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



"Fuck me!"

The echo, the plea in my wife's voice, the insistent growl of her 
eager submission, those words excited me hard, almost terrifying me 
as they cut my soul.  I loosened my grip, letting Andrea's golden 
locks start to slip from the hard knot of my fingers.  She moaned 
low, with a melted wanton glare in her pale blue eyes.  I turned to 
look out the window.  A dim reflection stared back at me.

"Is he out there?" I asked softly.

"Who?" Andrea asked, suddenly nervous.

"You're mine," I said, tightening my grip on her hair, drawing her 
head back.  Her mouth opened and her eyes closed.

"Fuck me," she purred.


Eight long years had passed and I had almost forgotten.  Almost 
forgotten that hot summer night when I stepped onto the back porch at 
my parent's house, weary of the mini-drama that played on the big 
twenty-four inch television.  The stars sparkled as I bathed myself 
in the serene darkness of the calm before the storm.

A flood of yellow light poured forth in a flash, casting a long
geometric shadow over the lawn through the chain link fence that
divided my parent's back yard from the house beyond.  I couldn't
help but cast a glance at the view through the panoramic window.  I 
couldn't help but stare as a young woman stepped boldly into the lamp 
light.  I couldn't help but gasp, seeing she wore a black silk 

I held my breath as I realized the woman was the good wife Jane.  I 
had met her a few times, even greeted her calmly when I had been 
cutting our lawn.  Jane was still young, no more than twenty five at 
the time, a shy girl with a pretty smile.  I was only eighteen.  Jane 
laughed happily, reacting to someone out of my view.

"Do you think so?" she asked, teasing the hem along her thigh.  
Insects buzzed a steady beat in dark trees, but Jane's voice rang 
clear above the drone, through some open screen.

I nodded my approval as I watched her, enraptured, and without 
thinking I pushed my jogging shorts down.  Jane's husband, Ted, 
crossed the room and took a seat on the sofa, facing me.  Suddenly 
anxious to stay out of sight, I ducked down behind the pine railing, 
peeking over the edge as Jane bent over to turn on some music.  Her 
chemise lifted slightly as she fiddled the controls, offering me a 
quick glimpse of the final curve of her bottom.  Ted smiled 
and drank from a tall glass of beer.

I thought I had completely chased those memories away, but I can 
still recall the way Jane looked that night with photographic 
clarity.  She started dancing as the music faintly hummed, stretching 
her long legs, tossing that silky gown with each bump of her hips, 
giving me short peeks at her round little backside.  Jane's ass never 
looked so delicious under the loose blue jeans she wore when she was 
tending her garden.  Teasing her husband, she let the thin straps 
fall from her shoulders.  The supple wings of her shoulder blades 
fluttered gently as she showed Ted her breasts.  The silk gathered at 
her waist and then slipped to the floor.  I bit my lip, wanting her 
ass, tormented to madness by the first flash of the dark curls below.

Jane turned with a smile.  I will never forget that wicked grin as 
she rubbed her ass in Ted's face, squeezing her tits almost angrily.  
Her dark nipples pulsed toward me with each contraction of her hands, 
enticing me forward, making me ravenously hard.  Jane licked her 
lips and ground her backside into Ted's face.

She seemed to orgasm, smiling at me in my dark hiding place.  I 
stroked my young cock furiously.  I had never seen anything like this 
before.  Ted stood up.  He laced his fingers through Jane's dark 
mane and yanked her head back.

"You're mine," he snarled.

"Fuck me," she said.  

I watched as he did, and I soon watered the lawn with my lust brewed
concoction.  Time passed, an hour at most, but an eternity of images
burned into my head.  Ted extinguished the light.  I pulled my
shorts up over my still throbbing prick and went to indulge in
gushing wet dreams of my neighbor, Jane.

I saw her the next afternoon in those loose blue jeans, bent over to 
tease her dahlias.  To my experienced eye, plain Neighbor Jane now 
faintly glowed with the simmering fever of the bawdy Slut Jane 
and I found myself staring nervously, smiling and coughing as I 
pretended to weed the lawn.  My mother laughed when she saw me 
sitting on the grass, jerking a dandelion out of the ground.  I 
ignored her amusement and continued sneaking peeks at sweet Jane.

I had no plan, no scheme, no intent, but my glands assumed control
of my being and I soon found ways to speak to Jane, to ask her
questions, give her advice, chattering helplessly about anything
that came to mind.  I found myself in her path when she needed some
help, when something heavy needed pushing, when some high branch
needed pulling.  Jane smiled prettily and said as little as
politeness could modestly bear.  I had watched this woman fuck
ecstatically a few nights gone by, but in the light of the day, Jane 
still appeared a shy, beautiful girl.

