annabel1-4

Archive-name: annabel1-4

Subject: Jetstream: Annabel 1

Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories

WARNING: The following textfile contains descriptions of rather unconventional people and activities. It may contain detailed descriptions of fleshy labia and thick clitorises, bulging gussets, creamy vaginas, girls who ejaculate, and girls who can't help themselves from spraying their piss at the most inconvenient moments. There may be mild hints of SM, and possibly the vaguest suggestion of some scat. If you enjoy these stories and find that they give you particularly intense orgasms, it may mean that you are as much of a pervert as me. Please e-mail me your thoughts or ideas for stories. (an123724@anon.penet.fi) - I'm always keen to meet a fellow enthusiast, and I will ALWAYS reply to a personal message. I will NOT reply to simple requests for stories or reposts, or to flames or moral outrage. ENJOY! Jetstream

Annabel Society Piss from Jetstream I first met Annabel at a coming-out party for one of her friends from Boarding School. She was sitting on the sweeping marble staircase of the house in which it was held, holding a glass of champagne, and laughing as I flirted unashamedly with her. She was tall - about 5' 10", with silky blonde hair and a perfect, high cheekboned complexion which showed dimples when she smiled.
I sat on the floor before her, joking and teasing her, watching her tongue as she sipped the fizzy golden fluid from the flute. We seemed to hit it off together, because we were talking for a long time whilst the other guests passed around us, rather oblivious to us as we were below their level of sight. I was obliged to go in search of another bottle to replenish our glasses.
Wearing a short pink ruched cocktail dress, she began the evening with her long elegant stockinged thighs primly together as she smiled and joked. Occasionally she would lean forward to touch me or as she laughed, and I could see her light brown apple-sized breasts trembling in the starched fabric of her dress. But as the evening progressed, the champagne flowed and she began to be less careful about the arrangement of her big slim thighs. I soon had definite confirmation that her hose were not tights as the broad bands of her stocking tops came into evidence, and as her skirt rode up with her fidgeting, glimpsed the taut clips of her suspenders. As she became drunker, she seemed to care less about what I could see, but certainly seemed aware of it. It was not my imagination that she gave me a slightly cheeky downward glance before reaching for the bottle and 'accidentally' opening her golden-haired thighs to show me the tight blue cotton of her knickers with the promising bulge of her gusset. After this though, I noticed that she started closing her thighs again, indeed seemed to be keeping her legs tightly shut. I wondered if this was some game she was playing, or if I had said something which had upset her. Then I noticed that she started pressing her groin through her dress, pushing her skirt between her thighs and holding it there, even as we spoke.
"Need the loo?" I asked, when this had gone on for some minutes. We were sufficiently drunk that such a question could be asked of a lady with impunity. She shook her head and smiled her dimples. "I like it," she said mysteriously. I carried on talking, but felt that she was somehow distracted, wincing and sighing and rolling her eyes, so that I myself could no longer concentrate on what I was saying. Eventually a mischievous and very naughty grin appeared on her face.
"Watch," she said.
What she did then kept me wanking for weeks afterward.
She crossed her right leg well over her left, so that she was leaning on the left cheek of her bottom, and the gusset of her knickers was presented to my view. From this blue pocket of cloth, (from which I could now detect fine blonde hairs escaping) she peeled a pair of thick, crinkly pink pussy lips, frothing between with her teenage juice and crowned with a long beefy clitoris. She looked at me, still grinning. My cock had immediately grown, snaking down the only available opening, the leg of my briefs, pointing down my trouser leg. I couldn't believe it. A very elegant and youthful young lady was showing me the most pornographic of cunts, and in an almost public place. But this was by no means all.
With the other hand, she held the now empty champagne glass she had been drinking from six inches from her girlmeat. Peeling apart the enormous labia, she squirted a jet of hot golden piss directly into glass. It was quickly filled, so she grabbed the empty bottle, and sprayed the rest expertly into its neck. I watched transfixed as the fizzing amber arc came shooting from her oily flaps and shot straight into the noisily filling bottle. I was on the verge of ejaculating. This was the most erotic sight I had ever seen. She was very accurate with her piss, and only the final little spurts fell short and splattered onto the marble step. But there was something odd about those last few spurts fell. They weren't thin and watery like piss. They looped and coagulated. They jetted in little white strings, one end still sticking to her raw meaty clitoris. The way she sighed and her eyes rolled gave me the only hint I needed to send me over the edge. The creamy fluid she ejaculated at the end was like semen. My own sperm squirted spontaneously down my trouser leg as I realised - Annabel was spunking up.

