Message-ID: <54796asstr$1161882604@assm.asstr.org>
From: "Joris Huysmans" <joriskhuysmans@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} WHAT LANA TAUGHT ME part 9 (MF, MM, FF, orgy, BBW, exhib, ws, celeb, occult)
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Date: Thu, 26 Oct 2006 13:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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Finally, the wild, epic, literally earthshattering climax to What Lana 
Taught Me.  If you liked, hated, whatever, feel free to write me at 
joriskhuysmans chez hotmail dot commie.

WHAT LANA TAUGHT ME part 9
by Joris K. Huysmans

"My apologies for the interruption to tonight's entertainment," Captain 
Marcato said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world for his rec 
center to be hosting a pussy eat-off.  Cindy looked at me nervously and even 
held my hand.  Bart and Lana seemed less concerned, which reassured me, 
slightly.

The captain folded his hands and looked at us.  "Sergeant Parsons has 
recommended the two of you for a non-military role in a mission my platoon 
has been called on to execute.  Frankly we expected to have more time and 
opportunity to win you over to working with us, but events in the threat 
zone seem to have raced ahead of us here."

He took out some papers.  "What I am asking of you requires not only your 
consent but your agreement to an oath of strict confidentiality.  I cannot 
tell you in advance what the mission is, but I can tell you that it involves 
extremely dangerous enemies of our country.  Your part in it is expected to 
not be dangerous, and may even be pleasurable; however, there is always an 
element of risk in any form of military service.  It is a service, however, 
which will be of great value to our country.  Are you willing to agree to 
all of these terms?"

Cindy and I looked at each other, nervously, and then at Bart, who gave me a 
look of cocky assurance.  What the hell, I thought, and said "Sure."

"Miss?" said the captain, looking at Cindy.

"As long as it involves an audience," Cindy finally said.

"Yes it does," he said, "yes it does."  He reached behind himself for a 
folder and opened it to reveal a grainy photo of a familiar face from the 
news.  "Holy shit," I said.

"That phrase may be more appropriate than you know," the captain said.  "I 
take it you recognize this individual?"

*  *  *

In less than an hour we were on a C-130.  It was kind of bizarre that the 
same soldiers who'd been whooping at our ladies' raunchy sex show now sat 
around us so grimly professional.  At least, looking at them, you felt 
protected.

I looked at Cindy and took her hand in mind.  "Are you sure you want to do 
this?"

She looked back at me and for the first time I felt that there was love in 
her eyes.  "Yes, Ricky, I want to do it for you, and for our country," she 
said.  "It will be a beautiful way of... doing it for the first time."

"I think I love you, Cindy," I said to her.  "Our relationship isn't exactly 
the most conventional, but-- I wouldn't change a thing."

"Hate to interrupt," Bart said, "but remember, Cindy isn't the only one 
who's going to be doing something for the first time, partner."

"I know," I said, reaching across the aisle to touch Bart and Lana's hands, 
too.  "I love all of you."

"Prepare for landing," the captain said.

*  *  *

We landed at Crowley Air Force Base in Nevada and were greeted by a Colonel 
Reich; it was 0100 hours but we were too energized with the enormity of what 
we were about to do to be tired.  We were hustled off the field quickly and 
a few moments later a blue and white 747 landed on the runway behind us.

From the air the base seemed to consist of only a few nondescript buildings. 
  But once we were inside a glass elevator took us to a vast subterranean 
chamber carved out of the basalt rock.  A glassed-in viewing stand stood, 
four stories high, along one cavern wall.  Massive steel doors were carved 
into the opposite side, each marked with the Great Seal of the United 
States-- the pyramid with a glowing eye.  The floor, big enough to play 
Major League Baseball on, was mostly bare cement-- save for one area covered 
with red shag carpet and a wide variety of pink and purple throw pillows.

