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From: Spangles Muldoon <spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} USA Made
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Date: Wed, 08 Nov 2006 04:10:04 -0500
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Copyright (C) 1999, Spangles Muldoon.  ALL Rights Reserved

   This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit, or on another
website without the written permission of the author.  The author may be
contacted by writing mrdouble@mrdouble.com or mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.

   Original posting date: Tuesday AM, January 05, 1999

   A Resident Author story from MrDouble's archive, Filename: usamade.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com





   "American Made"

   by Spangles Muldoon

   spanglesmuldoon@yahoo.com
Prologue:
This is yet another of the works of fiction by Spangles Muldoon.  Other
works by Spangles Muldoon include "Uncle Fuzzy's Money" (UFM for short),
"Better Living Through Chemistry" (BLTC for short), and "My Own Personal
Hell" (MOPH for short), and "Same Tomorrow As Yesterday"(STAY for short).
If you like those, you will probably like this one.  If you like this one,

you will probably like those.

   As always, the standard disclaimers apply.  If you are a prude or
religious zealot, go away now.  Comments are welcomed, as is constructive
criticism, but flames are not.  Understand that I write for me.  If you
happen to like what I write as well, that is fine.  If you don't like it,
that is fine, too, because it wasn't written for you.  It was written for
me.

   Much of what I write lends itself well to additional installments.  If
you have ideas for new installments, feel free to propose them to me, and I
will consider writing them.  If you are new to my work, it is important
that you understand that I like stories with a plot, and because of that,
my work will never be non-stop action.

   Many of the activities I write about are illegal, immoral, and in some
cases, downright rude.  Do not try this at home.

   Chapter 1

   I have been working in aviation longer than I even care to remember.  I
work on the technical and regulatory side of aviation.  I am not a pilot or
aircrew member, nor do I have any desire to be.  As a result of my chosen
field, I have had the opportunity to travel extensively in several parts of
the world.  I am currently working for a helicopter company that is looking
for new markets to expand into.  They are looking at the possibility of
expanding internationally.  The countries they chose to look at were the
Phillipines and Russia.  Russia I could understand, but I really didn't
understand the idea behind expansion into the Phillipines.

   It was decided that I would be the one to make the trip and represent
the company.  The plan was that I would go to the Phillipines in the
spring, and spend sixty days there.  Following that, I would proceed to the
former Soviet Union for sixty days, then home again.  Since it was mid
October, I had quite a bit of time to prepare for the trip.

   Most of my trips thus far had been uneventful, and in some cases
downright boring.  There was, of course, the trip to London and the trip to
Puerto Rico, both of which had their moments, but those are other stories.
I was determined that this trip would be different.  I began planning for
it the very night the trip was confirmed.

   I started on the Internet.  I knew about the world famous mail order
brides available from the Phillipines, so I started there.  I had no
intention of marrying a Filipina, but I might be interested in the
courtship, if you know what I mean.  I found a web site that had Filipina
mail order brides and started looking it over.  It was a well designed
site, and had a built in search engine so that you could search the
database by age, height, and weight.  Since I have a definite preference
for young, petite women, I filled out the search form for that.  I got over
50 hits, each with a picture and a mini biography attached.  I felt like I
was in a smorgasbord.  I trimmed the list down to only thirty five by
eliminating those that weren't up to my standard of looks or that had
something in their bio that I didn't like.

   The next day, I went back through my selections.  I had a good selection
of fifteen, sixteen, and seventeen year olds, one fourteen, and even one
thirteen.  I wrote up a generic message to each of them, emphasizing that I
was an American businessman, and would be in the Phillipines for a couple
of months in the spring.  I had to pay the web site two bucks for each
message I sent, but I figured it was a small price to pay to have a supply
of young pussy the entire time I was in the Phillipines.