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Message-ID: <203310Z21071996@anon.penet.fi> Path: bull.hkstar.net!hk.linkage.net!hpg30a.csc.cuhk.hk!news.cuhk.edu.hk!news.hk.net!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an123724@anon.penet.fi X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an123724@anon.penet.fi Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 20:23:46 UTC Subject: Jetstream: Annabel 2 Lines: 223

Annabel - Part 2 More Aristocratic perviness from Jetstream In the middle of the following week, I received a card at work. It was an engraved invitation. "The Hon. Annabel Charisse will be at home" - here she had pencilled the word "alone" - "on 15th December". Then it gave an address nearly as desirable as the young lady who had sent it. The 15th was that evening. I had nothing planned, though I would instantly have cancelled an audience with the Queen in favour of a night in with Annabel. I returned to my grubby Pimlico basement flat, and then made my way to her place in Belgrave square. To say that she was alone was stretching the truth. The huge door was opened by a tall, expressionless butler, who swept away my coat and led me in to the huge marble-floored hall. A rather delicious looking little brunette maid pushed a trolley of drinks and sweetmeats across its polished surface. A wisp of her hair kept escaping from her cap, and she repeatedly tucked it back, with little success. Another maid, a fresh-faced red-head with a deep, freckled cleavage dusted delicately around the shelves. As I stepped into the hall, I looked up at the galleried landing at the top of the stairs, and there stood Annabel.
"Darling! You made it!"
She needn't have pretended she had been in any doubt. She had clearly done a great deal of preparation. She had curled her hair and it now fell over her bare shoulders in an exquisite jumble. The dress she wore was made of velvet and of a rich dark blue. Leaving her shoulders bare, it sheathed her tall body all the way to the ground, clinging to her breasts, her slim waist, following the contours of her gorgeous hips, and then falling all the way to the floor. But at the front, the hem swept up in two arcs which joined near the tops of her thighs. Her splendid stockinged legs were thus tantalisingly revealed as she elegantly descended the staircase to greet me. For a moment, I was filled with an animal desire to rip off her expensive dress, bend her over the chaise longue, and fuck her and bugger her until she begged me to stop. Fortunately the moment passed, as she chastely presented her cheek for my lips.
"I thought you said you'd be alone," I said.
"They're only servants," she replied, imperiously. "Besides, I need somebody to help me entertain you." To illustrate her point, she plucked a tiny glass of vodka from the tray the brunette maid had brought, and presented it to me. Then she took one for herself. "Thank you Michelle," she said, and gently tucked the girl's wisp of hair back under her cap again, allowing her fingers to linger for a moment on her face. "Isn't she gorgeous?" she said. I nodded, and the maid blushed and excused herself. "Let's go and sit down," she said, and led me into a huge, high-ceilinged room, full of carved wooden furniture, and lined with books and ornaments. A huge statue based on Rodin's "Kiss" stood in the corner: a naked woman on a man's lap, kissing him passionately. The difference was that they were fucking - a big granite cock, with intricately carved veins and ridges disappeared between similarly detailed stone labia. And the face of the woman was clearly in orgasm.
"My mother's", said Annabel. "She's a sculptress."
"Does she always do things like this?" I asked.
"Much of the time. A lot of it's horribly tacky Michelangelo's David with an enormous erection, that sort of thing - but it sells. To businessmen who think that art and pornography are the same. But that's the one I like most. Although these are useful from time to time." She pointed to a cluster of onyx abstracts on a low glass table. They were all very phallic, but of different shapes and sizes. "But sit down, talk to me."
She settled in a single Victorian chair and gestured me to sit on the end of the couch opposite her. "How have you been? Have you found a dry-cleaner yet?" She giggled and I smiled. "I don't mind paying the bill, you know. It was my fault."
"Not a fault," I said. "A definite virtue." She laughed again. "What, pissing in public?" "Well, you're clearly an expert. Hardly a drop went astray. I shouldn't think you even needed to wash your knickers."
She fixed me with her naughty dimpled smile. "Oh, I always need to wash my knickers. They get so sticky in the gusset. I'm quite a creamy young thing, you know." I shifted uncomfortably, as I felt the front of my trousers getting very much tighter. She noticed this.
"Am I getting you worked up?"
"Of course you are, and you know it."
"Quite a big chap, aren't you?" she said. "I thought that when we met before. That stain came out around your knee! I thought 'either he's hung like a horse, or he can shoot like an oil-well.'"
As she spoke, she crossed her legs, and I could once more see where the golden clip of her suspender held the sheer black of her stocking close to the tawny surface of her thigh. My cock was almost nosing over the waistband of my trousers. "So let's see then," she said. "Let's see whether it's either or both."
"What?"
"Don't be shy. Show me that big Havana in your pants." I WAS a bit shy. I'd never even kissed the girl. She wanted me to get my cock out as if I were showing it to a disinterested doctor. I made to move over to her, to kiss her, but as I did, she brought one leg up, and the sole of a Christian Dior shoe was placed gently on my chest.
