Message-ID: <818eli$9705161308@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/818> Path: qz!news.accessus.net!not-for-mail X-Path-Preload: news.accessus.net preloaded to thwart rogue canceller there Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> From: <mrspraycan.an@edtec.com> Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories,alt.sex.stories.moderated Subject: STORY: Seductions 7/Mr.Spraycan X-Server-Date: 15 May 1997 23:38:13 GMT Disclaimer: Adults only. 'Not much' resemblance to real or historic persons, places, etc., is intended. Copyright (c) 1997 by Baton Rouge Thoughtscapes and its author, Mr.Spraycan, who chooses to remain 'anon.' Do not repost, store on public sites without permission. No commercial use is warranted. For personal use and/or entertainment purposes. Visit the Spraycan site: <http://www.sinewave.com/spraycan> for much more 'stuff.' Note: Continuation w/overlap from "Seductions: 1," to be found free at the website (5/5 thru 5/15 only.), and Pts. 2 through 6, filed here and there. Nearly at the close with this phase of Maria's little tale. She's been good, hasn't she? It's just started, though. Enough giveaways. To read the rest, join the Club. Why don't people send feedback? If you expect this stuff to keep appearing for nothing, you're in for a big surprise. SEDUCTIONS 7 by Mr.Spraycan Tuesday, I regret to say, is a day when Maria works. When I drop her off at home, I say to call in the afternoon, late, and we'll figure out something. She climbs out of the car carefully, favoring her sore ass. I sleep well, that night. Though there's a lot of S&M junk to clear up, and photos and stuff to file. Nevertheless, I make an early start, trying to catch up on a lost day. I'm followed as I go to the PO, some other errands, by a loud revving motorbike, a Yamaha. How subtle. I'm sure it's Maria's crosseyed Tommy Lee brother, though I can't be definitive about that with his tinted visor and Shoei helmet. I drive around, doing the drive in bank, dropping some shoes off, some library books. All that drive-up stuff that makes him so visible and obvious. How dumb can he be? Very, I decide. So, let's get on with it. I pull into the post office car park. He follows, stiffly. Yes, they are damned uncomfortable, and they make your balls numb. The post office isn't busy. He bustles up behind me, and pulls a tiny 22 caliber gun at the POB locker room, and accuses me. "Motherfucker, you're screwing my little sister! I'll kill you!" Well, all I'll say is don't mess with ex-vets, punks. I ask: "Don't you mean sisterfucker, or am I slamming the old bitch as well, Numbnuts?" He waves the gun again. Too much TV. I take the gun away with a decoy gesture, one sweep of the arm, and an elbow driven in the midriff. He's on the floor coughing. I mail the gun for him, minus the ammo clip. Only postal employees are allowed to go nuts here." My foot is on his neck, and I politely instruct him to keep his distance in future or he'll be an ex-asshole in the obit column. I step down firmly on his balls, and leave him rolling around making mewing sounds. I kick the bike off its sidestand when I leave. Next stop is the musty dusty library, doing some very boring Thomas Register stuff on an agency project. Why is it so hot in these places? Is there some room out back where all the librarians work in the nude? A fortyish woman with sharpish features, not so skanky at all, is hanging around. I get to check her out. A conditional maybe: you gotta get close, be sure these older ones wash! She's hovering for the Register. A conversation as I give it up, very minimal. She's thin, smells okay, has longish frizzy hair in a barrette, baggy cotton clothes, but doesn't smell bad. In fact ... When I leave and wander down the street to the Grease Pit diner, she shows up two or three minutes later, missing the last booth because she can't parallel park her beaten-up old 1992 Taurus, with all its brainless stickers. I wave her over. Black looks from my waitress, who has been trying to score with me off and on for months. You know how it goes. She's Sophia, she says cautiously. "Find it?" I ask, she looks blank, remembers we just met in the library, rather unconvincing to me. Some freelance, is the excuse. Talk moves in the predictable direction, and it's not inch counts and payment terms for long. She's quite pleasant, a bit waspish, but nice big smile. Decent enough real-world teeth, unbleached, has a way with words, nice voice. The teeth I check carefully: a few crowns, some signs of smoking once in the past, that yellowy cue ball match they love to give you at cheap dental labs. No horrid gum recession, smells, though I spot a few dark lines. I hate that. We wander back to my place. She's hovering close, looking up expectantly, with that "Well, are you going to or not?" look. I begin to think, 'familiar' and give her a squeeze. She smiles, then suddenly launches into "Oh, you bastard! And you're the one who's fucking my daughter, you goat!" rather bitterly, but not in a super-hostile about-to-attack way. Oh, what!? Not again! I grab her, and say, "yes, and so fucking what? She's an adult isn't she, capable of making up her own mind? You