Message-ID: <63724asstr$1458551402@assm.asstr.org>
From: RavensDrkGothic@aol.com
Full-name: RavensDrkGothic
Subject: {ASSM} Mirrored Reversal (Chapter 1)(Mystic)(Fantasy)
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Date: Mon, 21 Mar 2016 05:10:02 -0400
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Mirrored Reversal (Chapter  1)(Mystic)(Fantasy)(Repost)
 
    Dust motes hung in the slant  of sunlight as they are filtered to 
illuminate the full length mirror,  standing forlornly in a corner of the attic.  
Looking around and seeing  the old wood, dark and drab as I think on how 
long it has now sat amongst  boxes and bags of unused and long forgotten 
items.  Not sure when it was  that I tried to straighten this out last, this 
collection of memories and  antiques.  A space cleared in front of the mirror as 
I pull an old faded  settee in front of it.  
    The house an inheritance from  a much older cousin who I barely knew.   
Sitting back from the  street in an older part of Poughkeepsie.  The huge 
gothic home a house  from the past, pre nineteen hundred and most likely 
eligible to be placed on  some historic listing.  Not sure why I was picked by 
my cousin to be the  heir to the house and a quite sufficient amount of money 
that I will mostly  likely pay for a life of leisure for the rest of my 
life.
    I haven't decided whether to  keep the house and modernize it on the 
inside; but just wandering through it,  I feel the draw of the old wood.  I am 
sure that I could bring this  Gothic house back to its past grandeur.  
    With this inheritance came a  cryptic note in a sealed envelope.  Not 
sure what my cousin saw in me;  but I always felt a bit strange the few times 
I visited this  house when I was young.  
    The note short and  terse.  "The mirror will show you who you are if 
you want  to see who is on the other side.  Touch the glyphs one at a  time. 
It is two sides of a coin.  To undo, touch in the opposite  direction."
    Strange as it may seem; but I  have a memory of this mirror.  I feel a 
dizziness as I try to focus  on the memory  It is the same feeling I get 
each time I have stood  in front of it for the past few days.  Almost a ritual 
as I climb to  the third floor attic and face this relic of wood.  The 
settee placed a  few feet from the mirror, to give me security from the weakness 
that I feel as  I look into the glass frame.  
    The sun giving enough light as  I set down my water bottle and a bottle 
of Johnny Walker Double Black  Scotch.  Finding a dust box of glasses and 
taking one and pouring myself  a healthy amount of scotch and sitting down on 
the settee.  Sipping  slowly as I look into the mirror, trying to see 
something that is not present,  just seeing the reflection of a man in a 
terrycloth robe drinking a glass of  scotch.  Nothing mystic as my eyes take in the 
reflected  image.
    A soft laugh, as I contemplate  for a moment and then placing my glass 
carefully on the floor, stand and slip  my robe off and fold it neatly on 
the back of chair.  My eyes finding the  reflected face.  Dark brown hair, 
parted to the left.  The gray  strands not visible.  Brown eyes, long thin 
nose, small  mustache just over the upper lip.  Not a body builder body; but  a 
not showing much excess fat.  Tall and a little heavy, showing a  vee from 
chest to waist.  A thick thatch of curly brown pubic hair  with my cock 
dangling and balls hanging lower between my parted  legs.  Not bad for a man of 
45, not good either; but the ladies don't  seem to mind.  Fingers curling 
around the soft flesh and stroking it till  it swells with the beginning of an 
erection.  Feeling the arousal  building.
    Bending and taking another  long pull from my glass of scotch and 
standing to face the mirror again.   Taking a deep breath and stepping to the 
heirloom touching the smooth glass  and feeling nothing special.  Then reaching 
to the sides of the  mirror and pulling out the wooden pins holding the 
glass in place.   Slowly spinning it top to bottom and revealing another mirror 
on the  reverse side.
    Taking a deep breath and  repinning this side in place and looking into 
it and seeing the image I saw  moments ago on the other side.  Taking a 
deep breath, as I  reach to the wood framing surrounding the glass surface.  
Letting it  out slowly as I start at the bottom and touch the dozen glyphs 
with my finger,  one after the other in a counterclockwise motion.  Looking 
behind me as I  move down the left side of the frame, checking the location of 
the settee as I  keep my fingers poised over the glyph on the very  bottom.  
    Not something that one would  do as a casual thing when looking into 
the mirror, the symbols high  and low.  Another deep breath as I extend my 
fingers to touch the last  one. 
    Feeling a warmth in the wood  as I touch it.  Standing and feeling the 
weakness in my legs as the image  blurs and I a pressure in my head.  Eyes 
closed and seeing a flash of red  against my eyelids.
    Straightening out and forcing  my eyes open once again.  Standing and 
looking into the face in the  mirror.  Similar to the face earlier in that 
the reflection; but now with  much more distinct changes.  The dark brown hair 
long and flowing to my  back.  The eyes hazel and  staring wide.  The same 
long thin  nose; but the lips framing a wide mouth, a bit large for the 
face.  No  hair on the upper lip as the tongue tip slips out and wet the dry  
lips.
    Eyes slowly moving down to the  slender neck and then to the gentle 
swell of the small breasts, hard tips  jutting, then further to the soft swell 
of the pubic mound and wide  hips and the full pouty, bare labia.  The slit 
just visible as the  long toned legs are spread slightly bracing my body.  