"Uh-uh," she said. "Fair's fair. I showed you my little exhibition. Now I want to be the voyeur. We can always get acquainted later."
I sat back down. "Come on", she said. "Be a sport. I promise it'll be worth it." That broke me. When she had raised her leg, I had been able to see her nut brown hair around the tight white of her cotton g-string, and the memories of our former encounter at the party came flooding (and that is definitely the word) back. I opened my trousers, pushed down my pants, and displayed my cock to her. She sat up and leant forward. Her lips parted and a sigh escaped her. "Oh, you monster!" she whispered. "You're HUGE. You must give the girls lots of fun with that! Those of them that can take it, that is!"
I smiled. "Oh, I usually manage to squeeze it in." "Oh, say that again!" she groaned, as she flicked her eyes up at me, and back at my beating cock. I elaborated.
"Provided they're nice and creamy, and with the aid of a bit of spit on my helmet, I usually managed to squeeze it into their tight girly fuckholes."
Her tone changed. She became matter-of-fact. "You randy sod! You're nearly as fucking randy as I am. Come on then. I'm all eyes. Let me see it."
"What?" I said.
"I want to watch you wank."
"What - all the way?"
"I want to see your spunk shoot."
"But won't that be rather a waste?" "Oh don't worry. I'm sure I'll persuade you to come up with some more for me. "
"Oh. Well, all right." Rather awkwardly, I started to pull at my cock. Annabel was watching so avidly that I felt like an animal scrutinised by its captors. "Wait," she said, "I can see you need help." Before I could sayanything, she clapped her hands and the door opened. In came Michelle, the maid, tucking the wayward strand back under her cap. "Michelle," she said, "look what we've got to play with." I was still several paces behind all this, and was still cock in hand. Michelle looked, her eyes widened, she blushed, and then her lids lowered with lust. "Oh, Annabel," she said. "You're so rude!"
"Doesn't she have to say Ma'am or something?" I said.
"This is the 1990's," she replied. "Michelle and I have a very friendly relationship. She's a very trustworthy and respectful girl. It's the red-head bitch who needs putting in her place every now and then."
"Annabel has the butler spank her bare bottom while she watches," grinned Michelle, as she came over to stand by the couch where I sat.
"Sonia is a very impertinent girl," said Annabel. "She needs it. But Michelle always complies with my wishes, don't you darling?" Little Michelle smiled sweetly at her and then looked down at me. "My friend here is going to show me how his cock can squirt, since I showed him how my pussy could. But I think he needs some help." Michelle nodded. "Michelle has a problem with her hair. It keeps escaping from its confines."
"I'd noticed," I replied.
"Show him, sweetheart," said Annabel.
Michelle perched on the arm of my couch, and slowly pulled up her short black skirt to her waist. I now saw what Annabel meant. The hair problem was not confined to Michelle's lovely head. She was a very hairy young lady indeed. She was wearing a pair of skimpy white knickers which were hopelessly inadequate at containing the thick black rug of dense springy pubes that she had. It sprouted out onto her smooth thighs, and bushed out over the waistband, extending in a narrowing, intertwining line to her belly button. The sight of this made me start masturbating almost spontaneously, which of course is what Annabel wanted. "Isn't it marvellous?" said Annabel. "She's sixteen. Show him more, Michelle."
Smiling mischievously as I wanked and watched, Michelle sat back on the arm and opened her legs to present her gusset to me. Thick hair laced all around it and onto the bulge of her buttocks below. I felt myself slowly approaching orgasm as I pushed my face between her young thighs. I could detect the meaty smell of an aroused cunt in my nostrils, and I watched as her fingers delved beneath the moistening fabric of her knickers. I knew I was reaching the point of no return when I watched her pull her gusset aside with her other hand, to reveal a fat, rumpled clitoris dancing beneath her fingers, thick purple labia flapping with her wank. Sixteen, I thought, Oh my God, sixteen. A froth of wank-juice was building up in the skins of her pullulating vagina, and droplets of it hung in the thick hair of her labia. I began to groan as my face got nearer and nearer.
Hearing my groans, Annabel knew I was close. "The table!" she exclaimed, "The table! Shoot onto the table." She meant the glass topped low table between us. I aimed in that general direction, but I was not going to avert my gaze from little Michelle's obscenely hairy sweet-sixteen cunt. In fact it was when I pressed my nose into her squishy great clitoris and surged my tongue up her milky teenage hole, and as I felt the ring of her vagina clenching on my tongue as her young body wracked with orgasm that I released the first jets of spunk. I squirted and squirted aiming in what I hoped was the right direction, whilst the lovely maid trembled and twitched and sighed out her orgasm, her plump, puppy fat thighs wrapped around my head.
