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Subject: Kristen's collection: "Trouble Maker" by John Smith (New Author)
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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
_________________________________________
WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW! Thank you...
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Archive name: Trouble.txt (mf, voy, rp)
Authors name: John Smith (pervitron@hotmail.com)
Story Title : Troublemaker
WARNING: The following story contains graphic descrip-
tions of a sexual nature. It is intended for mature
persons only. Any persons not old enough to legally
receive adult materials or who are offended by them
should read no farther. Further distribution of this
story--and all others of this nature by this author-
is permissible only to appropriate persons and only if
the contents and author credit are unchanged.
NOTES:
1. Copyright © April 1998.
2. The persons and situations depicted in this story
are entirely fictitious. Any similarities to actual
persons or situations are completely unintentional and
coincidental.
3. Reader comments and feedback are always encouraged;
send to Pervitron@Hotmail.com
4. This story may be copied for free distribution, pro-
vided the author credit is retained.
Troublemaker
by Pervitron
"C'mon Shelly, not pigtails, I'll get punched out"
Oh, she was hot today, walking out of our bedroom like
she was on a runway. White cotton top and skirt, with
a bare midriff. "Columbia" in blue letters across her
chest: we'd be playing with coed snatch, boys. The
skirt was short enough to show off her long dancer
legs. White, out of the box sneakers completed the
overall look of some spoiled rich girl, alone in the
big city, far away from the daddy that paid for it all.
Delights underneath. She turned around and bent over
slowly. Her skirt was short enough that just the
tiniest, most innocent bend started to reveal her
panties. You couldn't miss them. Electric blue panties
jumped out from beneath the white skirt. Lace panties,
and as she continued to bend she revealed a vine of
small lace kisses all over her tight, firm ass.
My wife was hot, very hot. I felt like forgetting our
outing, doing her right there on the hardwood floor.
But I knew from long experience with her that things
would be better if we had a little fun first. I got
hard imagining doing her later, the way her voice
teases me while I'm inside her pussy, the teasing
little whispers about the people we toy with, and the
trouble she causes.
I just had a bad feeling looking at the pigtails. I
feel like we're on safer ground with the total slut
look. This was too ambivalent; a guy concentrating on
her face might see her as too young and innocent.
Things get out of hand then. "I know what guys are
like, honey, and it's dangerous to move off the slut
look. Why don't you let your hair down, and trade in
the sneakers for some high pumps..." Not to mention
that this is the look that I like. "...And throw on
some cheap jewelry, too."
"Think I don't know what guys are like, how to keep
them under control?" Foolish of me, I had to admit
she's on her home field here. Shelly is just 20, but
she's probably seen the eyes of a hundred men as they
climaxed inside her. She knows how we're put together
deep inside, and can play to either our balls or our
hearts. A look from her eyes and a movement of her
lips can make me feel like a rabid dog; Just a downward
glance, a tear, and a quiver in those same lips turns
another switch inside me - now nothing matters but
fixing whatever is causing her unhappiness. "C'mon, I
want to try this look," batting her little doe eyes.
"Besides, those big bad men will have all this to look
at," running her hands sensuously up along her thighs,
lifting her skirt slightly.
My heart jumped. Who the fuck would be looking at her
hair?
The New York City subway is our playground. Occasional-
ly we do other things, like flashing in the car or a
blowjob behind a museum exhibit. Those are fun, but
we've found that nothing gets us off like some subway
action. We have a captive audience during the fourty
minute ride from Queens to lower Manhattan. We have
plenty of time to put on our own little drama, and
protected by anonymity, men in the crowd let themselves
get into it.
I walk her to the station, enjoying the way the men in
the streets stare at her. When we descend into the sub-
way we separate, but stay within sight of each other.
While we're waiting on the platform I scope out the
crowd. I get my first stirrings by watching men watch
her. The white cotton outfit makes her stand out like
an angel from the dirt and grime. I see the glances
across the top of folded newspapers, and try to guess
who'll get lucky today. You never know.
The next train comes. I get into the same car as she
does. Its rush hour, so all of the seats are taken, but
it's still early enough to get your choice of standing
spots. Standing is what we want. I stay near the
center of the car and watch her find her place near the
forward end. There are two seats with their backs to
the side wall between the foremost platform door and
the door leading to the next car. An old woman in her
sixties is sitting in the seat closest to the door and
a boy of about 13 is sitting next to her. Shelly takes
her position in front of the old woman. Perfect.
After a few stops the train gets more full. I move
towards Shelly and take my position within a few feet
of her, near the door next to the old lady. I wasn't
alone. Funny, once Shelly took her place, the center
of gravity started shifting in the car. For some
reason men seemed drawn to our end of the car, I found
it amusing to watch them enter, find a place, look
around, spot Shelly, and find this urge to move. Per-
vert that I am, I root some men forward with my mind,
men with that real hungry look that makes for hot
action.