Ending in not so  pretty feet.  My long slender fingers touching the engorged 
button of my  clit.  
    The same sight that I have  seen each time that I have performed this 
ritual this week.  A tickling  of memory as I think about the first time I 
found this mirror in this  attic as I looked in the boxes and trunks 
scattered.  And the memory  clearly as I picture my cousin behind me as I look into 
the mirror and I watch  as the mirror is unpinned and flipped over to show 
the strange symbols along  the edge.  The voice telling me to what to touch as 
my cousin steps  to the side.  Standing on a chair to reach the top and 
then kneeling to  touch the very bottom.  Feeling myself dizzy as hands keeps 
me from  falling and opening my eyes to see the face of a young girl looking 
like me;  but different.
    Feeling fear as I sense  the difference in my body and my mental and 
emotional makeup.  Not sure  what has happened; but scared.  My cousin seeing 
the trembling of my  body, covered with clothing; but I can tell I am 
different  physically.  
    The calming words slowly  stopping the tears as I reverse the movements 
of a couple of minutes earlier  and feel the change come over me as I 
whimper in my cousin's arms.   Burying my face against my cousin's chest as I 
hear the words.  "This  will be yours someday.  I sense that you are the one 
that should  know the secret and use it or not as you see fit.  I just ask 
that you  pass it on to another if possible.  Remember the one side is harmless 
and  the other can change you.  Careful not to break the mirror, as you 
then  can not change back."  The words filling my head as I look at the  tall 
middle age woman.  Instinctively I know this is the woman I would  have been. 
 
    The first day that I found the  mirror in the attic, my mind instantly 
filled with the memory of long ago and  my cousin.  I knew what needed to be 
done.  The dizziness and  blurred image quickly cleared and I saw the 
flannel button shirt big around my  shoulders.  The straight fit jeans tight 
around my hips and upper  thighs.  The legs draped low over my sneakers.  What 
more I knew  with my clothes on was that I had changed.  I could feel the 
nipples hard  tipped under the shirt.  My lower body awkwardly confined in the 
ill  fitting jeans.  Undoing them and stepping out of them and seeing the 
long  smooth lines of my legs the shirt tails hanging down over my lower body 
and  the baggy jockey shorts.  Slipping them down and unbuttoning the shirt  
and dropping it to the floor to see the new image of myself in them   
mirror.  Not a man's body; but that of a woman.
    The shock of seeing myself  totally transformed, my hands moving over 
my body and again the shock as I  tough the parts that are not me and truly 
female.  Sitting back on the  settee, legs apart, looking at this 
transformation.
    Feeling a moment of panic as I  stand and fight to remember how my 
cousin made the change back and simply  reversing the process and the odd 
feeling and moment of change.  Trying  it again back and forth, till I was sure 
that it was happening for  real.
    The next couple of days after  work, returning to this house and making 
the change again, this time naked so  as not to get stuck in clothes that 
weren't made for my body.  Spending  time in the woman's body, shirt my only 
clothing as I sort through  house.  Hours before I change back.  Extending 
the time frame each  time I change till I feel confident that it is permanent 
till I do the ritual  again.  
    Trying to sort this out in my  mind and trying to measure my new body 
to determine clothing size.   Thinking how if this was my choice I would have 
much larger tits.   Through trial and error, determining that I am 5'10" 
and 140 pounds buck  naked.  Wondering where the other 100 pounds disappears 
among other  things.  Measurements as best I can determine being 34B-28-37.   
Checking online and finding the sizes I am going to need for clothing and 
then  dressed in a loose button shirt and a pair of cargo shorts that didn't 
look  too bad in the mirror, hair combed back straight as I wear a pair of 
shower  thongs.
    A couple of basic outfits with  undergarments and I had started a 
collection of woman's clothing to fit my  alter ego.  Finding myself more and 
more changing and working on the  inside of the house, cleaning and sorting 
through it.  The front attic  room now cleaned out and where I strip before 
changing into this new female  person, that I think of as my sister.  
    The weeks extending into  months as I have the house refurbished and 
updated with facilities.  The  woodwork cleaned up and polished as I use much 
of the old furniture in the  house.  Not only is the house shaping up; but I 
have learned to feel more  comfortable in my other body and how to dress 
and look presentable.  The  hardest part mastering hair.
    I have found that even though  my body has changed, my memories are of 
those I have lived, not of another  life of what might have been.  As I fix 
up the house I become more  comfortable with this new person.  I have this 
new body; but no memories  of what this body might have encountered in the 
forty plus years of my  life.
    Making a new life for this  person, a drivers license first item on the 
agenda and applying for a Social  Security Number.  A physical showing that 
I am all woman, outwardly and  internally.  Trying to deal with this 
periodic change that I am  experiencing.
    Finding that I must come each  day after work to look into the mirror 
and feel the change come over me.   My need to go out in public and 
experience life from another point of view so  to speak.  My trips to the same places 
I have always frequented and  seeing people I know, not recognizing me.
    I have found that my sexual  needs are strong as a woman, not sure if 
it is a carry over from my male  counterpart or from my arousal when I made 
my transformation.  Parts of  my body that I have become familiar with are my 
breasts and pubic area.   My fingers and toys that I have bought have 
soothed; but taken away my  ache.
