
flutter as she presses her face into my palm. Then they open again,
and our gazes meet.

"Uh-oh," Molly says, very quietly. 

"Yeah," I answer.

"Where are we gonna go?"

Good question! The kitchen isn't a secure site for what we suddenly
have very much in mind. My room is a bad idea--it opens on the living
rooms, where the others are talking. My roommates' rooms are far
worse. I bark out loud with laughter as I try to imagine using one
of the closets, jammed as they are with sweaters, croquet sets,
pornographic videotapes, and dead computer equipment. Then an idea
strikes. "The basement!" I say excitedly.

She narrows her eyes in mock suspicion (and god is it cute!). "Cold,
damp, cardboard boxes of old textbooks, all hard surfaces?

"Cold, damp, cardboard boxes, old mattresses," I answered.

"Giant rats?

"Those were the hors d'oeuvres. You missed them by about half an hour."

She glares and jabs me in the ribs with her fingertips. "I'll go pee
first."

I dash for my room to collect a few items. Condoms: check. Lube:
check. A couple antibacterial handiwipes from my last airline
flight. Handcuffs? excessive. Pillow? Too obvious. Guess I'm ready.

I would have preferred to slip back into the kitchen unnoticed, out of
sight and out of mind, but someone in a pile of people on one of the
couches calls me over. A guy from my gaming group wants to do some
politicking for our current campaign. I fend him off and dash back
into the kitchen in what I hope looks like a random saunter.

Molly's sitting cross-legged on a kitchen chair when I come
in. "Ready?" she asks.

"Very, very, very," I say slowly. She grins at the compliment as I
unlock the basement door. 

*-----------------------------------------------------*

The basement is cold and damp, and littered with cardboard boxes. Two
bare bulbs provide dim illumination. I come up behind Molly, and she
starts to turn to face me. Instead, I take hold of her hips, and she
purrs and presses back against me. I bend down (quite a ways!) and
press my lips against her neck, just below the jawline. I can feel her
shudder at the skin-on-skin contact. I can feel the rapid pulse in her
veins. Her little cold hands come up, back, stroke and tug at my head,
working my lips along the line of her neck. I venture a bite, and she
gasps and pulls harder. 

At this point my pants have become very uncomfortable.  Somewhat
sheepishly, I draw back, and reach a hand inside my jeans to resolve
the problem. She presses back against me again, and grinds her ass
against my erection. I squeeze her hips hard, and return the pressure. Her
head comes back, leaning against my collarbone, and our lips meet, not
in a tentative first kiss,  but a hungry, hard searching one.

We draw back to catch our breaths, and she breaks free and whirls
around. With an evil grin, she grabs the back of my neck with one
hand, wraps her other arm around my waist, and shoves her tongue into
my mouth. Her breath is hot and sweet, her arms unexpectedly strong as
she squeezes me. Our mouths still pressed together, she reaches down
and untucks my shirt, runs her hands over my torso. 

Our lips separate, I reach up to her overall straps and undo the
fasteners. The bib falls down in front and the straps drop behind
her. Though she's no more exposed than before, my heart is hammering
in my chest. I grab the hem of her tee-shirt, and she raises her arms,
her eyes fixed on my face. The hem comes up over her head, so that her
arms and head are momentarily caught inside. Playfully, I pull the
fabric taut, so that she's caught inside. As she laughs and struggles,
I drink in the sight of her little breasts, pale and freckled in her
navy blue bra,  the delicate musculature of her lightly-tanned
shoulders, and, ah! the exposed nooks of her underarms, fringed with
pale reddish hair. 

Impulsively, I bury my face in an armpit, and drink in her sharp
animal smell. She's moaning and laughing at once as my beard tickles
her delicate skin. I lick along the line of her shoulderblade,
the muscles there flexing as she struggles playfully. I throw her
tee-shirt to the ground, and push her against one of the basement's
grimy cinderblock walls. I pin her arms above her head, and give the
other armpit a more thorough treatment.

