========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Sue's 19th: Good Grief 1/2 (mf)
From: SueNH@aol.com
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 02:53:57 GMT

NOTE: This story is, of course, for adults only -- so don't read it if you
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life separate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to
let me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is
something that I REALLY like), you can reach me at SueNH@AOL.com ... but I
can't promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in
my real life! Incidentally, all of my stories are available through the
Louvre archive... check it out.
**********************************

GOOD GRIEF      part 1 of 2
     by Sue

It was appropriately gloomy weather on the afternoon when my good friend Beth
was buried. Her death at the hands of a drunk driver was a tragedy that all
of her many friends felt very deeply. Of course, her husband and two young
children were devastated by the loss. I had known Beth since our high school
days when we wre both cheerleaders. We saw each other almost every day during
the following years, often at the health club. After our work-outs, we would
share long talks over coffee about the traumas and joys of our lives. I
thought I knew everything about her, and every one of her friends. Was I ever
wrong!

The funeral service was held outdoors, next to the grave site. More than a
hundred people attended, all bundled up against the insistent Autumn chill. I
knew everyone there, most with tears filling their eyes. Half-way through the
service, I noticed someone who I didn't recognize, on the far side of the
circle of Beth's friends. He was leaning against the gnarled trunk of a huge
sugar maple, ablaze with golden foliage, and he was dressed more casually
than most of the mourners. Although he was physically part of the group, I
knew instinctively that he was separate and mysterious. My curiosity was
piqued; who was this one person I didn't know, who felt strongly enough to
attend Beth's funeral? 

I needed to know. So when the final words were spoken, I avoided conversation
with the friends standing near me. Instead I circled around the outside of
the group toward the tree where he had been standing. He was already gone.
Glancing around, I saw him sitting on a stone wall a couple hundred feet
away, staring off into space. He was deep in thought, and perhaps I should
have left him in peace. But I so wanted to know how he was connected to Beth,
about whom I thought I knew everything. I screwed up my courage and walked
over the leaf-strewn grass, silently sitting near him on the wall. Minutes
passed without a word, as we watched everyone else walk away from the grave.
Even when the last car had sped off down the dirt road, our quiet meditation
continued, until finally he turned his head toward mine, and said "I probably
shouldn't have come here today, but I just couldn't stay away. Beth had a
powerful and exciting influence on my life, and in my way, I loved her very
much."

What on earth was he talking about? According to him, Beth and he had been
close. But he was unknown to her community of friends. So I just had to ask
bluntly "Who are you, anyway. I'm sure that I've never seen you with Beth, or
around town."

"I've never actually met Beth, at least not in person. But she and I knew
everything about each other, since we talked to each other over computer
networks. We were sort of like penpals, or e-pals, I guess you might say." He
saw the bewildered look on my face, and continued "I would explain all this
to you, but what she and I had was very special, and very intimate. And it
was absolutely secret. So I'm not sure that I should go on. I would hate for
her family to be hurt."

I asked "How do you know that I'm not a family member?" To which he answered
"Well I'm pretty sure that I know who you are. You're Sue, aren't you? Beth
described you in great detail, and no one else at the service looked like you
do. If it weren't for what she told me about you and the deep friendship that
you shared, I wouldn't have even said this much. But she said that you were
the most open-minded and open-hearted person she knew, so I'm taking the
chance with you. I know that you are familiar with America Online and how it
can be used to get into sexual fantasies. She told me that you are the
'SueNH' that writes all those stories for the Internet."

How the hell did Beth know that? I haven't told anyone, not even my closest
friends. It turns out that she had discovered the stories, and had recognized
my physical description, the neighborhood, and my personality. I had dropped
enough hints for Beth to figure it out. I was somewhat horrified to have been
discovered, but also tantalized by the possibilities.

While I sat there with my jaw hanging open, he continued "Beth really
appreciated the companionship that you offered her, and both of us found your
stories to be an incredible turn-on. We talked endlessly about the wild and
erotic images you write about."

Well, compliments like that will always get my attention -- as will the face
and body and voice that this mystery man possessed. And the mystery itself
may have been the part that was the most intriguing to me. So I promised to
keep what he told me to myself, and to not be judgmental or shocked by
anything that I learned. With that assurance, he decided to trust me, and
then he told me their story, which went something like this:

His name is Dale. He too was married. Beth and he met in a general chat room
on America Online, where they discussed parenthood and marriage and
eventually the boredom and stagnation of their lives. Given the anonymity of
the Internet (I learned that Beth used the alias "OpeningUp" as her screen
name, which said a lot about where she was coming from when she met people
online), the two of them started sharing more and more intimate feelings.
Early on, Dale suggested that they move to a "private room," where he thought
that they wouldn't have the distraction of all the other people chatting in
the public room. He knew that the private room system existed, but hadn't
actually used one. Beth immediately asked him if he was trying to
"cyber-seduce" her (I like that expression), and when he denied it, she told
him that she was disappointed! 

Dale discovered that she had been a regular participant in these rooms for a
couple of years, and that she looked forward to the safe, anonymous, and wild
fantasies that could be played out with her online partners. I had promised
Dale that I wouldn't be shocked, but it was hard to maintain my composure to
hear that sweet little Beth, member of the PTA and the church ladies
auxiliary, was actually a wanton vamp of the computer networks. Over the
years, she and I had shared so many conversations. I thought she was telling
me EVERYTHING, as I was baring my soul to her. Of course, I too had been
holding back, not telling her one important thing -- about my alter-ego as a
regular contributor to alt.sex.stories. So it shouldn't have come as such a
surprise to find out about Beth's secret life. But it did!

