Message-ID: <54847asstr$1162883403@assm.asstr.org>
DomainKey-Signature: a=rsa-sha1; q=dns; c=nofws;
  s=dk20050327; d=mindspring.com;
  b=ndVCzx812yMPknvKlVpE9ehuERzLfRLwC9x4uiqHWFMYlXJ6mflmEDemxZ4AckPz;
  h=Received:Date:From:X-Mailer:Reply-To:X-Priority:Message-ID:To:Subject:MIME-Version:Content-Type:X-ELNK-Trace:X-Originating-IP;
From: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
Reply-To: Souvie <souvie@mindspring.com>
Subject: {ASSM} "The Fat Lady Sings" (MF, flash, humor) by Souvie
Lines: 111
Date: Tue, 07 Nov 2006 02:10:03 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d




<1st attachment, "fatladysings.txt" begin>

Author: Souvie 
Title: The Fat Lady Sings
Keywords: MF


"The Fat Lady Sings" 
copyright November 2006 by Souvie 
souvie at mindspring dot com
Edited by John
First line challenge provided by Gary Jordan (he's gotta start
giving me better ones!)




Gwen decided that, in the opera that was her life, some skinny lady
in a Viking suit had wrapped her thighs around Donald (the boyfriend)
and was hauling her relationship off to Valhalla.

No, really.

Gwen was a costume designer for the Upper Middletown Opera House,
and Donald was the tenor in the current production of Brunhild.
Unfortunately, the tart playing Brunhild was a size three to Gwen's
Rubenesque size eighteen, and in the course of rehearsals, had
decided that Donald was fair game.

She'd come home from a long day of hemming up skirts, redesigning
the hats for the dwarves and getting budget approval on some last
minute fabrics she needed, to find Donald on the living room couch.
That wasn't out of the ordinary. What was, though, was "The Tart"
stark naked astride him, riding Donald's equally naked shaft like
there was no tomorrow.

She'd promptly turned around, walked out and spent the night on the
director's couch. The next day Donald had moved out.

She'd given him a few days to get it out of his system. First she'd
been hurt and betrayed. Then she'd wondered what she'd done wrong to
make him turn to someone else. Finally she'd arrived at anger. She
was pissed at him for cheating on her and having the balls to do it
in their own apartment.

Gwen cornered him in the one place she knew he couldn't get away
from her - the men's room in the Opera House.  

She followed him in, ignoring the startled look on the orchestra
director's face as he hurried to zip up and get the hell out of
there.  

Donald turned to see what had startled the other man. "Gwen, wha?"
His face turned the shade of cherries. 

"You listen to me, Donald Allan Fitzroy, I will not let you make a
fool of me. I also won't let you toss eighteen months of a good
relationship down the crapper so you can fuck that primadonna tart. 
You understand me?"

She'd backed him up into a stall, finger jabbing his chest with each
point she made. With nowhere else to go, he'd fallen onto the toilet
seat and sat there staring up at her. "God," he said in awe, "you're
magnificent. Like a Valkryie." 

He reached for her tits, but she smacked his hand away. "You ever
cheat on me again I swear I'll take your dick and feed it to you for
supper. Get it?"

He nodded mutely.

Gwen sighed. If he wasn't the best fuck she'd ever had and a
basically decent guy, she'd cut her losses and move on. But she
really loved the dumb ass.  She raised her skirts, presenting Donald
with her naked bush. 

He sprang into action, literally, and she climbed aboard, hands
gripping his shoulders.

They both missed hearing the bathroom door open.  But there was no
mistaking the female voice that whispered, "Donald? Donald, honey,
are you in here?"

Gwen let out a loud moan. 

Footsteps sounded, and the stall door was flung open.  Gwen turned
around and stared at "The Tart." "Do you mind?" she said in an
imperious voice. "I'm fucking my boyfriend here. Take your skinny ass
and vamoose."

"The Tart" let out a scream of rage that would have caused her vocal
coach to have a coronary.

"Well, you're not fat and that's not exactly a song, but I'd say
you're done here." Gwen slammed the stall door in her face, and
turned her attention back to Donald. 

 


<1st attachment end>


----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------
Notice: This post has been modified from its original
format.  The post was sent as an email attachment and
has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software.
----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
| alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+