Message-ID: <54472asstr$1157865005@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Cassi Opeia" <cassiopeia11@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: {ASSM} Cassiopeia : Urban Night Class MF, nc
Lines: 173
Date: Sun, 10 Sep 2006 01:10:05 -0400
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<1st attachment, "Urban night class.txt" begin>

Author: Cassiopeia
Title: Urban Night Class
Keywords: MF nc

------------------------------------------------------------------
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to 
read this type of literature, or you are under age (Under 18 years old or 21 
in some areas) PLEASE CLOSE THIS FILE NOW! The author does NOT condone or 
encourage abuse of minors. Keep it in your head & off the streets. For 
fantasy only.
-------------------------------------------------------------------

Copyright 2002 Cassiopeia.  All rights reserved. Content may not be copied 
or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Urban Night Class

We'd been married less than a month when he came home to the flat one 
Saturday night, half drunk and swearing and with a couple of his mates in 
tow.  I heard him crashing around in the hallway and staggering along the 
passage.  The others laughed and said something I didn't catch.  "Just going 
to say night night to the little wife", he said, and they laughed again; 
some big joke, and went into the lounge and closed the door.  I heard the TV 
switch on.  Football probably.

The door crashed back and his figure was silhouetted against the corridor 
light.  For the life of me he looked like a gangster in a movie and I was 
almost laughing when he reached the bed and tore back the covers.  It wasn't 
meant to be funny, though.

He pulled me up by my long hair until I was sitting on the edge of the bed 
and he held me against his groin.  My hands went around his waist but he 
twisted his fist in my hair and when I cried out to question him he yanked 
back my head and pulled my face up.  He put his mouth next to my ear and 
whispered, all beer-breath and vehemence, "Shut up and suck me, you bitch, 
it's time you learned how."  He pulled down the top of my night dress, each 
shoulder strap in turn dragged down, uncovering my breasts. I covered myself 
with my arms; the door was still open.

He straightened, undid his belt with his free hand and unbuttoned his jeans. 
  "Pull them down" he said, and when I didn't move to do it he said the 
words again "Pull them DOWN!!!"  When I still didn't move he brought his 
face close to me again and whispered, "Do it! Do it now! The other lad's 
wives all do it, so you do it!"

My hands pushed his jeans and boxers down to his knees and his cock was up 
close to me, soft, his strong man-smell hot in my face.

I tried to turn my face away but his hand in my hair turned me back.  "Suck 
it baby, come on luv, you can do it."  I dipped my head to catch the end and 
opened my mouth.  I sucked him in a little way, hoping it wouldn't work, 
hoping he was too drunk to get hard.  He was a big man, and his cock was 
long and thick and I didn't want to do this now, tonight or ever.

His other hand came to the back of my neck and pushed my face onto him.  His 
flesh went over my tongue and his body hair brushed my face. He was getting 
harder, growing in my mouth, filling my face.  He held my head against his 
crotch for what seemed like forever, as his cock got harder and bigger, 
until it reached the back of my tongue and grew into my throat like an 
infection.  I couldn't breathe and my hands pushed against him, my neck 
rigid and my shoulders twisting to get away from him.  He screwed his hips 
around to follow me, turning his meat in my mouth and then finally, 
mercifully, he let me breathe for a moment as he drew back from me.

Just to the edge of my mouth though, no more.  He swayed himself in and out 
of my mouth, first just the tip, and then an inch or two more, and my lips 
went slack as I took in the precious oxygen through my nose. He watched me 
in the light from the door, his head on one side to see.

"Make your lips tighter, use your tongue more, come on."

I gripped the head with my mouth and swirled my tongue around and around and 
up and down the length of him as he rocked back and forth on his feet.  His 
knees started to bend a little, and his hands forced my head lower and 
quicker, my throat stretched out for his length. My forehead seemed to hit 
his belly with each stroke now, my throat had to open with each pull, the 
desperate need to breathe only just allowed between each forward invasion.  
"Yes" he said, "Yes, that's it, yes. Faster."  He was impatient now, his 
voice harsh and ragged, full of rage and of his arousal.

Saliva drooled from the corners of my mouth and frothed around my lips.   
His hand behind my head forced me down on him harder each time as his hips 
jutted forward, and for longer each time until my stomach retched and I 
almost vomited over him.  I felt the acid in the back of my throat burning 
and my jaw ached.  I gagged at almost every movement, choking on him, 
constricting the head each time it lodged at the end of each thrust, 
massaging him, squeezing him.  He was loving it.  He was groaning, his head 
thrown back.   It went on and on.

Again I pushed my hands against him, clawing at his shirt, pressing on his 
belly, pleading for air, for rest, for time.  I pulled on his wrists, trying 
to make him let go, but he was relentless now, his buttocks, spine, hands 
working as a blind driving force which fucked my face without thought for 
anything except his need to come.

The grunts he made were loud in the dead air, guttural and animal, wordless. 
  He drew away one last time to his full length and I managed to get one 
gasped breath before he plunged full into me deep down inside my body, 
clutching my head in his hands and arching his back.  His knees were against 
the bed either side of me, hips pulsing forward, thighs forward, again, 
again, chin down, like some rutting beast in the night, growling through 
clenched teeth with every thrust "Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuck!"

I thought my back would break against his power as his sperm pounded my 
throat and scoured in a hot flood down my gullet. I was panicking, drowning; 
his cock was filling every corner of my mouth and down deep, concrete hard, 
hot and inescapable.  A final thrust, another, a shudder went though him and 
the flow slowed and then ceased.  He straightened his back and drew away and 
I heaved and coughed and choked his cum straight back over his groin, 
spattering it over both of us as I spluttered and sucked in air; 
unbelievable, blessed air in great sawing gulps.

He stepped back, let go, and looked at me, still gasping and heaving, my 
face streaked with tears and his cum.  Pulling my hair forward one last time 
he used it to wipe himself down, pulled up his clothes and turned back 
towards the door.

"Better get cleaned up, you're a bit of a mess aren't you?  Night then, 
thanks luv."  His voice was ridiculously, insultingly calm, all swagger as 
he walked away.

"Love?" I said.  My voice was hoarse and full of despair as I wiped the 
tears and the cum with my nightdress.  "Do you love me at all?"

I heard the lounge door open; the lads' voices questioning, his voice 
answering, and then some raucous laughter.  The TV got louder as they 
started to watch the game.  I thought about his answer to my question.

"What?  Course I loves yer, fucks yer don't I?"



Copyright 2002 Cassiopeia.  All rights reserved. Content may not be copied 
or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.


Author's notes

In 2002, after a period of writing 'nice' stories, I wanted to write 
something more dark, more violent.  I opened a blank document and this 
poured out, and what you see here is almost my first draft, hardly any 
editing followed, except for punctuation.  The story flowed onto the page as 
if it were a remembered incident rather than fiction. At the end I sat back 
and I remember realising that I had a rather tense and fearful expression on 
my face, so much so that it ached to relax and smile again.

Men tend to find this story disturbing.  Almost everyone that reads it asks 
me if it is based on truth, so much so that now I always tell them, when 
sharing it, that it is not.  I have been lucky I guess, in my relationships.

Strangely, I believe it is among my best work.

Comment and feedback welcome as always to cassiopeia11@hotmail.co.uk
<1st attachment end>


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