    Sitting on the settee and  watching as my fingers find my breasts, 
cupping the small mounds of flesh in  my palms and feeling the hard tips 
swelling and pressing against my  palms.  Fingers rolling the engorged flesh and 
hearing my low moans  filling the attic with sounds of pleasure.  Tugging them 
straight from my  chest and letting the tips loose.  The slight jiggle on 
my chest and the  moment of release causing my body to shift on the settee.  
Leaning back  and eyes closed, wetting my fingers and again teasing the hard 
tips.   Fingers circling around the areolas.  My breathing catching as my 
hips  jerk a little as I tug and release the hard tips again.
    Fingers shifting to slide down  the smooth tummy.  The soft grazing 
touch causing the muscles under the  surface to ripple.  Legs splaying apart as 
I shift to the edge of the  seat.  Eyes opening and gazing at the fat lips 
of my vagina.   Swollen and pink on the inside as I open my legs wide and 
expose the wet  gleaming walls.  My hand pulling at one breast as my other 
hand finds my  labia and squeeze them firmly.  My whole body trembling as I 
feel the  moisture being squeezed from the engorged lips.  
    A loud panting in my ears as I  open my eyes and see my lips parted and 
dry, hissing a needy breath from deep  inside as my fingers trace along the 
thick spongy ridges of my pussy and thumb  finds the little button of my 
clitoris.  Rubbing over the smooth surface,  then again as my feet push up 
with my toes to arch my hips.  Fingers  dipping into the warm opening.  The 
moisture easing the entry as I try to  figure how to squeeze my fingers.  
Finally mastering as I clench on my  long slender fingers, feeling them scraping 
along the slick walls as I  withdraw them and bring the fingers to my mouth.
    A delicate sniff, inhaling the  scent of my virgin pussy.  My tongue 
tip finding the fingers and licking  the grease from them, tasting my pussy.  
Wanting to keep my eyes open to  watch; but finding that my head tips back 
and up, eyes closing as I savor the  new sensations.
    Reaching to my side and  finding one of my toys.  Turning on the 
vibrator and having a long loud  moan pulled from my mouth with just the touch of 
the tip to my clit.   Shaking crazily on the settee as I fight to hold the 
bullet head to the small  button.  My moan becoming a long whimper of sound 
as my whole body shakes  as the sensation feels so overwhelming.
    Looking at myself in the  mirror and seeing the slickness oozing unto 
the puffy lips of my cunt as my  hand partially block my upper folds as the 
vibration drives me to  distraction.  The nerve endings not ready to take 
this stimulation  directly on my clit, as  I slide it down to the spread walls 
and slip the  slender six inch vibrator slowly into my body.  My body 
tensing as I feel  the walls spread slightly and conforming to the contour of the 
ersazt  cock.
    Not sure how long I pushed and  pulled the small vibrator.  My hips 
rocking to the movement of my hand.  And finally, reluctantly pulling it from 
my body and turning it off.   Only now realizing I am coated with a sheen of 
fine sweat as I lay back and  try to calm down my body and mind.
    There is so much I need to  learn, looking at sex from the opposite 
position.  Masturbation I think I  can handle and will have to as my fingers 
can't stay away from my breasts and  pussy.  The power of direct stimulation 
to a clit has already got my  attention.  But that vibrator was small from 
what I remember of  hard-ons.  
    Reaching to my side and  finding a realistically molded cock and I know 
that it is about the same size  as I had in my other body.  I compared 
them.   Slipping to my  knees in front of the settee. Looking at it closely as I 
have done before and  then bringing it to my mouth.  My tongue swiping 
against the pulpy  head,  Touching the small indent of the slit with my tongue 
tip, then  swirling it around the head with an ever widening circle.  Trying 
to  remember my past and other body and how a "blow job" was given to me.   
Raising the shaft to lick along the underside tongue moving side to side,  
pressing on the thick vein on the underside, moving my mouth up and down the  
bulging vein.  Then pulling it down to look at it straight on and opening  
my mouth.  Gagging as I feel my lips stretched and the thick knob filling  
my mouth.  Tonguing the lifeless head and then working the shaft in my  mouth 
till I am taking at least half of it. Understanding a gag reflex as  I 
press the shaft deep and find myself drooling and eyes watering as I cough  and 
choke after the head pressed against the opening to my throat.   Pulling the 
mushroom tipped dildo from my mouth and seeing it coated with my  saliva.
    Eyes still watering as I lower  it to between my legs as I sit back 
down on the settee.  Legs lifted to  spread wide as I rub the head against my 
lubricated lower lips.  Eyes  rolling back in my head as I press the thick 
gland against the opening.   A quick gasp as I feel it spread and then enter 
my pussy.  Feeling the  fullness of it as I press it a little further, then a 
little further into the  slippery hole.  Waiting to feel the pain as it 
goes deeper and spreads my  insides more with each inch.  The resistance 
minimal as is the pain as it  takes my virginity.  Holding the end of the shaft by 
the pathetic balls  at the end of the shaft and working it slowly in and 
out.  Feeling my  arousal building again as I clench my insides against the 
intruding  cock.  Using my other hand and rubbing with two fingers over the 
folds of  my cunt and clit.  Pushing the grease of my pussy over the throbbing 
 button and my whole body jerking as I feel my insides spasm.  My walls  
holding tight to the fullness of the dildo buried deep.  Groaning loudly  as I 
take this as an orgasm and my body twitches and jerks as I try to hold  the 
slippery plastic inside of my body.  My fingers trembling as I want  to rub 
more over the engorged clit; but the sensation just too intense.   