When I finally surfaced, I saw that indeed, the glass coffee table was streaked with my sperm. But I had shot more powerfully than even Annabel had hoped, and she was sitting forward, gazing at my wet twitching cock with admiration and a dreamy expression like the kitten that got the cream. As indeed she had, for a long thick stream of semen was clinging, right across her blonde curls, down her perfect forehead, her aristocratic nose and her full, bowed lips where she was licking it, and savouring its flavour. A thick drop dangled from her chin and I could see that the jet continued down her neck, to the swell of her breasts, and onto the velvet of her dress. A last gooey dribble of my spunk clung to her knee, on the expensive weave of her 8 denier stocking.

Message-ID: <203318Z21071996@anon.penet.fi> Path: bull.hkstar.net!hk.linkage.net!hpg30a.csc.cuhk.hk!news.cuhk.edu.hk!news.hk.net!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an123724@anon.penet.fi X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an123724@anon.penet.fi Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 20:24:12 UTC Subject: Jetstream: Annabel 3 Lines: 223

Annabel 3 The continuing story of the naughty debutante by Jetstream Having just squirted my spunk across Annabel's coffee table, not to mention her face and lovely golden hair, whilst slobbering in the delicious genital flesh of her hirsute sixteen year old maid, and being a porn-hero slightly more realistic than most, I began to wonder as my cock gradually deflated, whether there might be something to eat.
There was. Plenty.
"You absolute hoser!" uttered Annabel, as she lapped a frothy bubble of spunk from her lips. I smiled weakly. Delighted though I still was to be with her, and despite being conscious that little Michelle was still twitching in the after glow of her orgasm, rubbing her palm over her re-knickered mound, I was, for the moment, completely indifferent to sex. Annabel noticed, and was mocksympathetic. "Ah, wassamatta den? Has diddums gone off it?" She grinned. "Oh well. Post coitum omne animal triste," she added in her best public school non-accent. "Never mind, I'll cheer you up, and then we'll have something to eat. There's lots to eat." She rang a bell. No-one appeared. Annabel gave a look of impatience to Michelle, who giggled, and brushed her hair under her cap again. "I think we can do without the cap, don't you?" said Annabel, who plucked it from her head, and then released the clips which held her hair in place (inefficient as they were.) Her chestnut curls tumbled down onto her shoulders, and together with her dark, unplucked eyebrows, her round brown eyes, and her pouting mouth, made her look wonderfully innocent. Sixteen now seemed the upper limit on her age. She tossed her head and smoothed her hair into place.
At last the door opened, and in strode Sonia, the red-haired maid. "You just can't get the staff, these days," muttered Annabel.
I hadn't noticed earlier how big Sonia was. I don't mean fat. She was very well proportioned, but her body was enormous. She was well over six feet tall, which meant that she literally looked down on most people, and it often seemed to make her do it figuratively too. She stood now before Annabel in her short maid's dress, with one hand on her hip, and fixed her with eyes which were the essence of insolence. Irises of ice blue sat in a circle of darker blue, looking out from a fresh, freckled face. "Ma'am," she said, in a tone which may well have been sincere, but which Annabel decided to take as insulting. "Don't you Ma'am me, you little tart. We've nearly starved to death waiting for you to lollop up here." Again, her tone seemed perfectly honest to me. "I'm sorry Ma'am, but I was in the middle of my supper."
"Supper! Before us?"
"I was hungry, Ma'am"
Annabel smiled. "Oh you're hungry are you? Well, we can soon fix that. As you would have noticed, if you hadn't been such a scatter brained great mare, there's a little mess to clear up." I had done up my trousers by now, but as Sonia gazed at the streaks of milky come on the table, her look changed from respectful 'best behaviour' to a quarter smile dripping with raw, honeyed lust, as if even now my cock had been erect and pumping before me. She responded to Annabel's instructions by producing a little hanky, and moving to mop up the mess. "Sonia!" barked Annabel. "What were you told last week?"
Sonia looked slightly but endearingly pathetic as she stood and thought. Then it came to her. "Hankies on glass leave stains," she said. "Exactly," said Annabel. "So what's the only safe way?"
"Oh no!" protested Sonia.
Annabel lowered at her. "If you disobey me once more this month, you'll get those fat arse cheeks of yours spanked so hard, you'll have to piss standing up for a fortnight!"
Sonia considered this, and then slowly, with the combined grace and awkwardness of a giraffe, settled her huge limbs next to the table, her blue eyes carefully surveying the sperm-splattered glass. She dared to flash a last look of sulky resentment at Annabel, and then slowly, methodically, started swirling her tongue through the white puddles, using her tongue to scoop my cooling semen into her mouth, licking the coagulating globs from her lips as she went. I couldn't deny feeling some stirrings at this sight, partly because of the eroticism of what she was doing, partly because her huge freckled breasts were squeezing forward in the neckline of her dress, but mostly from the implicit humiliation arising out of this power game between her and Annabel.