She starts out laughing and twitching, but this gives way to quiet
moans, that get louder when I bite. I release her arms and run my lips
over the pale, freckled flesh above her bra. Impatiently I pull the
bra up over her tits, and fix my mouth over one of her nipples,
crinkled tight in the basement's chill air. My hands find the catch of
her bra, and it joins her tee shirt on the floor. Once again she grabs
my head and holds it tightly as I worry and suck at her fat little
bud. I hold her other breast in my hand. The flesh is breathtakingly
soft, and fever-hot. I pull the nipple roughly, stretching the
crinkles smooth. "Yeah," she whispers in my ear, her hot breath
sending shivers down my spine, "yeah."

Still cradling my head with one hand, her other strokes the front of
my jeans, and cups my cock with her open palm. "Mmm, nice," she
purrs.

"You like it?" I ask, my hands kneading her breasts, "soon it's going
to be buried in your cunt."

She looks me in the eye teasingly. "Just my cunt?"

I open and close my mouth several times like a goldfish. So much for
my attempt at the suave dirty-talker. Molly laughs at my
expression and begins struggling to get the legs of her overalls over
her boots. I should offer to help, but watching her breasts sway as
she works bent over is irresistible for the moment. She tugs the
overalls down her thighs (more navy underwear is revealed), and
sits on the floor. Then, with a yelp, she's off the cold, damp concrete
again, rubbing her chilled ass.

"Here, let me help with that," I volunteer, and squat behind her. "Oh
my god."

"What?"

"Molly, you have got an amazing ass." Broader than I expected,
exquisitely round and smooth. Dusted with pale freckles. Flawless, so
far as I can see. Groaning, I grab her hips and bury my face in that
exquisite butt, licking and biting at the smooth, taut flesh. She
presses back against me, and wiggles her hips slowly and sexily,
enjoying the attention. Eventually, though: "Weren't you gonna help me
get my clothes off?"

"I got sidetracked," I admit, and jerk her panties down to her knees
before resuming my feast.

She begins skeptically, "That's not a whole lot of-- oooh, that feels
good." I'm kneading her cheeks hard with my hands now, while licking
teasingly around the top of her crack.

"Bend over," I tell her.

"Yes, sir!" she says sarcastically, but does so, resting her hands
against the wall, and spreading her legs as much as her bunched
clothes will allow. I stroke her ass lightly

"You want me to?"

"Yeah," she whispers, almost inaudibly.

I pull at one of her cheeks, exposing her hidden parts. The skin of
her anus is surprisingly dark, and fringed with wispy reddish
hair. Below, the lips of her cunt are fat and swollen. She flinches a
little when the wet handiwipe from my pocket touches the sensitive
flesh of her asshole. I run it over the surface a few times, and then
drop it onto the floor. My hands spread her cheeks, and I begin
running my tongue along the skin just above her anus. Then I move
down, and lick at her perineum, drawing a gasp from Molly. Finally I
bring my tongue to her clenched little orifice, and rub against it
with gentle pressure.

She lets a little shriek escape, followed by a low moan. I feel
goosepimples rise on her muscular thighs, as she reaches down and cups
her cunt in one hand. I'm alternating broad, spiraling licks with
tighter, more aggressive ones, loving the feel of her soft flesh
against my face. She's slowly undulating her hips; each breath out is
a long quiet moan.

The rocking of her hips accelerates; her voice rises in pitch. I
(teasing bastard) rise to my feet and draw her up too. It takes a
moment for her eyes to focus again, and then I'm seized in a bruising
hug. "Oh, wow," she says dreamily, "Oh, that was really nice. I
haven't done that before."

"My *pleasure*," I say emphatically. "But I'm a little confused. You
said you wanted me to rim you, right?"

She grins. "I wanted you to *spank* me, you twit." Before the blood
can stop roaring in my ears, she continues: "Now help me get these
off!"

