From: rkister@lonestar.utsa.edu (Robert F. Kister)
Newsgroups: alt.personals
Subject: Lady Seeking Anal Sex
Date: 12 Apr 92 06:48:58 GMT
Organization: University of Texas at San Antonio

OK, all you guys who say you want a lady who likes anal sex... here
I am. I am more than a bit submissive, but never passive... I
prefer being fucked hard up the ass over any other pastime (except
maybe having my clit licked by a knowledgeable tongue, but...) I
fantasize about a rather rough variety of sexual play, much rougher
than I actually like in real life.

Gentlemen, I've appended one of my fantasies to this letter for
your enjoyment. If you would care to describe to me in complete
detail what YOU would do with my hot, tight ass, I would be glad
to read your fantasies as well... I am eagerly awaiting your hot,
throbbing cocks!

Christie (using a friend's access)


=================================================================
An Anachronist's Tale

     I was a new fighter, scarcely knew which end of the sword to
hold. He was a knight, my baron, and currently my king, and I had
an admiration for him that bordered on worship...

     He was determined that I would learn the basics, and of
course, I'd asked him to teach me. And after that, I found myself
at his home, fifteen miles outside the city limits, each and every
evening, where I learned under his tutelage and the amber glow of
the floodlights in his yard. The first week we'd spent on stance.
I was a fencer, and Olympic hopeful, and I wanted that fencing
stance that was all wrong for heavy weapons. He wanted me to stand
up straighter, tuck my as under me, keep my shield up, my sword arm
in... and he made me walk, in stance, along a painted line on the
ground, hitting me savagely across both ass cheeks with his sword
if I forgot and stood wrongly. I learned.

     Next week had been spent on the pells, learning how to throw
a blow, how to snap the sword over in my hand, sending it crashing
against the wooden post, but still relaxing the fingers so that the
shock wouldn't jar the length of rattan out of my fist. He stood
behind me, shouting, telling me over and over to lead with my hip,
to throw each blow with the force of my center. After a while, he
stood closer, his hips against my ass, using his body to thrust my
hip forward as I struck, and sometimes slapping the offending side
of my ass with a war-strengthened hand. And I learned.

     This week we sparred, he in only a helm, me in helm, kidney
belt, gorget and soft pads... standard full armor, so long ago. He
was not getting the response he wanted, I wouldn't move as rapidly
as he demanded, couldn't seem to coordinate shield and sword and
watch where he was, all at the same time. And so he set me a
penalty. If he defeated me, if I didn't move and think and
coordinate, I would suffer a medieval woman's fate, who was
defeated on the field. A little history, a little Robert E. Howard?
I would agree no matter what the penalty was, he was my lord,
knight, baron, king. And soon again, in my newness, I became
flustered, forgot where I was, took the hard sword blow to the
thigh and dropped to my knees... but then he was upon me, tearing
his helm off and throwing it away, and he had bowled me over on the
ground, taking my helm off, pressing rough kisses against my lips,
bruising them, while he tore my pants down around my ankles,
shredded my garments away from my white, soft skin, then flipping
me over to lie face down in the grass, one knee in the small of my
back preventing me from rising as he freed his long, thick,
hardening cock. He forced me up on my knees, then thrust his cock
into my ass with no preparation, raping me anally, forcing me as
the war-defeated, making me take his shaft all the way. But he
didn't expect that I would be so wet, that each time he'd struck
me earlier had aroused me, that the wet flood of slippery juices
would have slid down to drench my tight asshole, to make it ready
for his assault, or did he? There was no pain, I opened for him
like the gates of a walled city being unbarred for a conqueror. He
rammed his cock into me hard, pounding against the bruises that
he's laced across my ass, his strong hands reaching beneath me to
pinch my nipples equally savagely. My tunic was in shreds around
my waist, the sleeves pinioning my arms, helpless, and I had to
take it, wanted to take it, knew I wanted to have him come inside
my ass more than I'd ever wanted anything.