Annabel herself was leaning forward eagerly, carefully watching Sonia's tongue to make sure she didn't miss a drop. When Sonia sat back, content, Annabel said "You've missed some," and moved so that the streak on her face and neck glinted. Sonia obediently leant forward and lapped from the upper surface of Annabel's right breast, up her aristocratic neck to suck the big dribble of jism from her chin, and then whole length of her face, chewing her lips in an act of such unlikely lesbianism that I was now almost fully erect once more. She would have gone on to suck the spunk out of Annabel's hair, but she said "Don't bother about that, you can wash it for me later."
Sonia nodded. "Very good Ma'am." "Now that you've had your supper," said Annabel, "we would like some oysters."
The amazonian girl curtseyed. "Yes Ma'am." "And if I find you've even paused to scratch your arse before you return, I'll have the butler shit on you. Literally."
The lovely Sonia blushed, turned and hurried out.
"Aren't you a bit harsh on her?" I asked.
"She loves it. She knows she can leave whenever she likes. Now," she sat back in her chair, and let her thighs loll apart, "let's have a little more fun without her. Why don't you come and sit over here." She beckoned me to her side by the armchair, where she had placed a footstool, which I sat on. And then, with that mischievous, dimpled grin I last saw just before she pissed in the champagne bottle at the party, she pulled the front of her velvet evening dress right up to her waist. It was an electrifying sight. She was wearing a white g-string strung across her slim hips, whose brief square- inches of silk pretended to try to cover her pubes which, at close quarters I observed were individually a light golden colour, but en masse took on a darker, brandy sort of colour. Her tummy was slim, unblemished and undulated gently in the flickering firelight with each breath. The skin of her thighs and belly was a golden, Monaco tan, but where the thin line of golden down from her navel thickened into her pussy, was a clearly marked change to a creamier, almost white hue in the triangle between her thighs. She excused it to me. "I know. Daddy won't let me sunbathe naked. Isn't that a scream? If only he knew!"
"You're old enough to do what you like, surely?" "Only just," she smiled. "But he'd cut off my money. And look at all the fun I'd have to miss out on."
"I like it anyway," I breathed.
"So do I. It gives me something to measure my tan by. Now watch." As she said this, she drew her thighs suddenly wide apart. She addressed me and Michelle, who was on the other side of her, in turn. "You are to stay there, and you are not to touch. You can look as close as you like, but no part of your body is to touch mine." I nodded. Something in her commanding tone made me accept this unhesitatingly. "But you, darling can come the other side." Michelle happily settled on the floor in front of the fire between Annabel's thighs. Then, with the flourish of a magician, Annabel hooked Calvin Klein G-string over Jean-Paul Gaultier knees and Christian Dior feet, and revealed the marvellous spectacle of her genitals to Michelle and me.
Sat in the crook of her hip I had to lean forward to see their full glory. I could immediately see where the fat wrinkled prow of her clitoris poked through from the densest point of her pubes, but as I moved forward, I could see the way its length hung forth like a little boy's cock, cloaked and concealed in the flesh of Annabel's foreskin. Leaning even further, I could see the way her huge pinkey brown labia folded over on each other in repose, shaped and creased by the way she had arranged them in her knickers every morning, ever since they had first begun to protrude and bulge forth from her little bald slit when she began at Roedean. As I watched I was once more transfixed by the outrageous contrast between this Voguemodel young aristocrat and the obscenity of her dangling pussymeat. All the qualities admired in a young girl like her presented their opposites in her wankflesh: Where she was slim, smooth, elegant and restrained, her labia and clitoris were fat, wrinkly, grotesque and excessive. It was as if, like the Picture of Dorian Grey, all of the outrageous practices of her young life, the vigorous girl-school masturbations, the dormitory lesbianism, the piss-games, were all depicted in concentrated form between her legs, whilst she remained serene and blemish free.
Annabel smiled at Michelle. "Go on then, I can tell you can't wait," she said, and excitedly but reverently, the girl put her fingers tentatively to her mistress's thick fuckflaps, and slowly peeled them apart. I noticed that Annabel was getting a hard-on, and that as her clitoris thickened, her pussy had lost its sleepy look, and was looking flared, moist and sex-thirsty. The lips slipped apart and their inner surfaces were shiny and coated with filaments of cream. The Chanel perfume which always scented Annabel's expensively clothed body was suddenly tinged with the rich, salty, spumy smell of an open cunt. The gorgeous young lady snuggled down in her chair with a look of bliss as she pushed her beefy pisser up.
"Give me that tongue!" she breathed, and then groaned as almost immediately, her serving-girl traced the tip of a very naughty looking cherry tongue first up the furrows in Annabel's left cunt-lip, and then over the slightly puffier right one, and then she grunted loudly as Michelle peeled back Annabel's foreskin to reveal the proud, naked glans of her big clitoris, and sucked it hungrily into her mouth.