damn people . . ." A two-second pause. "Ye, you absolute shit. Then fuck me too." Uh oh. But I don't laugh aloud. I think, hmm, okay. The grab turns seductive, personal on her part. I have to be careful after this morning's encounter. I think 9mm auto, stiletto in the back, razor in the bra, etc. "Do you mean that?" "Sure. Why, can't you get it up again?" "Yeah, right." I tell her to strip. "You're a real romantic, aren't you?" "No, I want to make sure you don't pull a knife or something." "Paranoid?" "No, a survivor." "And a voyeur?" "Yes, French films are tres bien, maman." Off come her baggy clothes. Lousy undies. But she's not bad at all, in a miles-on-her way. A few wrinkles, stretch marks, some cellulite but quite okay for her age. Smallish, slightly downwardly mobile tits, skinny thighs, big round ass. Huge dark nipples, a big frizzy triangle streaked with grey. Little pot belly bulge, emphasizing an 'innie' navel that's rather cute. Faded bikini lines, rather pale, not too many 'distinguishing features' moles and zits and Grungy hair. Suburban mum: my regular meat dish. My dong is in launch mode. "Now, cavity search, mumsie," I tell her. "Why? I'm not hiding a, well, what could I?" she's confused. "Hygiene, my dear. I've got to look at the scuzzy port, and your RS-232, see if you wiped your bum properly." She's less confident of herself now. Fresh rubber glove, a look-see in her cunt, her ass. She argues: "Oh, you bastard! How dare you! What if I said needed to examine your prick to see if it's clean?" "Yeah? Well, you will!" I laugh, pushing her to her knees. "Nice juicy uncircumcised dong for you to lick clean, mumsie!" She recoils and I smirk as I hold it to her mouth. She licks tentatively, then swallows me whole as I let the foreskin pull back and she gets into the tasty stuff. I'm careful not to come, though she's good with her mouth, alright. Then, before she gets it, I pull her to her feet, place her wrists behind her, and expertly snap on handcuffs. She protests, I tell her, "Quiet, or you'll be gagged." A leash choke chain goes round her neck. I lift her and sit her on a high stool. "Now we'll learn more about the Greek freak family Arianopoulos," I mock. "Hubby coming by too?" "No," she says contemptuously. "He's too busy faking it for workers comp." "Oh?" "Fell off the loading dock on to his head, been out six months." "Sad. The dock okay?" She laughs bitterly. "Unfortunately, he's still around." So, now it's my turn. I tell her we'll deconstruct who was fucking who at various stages, and find out her version of Maria's secret. (It's not so secret, I'm convinced they all had her at various times, not to mention a deceased uncle, various friendly neighbors, some kids, a teacher or two. Her childhood was the education of one orifice after another. Evil people. No wonder she's so submissive, so eroticized . . .) She sees the cameras. I show her a 'Maria wanking' pic, a real butcher's window special, of no subtlety at all. 'Want to join the club?" Oh, yes. She does. So I chain her ankles to the stool, move her cuffs to the front position, and let her do it. In no time, she's very aroused and passionate -- some older women have strange inhibitions about wanking for men, others don't. But she's quite uninhibited, pulling and stretching, exhibiting herself quite crudely. Talking about her fantasies, which (surprise, surprise!) are not so different to her daughter's. They compared notes often, I'm told, in bed. "Would you like to do a mother-and-daughter '69' in public, Sophia?" She's emphatic that she would. "And so would she, believe me!" I'm playing with her, really. Would I set this up? Well, if the money was right. But in truth Maria needs to escape these flakes. And, so, you're wondering. Do I become a "motherfucker"? Sure, she's there, and dripping. She wants it, and she's not too rancid after I give her a hot shower and a scrubbing with a nail brush. I will rescue Maria, I decide. She needs, in order: (i) to get right out of this nuthouse (ii) she needs the stripper gig and a pile of dough, meaning (iii) her own apt and car and, you know, (iv) culture, dudes. But a change is in order. I think the stripper audition should be in NYC, but she needs to take herself to LA, or elsewhere, soon. I'll miss her, but you know the schtick: 'free free set them free...' She'll still be mine, whenever . . . and it'll certainly decomplicate local life for me. But before that, I have a couple of stunts that Maria needs to participate in, here. One is being thoroughly fucked by dear mummy. Who I expect to give dear Maria a good harsh over-the-knee paddling, till she cries like a silly little kid. The other is a total gross-out with one of Maria's sticky-assed colleagues. Copyright (c) 1997, Mr.Spraycan [Part of "Just Like Don Giovanni's Blues," provisionally the Spraycan Factory Outlet Club 'Choice Of The Month' for July 1997.] MrSpraycan's full service website: <http://www.sinewave.com/spraycan> Adults only, and guaranteed to blow your mind . . . A place where you can get much more of this and other fine erotica [ Via EDTec Anon Remail Service: <infos.an@edtec.com> ] -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /