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Subject: {FriarDave}JDR"Constance 1"( mF MF Mf ff 1st m-solo f-solo voy )[1/5]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
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make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. Caveat lector; you read at your own
risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes some of the thinking behind the pattern of the
reposts, as well as the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
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====================================================================
What follows is fiction. Hopefully, entertaining and not too heavy-
handed. This work contains heterosexual activity between adult men and
women, and between adults and legal minors. A little same-sex
exploring between some minors. There is absolutely no domination,
submission, violence, piercing or bathroom sports. There's a little
nausea, but not related to the sex. The only drugs are some brew and
some scotch. There's a bit of coercion, but not what you're probably
thinking. If the presence or absence of any of the foregoing is
disturbing to you, don't read this. And please don't inflict it on
those who don't knowingly ask for it. --fd, 10/1/94
This is an original story from a caller to The Abbey, part of
MHBBS (212-683-1448). Feel free to repost it as is, without
editing or changing anything in it, including this tag.
====================================================================
=====================
CONSTANCE
By Friar Dave
friar_dave@mhbbs.com
(Copyright, 1994)
Part 1
Three weeks, she thought. Three more weeks. And then the pre-school
preparations would get under way.
Constance shook herself out of the reverie, tried to refocus her
attention on the Thinkpad. She really had to finish the proposal for the
school board. Her fingers went to the keys, but her eyes soon wandered back
to the bay window.
The day was gorgeous. Perfect, stereotypical Bergen County August
sunshine flooded the yard, turning the hedges almost luminously green. From
120 feet away, on the other side of the hedge and muffled by the glass
panes in the window, came the sound of splashing and laughter. The
neighbors' kids were true water babies. They reveled in the sunshine and
rejoiced in the pool. Constance envied them for their dark complexions. She
loved to sit out in the sun, but the genes that had given her bright red
hair had also given her pale flesh, all-too- susceptible to melanoma. And
Constance sunburned with the best of them but never tanned.
She recalled with longing the carefree days when she was 15, 16, 17 --
barely older than the neighbor's kids. After the agonizing years of being
called "shrimp" and "beanpole," how she'd savored the pleasure of knowing
men's eyes followed her swimsuit-clad form to and from the surf, the
concession stands, even the restrooms. Overnight, it seemed, her breasts
had blossomed. No longer flat and mistaken for a kid three or four years
younger, Constance suddenly was sporting C cups on a form that had filled
out to "slender" from "skinny." In a tight two-piece, she could silence
whole beach parties simply by nonchalantly strolling past, her pale skin
glowing in the bright sun, her red hair blowing in the salt breeze.
"Ah, well," she whispered, surprising herself with her own voice.
A loud shriek and a splash wrenched a smile from her for the kids in
the pool. Kids -- technically, anyhow. She saved her unfinished file and
shut down the laptop. She needed a break before she was going to get more
work done on the proposal. She stared longingly at the sun-drenched lawn
and the summer furniture.
What the hell, she thought. I'm going to go have a sun-soak, even I
have to lather on some goo with a 90 SPF, even if I can't enjoy turning
men's heads the way I used to.
In her dresser, she found the little black bikini.
I wouldn't have dared wear this to the beach, she thought. Not back
then.
Constance stripped, efficiently folding her blouse and pants,
unclipping the bra -- now a 34-D -- and skimming off the plain white
panties. She'd loved wearing lacy little insinuations when she and Jack
first married. He'd come home from work and start groping her and then
she'd see the happy surprise in his eyes -- and elsewhere -- when he found
a red lace bra or a skimpy black teddy under her prim school- teacher
clothing. That had been almost 10 years before, and he hadn't groped her on
arrival in half as many years.
She straightened and eyed her naked form critically in the mirror. At
five-foot-six, she was not a bad-looking specimen for a woman of her age.
"Oh, bullshit!" she spat aloud. She was still a fox. And her age was
32; she was just entering her full bloom. Her body was, if anything, better
than when she'd first met Jack. Her hips were still lithe at 33 inches, and
her waist was still a tiny 22 inches. Her tummy was flat, and her ass was
tight. Her tits were still a shock on her slim form, thrusting and full and
taut and milky white, with hints of the blue veining showing through. When
she looked lower, past the slightly darker red fluff of her compact pubic
mound, her too-sensitive flesh at the top of her trim thighs still didn't
meet. Three days a week at the health club and a round of golf every
Thursday went a long way to keeping her in bouncy good shape.
"Face it, baby -- he's having an affair. Again."
Seeing her reflection say the words, there in the very bedroom they
shared...
She sighed. At least his infidelities were discreet. And it wasn't as
if he neglected her. It was just that when they made love, he
was...mechanical. Predictable. The ritual, predictable foreplay. The
ritual, predictable cunnilingus, bringing her -- as always -- to a
powerful, if detached, orgasm. The ritual, predictable fucking: doggy-
style, or him on top or her on top: Fucking. She'd cum three or four times
before he did. And then they'd sleep. Period. End of session. And a few
days later, it would be repeated.
"At least he's discreet," she breathed, and began slipping into her
indiscreet bikini. The bottom wasn't much more than a G-string, leaving
two-thirds of her smooth ass exposed. The top was two string- linked
triangular patches of cloth, each covering maybe two-thirds of a globular
tit. She slipped her feet into thongs and padded through the split level
toward the back door, grabbing up her straw hat, sunglasses and sunblock.
She considered a book, decided against it. She opened the door to an
inferno of an afternoon.
The heat was a shock after the cool of the central air-conditioning.
Ninety-two degrees, cloudless, no breeze. She took a deep breath, savoring
the moisture already forming on her pale flesh. The air was redolent of
green and living things, and the sound of the pool fun was louder, clearer.
Enjoy yourselves, kids. Soon enough you'll have to learn to be
discreet.
Standing by the chaise longue, she began applying the thick, creamy
lotion to her bare flesh. Discretion. She'd once made a boy cum in his swim
trunks at the beach this way: applying lotion to herself. She smiled at the
memory of his bulging eyes, reddened face. He'd recovered enough to speed
off to the surf, his trunks still bulging with teenaged vigor.
She felt her nipples crinkle as she dwelled on that: teenaged vigor.
She'd loved it. No matter how often they came, they were ready again in
moments -- and she'd always been more than ready.
A true redhead, she told herself.
She finished her legs, began on her abdomen. Yeah, those had been
heady days. She loved sex, loved letting herself go with it -- and her body
and face had always attracted plenty of throbbing young men eager to help
her out.
Constance spurted more of the white gunk into her palms.
Looks like semen, she thought. She rubbed it lovingly into her
shoulders and as much of her breasts as she could reach without staining
the fabric-sample of her top.
But those days had been a long time ago, before the plague. Once, the
worst fear was pregnancy -- avoided through the ever-blessed pill -- and
the clap, banished with the snick of a needle and a course of pills. Not
any more. One indiscreet fuck now could kill a person.
She hoped Jack was being discreet in his choice of fucks.
Her nipples flattened.
Constance lay back on the chaise, adjusting her straw hat to cover her
eyes. The sun began massaging her willing flesh. Her ears tuned into the
yelps and shrieks from the neighbors' pool.
"Come on, Ronnnnnie!" someone yelled.
Constance's lips twitched. Of course. It would be Ronnie and his
friends. The noise had been unabated for almost an hour. Not that his
sister didn't romp in the pool with her friends, but Nancy would have tired
of it rather quickly.
Her mind wandered back to her proposal. Ronnie and Nancy were ideal
examples. They were a year apart. They were undeniably goodlooking
youngsters. They were in excellent health. They were popular and accepted
by their peers. They were brother and sister. And there the similarities
ended.
At 13, Nancy was advanced for her years. Poised and as mature as most
kids three or four years older, she was a quick learner, a voracious reader
and an overachiever in school. Her I.Q. was in the low 130s; it was
Constance's job to know. In fact, Nancy even looked more mature than her
years. She was an early bloomer and probably could even get into some bars
without being carded...if she was so inclined.
At 12, Ronnie was behind his years in every way but physically. He had
trouble learning new things and difficulty retaining classroom material.
With individual attention, he did significantly better. He wasn't
technically retarded; he was just at the low end of the normal curve. But
he was a good-natured kid, friendly, outgoing and trying as hard as anyone.
He's also getting to be quite a hunk...for a kid, Constance thought.
Then: A hunk, period.
Which was true. Tall for his age, stringy and gangly, he was
strikingly handsome. Constance was sure that once he got past his
awkwardness with girls, he was going to be a very busy young man. Assuming
he wasn't gay.
Her thoughts strayed back to the proposal: Set up a tutoring program
of brighter kids working with slower ones. That was it. One on one. It
would educate both, especially in teaching the more advanced students to
understand the difficulty of not grasping a concept immediately and the
importance of being able to convey such concepts in simple, direct
language.
Constance smiled again. She wouldn't mind teaching Ronnie a few
things, herself. He'd surely be discreet. And grateful. Too bad he was just
a kid.
The growing warmth between her legs was not due to the sunshine.
* * *
"Ooooh, please, Jack, cum in me...I can't take any more of -- OH!" She
convulsed in front of him, the long, black hair shimmering in the room's
single bedside lamp. He felt her pussy tightening on his hard cock. He
watched the strength go out of her, and followed her collapsing form down
to the rumpled bedcovers. He held still inside her for a few seconds, his
lips next to her ear as he held his weight off her.
"I love it when you cum," he whispered.
She panted heavily, her twat loosening just a bit. She turned her head
weakly to the side. "Please, Jack, cum. I'm gonna pass out if this goes on.
I can't keep cumming like this..."
"I'm not hurting you, am I?" He was genuinely concerned. She was a
tall woman, but slim and tight.
"No -- just -- I'm scared. I'm cumming so much..."
"Let yourself go, baby." He pushed himself back to his knees, pulling
her hips and small, runway-model's ass up with him. Her upper body still
lay limply on the bedsheets. Holding her by her trim hips, he pulled back,
watching her tight pussy flesh and taut lips cling to his slick prick. He
could feel her groan resonate through her body. He paused with just the
head still inside her...and then slid slowly back in a-l-l-l-l the way. He
ground his cock around inside her and felt the spasming begin in her cunt
again. He grinned.
This was the best, he thought. They'd been fucking for almost an hour,
and now she was perpetually on the edge of orgasm or actually cumming.
His balls were tightening again. Jack began pistoning his dick in her
with long, uninhibited strokes that made the most of his cock for her. She
was cumming again -- and again. Her hands gripped the sheets and then
flopped limply as the orgasms went through her. She didn't seem able to
stop cumming. Her cunt was convulsing and her ass cheeks were tightening as
if vibrating. He felt the rumble of his semen rushing upward, felt the
electric needle of the pleasure barreling through his penis, felt it
swelling in her trim cunt still more.
"Oh, yeah, baby -- uh!"
His balls pumped, his dick lurched deeper into her again and again,
and she let out an odd little squeal, barely audible, with each fresh
geyser pouring into her already full and sopping cunt.
Finally the paroxysm passed. He let himself topple slowly to the side,
bringing her with him so they lay nestled, still joined, with his arms
around her. He nuzzled her neck and ear. She whimpered, her cunt still
fluttering from time to time.
"Feeling okay, baby?"
"Jack, it's too much, too much. I feel completely wasted -- almost
drugged." She drew a deep breath. "I can't even think." She raised a hand,
brushing the thick, black hair from her flushed face. "Are you like this
with your wife?"
He grinned. "I used to be, but..."
"But what? Wear her out?"
"I don't know. She used to be insatiable; I loved it. Now it's like
she can take it or leave it, like she's doing a duty." He added, quickly:
"Don't get me wrong. It's still good sex, she still gets off a lot,
but...she just never initiates anything. It's like having prime shell steak
for dinner every day. It's great, but...predictable."
"So you decided to have some dim sum."
He grunted, scowled. "That's not it, Mei, and you know it."
She sighed. "I guess so..."
"I mean it. You're gorgeous and sexy, and you know it. The old man
wanted a stunning, exotic-looking executive secretary for his image."
"My predecessor was a beautiful black woman," she whispered. "Did you
have an affair with her, too?"
"If I did, that would be between her and me."
"The word is that you did."
He considered. Then: "The word is wrong. I wanted to. I would have
loved to. She was so unbelievably hot...but I couldn't even get her to have
coffee with me."
"Hotter than me?"
"I'll never know, but if you keep talking like this...something's
going to come up."
She groaned. "Oh, please, no -- I won't be able to go back to the
office; I won't be able to function. I've already cum too much... noooo..."
She moaned, unable to stop the movement of her hips as she felt his dick
reinflating for the second time in her pussy. "Please, Jack, I'm too
sore..."
He slowly, regretfully pulled his hardening cock from her cunt.
Copious juices, hers and his, dribbled out of her puffy, tenderized cunt
onto the inside of her thigh. "Okay, okay...but I'm gonna have to think of
some way to shrink this thing, or I'll be walking around with a newspaper
in my lap all day. Hey, have you ever -- ?" He lifted his prick and rubbed
it between her buttocks.
She gasped.
"Wanna give it a try?"
He saw the glint of mischief in her eyes, felt the renewed swelling of
her little nipple in his palm. He nuzzled his glans against her anus.
"Be gentle," she cautioned -- and sucked in a breath as she felt the
knob begin spreading her sphincter. Despite her misgivings, excitement was
building in her abdomen...and her pussy was tingling.
"It feels so big -- oh!"
With the glans securely lodged in her asshole, Jack grabbed onto her
hips, still laying sideways, and slowly began working his stiff tool into
her.
Dim sum on a skewer, he thought, and slipped a little more into her
butt.
* * *
Must've dozed off, she thought. Constance felt the difference in the
sun's angle, heard the silence from the neighbors' pool. She knew she
should get in the house, shower and change and get back to work on her
proposal. The sun-induced lethargy was difficult to overcome, but she was
just about to do just that when she heard something.
She lay motionless, looking under the edge of her sunglasses and the
brim of the straw hat.
She heard the sound again. Her gaze went to her right, toward the
neighbors' yard.
There they were. Three boys. She didn't recognize one of them, but she
knew the boy in the middle -- Mikey, a friend of Ronnie's. And there was
Ronnie.
They were ogling her.
Maybe I've still got it, she thought with a little leap of pleasure.
Turning on a bunch of 12- and 13-year-old boys.
They were straddling the fence between the hedges, hidden from the
waist on down. She saw Mike lean to Ronnie and whisper something. Ronnie
blushed and then nodded, grinning that sweet, handsome, unaffectedly boyish
grin of his. Mike turned and whispered to the other boy, who also blushed,
but shook his head. Mike shrugged.
Constance saw Mike's and Ronnie's arms move and then begin to shift
back and forth rhythmically. The third boy, still blushing, climbed off the
fence and departed. What --
Her nipples went stone-stiff. They were whacking off together -- over
the sight of her.
Maybe it was restlessness. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was too
much sun. Whatever it was, Constance decided to be a bit indiscreet; she
let her legs part slightly and shifted her shoulders so her bikini top
covered even less of the side of her right breast.
The boys' eyes widened, their arms moved more quickly. First Mike,
then Ronnie, stiffened and shook. Ronnie seemed to shake for a long time.
Enjoy yourselves, boys, she thought. I wish I could do more for you.
After they climbed off their voyeurs' perch and departed, Constance
roused herself. She didn't bother readjusting her top. She took her lotion
and ambled into the house. Not just a shower today, she resolved; a shower
with the handheld sprayer.
* * *
Sid Sugerman groaned as the door closed behind Constance, and he
leaned back from the spotter scope. What a piece of ass that broad was! He
shifted on his stool and eased the length of his stiff tool down his
trouser leg.
I'd give anything to give that hot little bitch a ride, he thought.
I'll bet that sweet little cunt couldn't get enough once she felt 10 inches
of Sid Steak up her snatch!
He looked back at the drafting plate on his layout table, but all he
could see was Constance's big, milky breasts bobbling as she shifted in the
tiny bikini. No, no chance of concentrating on the project -- even if it
was the most lucrative yet. Usually, nothing could break Sid's
concentration on a project; it was one of the traits that had put him among
the three or four most successful custom-home-builders in the Northeast.