   It was a month before I received the first response.  Over the next
couple of weeks, I had thirty responses.  Based on the responses, I
eliminated five from each age group.  I kept up correspondence with the
rest.  I got contact information on all of them.  Of the batch, several
interested me a lot.  I wasn't sure how this was going to work, but I felt
pretty confident that with that many to choose from, I was pretty much
guaranteed a lot of young pussy in the Phillipines.  When the travel
arrangements were finalized, I began to plan in earnest.  The company had
arranged a hotel room for me, but I thought it might be wise to not use it
for this.  All my contact with the girls thus far had been under a bogus
name, and I didn't want to blow that.  I made separate arrangements for a
room at another hotel using the bogus name.  As the trip neared, I sent
messages to all the girls and told them to expect a call from me soon after
I arrived.  I told them I would have to work around my work schedule, so it
might be a while after my arrival before they heard from me, but to be
patient.

   When the day of departure came, I was more than ready to go.  From past
experiences with international travel, I knew I would be useless for a
couple of days when I got there.  I used my first day there to rest and get
acclimated and oriented.  The second day, I went to the other hotel and
checked in.  The second hotel was a couple of miles from my 'official'
hotel.  Just far enough to be away, but close enough to get to easily, even
on foot.  I made my first phone call that morning.

   I had selected a cute fifteen year old for my first contact.  From her
picture and description, she was near ideal in looks and build, at least
what I considered to be ideal.  I spoke to her on the phone for almost an
hour, mainly because we had some trouble communicating.  It was possible to
talk to her, but not easy.  She was eager to meet me, and I was eager to
meat her.  I set up a meeting for that afternoon at the bogus hotel.  She
was to meet me at my room at two o'clock.

   I made a couple of other phone calls that morning, setting up meetings
with one of the thirteen year olds for lunch the next day, and with a
fourteen year old the following evening.  I went to lunch after that, and
got back to the room at about one-fifteen.  I heard a knock on the door at
one-thirty.  She was early, which meant eager.  I opened the door to let
her in.

   She was dressed immaculately.  She had on a white loose fitting blouse
and a tight black mini-skirt.  She had obviously spent quite a bit of time
on her hair and makeup, and she looked older than the fifteen I knew she
was.  Still, the little girl quality was evident.  She was much better
looking than her picture, and her build was exactly what I had imagined it
to be.  She was much shorter than I had figured, at right around five feet.
I estimated her weight at about ninety pounds.

   I invited her in, and I guided her to the small table in the corner of
the room where there were two chairs.  I invited her to sit in one, and I
took the other.  The room itself was nothing to speak of.  All it contained
was the table and two chairs, a queen sized bed, a rack in one corner to
hang clothes on, a small dresser, and a closet sized bathroom with a
shower, commode, and sink in it.

   I had positioned the chairs so that they were facing each other, but to
the side of the table.  I wanted to be able to look at her as we talked
without the table being in the way.  As we made small talk, I took the
opportunity to study her a bit closer.  Her blouse was too loose to allow
me to determine if she had a bra on or not, but I had the impression that
she didn't.  She certainly didn't need it.  There wasn't the slightest hint
if tits indicated by the front of her blouse.  Looking lower, I noted that
her skirt had moved slightly higher when she sat down.  She obviously
didn't have on panty hose, and she certainly didn't need them.  Her legs
were dark skinned and smooth.  I could see pretty far up her short skirt,
but not high enough to get a panty shot.

   I was having a tough time understanding her, but it seemed that she
understood me pretty well.  She asked a lot of questions, mainly about me,
but also about what my plans were.  She asked me specifically if I was
planning on meeting with any other girls while I was in the Phillipines, or
if she was the only one.  I told her that I had planned on meeting and
getting to know several girls, and spending enough time with each one of
them to determine if they were emotionally, physically, mentally, and
sexually compatible with me.  Only after I had met them all would I decide
what would happen next.