Finally the cock still inside  of me as I lay back and panting raggedly, 
just gently holds it in place, my  other hand covering my clit without 
touching it.  Nipples aching with  need as I blow on them to cool myself down and 
instead drawing the low scream  of pleasure as the air washes over them.  A 
scene repeated numerous times  as I become more familiar with my body, more 
intimate with this new  me.
    So much has changed as I try  to maintain my normal life, my former 
one.  I don't go out with my  friends, making up excuses.  I have not told them 
about my  inheritance.  I have my pickup truck; but also have bought a 
Impala  for Patrice my "sister".
    I so wish that I might take  her on a date, I am proud of her looks for 
her age.  The woman I might  have been.  Show her off.
    My only friend is my  rottweiler Fritz, the only one that accepts both 
of us.  He was instantly  my friend in my new body.  Sometimes I become 
confused as to who I am as  I think with one brain; but two totally different 
bodies and  personalities.
    Many nights I sit in front of  the mirror and drink myself into a 
stupor trying to figure the right of this  problem.  The neighbors I rarely see; 
but wave to and say hello when we  chance meet.
    The long days at work, wearing  me down as I sit in front of the mirror 
once again. Deciding that I will go  out for some socialization.  Finding a 
flannel shirt, my size and a  wearing a denim skirt and prowling  around 
the neighborhood and not  finding a bar that looked like it might be 
hospitable to a lonely woman.   The early summer a bit chilly as I feel the cool air 
on my bare legs.  I  haven't found that stockings or pantyhose or a bra work 
well for me.   Much too confining, but I do wear a thong and flats.
    Frustrated as I find myself in  a familiar neighborhood.  Pulling to 
the curb and looking at the front of  the bare, then starting the car and 
pulling into the parking lot.   Frank's Bar and Grill.  Sort of a local hangout. 
 Getting up my  nerve and taking a look in the visor mirror.  Seeing a 
nervous  woman.  Taking a deep breath and slipping out of the driver seat , 
skirt  riding up on my thighs and feeling it swirl around my legs as I march to 
the  bar and pull the door open.  Eyes adjusting to the room and taking it 
in  and moving to a spot at the bar in the corner.  
    The bartender not recognizing  me even though I have been a regular in 
the past.  Ordering a Brandy  Manhatten, something that I would drink when 
out to dinner; but not at this  bar and settling for a Southern Comfort 
Manhatten as they have no plain  brandy.  Twirling to lean my elbow on the bar as 
I sip my drink.   Seeing a couple of men at the bar itself that I know and 
a few more at one of  the tables.
    Crossing my legs and very  aware at how high my skirt rides up my legs, 
tugging at the hem to try to pull  it lower towards my knees.  The comfort 
of a short skirt at home, I find  has other problems when in a public 
setting.  All of this a learning  process; that could well be finished if I could 
break the spell of the  mirror.
    Walking to the juke box, as I  slide off of my stool, finding a couple 
of Janis Joplin songs that I really  love, and Me and Bobby McGee isn't one 
of them.  Walking back to my stool  and giggling to myself as I feel myself 
giving a sway to my hips and feeling  the hem of the skirt swirling around 
my thighs. Stepping  up again onto my stool and taking another sip of my 
drink, noting the coaster  next to my drink, indicating someone has bought one 
for me.  The  bartender stopping by and informing me of the significance of 
the coaster and  pointing out the man that bought me the drink.  Nodding my 
head to the  man, and seeing him smile.  
    Unfortunately I know more  about these men then I want.  The man a 
casual acquaintance of my other  body and a heavy sweater on a good day.  The 
scent follows him around and  I know from experience that he will stop by 
right after I get my free drink  from him.
    The place not overly busy; but  that is expected for an early evening 
in the middle of the week.   Thinking as I as I keep time to the music and 
hear the heart rending sound of  Janis,  I need a better wardrobe then this.  
Of course I didn't  really buy clothes to wear in other then a shopping 
situation.
    The hungry looks of the men  around me, most likely a look I would have 
when I was having a cold one and a  woman alone was in the place.  All 
women are fair game in some places,  and even if I am not dressed to a tee and 
sexy as hell, a number of men will  still find me attractive and closer to 
beautiful as the night wears into the  wee hours.  
    As I nod again to the man who  bought me the drink, I see him slip from 
the booth he is in and walk over to  the stool next to me.  I am not saying 
his clothing isn't clean; but he  is aromatic in a bad way.  Fending him 
off after exchanging some  pleasantries, not rejecting his attention; but not 
encouraging him as I tell  him I am waiting for a friend.  I guess women lie 
often to steer men  away.
    After ordering a hamburger and  fries, I know that I need some food in 
my system as I am about 100 pounds  lighter and feeling a little bit 
lightheaded as I nurse my second drink.   A glass of ice water cutting the alcohol 
as I sip one then the other.   
Somewhat surprised as I have  been left my corner of the bar as I feed my 
stomach and eat most of my  hamburger and some of the fries.  My appetite and 
capacity has also been  diminished.  
