Message-ID: <18325eli$9812270432@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/18325.txt> From: M Quayle <okieram@telepath.com> Subject: A "Farrell" Story (Late for Dinner) Chapter 34: Never too Late (S&M Family Fun, Miniature Golf) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Reply-To: okieram@telepath.com Path: qz!not-for-mail 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> X-Original-Message-ID: <3685B0B7.3AFF@telepath.com> Your comments and plot ideas always welcome. New chapters are posted regularly to alt.torture, alt.sadistic, alt.sex.stories, and alt.sex.stories.moderated. You can also find complete story in the alt.sex.stories.moderated archive at www.qz.to/erotica/assm (December 1998 file). >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>> WARNING! This story is only for adults over the age of 18 and contains Strong Sexual Content and Lame Attempts at Humor. It is intended as a work of fiction for ADULTS only, and the author does not in any way condone or encourage similar behavior even if it was safe or conformed to the laws of physics. If you are under or over the age of 18 or reside in a state (or state of mind) that prohibits such behavior, stop reading this stuff immediately or you’ll never be elected pope!!! Remember: DON’T DO THIS AT HOME!!!!! <<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<< copyright 1998 by M Quayle (a pseudonym) All rights reserved. Do not repost or post without permission of author. Late for Dinner Chapter 34: Never Too Late “I can’t believe you told him we’d go to some dumb old miniature golf course,” Christi whispered to Kathy in the back seat of the doctor’s Volvo, “when we could have had some real fun in the hotel dungeon.” “You mean YOU could have had fun,” Kathy whispered back, “now that I’m out of that chastity belt, I’m I the mood for men, men, men.” “I bet they won’t even have a set of stocks or a rack or anything fun,” Christi continued to pout. “You and your mom will be languishing in the afterglow of a three-hour guyfest and I’ll still be laying there hoping someone will come along with a cat-o-nine-tails in his golf bag.” “Oh, you never know,” Kathy smiled mysteriously. “Well, here we are,” the doctor broke the back seat mood. He pulled in to a “Reserved” parking space next to the front gate then leaden back in the driver’s seat and moaned happily as Mommy’s mouth propelled him to a riotous climax. “Ooh, you taste minty,” Mommy licked her lips as she sat up in the passenger seat. “Yeah, flavored semen is the latest thing,,” he helped Mommy unbutton her blouse. “I had it added to my birth-control implant last month, most of my patients really like it. They have flavorings for mother’s milk now, too. You really should consider lactating, I’m sure your family would really enjoy having you at breakfast.” He cupped the striking blonde’s c-cups in his hands, “and it would make these beauties even firmer than they already are.” “It’s funny you should mention that,” Mommy blushed, “my son has been begging me to start making milk. I never did when he was little. I left that up to the surrogate who carried him and I think he feels deprived.” “Well, it’s never too late,” the doctor turned to the teenage girls curled together in the back seat. “What say, ladies,” he winked, “ready to play some golfers?” Christi began to demure, but the doctor cut her short. “We’ve got something really special planned for you, blue eyes,” he stroked her curly brown hair, “don’t we, Kathy?” Several players looked up and a few missed their shots as the doctor lead the trio through the winding maze of windmills and waterfalls that dotted the miniature course. They stopped at the seventeenth tee, where golfers had to putt through a five-foot-tall black castle to reach the hole. A tired-looking girl lay spread-legged on the green, an evil-looking speculum spread her open to create a most inviting goal. “Hi, Debbie,” the doctor greeted his employee. “I’m giving you the rest of the night off with pay,” he smiled, “this young lady wants to find out what it’s like to be the toughest hole on the course.” “No problem, boss,” the girl smiled weakly as an attendant handed the doctor a putter and a little white ball. The doctor knocked the golf ball into the inviting opening. “Let me demonstrate the automatic ball return. It’s my own invention,” he pushed a button mounted to a waist-high post next to the hole. Kathy heard a sharp electrical crack as the girl squeaked and -- pop -- shot the ball back into the doctor’ waiting hand. Christi squealed with delight, dropped to her knees and began unbinding the restraints that held Debbie in place. “I’ve got to admit I wasn’t really too excited about coming here,” the brunette smiled eagerly, “but it looks like golf may be my game after all. “Only one thing, doctor” Christi added. “What’s that?” “Can you turn up the voltage?” “Not a problem,” the doctor laughed as he inserted the speculum and guided Christi onto the slanted metal anal probe that would both hold her in place and power the ball return. The doctor proceeded to strap Christi into a very attractive “X” position then picked up the putter for a test shot. The ball stopped just two inches from her heavenly hole and he gave it a good hard swack to drive it inside. Christi shrieked as she and the putter collided and the ball kissed her ovaries hello, then howled when the ball return was engaged. Like magic, the sphere rocketed from between her thighs propelled by the muscle spasms induced by the electric shock. “More,” Christi pleaded. “Give me more!” “I’m afraid that’s all the voltage the health department will let me give you,” the doctor apologized. “Now have a good time, but try not to scream too loudly or you’ll distract the other players.” Christi looked lovingly up at Kathy. “Thanks, darling, I should have known you wouldn’t let me down.” Kathy dropped to her knees. “Have fun, you little torture mouse,” she softly kissed the happy tears from Christi’s eyes, “and we’ll come get you at closing time.” -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | <http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>