   We talked for a while longer, and I told her about my home in the
States, and what Dallas and Fort Worth were like.  She listened in rapt
attention, asking questions from time to time.  Eventually, she got around
to asking again about other girls I would be meeting.  She seemed to be a
little concerned about it, almost like she wasn't comfortable with
competition.  I told her that although I would be meeting several girls, I
had selected her to meet first because she interested me more than any
other that had been in contact with me.  She smiled brightly when I said
that, and then asked in her broken English "If I am the one you like best,
why will you bother to meet others?"

   "Like I mentioned," I said, "I have to be sure that I choose someone who
is emotionally, physically, mentally, and sexually compatible with me. 
Looks alone are just not enough to base any kind of relationship on.  So
far, all I know about you is that you are very nice looking, and that up to
this point you seem to be emotionally and mentally compatible with me. 
We'll just have to see how things go from here.  I'll be here for several
weeks, so there is plenty of time."

   She was silent for what seemed to be a long time, then said "Does that
mean you won't make a decision until you have sex with me?" she asked.  "I
didn't say that," I replied, "but I can't say that it wouldn't be a factor.
If I meet five girls and they are all pretty much equal, there is no doubt
that the ones that have slept with me and done a very good job of it will
have an advantage.  If none of them do, well, it comes down to a judgement
call.  Whether you want to do it or not is your decision." She was quiet
again, for quite a while.  I didn't break the silence, although it was
tough for me not to.

   "Why is sex so important to you?" she asked.  "Simple," I replied, "If a
girl is a virgin, I want to know that for certain.  The only way to be sure
is either a doctors exam or to make her a woman myself.  If she is a
virgin, I will not take her to the States with me unless I have made her a
woman.  I will have found out that she is not averse to sex, and that she
is eager and willing to learn.  How am I to know that if she won't sleep
with me here, she will when we get there?  On the other hand, if she is not
a virgin, there are only a couple of reasons I can think of why she would
not sleep with me, and both of them are not good."

   She was quiet again for a while, then said simply "I am a virgin, and I
will be one when I get married." "Okay," I replied, "then we have nothing
more to discuss." She looked shocked at my response, and sat there
silently. "Why?" she asked, "If we are going to get married anyway, what
difference does it make?  If we are not, then it is not an issue at all."
"Simple," I said, "you are not looking at the whole picture."

   "First, you are fifteen." "Almost sixteen!" she injected.  "Okay, almost
sixteen." I responded.  "In either case, it is quite impossible for me to
marry you.  I would have to wait a year and a half just for you to be old
enough to get married with parental permission, and over two years to do it
without parental permission.  I could take you to the states with me under
a student visa without any problem, and you could live with me and go to
school until you were old enough to get married.  That is, of course,
provided that you are my selection.  I am not going to take you to the
states and let you live with me for two years without having sex with you.
Period.  If you insist on waiting until you get married, well, like I said,
we have nothing more to discuss.  Besides, if I were to agree to that,
which I won't, what happens if I take you to the states and let you live
with moe for two years until we can get married, then I find out you are
lousy in bed and have no interest or talent with sex?  What do I do then?

   I picked up the phone from the desk and referred to my notebook, looking
for a number.  I selected the number of a seventeen year old that I had not
been able to contact yet, and started to dial the number.  "Who are you
calling?" she asked.  "Another girl." I replied.  "I want to meet as many
as I can while I'm here, and it looks like I need a date for this
afternoon."

   "Wait." She said.  "Maybe you don't.  I hadn't considered any of what
you are talking about, but now that I do it makes some sense.  I won't
promise that I'll let you have sex with me, but we can at least talk it
over some more, get to know each other better, and see where it leads."
"Okay," I responded, putting down the phone, "We can do that." I picked up
the phone again, and she asked "Who are you calling now?" "Room service," I
said, "I'm going to order us some lunch."