Today would be good. A tall lean black guy in his mid
twenties takes up position on Shelly's right, in front
of the sitting boy. He was in his early 20's, well
built, wearing a Chicago Bulls T-Shit. Even though
Shelly wasn't looking, and appeared disinterested, I
knew she liked Bulls. I know her type. And Bulls
certainly liked her - I had watched him get on all the
way at the other end of the car. Once he saw Shelly
his eyes stayed on her, and he started this way.
Now it was fairly crowded. Two business types are be-
hind Shelly. Old guys, I had the feeling that this was
the closest they've been to top shelf pussy in weeks.
One guy is in his forties, thin with glasses and a
laptop computer. The other guy is a bit older and
heavier, thick and stocky, with a Grey beard. With the
enclosing crowd, we were all pushed closer together,
one of the businessmen, the computer guy, reaches a
hairy arm above Shelly's bare shoulder to grab the
hanging strap above her. As the train rocked, she
slowly moved towards him, so that her pigtails and
neck brushed his arm every so slightly. The touch
that maddens.
We're packed tightly now: myself, Shelly, Bulls, and
the two businessmen behind her. I watch Shelly as she
starts to slowly rub her shoulder into the arm thats
hanging over her. I'm facing her, and I can see both
her and his face behind her. He's not moving his arm;
he's enjoying the slight contact with such a hot young
coed. When she has his full attention, she works on
the others. There's a subway map on the wall above
the old lady's face. She leans forward and studies it,
arching her back, hanging lower on the strap above.
The loose cotton top hangs out slightly, exposing more
of her dark, shapely belly. The old lady doesn't seem
to care, but the 13-year-old boy next to her certainly
does.
The old woman sitting next to him must be the boy's
grandmother - she's on his case about school, something
about how important grades are, and how disappointed
she is in him. He's a typical boy, just tuning Grandma
out. Junior slouches low in the chair, hands in the
pockets of his shorts, and his eyes almost hidden be-
neath long blond hair. That is, hidden until Shelly
started hanging forwards, because from his low vantage-
point on the seat, he's looking upward at Shelly's
exposed chest. His eyes locked onto to her.
Things are ready now. The train is fully loaded. We're
at the last local stop in Queens, about to begin the
first of a few long express runs. Its time to get some
action going.
The doors close behind me, and when the train moves in-
to the express tunnel I make my move. While Shelly is
leaning towards the map over grandma's head, I move
slightly behind her, and so the total effect is to
bring her closer to the door. I slide my arm down her
back onto her ass and start caressing it, kneading it
through the soft cotton. Now every man in the car,
particularly Bulls and the two businessmen, have had
their attention riveted to her body since they got on
the train, so they see what's going on. Their eyes
light up. Even Junior realizes what's happening.
For a moment, Shelly stays rigid as I fondle her ass.
She stops moving, and hangs still in front of Grandma
and Junior. She starts to act ... annoyed. This is
where it takes off. She sighs, as if she's pissed off,
sick and tired of this, she can't stand when some
filthy pig paws and gropes her on the subways. Never
mind she's dressed to attract just this sort of hassle.
The men see me, and they notice her reaction. Bulls
isn't looking at her ass anymore, he's looking at her
face. And at mine. On the edge, and I can see the
calculation in his eyes: He's already figured he can
kick my ass, stand up for the little lady, and maybe
have a few months worth of grateful young pussy. I get
a little shiver, since men get protective around some
girls. But he's back looking at her, all of her,
measures her cleavage and short skirt and realizes just
how much flesh she's offering. The little miss is a
little tease. I can see it in his eyes. Fuckin' bitch
is a whore!
So Bulls reached his hand down and grabbed her ass too,
his big black hand joining the fun. I let go, and he
slowly moved his hand down her thigh, and drew the back
of her thin skirt up, exposing her blue lace panties
and butt flesh for all to see. I glanced at Shelly's
face, and while she grew visibly more upset at such a
clear outrage, I could see the hazy look of arousal in
her eyes. This was everything she wanted. She loved
being the center of bad attention, the bad girl teasing
men to do bad things.
And everyone was looking! The two businessmen stared
slack jawed, imagining their hands on her and the way
those lovely cheeks must feel like. Comparing the shape
and texture of those cheeks against what they had at
home. Grandma stopped lecturing Junior; suddenly, she
realized what was going on, and right in front of her.
The nerve! All she saw was the big black man, and a
young girl who was upset. She wasn't a man, so while
she noticed the young coed still in pigtails, she
missed the other signals Shelly was giving off. The
"C'mon and fuck me!" signals. Grandma saw just a young
girl only a few years older than Junior being as-
saulted. She wasn't going to stand for this, not as a
civilized woman on her train.
"Stop that! Leave that girl alone!" She started to
get up as she said this, and confront Bulls directly.
Bulls didn't let her get all the way up. He leaned
over and got right in the old lady's face: "Mind your
fuckin' business, you old cunt," spitting the words at
her through bared teeth. She recoiled as if she were
shot, shocked.