My cock was now straining in my groin now, and I once more released it, so that I could wank as I watched. The shuddering Annabel gazed lustfully down at it, and then rolled her eyes with delight as her plating continued. Drunken with ecstasy, she pulled me close to her and muttered: "Watch carefully, you won't want to miss it when I come."
Taking her advice, I leaned down so that my nose was mere inches from her pussy flesh. Michelle sucked hungrily on Annabel's thick genital teat, and then periodically dived her tongue down into the creamy vagina below, squirming her tongue around and scooping out strings of musky juice. Then she flickered her tongue quickly back and forth across the naked clitoral head, and Annabel started her orgasm. Quietly, she began a long slow groan. As I watched, I saw her the flesh of her vagina beginning to flex involuntarily. Her groan continued as I saw a fantastic sight: Her pussy began to dribble with a creamy fluid that looked just like spunk. It bubbled out from under her clitoris, and trickled down over Michelle's little knuckles. Then the moan ended in a sudden grunt as Annabel's whole body wracked in orgasm, and the girl-semen was leaping from her pussy in spurts, squirting all over Michelle's delighted face, shooting over her errant hair, and splattering down onto her black dress. Annabel's twitching, ejaculating pussy managed seven healthy spurts of creamy woman spunk before she fell back exhausted, as Michelle lapped the last dribbles from her hole.
"You see," she smiled at me, her forehead bathed in perspiration, blonde hairs plastered to her, "I am a very creamy girl indeed!"

Message-ID: <203452Z21071996@anon.penet.fi> Path: bull.hkstar.net!hk.linkage.net!hpg30a.csc.cuhk.hk!news.cuhk.edu.hk!news.hk.net!howland.reston.ans.net!EU.net!news.eunet.fi!anon.penet.fi Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories From: an123724@anon.penet.fi X-Anonymously-To: alt.sex.stories Organization: Anonymous forwarding service Reply-To: an123724@anon.penet.fi Date: Sun, 21 Jul 1996 20:24:34 UTC Subject: Jetstream: Annabel 4 Lines: 263

Annabel 4 The concluding episode of the adventures of the horny heiress by Jetstream Miraculously, the sight of Annabel ejaculating all over her maid had not caused me to ruin another dinner suit, but I was perilously close to it. My cock was drooling clear fluid at the sight, and had I or anyone else so much as brushed against it, I would involuntarily have shed a scrotum full all over the place. Annabel shrugged and shuddered with delight as the last twitches shook her, giving me her sexy contented smile. Between her smooth thighs, Michelle giggled as she rubbed her face over her mistress's frothing pussy lips, spreading the cream over her tongue and mouth like a semen-happy porn-starlet.
I could hardly speak, such was the eroticism of the sight. My voice, when it finally spoke was husky and stammering.
"I've never seen anything like that!" I breathed.
"Sexy, eh? Sexier than the piss game?"
"I - I don't know. Have you always come like that?"
She chuckled. "Well, not when I was a little girl. I never used to come at all until I was eleven. I just used to rub myself up against the climbing frames and enjoy the feeling. But then I got to big girls' school, and this started. It was a bit embarrassing at first."
"Really?" "Well I used to have wet dreams, and girls' schools aren't really used to stains like that on the linen." "You used to spunk in your sleep?" I asked incredulously.
"Yeah. After a few embarrassing encounters with matron about my stained nighties, I took to stuffing my knickers full of tissues before I went to sleep." All of this was definitely one of the most arousing things I'd ever heard.
"What did you used to dream about?"
"Some of the prefects, and the sixth-form girls that I had crushes on. Eventually word got out about me, and I thought they'd make me a freak. But they just wanted to watch." "I don't blame them, the randy bitches. Did you let them?"
She smiled. "Of course! I love being the centre of attention. And I was. I'd sit on my bed with my night shirt pulled up and wank myself so that everyone could see. They were all jealous of my clittie, because they mostly only had little buttons that they sometimes could hardly find. Occasionally, I'd let them play with her, and one girl wanted to suck her, which I allowed. I really got off on it, and the horny tart swallowed the lot. She's getting married to a barrister next month. She'll be disappointed if he can't spunk as much as me!" I was entranced. "So what happened at these wank sessions then?" "Well they'd all sit round with their hands in their pussies (or each other's), as would I, and I'd wank really slowly while we told each other rude stories. Usually they were about girls, because we didn't know much about boys or what they did. Later somebody got hold of a porn mag, and we learnt a lot more. Some of the girls found it disgusting, and went off to become frigid wives, but I loved it. I could really identify with the come shots. All that sexy mess!"
"But what did you do?" I asked impatiently.