We-- the two dozen or so of Bart's platoon, plus Lana, Cindy and me-- 
huddled at the edge of the carpeted area, waiting nervously.  Suddenly there 
was hubbub in our group and Lana nudged me and pointed toward the viewing 
stand.  I could make out three or four burly men in suits-- and then, in the 
middle, there was no mistaking him.  It was the President.

We watched him shake hands with generals and an assortment of other guests 
as they filled the room.  We heard another airplane landing above us and a 
couple of the soldiers grinned at each other.  That was the "high value 
target" they'd been expecting.  It was almost showtime.

The elevator started to descend from the top and we saw a large contingent 
of guards with automatic weapons surrounding some sort of large platform or 
table draped in black and tilted almost upright.  At the bottom four of them 
moved out, forming an advance guard, while others began to wheel the 
platform toward the center of the floor, about 15 yards from the carpeted 
area.  They chained it to a five-sided indentation in the cement of the 
floor, and then they stood at attention.  I could see the figure under the 
black drape stirring; it sounded as if there was some sort of muttering 
going on under it.

We continued to wait for a few more minutes.  Then a spotlight hit a 
microphone and a famous Italian tenor--you'd recognize him in an instant-- 
was standing there waiting to sing.  A voice boomed over the loudspeakers, 
"Ladies and gentlemen, please rise for our national anthem," and the fat, 
bearded tenor began to sing, his strong clear voice echoing throughout the 
vast cavern.  I tell you, I've been to a lot of ball games but this version 
of the national anthem was really moving.

When the tenor was finished he was escorted into the viewing stand.  Now the 
guards advanced toward the platform.  Touching their radio headsets to their 
ears, they waited for a signal; it came, they whisked the cloth away and-- a 
hush went through the crowd.  We had seen his face so many times, in the 
newspaper, in grainy videos, the monster who had killed so many in the name 
of his religion.  You could see why so many in the Middle East followed 
him-- even upside-down, chained to an inverted pentagram, his piercing eyes, 
his tall, slender form, and his gray-white beard made him an imposing, 
magnetic figure.  It was also clear, looking at him now, his dark eyes 
burning into us with utter hatred, that he was mad, a twisted religious 
maniac.

There was a bleat of feedback from the loudspeakers, and then the President 
began to speak, his Texas twang echoing around the rocky walls of the 
cavern.  "The day of your capture is one that Americans have looked forward 
to for a long time," he said to the figure chained far below him.  The 
prisoner tried to talk back at him but the vast cavern seemed to swallow his 
voice up.  "The murders you committed in the name of your perversion of 
religion could not go unpunished for long.  No doubt you imagined that when 
we caught you, we would allow you to spew your hatred on our 24-hour news 
channels through the months and even years of a public trial.  Well, sorry, 
that's not how it's gonna be.  We have something much more interesting to do 
with you."

The muttering from the figure spread-eagled on the pentagram stopped, and he 
seemed confused.  "I'd like to introduce you to the fine men and women of an 
elite and top secret unit of our military, the 1st Tactical Sex Magick 
Command.  Through the practice of arcane rites going back to the very 
founding of our Republic, they will punish you in ways you cannot even begin 
to imagine.  Colonel, you and your company may proceed.  Do what thou wilt."

Suddenly the strains of Rod Stewart's "Da Ya Think I'm Sexy" replaced the 
president's voice, and flashing disco lights began to fill the room.  At 
Colonel Reich's signal, the soldiers around us began to strip their uniforms 
off, and excitedly, Cindy and Lana and I did too.  Once clothes our were 
off, we ran to the carpeted area and began frolicking on the pillows as the 
monster chained before us watched in horror and disgust.

What followed was such a blur of orgiastic ecstasy that I remember only 
flashes of it-- ramrod-stiff privates ramming their stiff privates into each 
others' asses, their sweaty haunches slapping together as they plumbed the 
depths of each others' holes... muscular women giving spit shines to each 
others' pussies till they gleamed for inspection... Lana's huge tits and 
belly jiggling as she was being fucked by a white soldier (I'd mention his 
rank except no one was wearing any) while she and I swabbed spit all up and 
down a black soldier's cock and Cindy let him lick her tits with his long, 
pointed tongue... a smooth-skinned, hardbodied Latino standing jauntily 
splashing his piss all over a man and a woman as they licked it off each 
others' bodies and fucked in the wet, salty mess it made... Bart eating a 
woman's ass while another man pounded his ass from behind and a third sucked 
his balls from underneath.