    "Save my spot?"  The  barkeep nodding as I take my purse and walk to 
the Ladies Room.  Not  impressed as I think this is my first time in it.  
Basic for a bar crowd,  a basin and mirror and a couple of stalls.  My first 
ladies room as a  lady.  Another of the things I had to adjust to, sitting down 
to  pee.  Making sure I wipe well and pulling my thong back into place.   
Straightening my skirt and checking for trailing toilet paper.  Hey, so  much 
easier to stand in front of a urinal and let it spray.  But thinking  that 
might not work well here, especially since I haven't practiced peeing  while 
standing.  Most likely wet my legs and shoes.
    Walking back from the corridor  where the restrooms are and seeing 
faces turning to me as I walk back to my  seat and finding that I still have my 
solitude, thank goodness.  Seeing  my half finished drink and another extra 
coaster, two actually as I look  closely.  Wish someone paid my way when I 
was the other  one.
    Again surveying the increase  in patrons and recognizing more men I 
know and a couple who are close  friends.  Feeling a tightness in my chest as I 
see them looking at me and  hoping they don't recognize me.  Their eyes 
speculative and then going  back to their conversation in their booth.  I have 
sat in that booth a  number of times as we discussed work and the ass holes 
we work with over the  years.
    The jukebox getting more of a  workout as men and a few women are 
pumping in the coins and a combination of  music is background to the buzz of 
conversation.  On my third Brandy  Manhattan now and feeling a little bit 
daring as I slowly uncross my legs in  my best Sharon Stone impression and hook 
my uncrossed legs in the rung of my  stool.  Something I should practice more 
in a mirror if I was going to  tease in this manner in the future.  I could 
only guess that maybe my  thong was visible for a moment when I uncrossed 
my legs and now though my legs  are slightly apart, that all anyone can see 
is just past the hem of my  skirt.
    A couple on the floor dancing  to a Hank Williams song.  Others 
watching where the couple have there  hands as they move slowly around the small 
area bare of tables to be used for  the occasional dancing.  Both of them 
holding each other close with their  hands cupped on the ass cheeks.  Not only 
close but groins grinding as  they move I would guess.
    Slowing down in my drinking as  I fend off one and then another 
invitation from men.  Thinking that the  burger and fries are not cutting enough of 
the alcohol in my system as I once  again walk to the ladies room and 
splash some water on my face after taking a  quick pee.  
    Evading a couple of hands  reaching for mine as I weave my way, not so 
confidently back to my stool and  feeling my foot slip as I climbed back up 
crossing my legs  again.  Watching as the couple do another slow swaying ass 
 squeezing dance as they move in place.
    My mind wondering if they just  met this night or were friends before 
coming to the bar.  Eyes surveying  the bar once again, as I lean back and 
rest against the bar.
    Slowly twirling the thin stem  of the glass and wondering why I am 
still here and what I expected to  accomplish with this excursion.  Breaking 
from my revelry, as my friend  steps up to the bar and introduces himself.  As 
big as I was, he is a  bigger man by a good twenty pounds.  Going a little 
bit to fat; but still  a substantial man.
    Introducing myself only by my  first name Patrice and finding out that 
his is John and his buddy in the  booth is George.  Nothing I didn't already 
know as he asks me to join  them in the booth.  Telling him I would think 
about it and maybe join him  in a few minutes.
    The bar tender freshening my  drink and then climbing down from my 
stool to wend my way to the booth.   Shaking both of their hands as John steps 
out of the booth and ushers me to  the inside.  George walking to the bar to 
refill the pitcher of beer as  John starts with his jokes.  Always good for  
jokes and his  line is to work them to more explicit topics as he goes.
    Listening and laughing at his  slightly off color humour as I relax and 
let him and George talk.   The are inseparable in that they share an 
apartment both being  divorced.  Most likely they shared a ride to the bar.
    Another drink from my small  pile of coasters, I think my fifth or is 
it sixth now.  Looking at the  clock and seeing the hour is now close to 
midnight.  John walking over to  the jukebox and slotting some coins and walking 
back.
    "May I have this dance?"   His bow as cavalier as he is likely to get.  
Wanting to reject him; but  not sure how to without pissing him off.  He 
has a quick temper.   Finally agreeing and walking out to the floor with him.  
Where I would  have been his height almost in my other self, here I am 
about four inches  shorter and looking up to him as his hand finds my waist and 
my  hand.  Slowly moving to another Hank Williams song and then a Patsy  
Cline.  A little awkward at first; but adjusting to the female role in  the 
dance after a short time.  Feeling his hand strong on my waist and  slowly 
pulling me closer with each spin around the small  floor.
    Feeling his chest pressing  against my small breasts and his hand has 
slipped down from my waist to the  small of my back and then lower.  His 
other hand releasing mine and the  heels of his hands pressing on the top of my 
ass cheeks as his fingers lightly  rest on the cheeks proper.  My hands on 
his waist as he guides me around  the floor.
    Declining another dance and  walking back to the booth, seeing a few 
glances from some of the men sitting  at the tables.  John smiling proudly as 
he follows me, and I am sure  winking to let them know his charm is working 
its magic.