She giggled. "You randy sod! They watched me wank, and as soon as they saw me squirting, they'd go over the edge too. Sometimes we'd get a first year fag girl to hold a wine glass up to catch the spurts. Then they'd dip their fingers in and rub it on their tits to make them grow faster, or on their pussies to make their lips grow or put it behind their ears in the hope that the town boys might fancy them. There was all sorts of superstition about my juice."
"Wow," I breathed.
"This didn't happen every day though. You needed a duty teacher who slept very soundly. Once we were discovered by a young new teacher. We thought she was asleep in the adjoining room, but she was marking exams, and hadn't even got undressed." She laughed with embarrassment. "Can you imagine ten young girls between 13 and 16 sitting around the dorm, all with their fingers in their pussies, and me sitting in the middle of them all, with my labia" (the word sounded gorgeously feminine and floral on her lips) "spread apart, spitting on my fingers and rubbing them on my clit, just on the verge of letting it all go?"
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" I said. "Then in walks Miss Charmagne and wants to know what's going on!"
"What happened?" I said, gazing at where she was demonstrating the way she had been rubbing her pussy, moisturised by the few drops of her cunt-semen which hadn't been lapped up by Michelle. "Well fortunately she was three things. Pretty, decent, and a raving lezzie. The girl's told her exactly what we were doing, and a rude look came into her eye as she looked at my toilet bits. You could almost see her start foaming at the gusset. She pulled her skirt up, took her sticky knickers down and sat in front of me on the bed, wanking her hairy, floppy-lipped cunt mere inches in front of mine. When I came, the girls gasped as my come squirted all over teacher's pussy, sending her off like a rocket, particularly when our pussies kissed, and my girlish vagina squelched over her spunky, grown-up twat!"
"Oh, you've done it now!" I groaned. I hadn't touched my cock, but as we both looked down, the clear fluid which had been weeping from it turned cloudy, and a thick stream dribbled down. "Oh yes!" cried Annabel, "Michelle, quick!"
It was an excruciating few milliseconds as the still-spermy maid, leapt into Annabel's lap and they both leant over the arm of the chair to apply their mouths and tongues to my helmet. It looked a great deal sexier than it felt for a moment, as they both lapped at the twitching glans, and my come splashed agonisingly onto their faces, but the more experienced Annabel came to my rescue, gripping my ridged shaft with her finely manicured nails, and sucked its whole length quickly into her throat, wanking as she went. Her contracting epiglottis felt like a tight hot vagina as I fucked her gorgeous mouth and shed the three remaining spurts of come, feeling her swallowing them voraciously. Annabel massaged my bollocks admiringly. "You've got plenty, haven't you?"
"Nearly as much as you!" I replied. My cock remained stiff. After Annabel's stories, I was going to be horny for the rest of the evening, no matter what we did. I could already feel the next few gallons of come going into production, as I watched her licking the last few drops of the last from her lips.
At that moment, the door opened, and in swept Sonia looking proud and arrogant. She was pushing a tray ranged with silver dishes of food.
"We're going to eat!" said Annabel, standing, so that her dress fell forward and concealed her wonderful pussy once more.. "At last! But first, we're going to build up a real appetite. Sonia the champagne!" Sonia looked slightly petulant. "I haven't brought it Madam." Annabel looked as if this was very nearly the last straw.
"And why not, you insolent child?" "Because you usually supply it from your CUNT!" spat the pouting red-head. Annabel exploded. "You sperm-lapping little vixen! You're not fit to lick my arse clean of my shit, never mind waiting on me!" As she was saying this, through the door came the expressionless butler, carrying a bottle of champagne and an ice-bucket. "Is there a problem with the staff, madam?" he enquired. "Yes!" spat Annabel. "This great bitch is putting her mouth to the wrong use again." The butler raised an eyebrow. "I shall deal with it, madam," he muttered.
Annabel was insistent. "Here, Terrence."
The eyebrow rose a millimetre more. "Very good, madam. Sonia. The position. The arm of the couch will do." I wondered why Sonia did not flee this humiliation before a stranger, and indeed her job, but as she coyly moved toward the couch, she flashed me a very naughty pout which told me she was glad I was there. Slowly, and very gently, she lifted her skirt. I was now in Annabel's armchair as the lady walked imperiously around, overseeing the punishment. The skirt revealed the tops of her stockings, followed by the most absurd pair of white knickers stretched across her hips, desperately struggling to contain her formidable bottom. As if trained, little Michelle moved forward and peeled the knickers down revealing the expanse of her creamy white buttocks, and then as the gusset came away, a sticky string of juice stretched from it into the dark region between. The Amazonian daintily stepped from the knickers, and then bent forward, placing her hands on the arm of the couch for support, thrusting her bare bottom backwards.