The screws were tightening. As Bulls resumed his
fondling, now free from any interference, Shelly
started acting more annoyed. But I knew she was
excited; we'd done things like this many times in
the past, and I knew that this was the part she
loved. "I love it when I bring their inner rapist
out, when men start acting like wild dogs." She
started to bring her hands down off the strap, and
would "try" to fight him off.
That was my queue. I grabbed one of the hands that
were now behind her. Just before it reached Bulls
hand, I took it by the wrist and turned her arm up
into her back. Gently, but that's not the way it
looked - everyone else saw her turn rigid with pain,
arching backwards as I pushed her chest hard against
the subway door. She was pinned, trapped and help-
less. I looked across her at Bulls and said, "I'll
hold her." I listened closely to her breathing;
short, quick breaths that sounded to everyone else
like terror. But I knew she was hot inside.
The air in the car was charged now. I held Shelly
against the door, held her tight while Bulls started
fondling her again, reaching his fingertips beneath
her panties, and feeling the delight of her soft
cheeks. Oh, Shelly has a nice ass, and here it was.
Exposed for all to see on a crowded subway. This was
her dream, a secret wish she told me about many times,
and here we made it happen. This was just inches across
from Grandma's face; She was still staring lifeless at
the event, seemingly unable to believe what was happen-
ing, but she wasn't looking away. And Junior! Junior
was bolt upright, leaning forward so he could leer at
Shelly's ass without Grandma blocking the view. The
13-year-olds face was flushed red. Like Bulls, he had
a growing mound in his shots too - the kid had a rocket
in his pocket.
The train moved quickly on its express run, and even at
the next stop, the doors on this side wouldn't open.
We planned it that way, so there would be plenty of
time. Bulls pulled the waistband of his shorts down,
and exposed his huge black cock. I swear I could hear
an audible gasp as we all realized what was going to
happen.
I held her hand tightly against her lower back. Bulls
took one hand off her ass and grabbed one of her pig-
tails. He kept the other down there, as he moved
against Shelly's back. He looked at me with fire in
his eyes and said "Hold the bitch tight!" Shelly heard
that and she just.... Melted. Christ, this was hot,
the prospect of this big man reaming her ass right here
and now had my dick stiff. Shelly, Bulls and I were
pressed close; I could feel his hot breath as he re-
acted to the feel of her buttery assflesh on the tip of
his dick. I couldn't see what was going on down there,
whether he was inside her or not, but I could see the
reaction on the men near us. Like a heard sensing a
storm in the air. Some were sizing us up like Bulls
measured me, and I could see the same measurement of
Shelly; was she worth a beating? Or, like scavengers,
just hang back and enjoy the spoils. It wasn't even
close - the sight of her exposed ass there for the
taking overwhelmed all other feelings. They'd be in
there after us; they were waiting like a pack of
wolves.
"Don't move, cunt!" I said, loud enough for everyone
to hear. "You fuckin' cockteaser, here it comes!"
Junior heard every word. His eyes had a dreamlike look
as he watched the big black man enjoy a piece of ass.
"Please stop, someone help me!" Shelly said, gulping
air like she was drowning. Fat chance, no one would
try to help. Men watched, half sick, half thrilled,
their animal juices reacting to the primitive scene.
And through the crowd of men I could even see a woman
or two, sheepish almost hiding the crowd, too weak to
protest, too fearful of the men in the car turning on
her.
My face was too close to Shelly's face, and to Bull's
face, to see what was happening down there. Later on,
Shelly told me. That night, while I was rock hard in-
side her she told me what it felt like. He didn't fuck
her in the ass - he just slid her lace panties down,
and pushed his dick into the crevices and creases be-
tween her ass and thighs. She felt his head slide
threw her pelvis along the underside of her hairy cunt!
"Tell me more honey," as I started that night to rock
slowly inside her pussy. She whispered and grew wetter
as she told me.
"All I could feel was this big thing pushing itself
between my legs. I knew your face was behind me, and
I loved the sound of your voice as you called me a
cunt. I looked down at the old lady and at the little
boy sitting next to her. He just kept looking at my
ass, at what was happening down here. Such an intense
look, so sexual, the way he watched Bulls pushing into
me. Right next to Junior's face I could see an old man
rubbing secretly in his pants pocket. I knew the boy
would never forget this, that the sight of me being
forcibly taken before all these men was making a deep
imprint on his soul. He'll think of me whenever a girl
makes him hard."
"Oh, Shelly, you bitch, you cunt!" Like little love
bites in her ear, I feel like my cock will explode.
"The boy watched me so intently, and every few seconds
he'd look up from my ass and we'd lock eyes. We were
staring at each other when Bulls came. You see, the
boy knew in his gut that I liked it, he knew I really
didn't want help. He watched me so closely. He saw
the ripple of pleasure that spread across my face when
Bulls emptied himself all over the inside front of my
skirt."
All the while she was telling me this I was fucking
her wet pussy. God, I'm so lucky having a hot little
slut like this for a wife.
######################################################
This is the first of what will hopefully be a series.
Comments and story ideas are welcome write me at:
Pervitron@Hotmail.com
######################################################
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