    I have watched him maneuver  many times before and his winning 
percentage is about 500 or less.   Sitting in the booth as he slides in closer now, 
feeling his thigh pressed  against mine and knowing I should give him the 
red light pretty quick.   Obviously not quick enough as I feel his hand under 
the table and resting on  my thigh, squeezing it gently as he tells some 
more jokes to distract  me.  His hand is rough and calloused on my smooth bare 
skin and the soft  squeezing and releasing aren't so really sensual, just 
comradery.   
Cornered as he leans in and  brushes my lips with his and then backs off.  
Just testing the waters and  not getting the response he wanted.  My hand 
dropping to stop the slow  movement of his hand on my thigh, as it seeks to 
reach the hem of my skirt and  push it up.
    George just watching and  throwing in an occasional word.  His eyes 
taking it all in as he quietly  sips his beer.  My drinks are catching up with 
me as I feel drowsy and  much more then my 140 pound body can absorb.  
Slumping against the back  of the booth and dozing for a moment only to be woke 
up with a shake of my  arm.  John's strong hand wrapped around my bicep, the 
knuckles of his  hand brushing against the soft unfettered mound of my 
breast.  My eyes  focusing and feeling a rush of pleasure as it brushes the 
hardening tip as he  fondles the small round globe.  Brushing his hand away and 
looking around  and rousing myself.
    Excusing myself and a bit  tipsy as I again move to the ladies room.  
The cold water reviving me  somewhat and then sitting in a stall, my arms and 
head setting on my lap as I  try to clear my head.  I have been in this bar 
much to long.  More  cold water splashing on my face and looking into the 
mirror and seeing the  bleary eyes.
    My bag on my shoulder as I  move along the dimly lit corridor of the 
restrooms and find John and George  waiting.  Trying to excuse myself; but 
finally allowing them to escort me  out to the parking lot.  The noise of the 
bar gone and the air less  stuffy as I look for my car.
    Fumbling for my keys and then  at the lock as they watch and with a 
short laugh, John takes the keys from me  and tells George to follow us.
    Pouring myself into the  passenger seat as John drives.  My eyes closed 
and trying to hold off the  dizziness.
    The care stopping after awhile  and John handing me out of the seat and 
leading me to the second floor stairs  to the apartment.  Only realizing as 
I am halfway up that I don't live in  a second floor apartment and focusing 
realizing that we are at  John's.
    Protesting that I need to  drive home, as he opens the door and guides 
me into the small two bedroom  apartment.  Eyes opening as he sets me down 
on a sofa and takes offs my  shoes and then sets down beside me and pulls my 
feet up to rest on his  lap.  Sitting sideways, as I feel his hands 
caressing along my  calves.  The pressure of his fingers does feel good.  Eyes 
closed as  I lay back and enjoy the pampering of his hand working up along my 
knee and  then the hand moving higher, pushing my skirt up to expose my  
thighs.   The skirt now hiked up exposing the bulge of my thong  hiding the pouty 
lips of my labia.
    A soft moan as his hands work  the buttons of my flannel shirt and 
pulls the sides apart exposing my braless  breasts.  His big hand finding a semi 
hard tip and rolling it in his  thick fingers.  A soft moan in response to 
his caress.  One hand  massaging my upper thigh as the other kneads the soft 
flesh of my  breasts.  My eyes opening for a moment, a protest on my lips 
and then  falling back eyes closing and murmuring as his hands continue to 
play with my  private parts.  
    His hands spreading my legs  apart on his lap and then his index finger 
tracing the slit of my pussy,  pressing the lips apart and the thong into 
them.  The light fabric,  darkening as my wet walls release moisture to be 
absorbed in the  material.  Trying to wiggle my legs away as he slips a finger 
into my  thong, feeling the warm digit pressing on the swollen and wet 
labia.  My  chest heaving, breasts lifting, hard tips pointing at the  ceiling.
    Shaking my head no, as his  finger presses between the swollen ridges 
and into the entrance to my  pussy.  "No don't, please don't."  Trying to 
squeeze my thighs  closed, as he pushes his finger further into the canal.  A 
soft whimper  of protest as push myself out of my alcohol induced fog.  My 
hands  pushing my skirt down and plucking at the sides of my shirt.  The big  
hand still mauling the soft flesh of my genitals as I try to lift up from 
the  sofa. 
    "No, please.  I need to  go home."  One hand on my stomach holding me 
in place as his other hand  works the fasteners of my skirt and tugs it not 
to gently down over my legs  and dropping it to the floor.  The hand again 
pulling and ripping the  thong and stripping the now rag from covering my 
pubes.
    Sitting up as the pressure on  my stomach is eased, another protest on 
my lips.  His hands pulling at  the flannel shirt and pulling it down in 
back, effectively trapping my arms  and exposing my chest fully now.
    His lips mauling mine in a  hard pressed kiss, tongue forcing itself 
into my mouth.  Trying to pull  away as his hand again squeezes and pinches 
and rolls my nipple.  Pushing  me back down reclining on the sofa and his legs 
prying between mine and  forcing my legs apart.  His free hand finding my 
slick labia and rubbing  and squeezing the swollen flesh.
    Understanding what is meant by  "octopus arms"  as they seem to be 
everywhere.  My arms helpless  trapped at my sides as he mauls my breasts and 
pussy with his hard paws.   My protest trapped in my mouth as he keeps his 
lips pressed hard to  mine.
    The man almost twice my size  and the outcome of this wrestling match 
little in doubt as kneels between my  legs and undoes his pants and slips 
them down his legs with his under  shorts.  His bulk hiding his body from my 
eyes as he pulls his mouth away  just long enough to slip his shirt off.