   I ordered lunch, and, of course, a bottle of wine to go with it.  We
chatted over lunch, and I used the time to show her some pictures of my
house, motorcycle, and cars in Dallas, which, of course, got her attention.
I made a point to keep her wineglass filled, and ordered another bottle
when the first one was gone.  I made certain that she drank more wine than
I did.  Based on her small body size and age, I figured she would get drunk
easily.  She did.

   I could tell when it began to hit her, because she got giggly and a bit
looser.  She changed her position in her chair frequently, and each time
she did, her skirt worked it's way a little higher.  It was to the point
now that I had a clear panty shot.  She also started leaning toward me to
make a point now and then, and when she did, I could get a shot down the
top of her blouse.  Not far enough to get a clean tit shot, but enough to
tell for certain that there was no bra.  I had little doubt now that I
would be fucking her today.  I got up and went to the bathroom, and as soon
as I came out, she went in.  She was walking very unsteadily.  I didn't go
back to the table, though.  I went to the bed and sat on the edge of it. 
When she came back, she started to the table, then saw me on the bed.  She
paused for a moment, then went on to the table.  She got her glass of wine,
then came back and sat on the bed next to me, between me and the
nightstand. She sat her glass on the nightstand, then laid back on the bed,
keeping her feet on the floor.  "Whew!", she said, "that wine is really
getting to me."

   I wasn't paying much attention, though, because I was concentrating
elsewhere.  When she laid back, her skirt went very high, and I could see
part of the crotch of her panties.  I laid back next to her and draped my
right arm across her.  I laid there silently for a moment, just looking at
her.  I leaned over and kissed her full on the lips.  At first, there was
no response at all, but she was soon responding well.  My dick was already
getting hard, and I had done nothing but kiss her.

   I kissed her again, harder this time, and when I had her distracted with
it, I moved a hand to her breast and massaged it through her blouse.  I had
been right about there not being a bra.  Her body stiffened noticeably when
I did this, but she did not react otherwise.  I could feel her nipple
beginning to pop up as I kissed her and caressed her breast.  When I broke
the kiss, I left my hand there, massaging her tit.  She made no move to
stop me.  My dick was already hard in anticipation of fucking her.

   The next kiss was even longer, and this time I moved my hand inside her
blouse.  I massaged her nipple between my fingers while kissing her, and
her breath began to get raspy.  Keeping the kiss going, I moved my hand
from her breast to her crotch.  She twisted away from me.  "Stop!" she
said, "I don't want to do this!"

   "Look," I told her, standing up "I think you had better go now. 
Apparently, you aren't interested in making this work, and I really don't
have time to waste on you." I got up and walked toward the phone, picking
it up when I got there.  My notepad was still lying out and open, so I
started dialing the seventeen year old again.  In the meantime, she got up
off the bed and went back to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

   I got the seventeen year old on the phone and had talked to her just
long enough to set up a meeting with her later that evening at a dance club
just down the street from the hotel.  I was still on the phone talking to
her when I heard the bathroom door open.  I turned to look, and saw her
coming out.  She was completely nude.  "Okay," she said, walking toward the
bed and lying down, "I want this to work.  Let's do it." I missed most of
the rest of what the seventeen year old was saying, because my attention
was more than distracted.  I got off the phone as quickly as I could, and
joined her on the bed.



   Although I was more than ready to mount her, I took the opportunity to
examine her body.  Her tits were small and pointy, almost cone shaped. 
They had not had fleshed out yet.  She was not curvaceous, and in fact, had
only the slightest hint of curve at her waist.  Her pussy was lightly
covered in very fine hair.  I opened her legs to get a look at her pussy.
She had no visible pussy lips, just a slit.  I opened her legs even
farther, which caused her pussy to gap open a little.  It looked moist, but
not wet.  I couldn't wait any longer to fuck her.