I leap to the corner where an stained and elderly twin mattress is
leaned up against the wall, and haul it over to her. She looks at it
doubtfully. There's something strangely delightful about a skeptical
woman with her clothes around her ankles.... I dash over to one of the
cardboard boxes. It's filled with old textbooks. The next one has wool
sweaters. The third has my quarry--a clean, unused comforter.

I throw it over the mattress, and throw her down, face-up, on top of
it. She brings her knees up, and we start to work on getting the
overalls off her, but the roseate shine from her cunt draws me like a
fishingline, and my face is soon buried between her thighs, with her
trapped ankles above my head.

She's slippery wet, and searingly hot. Her hands grip my hair, and pull
me against her, for a moment. "Oh god... No. *First* get my pants off,
*then* we... oh god..." then she's pulling painfully at my hair, and I
emerge, grinning, my beard glistening. Finally, I help her work the
overalls off, so that all she's wearing is her boots. I draw back to
take a long look at her, but she's having none of it. 

There's a whirl of motion, and I'm on my back, with Molly's bare legs
straddling me. "You--" and my shirt is bunched under my armpits, while
she tugs my hands off her waist and over my head, "--are wearing too
many--" now my shirt is around my head, blocking my view, "--clothes,
Vincent!" She tweaks my nipples painfully with her fingertips, and
dives down to go to work on my fly, leaving me to struggle out of my
shirt unassisted. 

By the time I can see again, she's jerking my pants and boxers down at
once. She takes my erection, already damp at the tip, in her cool hand,
and grins up at me. I push myself up on my elbows so I can see better
as she dips her tongue into my navel while slowly tugging at my
cock. She kisses her way down my stomach, and then licks the bead of
precome off the swollen purple tip. She takes the head of my prick
into her mouth and purrs, which feels very, very nice. One of her
hands is buried between her legs. As my hips start to bob, she pops
her head up, and sits up cheerfully. "I forgot-- I interrupted you,
didn't I?"

She scrambles up the mattress, and straddles my head, suspending her
groin a couple inches above my face. Splaying her labia open with two
fingers, she asks, "You like my cunt?"

"I dunno," I teased, "Let me try it and smmmf. Ummfamnnmfa uffmma
mumfa mmf." As her hands mashed my face into her cunt, virtually my
entire sensorium was suddenly and deliciously enclosed in Molly. I
had, almost literally, returned to the womb. My mouth was filled with
her slippery taste, my nose with her animal smell, my ears encased in
her soft thighs. Breathing was difficult, but not impossible if I
timed it right.

After a couple minutes in this prenatal paradise, she lifted up off me
again, and, with a surprising edge of shyness in her voice, asked
"Will you do...what you did before?"

"You want me to lick your ass again."

"Yeah."

"You gotta ask the right way."

She considered this for a moment, and, in a slightly girlish tone
said, "Vincent, will you rim my little asshole with your tongue?
Please?"

Unable to maintain my cool act in the face of this, I answered a beg
with a beg: "Please may I?"

Molly scooted a couple inches forward and leaned back across my
body. After a bit of shuffling around, we found an arrangement where
my tongue could reach her crinkled little portal. After a moment, she
brought one hand around to rub her cunt as I licked. When my neck got
stiff, I let my head fall back, and started to massage her anus and
perineum with one hand while I slowly rubbed my cock with the
other. As I eased my index finger past her sphincter and up inside
her, her rocking accelerated, and her leg muscles tensed, the worn
leather of her boots pressing against my ribcage. Another few seconds
and she was crying out softly as her ass pulsed around my
finger.

A moment later she carefully dismounted and curled up beside me, her
head on my chest, her hand squeezing my twitching cock.

"Mmmm, that was nice," she said, and flicked her tongue across my
nipple, "What's next?"

"For the moment, you do more of *that,*" I insisted, and pressed her
head to my chest. She licked away eagerly at my nipple, while
continuing to masturbate me.

"Oh, yeah...And then," I said, running a hand down to her ass, "I
give you that spanking you asked for."