    His upper body and arms  covered with a dense dark coating of hair.  I 
can feel his aroused organ  grinding against the outside of my body as he 
shifts and finally pulls his  pants all of the way off.
    My lips bruised by the hard  pressure of his kisses.  His hands prying 
at my legs as I try to keep  them together and finally feel his hands 
reaching back and grabbing my ankles  and pulling them up in the air and over my 
head as he holds them  apart.
    My mind's eye picturing the  vulnerable state of my body as he has 
rolled my pussy up and I can feel the  lips parted.  His aroused cock warm and 
tapping on my stomach as he  shifts on his knees and then centers the blunt 
head against my lips.   Knee walking on the cushions and the head slowly 
penetrating the entrance to  my pussy.
    Laying back not resisting now  as the shaft pushes deeper into my 
tunnel.  The blunt head pressing the  walls apart and the slick flesh forming 
around the engorged shaft.   Feeling the heavy ball sack as it lays against my 
asshole.   
The ease with his entrance  ending the slow penetration and I feel the hard 
slap of his abs against my  tummy as he shoves the cock in hard and fast, 
his pubic hair rubbing on the  soft flesh around my pussy.
    Looking up at the man's face,  pinned to the sofa like a butterfly on a 
board. Seeing his lust as he  pulls back and shoves back in hard and deep 
again and again.  The slap of  flesh loud in the room.  The other sounds of 
my groans and his grunts as  he grinds his body into mine with each thrust.
    The smell of sweat filling my  nostrils with a fainter scent of musky 
sexual arousal.  As he continues  to pound into my body, I can feel my walls 
grasping at his cock and squeezing,  my nipples aching with sensation as 
they jiggle on my chest.  Eyes  opening and seeing the strain in his face and 
neck as his body pulls back and  thrust, pulls back and thrusts.  I can feel 
a soreness in my pussy lips  as he slams into my body again and again and 
again.
    Finally seeing the sudden  intensity fill his face and a loud grunt as 
he thrusts and holds himself hard  against my body.  His slight jerks and 
groans, telling me his is cumming  inside of my body.  My walls clenching on 
his shaft as I feel the strain  of his arms pulling my legs further apart.  
Closing my eyes and feeling  his weak strokes as he empties the last drops of 
his semen in my  pussy.
    His hand relaxing as he backs  off of the sofa, his cock pulling out 
with a wet pop and hands releasing my  ankles.
    Laying full length on the  sofa, legs slightly parted and feeling the 
fullness of my bruised labia and  the seeping of the cream from my pussy.  
Eyes closed as I hear him moving  around the room.  
    Falling into a alcohol induced  sleep and waking to find George fucking 
into me.  Eyes opening to look at  him and then just laying spread under 
him as he finishes and releases his  spunk into my body.
    Nothing fancy about his  fucking.  Just in and out and in and out.  Him 
not lasting long  after I woke; but I don't know how long he was fucking my 
slack pussy before I  awoke.  Laying sprawled and leaking as he walks away 
without a word and  closes the door of his bedroom.
    Weakly struggling to rise up;  but not finding the energy and curling 
up on the sofa and quickly falling into  another alcohol induced slumber.
    Awaking to the touch of  fingers on my breasts.  Looking up at John and 
seeing him hairy and  naked.  His cock jutting obscenely from his thick 
tuft of pubic  hair.
    Protesting as he tugs and  pulls on my breasts.  I don't know if this 
is a form of foreplay; but it  went out with the cavemen.  HIs hands using my 
breasts to pull me into a  sitting position.  The pain lessening  as I 
follow his lead and sit  in front of him.
    My eyes looking up at his  face, as I feel the warm engorged shaft 
slapping my cheek.  The smell of  my pussy strong in my nostrils.  "Give me a 
good suck Patrice."  His  request more of a command as his hands move to my 
head and pulls it to his  groin.
    Still half asleep as I shake  my head and try to stand and feel his 
hands clamp on the sides of my head rubs  his cock over my face.  "I need to go 
home and clean up."  My words  my downfall as open my mouth to say more, he 
forces my lips against his  cock.  "Now suck it Patrice.  And do a good job 
and I will throw you  another fuck.  Maybe George will also."  His laugh 
nasty and  cruel.
    Fingers curling into my hair  and tugging my head up.  The hair tight 
on my scalp.  Seeing no  option as I look at his hard set face.  I turn to 
the fat head and my  tongue licks tentatively at the bulbous head.  Tasting my 
pussy and his  semen, crusted on it.  My hands moving to the shaft as I 
have done in my  practice and holding it in my fingers as I lick over and 
around the  shaft.  Feeling it firming up more as I tongue and suckle the outer  
core.  
    His hairy pubic area  distracting as I try not take the pubic hairs 
into my mouth.  Tasting  sweat and urine and cunt and spunk on his shaft as I 
continue to worship his  nasty prick.
    The fat knob filling my cheeks  as he pushes it against my lips.  No 
slow sucking as he stabs his hips  forward as he holds my head and the blunt h
ead jams hard against my  throat.  Gagging as my eyes fly open wide in 
shock.  Tears forming  and slipping down my cheeks as his hands pound my head 
against his  groin.  Trying to catch my breath, as saliva escapes the sides of 
my lips  to form long strings of moisture from my chin to my chest.
