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From: tariat@aol.com (TariaT)
Subject: {ASS} Valentine's Repost for M1ke: "Soft Ball" #2/2
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I turned around and hooked my arms around his neck, and held on tight as he
lathered up my back and my ass.  He crouched a little to move his hands lower,
and I spread my legs apart again as he snuck a soapy finger inside my dark
nether hole.

"You do a thorough job," I said.  Actually I kind of croaked.  I was beginning
to lose the power of speech by this point.

"Every nook and cranny," he said, as his hands massaged round and round my ass.

"Are you absolutely sure?" I whispered in his ear.  "I think I'd like the full
inspection.  You know, check all the connections, make sure everything's
running smoothly."

"Customer's always right," he said.  "Where would you like me to start, ma'am?"

I wriggled my slick body against him, letting his hard cock poke at me a bit. 
"I think you oughta lie down underneath.  So you can check under the hood."

I had to give him this: he was game.  Even though this was a public shower
(cleaner than usual, maybe, but STILL...), Mike lay down on his back on the
floor under the spray.  I straddled his face and lowered my pussy down until it
nestled on his mouth.  As his mouth started working on me I moved back and
forth, making "mmm-mmm-mmm" pleasure noises.

"I'm glad you decided to practice," I gurgled through the shower spray.  "Your
tongue has All-Star potential.  Have you ever done this before?"

"Mrrfl mrrfl glub glub," he answered.  But before I could get a translation, I
felt the tremors of my orgasm building.  I came hard and fast, grinding my
pussy harder into his face as I grunted and gasped my way over the top.  I
must've drowned the poor boy, I realized, so I sat back a little and got ready
to administer CPR.

He made a raspberry as water washed over his now-exposed face. 
"Fthw-fthw-ptui" he sputtered.  I lifted myself up a little.

"If you do become a writer," I said, "you should write a story about this. 
There's nothing sexier than a shower, except for eating a girl out in one."

"Well," he said, "they always say to write from experience.  But I haven't had
that experience enough to really write about it with authority."

"You mean shower sex, or eating girls out?" I asked.

"Either," he answered.  "Are you sure that'd make a really interesting story?"

"Maybe we could make it a little more interesting," I said with a soggy grin. 
I got up and turned around, then squatted back down over his face again.  As
his All-American tongue returned to its task, I ran my hands down his sides.  I
settled my pussy down further with a contented sigh.  I leaned forward and
grasped his engorged cock in my hands.  I stroked it once, and was rewarded
with a muffled moan from beneath me.  "Mrrrrrf..." he said, and I leaned down
further and took him in my mouth.

I made an "O" with my lips and wrapped them around the mushroom cap at the top
of his cock.  My tongue licked at it, running around the rim and tickling at
his little tiny hole.  Then I sucked the length of him into my open mouth, his
warm hardness covered with a cool wet layer of shower water.  As my head bobbed
up and down, I clutched the base of his shaft tightly in my hand (this was a
trick I'd perfected over years of blow job practice at the high school level. 
It used to drive Joey Jambalaya totally wild).

I felt the vibrations at my pussy increase as his muffled groans escalated.  I
wasn't about to come again so soon anyway, so I skootched forward a little on
his chest to give him breathing room.  As soon as his face was free I heard him
go "OHHHHurgle!"  Apparently when I got out of the way Mike got smacked dead-on
by a stream of pouring water from the shower.  He didn't seem to mind much.

I intensified the pressure of my squeezing and sucking, milking his slick wet
cock for all it was worth.  Within seconds I felt it pulse and jerk in my
mouth, and then he exploded between my lips.  I pulled back and pumped his
shaft, letting the running water wash us clean as he came.  No muss no fuss! 
Best thing about shower sex.  

I looked back at him over my shoulder.  His eyes had rolled back in his head
and he really did seem to be drowning this time.  So I clambered off him and we
both rinsed and soaped a bit more before we shut off the water.  We stood there
smiling sorta goofy at each other for a minute, drenched to the bone.  Then we
walked out to the locker room where we'd left our towels.

We padded out, tracking wet footprints onto the clean floor.  As we toweled
off, I said "is it true?  That you don't have much experience, I mean."

"Scout's honor," he said.  "I really have been a Boy Scout all my life.  I
always looked a lot, but I never really did anything until I finally had sex
with a girl back home."