I took her head in my hands and kissed her, running my hands over her
jawline and temples. Then I sat up, and roughly pulled her over my
lap. She looked over her shoulder at me, as I stroked the bewitching
curves of her posterior and firm, tapered thighs. "Do I get to play
with my pussy while you're spanking me?" she asked ingenuously.

"Eventually," I answered. "I want to do it at first though."

"That's even better!" she said, and spread her legs a little. I ran my
hand down between her thighs, and cupped the furry heat of her
center. I gently squeezed the outer lips around her clitoral hood
until she was rocking against my hand, her hips elevated, her face
pressed against the comforter.

My first spank made her jump, and left a faint pink mark. I spanked
her steadily for a minute or so, roughly in rhythm with my other
hand. Her fists clenched by her head, and she interspersed short
grunts with her higher-pitched moans.

I paused in my spanks, but not in my rubbing, and stroked and kissed
the heated rosy flesh, as her rocking subsided and then intensified
again. I found the slippery opening of her cunt, and slid my thumb in
to the heat inside, eliciting a groan of "Yeah!" and followed with a
flurry of hard spanks that had her starting to struggle. I rubbed her
clit with my forefingers while working my thumb inside her cunt, and
settled my spanking back into a steady rhythm.

As I continued with my hand at her cunt, I brought the spanking hand
around to her face, where I slid my index and middle fingers into her
mouth. She sucked eagerly at them, cradling my hand in hers, mumbling
something with her mouth full. 

"What?" I asked, withdrawing my fingers.

"Fuck me." she repeated, "Fuck me now, Vincent." Her hips were
slamming against my hand now, as I served as more dildo than
vibrator. Reluctantly, I withdrew my hand, eliciting a frustrated
groan, and slid out from under my willing victim. She started to turn
over, and I gave her a sharp bite on her reddened ass. "You stay right
there," I demanded.

A quick dive into the pockets of my jeans, and I was condomed and
lubed, a process Molly watched through half-closed eyes as she worked
her groin against her hand.
 
I knelt behind her, and pulled her hips up to me. As I rubbed the head
of my prick along her slit, I bent down and spoke into her ear: "You
are so hot, Molly, you are so gorgeous, can you feel how hard you make
me?" I was rubbing the head of my cock against her clithood, making
her squirm. Then I pressed the head into her tunnel, and slowly worked
my way inside.

We groaned in unison as my hips pressed against her ass, and I curled
down over her back, wrapping my arms around her waist and kneading her
soft little breasts.

Then I reached around and rubbed her clit, as I began to work my cock
inside of her. She shook her hips against me so bewitchingly that I
just had to see it. I knelt up while she leaned down and replaced my
hand on her clit with her own. Soon I was fucking her hard and fast,
jerking her hips back on every thrust so her ass shook. Both of us
were groaning a little more loudly than was probably prudent. I slowed
down a bit, and began massaging her anus with my thumb. "Yeah," she
moaned, and I eased my thumb inside her. Through the thin membrane, I
could feel the head of my cock sliding inside her. Her rubbing
accelerated as I moved my hips and hand in counterpoint. Her face
flushed darkly as her rocking became frantic. She started to scream,
and I clapped my free hand over her mouth as I slowly drew my thumb
out of her ass. She sucked and gnawed painfully at my fingers as her
twitching slowed and subsided.

When I withdrew my mangled digits, she murmured, "Ooh, don't stop
don't stop don't stop." I continued steadily thrusting, and soon she
was pushing back to meet my hips again. She looked over her shoulder
and met my eye for a moment.

"Do you wanna...do you wanna f-fuck my ass?"

I stopped thrusting.

"Would it be completely inappropriate to say that I would be honored?"

She grinned, "It's a little formal, but that's okay."