A fated afternoon led me into her house.  I cannot remember what task 
had brought me into the marital sanctum but I quickly recognized the 
play room from my recurring dreams.  Jane brought me a glass of 
lemonade.  I thanked her.  She smiled at me.  I reached for a stool 
she need at the same moment she reached, bringing us for one instant 
too close.  I could almost taste the tart heat of her breath as she 
lightly laughed.  I kissed her.  She moaned.  I laced my fingers 
through her dark hair.

"You're mine," I said.  Her eyes opened wide, melted darkly.

"Fuck me," she said.  

Two days later I sat on my parents back porch and watched the sun go 
down.  Jane and Ted's house erupted with anger, cries, a harsh 
symphony of accusations and denials.  I listened, painfully, 
scared as I waited, expecting to hear my name burst into their howls 
of complaint.  A door slammed.  Jane cried.  I turned away, trying 
desperately to extinguish my tears.  

An hour went by, silent, brutal, lonely.  Satisfied the episode had 
finally ended, I exiled myself to my room, burning with shame.  Their 
house was soon sold.  I tried to forget.  I forgot.  


I spent a lazy hour after dinner lounging on our sofa, skimming 
through a short novel my brother had recommended, when Andrea 
joined me.  I hardly even noticed her entrance at first, staying with 
the prose long enough to finish one more sentence and then looked up 
to acknowledge my wife.  At my first glimpse of Andrea, my eyes 
opened wide.  Then my heart skipped a beat and the breath fled my 

Andrea can look simply ravishing.  She did.

It was about half-past eight.  The bright summer sun had only just
set and the wide stretch of sky I could see through our picture
window had been painted with a stroke of deep crimson.  Andrea
turned on one and then another of the lights in the room,
transforming the glass panes into an array of translucent mirrors. 
Her silk dress tickled up the back of her thigh as she reached for
the second switch, testing my imagination with a flurry of hungry
naked dreams.  Living with Andrea is a sensual feast and I have
become a shameless glutton. "Hi, honey," I said as I closed my book
and set it aside.  Andrea smiled as she pulled some CDs from the
rack and flicked on the stereo.  

"Don't let me disturb you," she said.  "I just wanted to listen to 
some tunes."

"That's great," I said with a smile.  At her command, a slow, sultry 
rhythm filled the room.  Andrea walked over to the window and cupping 
her hands around her eyes, she peeked out at the night sky.  Leaning 
over, the lace tops of her stockings crept into view, stealing my 
attention.  Andrea slowly swayed her silk-encased bottom from side to 

As I leered salaciously at my young wife, a glimmer in the yard 
caught my eye, a quick burst of motion outside, something 
like the shimmer of a white t-shirt before it ducked down behind the 
hedge.  I shifted on the sofa, trying to find a better angle, 
wondering if I had really seen anything.  An anxious reflection 
stared back at me.

"What was that?" I said softly. 

Andrea moaned softly and a shiver seemed to caress her body.  I tried 
to look past her, through the reflected shadow of her deep blue dress 
and into the night, but Andrea turned, obstructing my dim view with a 
wiggle of her hips and a flip of her hem.  Black satin panties hugged 
her firm bottom in that quick instant before the dress dashed 
back down to swing lightly across her lean thighs.  

"Sure you don't mind?" Andrea said as she strolled past me, saucy
and cool.  I nodded, wondering if she would pull the drapes, curious
if she had seen the fleeting apparition outside.  I squinted
slightly, still nervous as I studied the dark shadows of the night's 
descent once more, anxious to chase the spectre from my thoughts. 
Distracted by the woman before me, I quickly decided there was 
nothing to be seen.  "A squirrel or bird," I said to myself. "That it 
is and nothing more."  Andrea smiled knowingly and I suspected she 
had been playing with me, teasing my fear-torn love of 
exhibitionistic thrills.

Her silk-clad thighs stole and held my attention as she followed the 
music's slow rhythms, Andrea dancing, enticing, conjuring lust filled
desires with each swing of her legs.  I stared raptly, hypnotized by 
the shudders of flesh, her breasts wobbling as the drum beats grew 
faster, cascades of her girlish inhibitions falling like a sudden 
shower of rain. 

I leaned forward to catch her, to draw my angelic beauty into my 
arms.  Turning, she pressed her bottom to my lips and I kissed the
rich crevice of flesh, teasing her with deep licks.  Andrea laughed 
and shuddered, giggled and ground herself into my kiss.  I stood and 
laced my fingers through her long golden tresses.

"You're mine," I groaned.

"Fuck me," she said.  

And I did.


by Lord Malinov



Power belongs to those who dare. . . Sapere Aude

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