I propped one leg up on a yellow bench and dabbed at my upper thigh.  "When?" I
asked.

"When?"

"When was your first time?"

He looked downright sheepish.  "Um - New Year's."

I was incredulous.  "THIS New Year's?  A few months ago?  And how many times
since then?"

He blushed and concentrated on scrubbing a particularly damp toenail.

I dropped my towel and laughed out loud.  "You've only had sex ONCE?  Jesus,
you're practically still a virgin!"

He looked hurt, and cranky.  "We can't all be fast starters, y'know" he
muttered, a little defensively.

I walked over to where he stood behind another one of the low yellow benches. I
stepped over it to stand beside him, and softly touched his cheek.  "That's not
what I meant, Mike.  The way you put the moves on me, the way you touched
me...I was sure you'd done this a million times.  It never occurred to me that
you were still new at this.  At sex."

We were quiet for a moment.  I broke the silence.  "Did you enjoy it?  Having
sex, I mean."

The blush faded and he grinned.  "It was OK.  I mean, it was great - it was
sex.  I can't imagine what 'bad' sex could be like.  I waited my whole life to
get laid, and it was sure a lot better than NOT getting laid.  If you catch my
drift."

I smiled and turned around to grab my towel.  It was on the floor, on the other
side of the yellow bench in front of us.  I bent to get it, but it was still
just out of reach.  I got down lower and bent over even further, stretching out
my arm.  "I think I know what you're saying," I said, still trying to snag my
towel.  "But it seems to me that you didn't really get the full enjoyment out
of the experience.  And that's a shame, because you're such a natu-raaaaaah!"

I trailed off into a startled shriek.  While I sprawled there all bent over the
bench, he had moved up behind me and run his palms down my asscheeks.  I felt
him spread them apart slightly and then trailed two "Boy Scout salute" fingers
down my crack, over my asshole, and down to my pussy.  As I crouched there
motionless with my legs parted, he inserted them inside me and circled them
round and round.  Then he withdrew them and spread some of my hot wet juices on
the outer folds of my pussy lips.

"Boy Scout motto," he said.  "Always be prepared for anything that comes up. 
And something just did.  Come up, that is."

I "uhhhhh"-ed deep in my throat and rocked my hips a little.  "What does the
Scout Manual say to do in a situation like this?" I groaned.

I felt the tip of his erect cock probing behind me, seeking my opening.  "To
advance in the Scouts you usually have to improvise," he said.  I felt him poke
at me again and reached a hand underneath me to guide him.  "That's the way you
make Eagle Scout," I agreed.  I swiveled my hips upwards a little and aimed him
at my entrance, and he slid in with pleasurable friction as he drove his hard
cock home.

"Oooooooh," I gasped, and he started to slowly thrust in and out of me from
behind.  "Yes, like that.  Are you SURE you've only done this once?"

He laughed, and I felt him grasp my hips with his hands as he fucked me.  "It's
a good thing you brought me off once already," he said, "because otherwise I'd
be finished by now."  "Mmmm, good thing," I repeated.  "Very good.  Very very. 
Oh yes, fuck me!"

We moved in tandem, rocking back and forth as he plumbed my depths with his
erect tool.  I don't know if he was any good as a Boy Scout, and I don't know
if there was a special merit badge for fucking.  Or maybe they'd call it
"Tactile Heterosexual Stimulation."  Or a merit badge in "Birds-and-Bees
Studies."  But he was pretty skilled in any case, and I felt myself climbing
toward orgasm again within a few moments.

"Oh that's good," I said.  "Don't stop."  And he didn't.  Instead his hands
roved around my ass, making me groan even louder.  And when one finger
accidentally (?) brushed my anus I moaned.  And damned if the Boy Scout didn't
improvise!  He moistened his thumb down at the juncture of his prick and my
cunt, and then casually inserted it in my ass.

I rammed myself back, impaling myself on his cock and his thumb, and screamed. 
As the orgasm hit me and exploded all around me I dimly heard him call out, and
then I felt him erupt into my pussy.  My cunt muscles clenched and spasmed in
the aftermath, coaxing yet another few spurts of his ooze out of his
still-jerking cock.  Then our muscles unclenched and he pulled out (or, more
accurately, sort of slid out wetly), and our mixed juices dripped onto the
once-sparkly clean floor below.