So it went on and on for several minutes.  But as the extended dance mix 
ended, the lights went red and the bombastic opening of "Carmina Burana" 
replaced Rod Stewart.  That was our cue, and Colonel Reich barked at Captain 
Marcato, "Prepare to initiate insertion protocol."  Cindy arranged herself 
on a cushion, head pointed toward the figure strapped to the pentagram, legs 
spread open as her pussy glistened with readiness.  I climbed atop her and 
my cock nestled at the opening of her virgin tunnel of delight.  Bart 
climbed atop me and his cock nestled at the opening of my virgin ass.  The 
others stopped their fucking and sucking and arranged themselves at the 
points of the pentagram around the prisoner.

Over the P.A. system a famous actor, well known for voiceovers in car 
commercials, began to recite words in Latin.  At the precise moment that the 
music came to its climax, Captain Marcato said "Commence insertion procedure 
now" and Bart forced his way into my virgin ass, in turn pushing my cock 
into Cindy's hymen and ripping it.  She cried at the pain but also with joy 
at the knowledge of what we were doing; I too grimaced at the pain of Bart's 
cock sliding up my ass, but barely had time to react when above us there was 
a tremendous flashing of light and, indistinct at first but growing more 
clear with every moment, the spectral image of a goat-headed man, legs 
crossed, flame coming from his head.

"All hail Baphomet, the goat of Mendes!" the president cried over the 
loudspeaker, and Bart rammed me harder, waves of pain and ecstasy colliding 
within my body.  I felt the earth shake, and suddenly the cement around the 
prisoner split and burning sulphurous gases escaped from it.  "If we're 
going to die, let's die fucking!" Cindy cried, and I saw Captain Marcato 
give her a salute as I plowed into her pussy.  Flames began to rise up from 
the cracks in the cement and then I realized, to my amazement and horror, 
that they were not so much flames as tentacles, seemingly flesh and flame at 
once, which enveloped the now-screaming mass murderer, searing his body.  
They bound him methodically, melting into his flesh as steam escaped from 
his wounds, and then, with a sudden jerk, the tentacles pulled him and the 
entire pentagram-shaped block of concrete to which he was chained underneath 
the earth.  The jagged hole they left filled a few instants later with black 
lava which hardened to a glassy, impenetrable sheen within a matter of 
seconds.  A few moments later, I came in Cindy's cunt and Bart came in my 
ass, and the ceremony was over.  Lana raced over to us and kissed us all, 
and we cried with wonder and amazement at all that the evening had achieved.

It took a couple of throat-clearings before we realized Captain Marcato was 
trying to get our attention.  "You might want to put some clothes on," he 
said.  "The President would like to thank you in person."

*  *  *

It was nice meeting the President and the First Lady and all the other 
guests, and we were awarded a medal which, unfortunately, we weren't allowed 
to keep given how top secret all this was (I did get to keep a deck of Air 
Force One playing cards, which as the President pointed out, were readily 
available on Ebay anyway).  I knew that it was an incredible story that 
could never be told, at least anywhere that anyone might actually believe 
it, which is why it's being told here.

But truth was, all I really wanted to do after a certain point was settle in 
to our quarters and wake up next to the girl I loved in the morning.  I told 
her that, and she said, "Yes, and this time, we can just make love without 
having to worry about saving the world."

"I'd love to," I said, putting my arm around her waist and holding her 
tight.  I noticed, though, that she had a funny sort of look on her face.  
"What?"

"So if we're going to have sex in the morning..."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Bart and Lana could stay in the same room as us?"

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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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