But he stopped, and wouldn't give me that moment of hot release.
Rising, he dragged me up with him, the twisted cloth around my arms
a slave's bonds as he led me into his house. He took me to his
bedroom, and finished stripping me bare, and left me, hands tied
more neatly with soft cord, bent ass-up across his bed. The
rosebud-asshole burned from its recent violation, just as my cheeks
burned with a hot flush at the embarrassing position I was in, and
did not dare move from. He was in the bathroom, I could hear water
running, and soon he had returned to survey his conquest - he was
naked, muscled, dark and saturnine, his long black hair falling
around his shoulders. He dragged me off the bed, making me kneel
in front of a chair at the bedside. He seated himself, his russet-
red erection bobbing in front of my eyes, and he seized my hair in
his fists and made me take him in my mouth. I was no virgin, as he
surely knew (rumors do fly), I wanted his cock. As I wanted,
needed, loved the swordplay for its roughness, its pain, its raw
and naked aggression that acted as a release. I loved the way he
handled me now, wanted it, needed it for its raw, naked
aggression... As he drove his cock into my mouth, he told me how
he'd been watching me, knew of my arousal, knew that I wanted his
cock. And he was right. I wanted it when I first asked him to teach
me. I sucked, teasing his cock with my tongue, licking the head,
driving my lips all the way down the shaft and up again, gripping
the swelling head between my lips, teasing the opening with my
tongue before plunging down upon it again. He let me continue,
taking it, guiding my head, but I was young, unpracticed in this
art, my cheek-muscles tiring. He knew that, and let me up.

As I knelt there before him, eyes down (actually, I watched his
cock with all the mesmerized fascination of the rabbit for the
cobra), he asked me what I wanted. I told him, simply, that I
wanted him to take me, however he wanted me, that I was his captive
and would do as I was told. Peeking up through the veil of my hair,
I could see his smile, before he sent me to stand at the edge of
the bed. I did as I was told, and he made me bend over the high
edge of the old bed. He untied my hands, and made me place them,
fingers laced, behind my neck. Then he spread my legs just so, and
admired the picture I presented to him. He asked me if I wanted to
be whipped. I told him that he was the master, I would follow his
will. He leaned close down beside me, and asked again, asking me
if I took pleasure from the pain. I was red-faced again as I told
him that yes, it was so. His tongue belt was near at hand, and this
he took up, looping the buckle end around his fist, and standing
back away from the bed. The whistling sound of it cutting through
the air acted as if it were a tongue upon my nipples, a vibrator
throbbing against my clit. The leather came cracking down across
my ass, once, twice, and again, until after the third I couldn't
keep my hands from futile efforts at covering the tender flesh. He
tore my hands away, and then placed them back behind my head. He
asked me, quietly, what it was that I wanted. I answered that his
cock was all I desired, and that I would do anything to have it
inside me. He asked me where I wanted it, and I refused to answer,
stubbornly leaving that choice to him. 

He stood back again, and long moments passed while I waited, until
finally the belt came whistling back across my ass again, harder
than ever. I trembled with the effort of not moving, but again,
after the third blow I couldn't keep my hands from trying to shield
my tender, red behind. He stopped, and in that kind, courteous
voice, asked me again what it was that I wanted. Your cock, lord,
please, I begged him. Silence greeted my entreaties. Frantically,
lest the whipping begin again, I told him what I wanted. I could
hardly force it out of my mouth, the words creeping on a whispered
breath. He was not so easily placated, asking me to repeat what I
had said, and louder. I told him that I was his, to use as he
would, but that if he would give me the choice, I would take his
cock in my ass.

He walked closer, leaning his cool thighs against my hot, well-
marked ass. The long length of leather he held before me, and
indicated that I was to take the middle part between my teeth, gag
and reins all in one. Then I could feel his hand, sliding back to
seize his cock, guiding the hard shaft to my tight opening. He set
the tip only against the rosebud, and waited. I moaned, low and
deep in my throat, wanting it. He took up the leather strap, one
end held in each fist, and pulled me back upon his rod, and it slid
inch by slow inch into my ass. Once his cock was fully in me, he
held still for a moment, and took up the slack on the strap,
pulling my head up sharply. Then he started to stroke into me,
slowly, gently. I wanted it rough, like he had taken me in the
yard, but he took his time, caressing with his big hard cock. I
found and matched his rhythm, and we moved for a moment as one.
Gradually the pace increased, until he was pounding into me, and
I was screaming around the leather, rocking back to meet him.
Suddenly he let out an eerie moan, and I could feel the burning
come shooting into my ass. Still he rode me, taking me harder than
ever, finally shouting that I was to come. That was apparently all
my body waited for, for on the heels of his permission my orgasm
overtook me, causing me to moan and writhe and scream and buck, and
at last to slide down onto the bed in contented silence...

================================================================

Gentlemen, I am waiting for YOUR fantasies!

-- 
Newsgroups: alt.personals