   I got up from the bed and started undressing.  She watched me with great
interest, especially when I started to undo my pants.  She watched intently
as I dropped them to the floor.  I had on no underwear.  She gasped lightly
when she saw the size of my painfully hard dick.  I think she was concerned
whether she would be able to take it all.  Frankly, so was I.  I laid back
on the bed next to her, and rather than get on top of her, I pulled her
over on top of me.  She was very small, and I wanted her to ride me instead
of the other way around.  I wanted to see if she had any natural talent,
and letting her do the work would be a good way to find out.  If she
didn't, well, she was petite enough that I could put my hands on her waist
and move her any way I wanted, basically using her to jack off with.

   She straddled me, sitting on my lower stomach.  "Tell me what to do,"
she said, "and I'll do it." "Raise up just a little," I said, "then go back
down when I tell you." She rose slightly, and I used one hand to guide her
lower, and my other hand to guide my dick to her pussy.  I had to move it
around quite a bit to get it lined up with her pussy, but eventually, I
managed to do it.  I could feel her pussy opening barely touching the head
of my dick.  "Sit down." I said.

   She lowered her weight, driving my dick inside her.  The head was almost
completely inside her when I felt the obstruction.  She had not lied about
being a virgin.  My inclination was to place both my hands on her hips and
force her down, burying my dick inside her, then fucking her hard, but I
was determined that she was going to fuck me to completion, and not the
other way around.  I would only take over if she wasn't doing a good job.

   I made no move, and neither did she.  I was almost ready to put my hands
on her hips and pull to bury my dick in her, and had actually started to
reach for her when she started a light side to side rocking motion.  She
continued doing it, but it was making no progress that I could detect. 
Suddenly, though, I felt my dick slip deeper inside her, and I knew that
her hymen had broken.  Once that was done, her continued rocking motion was
effective in getting more and more of my dick in her.  In no time, I was
buried in her up to my balls.  Once I was fully inside her, she stopped,
adjusting to the size.

   I could wait on her no longer.  I placed one hand on each of her hips
and literally picked her up, then dropped her back down on my dick.  I
continued doing this, actually using her to jack off with.  She was so
petite that my hands made a complete circle of her waist.  My thumbs were
touching in the front, and my fingers were touching in the back.  I watched
my dick slide in and out of her as I lifted and dropped her.  I noticed
that her lower abdomen actually swelled when my dick was inside her, and
retracted when it was out.  I was already on the verge of blasting my load
into her, but was doing my best to hold back.

   I hadn't concerned myself at all with making her come, concentrating
instead on shooting my load inside her.  Nonetheless, she began to breath
heavily, and her face started to contort a little.  I could feel
convulsions in her pussy, and she began to work with me.  I tried to hold
back until she had completed her orgasm, but it was impossible.  I blasted
my load into her pussy, filling her with my come.  I kept fucking her until
I had no more left to shoot in her, then I remained in her until my dick
got too soft to stay inside.  Only then did she get off and lay on the bed
next to me.  A lot of my sperm had leaked out of her when she got off, and
it was collected on my lower belly.  It had a light pinkish tinge to it. 
Still, even though a lot had leaked out of her, I was certain that there
was at least three times as much still inside her.

   I fucked her one more time that afternoon, missionary syle the next
time, and again filled her to overflowing with my come.  I set up a date to
meet her two days later, and she left.  I went to sleep, exhausted from the
afternoons activities and the jet lag.  It was dusk when I woke up, and I
had a headache that would have killed a normal human.  It was a combination
of exhaustion, wine in the afternoon, the afternoon's activities, jet lag,
and lack of food.  I was starved, and figured I would go eat and then come
back and go to bed.  About half way through dinner, I remembered that I had
set up a date for that evening.  Shit.  I really wasn't up to going, but I
didn't want to miss out, either.  Sleep would have to wait.  I finished
dinner and headed to the club.

   ---------------------to be continued----------------------





















   *---(:> Double for Nothing!!  Tricks for Free!!!  <:)---*



   www.mrdouble.com



   Anyone's Daughter....


   *---(:> Mr Double <:)---* 

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