The we both straightened up and, for the second time that evening, toweled off.
 We dressed quickly and got ready to go.

"So," I asked him.  "Did you get anything constructive out of our extra
practice session?"

He grinned at me for the umpteenth time.  "Yep," he said.  For one thing, I
think I'm learning to appreciate the enthusiasm and energy of college coeds."

I stuck my tongue out at him.  "Nothing else?" I said, archly.

"Well," he said, looking at me sidelong.  "I've also developed a taste for
women who appreciate a little competition.  And I found out that a little
advance planning never hurts."

I narrowed my eyes.  "Planning?" I said, in a dangerous voice.

There was a gleam in his eyes for just a moment.  Then it faded, and he
continued.  "I've also discovered that I'm irresistable when I'm charming and
sincere.  And especially when a woman feels sorry for me."  I glared at him and
he chuckled.  Soon I was laughing too.

"You really are a glib devil," I said fondly, and I kissed him on the cheek. 
"That's what I thought when I first saw you, and now I know I was right."

We left the gym building and started to go off in separate directions. 
"Remember the rules!" I shouted.  "Tell anybody on the team about this and
you're a dead man, Mike Hunter!"

"Right!" he yelled back.  "Rules!"  Then he laughed again.  "Don't worry!  Your
secret is safe with me!"  And then he was gone.

There was no sign of him at the game the following week.  Or the week after
that.

When I checked with the Registrar, I found out there was no student named
Michael Hunter attending the college.  I never saw hide nor hair of the boy
again.

For weeks I wondered about him.  Who was he?  Was he from another college?  Why
had he finagled his way into the softball game in the first place?  And I kept
thinking about what he'd said about advance planning.  What if...?

No, he couldn't have.  He wouldn't.  The only way it was possible was if he
joined the game, faked his lousy play, convinced me to stay late, timed the
janitor's schedules, maybe paid him off...

All that for me?  No, he wouldn't have.  Would he?

Then again, he WAS a pretty sneaky fuck.

For all I knew, maybe he even wrote a story about it.  But who'd ever want to
read anything he wrote, anyway?



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1) What you hold in your grubby hands (or are reading on your grubby
screens--go get the Windex!  But wait till AFTER you turn off the computer,
Dummy!) is my attempt at a M1KE HUNT story.  I figure I've written a bunch of
stories about My Cunt, so why not M1KE HUNT?  Actually, my first story was
really about My Cock.  For that matter, M1KE HUNT makes no sense at all.  His
name really oughtta be M1KE HOCQUE or something.  Maybe he was worried that
Canadian readers would pronounce it "Mike Hoak," which would sound a lot more
than "My Coke" than "My Cock," killing the alliteration.  Of course, in Canada
they might already be calling him "Meek Hoont" and looking baffled every time
he makes a name joke.  "Meek Hoont?  Qu'est que c'est Meek Hoont?  Thees ees
funnais een Amairica?  Eh?"

2) Reproduction of this story is perfectly fine, as long as it's done for free.
 In Canada, free reproductions of this story should be discounted at
seventy-seven cents on the dollar.  Free Japanese reproductions of this story
carry an additional handling charge of $85 to cover shipping, handling,
translation, and World War II reparations for Pearl Harbor.  Used schoolgirl
panties not included.  Send all payments and Formal Declarations of War to M1KE
HUNT's website, <http//members.aol.com/mrm1ke>.

3) This is a 100% true story by Taria.  Well, some of it's true, anyway.  OK,
none of it's true.  But that never stopped HIM!  Please note that the
second-to-last character in my name is an I <"eye">, not a 1 <"one">, despite
the purposeful HUNT-esque spelling at the top of the story.  That was just a
CLUE, you moke.  In reality, my name is pronounced TAH-reeyah, as in
"AH-reeyah."  But if I spelled it like it sounds, it would be with an E <"ee">
instead of an I <"eye"> or a 1 <one">, and that would be too confusing.  It
would also be just plain WRONG.  So send all responses to <TariaT@aol.com>, and
spell it correctly, dammit.

4) Do you know what a pain in the ass these freaking notes are?

5) (c) 1997 by Taria.  So there!

________________________

Other stories at my website <http://members.aol.com/TariaT>

Visitors and feedback are welcome.

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