But Constance McEvoy sunning herself...
Man, those gorgeous tits!
Another of Sid's good qualities was that he was observant. As all-
consuming as the sight of a nearly naked Constance had been, he'd noticed
movement in the hedge and spotted the boys whacking off. He had to grin.
Ronnie was a little slow in some ways, unlike his mother and father and his
sister, but in at least one way he was his father's son -- the kid's boner
was huge.
Remember what that redheaded sex cart looks like, boy, and don't end
up like your old man -- married to an overweight matron who stopped caring
about her figure the minute the marriage was consummated.
(Yes, Sid was bitter about that.)
His gaze went back to the window. All he needed was one chance, one
opportunity to slip the salami into that petite sex bomb's little red-
furred cunt and then he wouldn't mind sharing his bed with his overweight
wife of 18 years...because he'd know the redheaded doll would be begging
for more every afternoon.
The gate to the pool area opened, the movement drawing his attention.
Nancy, his little gem, with one of her friends...Lisa. The sight of his
little girl made him beam and chased all thought of lust from his mind. His
darling Nancy, who made him so proud with her grades and her science award
and her essay award. He'd dreamed of passing his business on to his son,
until it became obvious that it would never happen. More and more though,
he envisioned Nancy, when she someday grew up, marrying a bright, ambitious
guy and passing the business on to them.
The girls were wearing simple one piece suits under wraps. They
shucked the wraps. Nancy went to the diving board and did a perfect dive.
His smile widened; she was a pretty girl and so graceful.
Lisa, a year older than Nancy, took the board. Lisa with her short
brown hair really had a hell of a build for a kid her age. When she raised
her hands over her head for the dive, her titties drew up inside the suit,
crescent mounds swelling over the top. Sid's prick began swelling again.
She really *was* built. He wondered if --
"Stop it," he growled to himself. "Sick fucker, letting a little girl
turn you on." But even as she splashed, a bit clumsily, into the water, his
focus was zeroed-in on the ripe little teenybopper ass barely contained in
her suit.
He forced an image of Constance McEvoy into his mind. That was better.
Yeah, Constance asking him to put some lotion on her, moaning when his
fingers wandered, gasping at the size of the tent his hard cock made in his
suit, begging to see it...
He began rubbing his hand over the swollen limb of his prick through
his trousers.
Yeah, Constance fishing it out, pleading to taste it and suck it,
those big tits heaving as she took it into her little mouth, her small
hands groping the shaft, her young face framed by her short brown hair as
he came...
"Yeah," he groaned as his prick jerked and spurted, soaking the inside
of his boxers and trousers. "Yeah..."
...and she tried to swallow, her teenybopper throat working to --
"Oh, shit," he moaned, angry and disgusted with himself. How the FUCK
had a nice safe fantasy of Constance McEvoy sucking his cock twisted into
the perverted image of a little girl only a year older than his baby doing
it?
"Sick, Sid, sick." He looked down at the dark stain in his pants.
Cursing softly, he went to the bedroom, He'd change his clothes and get
back to work. He wouldn't stop until the plans were drawn. That was the
answer. Just don't think about sex with Constance or his wife or anyone --
especially little 14-year-old girls with big titties -- until he was done
and exhausted. Yeah, that was the answer.
But then his fingers were moving to the spotter scope, changing its
angle with the certainty of practice, to the second floor window where
sometimes -- just occasionally -- his neighbor neglected to close the
drapes while she changed her clothes.
======================================================================
More in a few days. All comments and criticisms welcomed via
Email or posts (but please post only .alt.sex.story.DISCUSS). Sorry,
but I can't Email sections. The folks giving me access have to pay by
the pound for their traffic, and they're just a small group, not some
big, well-funded organization.
======================================================================
===============================================================
This is an original story from a caller to The Abbey, part of
MHBBS (212-683-1448). Feel free to repost it as is, without
editing or changing anything in it, including this tag. For
information about The Abbey, a spam-free place for writers and
readers of adult material to gather, email Friar_Dave@mhbbs.com.
================================================================
=====================
CONSTANCE
By Friar Dave
Part 1
-30-
--
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