I resumed fucking her as I reached for the lube bottle. My slicked-up
index finger went in easily by this point. A second finger took some
effort. By the time I pulled out of her cunt, her head was down and
she was rubbing her clit again. She yelped when I spilled a couple
drops of chilly lube onto her leg while anointing my prick. I spread
her cheeks open, and pressed the spongy head of my cock against her
little opening. 

When my head popped in, she gasped: "Oh! Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. There. Stay
there." I stayed, transfixed by the sight of my prick spearing her
tiny asshole, her cheeks still blotched red by my spanks. I could
feel my pulse in the neck of my cock as blood tried to pass the grip
of her muscles. 

"Okay," she said, "go slow." I began rocking my hips minutely,
carefully watching her reactions, working my way into her tight ring
by tiny increments.

When my balls brushed against her busy fingers, she sighed, "Oh god, I
can feel you inside me."

*I should hope so!* I thought, but managed not to say it. Instead I
gasped, "Aw man, your asshole is so hot." I bent down again, and
wrapped her in my arms. brushing the nape of her neck with light
kisses. Our skins were fever hot. I held there, sweat beading on my
forehead, until she began to rock her hips against me.

I rose up and began short firm rocks of my hips, feeling my cock slide
along her loosening passage. She pressed back against me on every
instroke. "Gag me," she hissed.

I didn't understand. "Gag my mouth," she insisted, "I want to scream."

I grabbed my shirt from the floor beside us, and stuffed her mouth
with it as she rubbed her cunt faster, feeling the hardness
of her teeth and softness of her tongue through thin fabric. Strangely
aroused by the procedure, I began pumping her ass in earnest,
relishing her muffled wails. 

My grip tightened on her rounded hips, tingles rushed up and down my
spine, and I barely stifled my own drawn-out roar as I climaxed inside
her with a wrenching series of contractions that left me slumped,
gasping, on top of her.

I hung there, resting my weight on her back, while her fingers brought
her to another purple-faced shuddering climax, and she too collapsed
onto the comforter. I slowly pulled out of her, and peeled the soiled
condom off my dick while she spat my rumpled shirt out. I pulled out
another handiwipe, and swabbed my sticky genitals, while Molly watched
from her prone sprawl. "Me too?" she pleaded, spreading her legs. I
carefully swabbed her swollen and red orifices, fore and aft. "You're
still hard!" she observed.

"Again, actually," I admitted. "You're really sexy when you come." 

"Too bad, tiger," she teased. "I'm all worn out. Come cuddle."

I gladly complied, and we rested and spooned while the sweat dried on
our skin. Then she turned around, and we kissed slowly and warmly,
stroking each other's backs, and nibbling at each other's lower
lips. Finally we dressed and went upstairs.

The party was down to about ten people, slumped in the couches and
talking. Andrew looked over and waved. "Hey, where did you guys get
to?"

"We walked down to the Elsewhere for an espresso," I improvised.

"Molly!" said Andrew, incredulous, "You drank espresso?!"

Oops.

"Yeah!" exclaimed my co-conspirator, scowling gleefully "And it was
*yucky*!" She plunked down next to him and put her arms around his
neck. "You've been talking about cars the whole time, haven't you?"
she teased him.

"Not at all," he deadpanned. "We spent half an hour talking about
computer games." She laughed, and kissed him on the lips. I averted my
eyes. Then I thought I might look like I was averting my eyes, so I
tried casually sweeping my eyes across the cuddling couple. After five
or six passes, I felt no less conspicuous, and a little absurd. I
decided to go do some dishes.

Fifteen minutes later, Andrew and Molly came in, holding hands. "We're
heading out, Vin," said Andrew giving me a brief guyhug. "You guys got
to know each other at the coffeeshop?" he said to Molly.

"Oh, yeah," said Molly. "Vincent's really cool." She came up and
gripped my shoulders. "We'll see each other again soon, right?"

"Um--yeah. Absolutely!"

"Cool!" She gripped me in a fierce bearhug. "Uh-oh," she whispered in
my ear, and bit my lobe, hard.

"Yeah," I said.






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