"No, this won't do!" barked Annabel. "Astride it!" Sonia looked imploringly at her. "Madam?" her voice begged.
"You can beg all you like," said Annabel, "as indeed you shall, but it won't stop me. You have insulted a lady before one of her guests. Now your own humiliation before that guest shall be complete."
I couldn't help thinking that this was all a kind of role-playing game: even the language that Annabel was using was slightly absurd. But there was nothing false about the tears of shame Sonia sniffed as she straddled the arm of the couch and revealed both the tight brown bud of her arsehole and the open gash of her pussy to my interested gaze.
Michelle helped me out of my trousers, and took the opportunity to remove her own clothes at Annabel's behest. Her breasts were small, firm and snub-nosed. Now, curled at my feet with the flickering firelight dancing on her body, and her dense pubes and thick pussy-lips out of sight, I could imagine that she was perhaps much nearer to twelve than to sixteen. Her bow-shaped cherry lips closed tentatively around my glans as if over a dripping ice-lolly, and she slurped.
"Are we ready?" enquired Annabel. "Then let's begin shall we?" She nodded to the butler, and he lifted his hand before delivering a tremendous clout to the great pair of flaring arse cheeks before my gaze. Sonia gave a shout of pain, and clenched her bottom, shuffling along the arm of the chair, rubbing herself against it in the process. Again the hand fell, setting the big girl's buttocks wobbling once more. I watched as the spanking continued, and noticed that as the cheeks reddened, her vagina was twitching ever more rhythmically, and her groans becoming ever less pained and more pleasured.
Meanwhile, Annabel strolled to the back of the couch arm, and pulling her skirts aside once more, exposed her moist cuntburger to Sonia's face. "Come on, then, I'll let you," she said. "I'll let you stick your slimy tongue into my elegant lady's fuckhole, even though you don't deserve it." I moved over to sit on the couch so that I could watch more closely. Michelle continued to minister to my cock.
Tears were streaming down Sonia's face as the butler continued to smack her sore bottom, but she slowly focused on the crinkly genital meal that Annabel was serving up between her thighs, and I pushed my face closer so that I could watch as Sonia's tongue slipped sexily into Annabel's body. Annabel nodded to the butler, and he stopped spanking the poor girl.
"That's it," said Annabel, as Sonia sucked on her big hanging clitoris. "There, there, never mind. Mummy will comfort you. Just suck on your comforter. Big girls don't cry, do they?" Sonia shook her head, sobbing. "Let's get rid of those tears then, shall we? Mummy can just wash them away for you, hm."
A worried look came into Sonia's face. "Oh Please," she said. "Please don't piss in my face, Mistress!" Her tongue squirmed ever more passionately in Annabel's open pussy-flesh. "Please don't spray all that piss from your cunt!" With a grin, the lithe, light Michelle, climbed onto me, opening those slim brown thighs and showing me the pinkey-brown jungle of her groin before squeezing my well-lubricated cock into her tight little teenage vagina.
"Of course I'm going to piss in your face, you sullen little bitch. I'm going to piss all over your great swinging tits, too, and if you're very lucky, there might even be some left over to soothe your poor bottom." "Oh, no, no, NO" protested Sonia deliriously, rolling over onto her back, and lapping at Annabel's big pussy from below. "YOU said it," said Annabel. "You said you thought champagne came from my cunt. Well, it does. So start drinking!"
And I watched as Annabel relaxed her pussy, and sprayed a fantastic shower of urine all over her maid's face. My cock was sliding in and out of the other maid's slippery pussy and her little tits bounced as she did so. Sonia's huge breasts swelled in her dress as they were sprayed with her employer's golden piss. "Anoint me! Anoint me!" she cried, and tore open her black tunic, so that her huge freckled jugs fell free. Annabel stood up on the couch and with her hands on her slim hips, directed the jet of her golden fluid onto Sonia's nipples, as the ecstatic maid tweaked them in delight. "I'm baptised! I'm baptised! I'll never be rude again! I'll live a good life! I'll be a good maid!" she shouted, as her orgasm began to break over her, and Annabel straddled her pelvis and pressed her pissing pussy against Sonia's. The sight of the big girl blushing in orgasm as her face contorted was too much for Michelle and me. Simultaneously, our hands went to where our groins joined. She held my foreskin back, and I squeezed her fat clit. The young girl shouted and squealed as I slowly delivered five or six squirts of thick saline come to her teenage uterus.
Annabel surveyed the scene with some dissatisfaction.
"This room is a mess. And it stinks of piss. I'll tell Terrence to get the car ready. We can eat out," she said. "I'll just go and get changed."
And eat out we did. And after we had done so, she dropped me back at my flat before going home. Well, she said that she never fucked someone on a first date.

Last modified (12/24/96 14:09:15) by Eli-the-Bearded.

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