    Not able to form words as his  hands control my head and mouth totally 
now.  My hands wrapping around  his legs as I try to brace for the brutal 
skull fucking that he is giving my  mouth.  My sounds of protest, just grunt 
and meaningless sounds as he  siphons my spittle from my mouth.  His cock 
jamming into my cheeks and  throat.
    My nostrils flaring as I try  to take in oxygen in between thrusts.  
Snot dripping down onto my upper  lip, mixing with the tears and spittle.  
Choking and sputtering and  gasping, my nails digging into his flesh as I fight 
the burning in my  lungs.
    In spite of the fear and  terror and brutal head fuck, I can feel my 
tunnel wet with my moisture.   My nipples hard and aching as they rub on his 
legs.  And finally feel the  head expanding, swelling in my mouth and spewing 
in a quick spurt, thick globs  of seed.  The cream being shot directly into 
my throat as he lodges his  cock in my throat and I desperately gasp for 
air.  Choking as he pulls  back and out of my mouth.  Feeling the warm 
expulsion of semen coating my  face and hair and breasts as he holds me in front of 
his cock and finishes  cumming.
    "Clean it up Patrice  girl."  Looking up at him still in shock for the 
brutal mouth fuck and  then lowering my head to again clean his cock of his 
sperm and my  spittle.  Feeling him patting my head.  "Good girl."
    Head bowed as I sit back on my  legs, feeling the puffiness of my labia 
and the stickiness of the flesh  between my legs.  Seeing droplets of 
pearly white cream spotting my  breasts and chest like acne.
    His laughter again cruel as he  walks away to the bathroom and I can 
hear him pisses loudly in the bowl.   His piss hard on now taken care of in 
both respects.
    Looking up to see George in  the doorway of his bedroom.  A flush of 
humiliation burning my coated  face as I look at him and then away.  The bulge 
in his shorts letting me  know he has been watching and has a morning hard 
on.
    Taking a towel from the  kitchen and throwing it to me as he walks 
back.  Wiping the assorted  liquids from my face and chest.  "Lay down on the 
sofa Patrice."   Hesitating for a moment and then pushing myself to my feet 
and laying back on  the sofa as I have done earlier.  Eyes watching George as 
he pushs down  his shorts to expose his cock and then steps out of them.
    With not foreplay, feeling him  kneel between my spread legs and his 
cock head finding easy entrance into my  well lubed pussy.  Closing my eyes 
not wanting to see his as he works his  cock in and out.  My walls grasping 
his cock and squeezing it as he works  his cock a good long time his hand 
braced as if doing pushups.  Finally  his grunt as he continues to stroke the 
length of his cock into my hole.   Opening my eyes and seeing the satisfaction 
as he seeds me with his cum and  pulls out his morning wood gone and cock 
semi hard.  
    Finding myself feeling sorry  for myself as I quietly sob as I clean 
his cock of my grease and his  seed.  Not looking up at him as he walks away 
and I look around for my  clothing.  Wiping between my legs and trying to 
push out more of the  spunk.
    Then dressing and thong in  hand sobbing again.  Dropping it back to 
the floor as I gather up my  purse and keys and escaping from that apartment. 
    My thighs pressing on my  swollen and bruised labia as I climb down the 
steps to find my car.   Feeling more cum leaking oozing from between my 
legs as I drive home and  escape quickly into the house.
    Stripping quickly and running  a shower and feeling my head pounding 
with the excess alcohol from the  previous night and my flesh stinging as the 
hot water attempts to drive away  the shame and humiliation of the 
encounter.  Sitting on the seat in the  shower and holding the hand held shower head 
against my clit as I close my  eyes and think back on the night.  
    My body trembling as the  pulsing water pounds at the swollen pearl and 
raising it to work my nipples  and bending over with the intense pleasure 
shooting from the hard nips to my  core.
    My body wrack by one spasm  after another till I am screaming in 
release and frustration at what I have  done and let happen.  Taking another cum 
from my body and then pounding  my flesh again with the hand held shower 
spray.  Using it to douche at my  well used and bruised lips and hole.
    Thinking how thankful that I  went and got birth controls pills, just 
in case.  That would be all I  need.  Pregnant, if that is possible in my 
case, from my first virgin  fuck and second and third.  And that brutal oral.  
Not terming it a  blow job.  A true skull fuck.
    Reliving it all quickly and  finding myself excited once more.  Shaking 
my head as I walk naked  through the house,  My cum stained skirt showing 
the results of my  leaking pussy.  LIfting it to my face and sniffing as I 
rub it against  my nose and then licking with my tongue.  Flushing again  with 
my self embarrassment..........
  Wondering as I look at the mirror, when  the Antiques Road Show is near 
our town and I can take this piece of  furniture to be valued and explained.  
A piece of inheritance from my  distant cousin as is this Gothic looking 
house on one of the old residential  streets of Poughkeepsie.  Already knowing 
that I will never take this  piece of furniture to be public.  
Moving aside the boxes that I  am actually reluctant to open and 
investigate.  A clear path to the  antique and then carefully grasping it, lifting it 
and moving it to the front  room of the attic.  The room already having been 
cleared of debris and  clutter as I place it facing an old sofa......
 

 
   
    
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