Now my curiosity was getting really revved up. And my interest in this
magnetically handsome stranger with the syrupy voice was overwhelming any
sense of social correctness that should have been guiding my behavior. Dale
was reluctant to get too graphic in his description of what the two of them
talked about in the private room. After all, we were talking about someone
who had died only a few days ago, who had just been buried within sight of
where we sat. Yet it was precisely for those reasons that we found ourselves
able to talk so freely, stranger to stranger, connected by our mutual friend
for whom we both were grieving. 

Anyway, it turned out that Dale and Beth had arranged to have a regular
rendezvous every Tuesday morning at 10 o'clock. That explained why she had
started coming to the health club only four mornings a week. For an hour each
session, they would start with some flirting, then they would verbally
undress each other, followed by some torrid sex that transcended the apparent
limits of their keyboards. Both Beth and Dale had occasionally experienced
orgasms without touching themselves, just from the extreme arousal of the
typed conversation. Each time, they would imagine themselves outside of their
regular lives, sometimes playing roles as if they were in another time or
another city. 

They always reserved a few minutes at the end of their session to have a
discussion that wasn't about the cyber-seduction. Sort of like the proverbial
post-orgasmic smoke-a-cigarette talk. They laid bare the tender wounds of
their lives, revealing their vulnerabilities and dreams.

Dale lived in Arizona, so it was both impractical and unwise to meet in
person. Despite their exciting fantasies and their unfulfilled "real lives,"
neither really wanted to take the risk of hurting their families, or
endangering the reputations that they had staked out in their communities.
Despite their exciting fantasies and unfulfilled "real lives", neither wanted
to take the risk of damaging their families or reputations. But eventually,
the exhilarating and elicit online affair was like a drug that needed a
bigger fix. They made plans to meet, in the flesh (quite literally). 

Dale had arrived yesterday, checking into a motel in a neighboring town. He
only found out this morning about Beth's accident. He knew it was
inappropriate to show up at the funeral, but he couldn't stay away. He needed
to see her put to rest, and he found it strangely reassuring to see Beth
surrounded by her close friends and families. Of course, he was disappointed
at this sudden reversal of fortune. but he was instantly resigned to the
reality. His greatest regret was that Beth and he had not gotten to share the
single night of physical passion that they had planned. One night was all
that they had allowed themselves, and then they had promised to return to
their real lives, never to meet again, online or in person! But they couldn't
live the rest of their lives without tasting the forbidden fruit just this
once. 

Now that phrase "the rest of our lives" had a tragic poignancy as it related
to Beth. But for Dale, he had reached for the apple and it had been pulled
from his grasping hands. His sadness about Beth's death was mixed with
understandable frustration for his own tough luck. 

As Dale told me this history of the two of them, I found myself stirred by
the romance, and titillated by the erotic overtones. I was drawn to Dale not
only by sympathy, but also by a rising sexual charge. When he mentioned his
frustration at the end of the story,it was clear to me that much of it was
sexual frustration. I instantly made a decision which felt totally right at
that moment (although it certainly seems reckless as I look back on it). I
could be the stand-in for Beth for the one night. His long anticipated union
with his cyber-lover could in some fashion be fulfilled, and I could see that
this required no sacrifice on my part, for my attraction to Dale was
instantaneous, going back to that first moment when I had spotted him during
the funeral. By "becoming" Beth for a few hours, I could perhaps be giving
her a final tribute. If her angel was watching over us, she could enjoy our
sexual encounter in some mystical and vicarious way.

While this plan crystallized in my head, I chose not to explain it to Dale.
This wasn't a time for logic. I simply stood up in front of him between his
knees, pulled his head to my breasts, and ran my fingers through his long
curly hair. "Dale, I want you to do something for me, and for yourself. I
want your to let go of reality for a few hours. Tonight I will be your Beth.
Right this minute, I am Beth. I want you to forget about my death, to forget
about Sue. I want you to celebrate our love, to make love to me with all the
passion that you have kept imprisoned for so long. I want to see your body. I
want to wrap my hands around your cock. I want you to kiss me all over. And I
want you to fuck me like there is no tomorrow. Because there isn't!"

Dale started sobbing softly, and the tenderness of the moment brought tears
to my eyes as well. His arms were wrapped tightly around my waist. After
dwelling in the grief for a few more minutes, I took the initiative, and
reached behind me to take his hands. I pulled them down so that they rested
on my ass cheeks. Dale was still hesitant, so I pressed his fingers into my
flesh. Eventually, he let go of his self-restraint, and began massaging my
ass, gently at first, then more insistently. I glanced around quickly to make
sure that there was no one left in the cemetery. Then I gripped the waist of
my simple black sheath and began to bunch up the material, pulling the hem up
from my knees. I'm not sure that Dale even knew what I was doing, with his
face buried between my breasts. With a final yank, I pulled the material out
from under his hands. The cool autumn air was in sharp contrast to the
fingertips burning into my skin. 

Dale was now fully into the illusion of me being Beth. His crying had
stopped, and where the fabric of my dress was damp from his tears, I now felt
his hot breath wafting against my nipples, making them harder. One of them
was trying to poke out his eye. My hands were now resting on his shoulders,
and I kneaded the tightness from his neck muscles, slipping my fingers under
the collar of his turtleneck. His hands had migrated around and under my ass
cheeks, so that he was pushing his finger tips up into my cunt, pressing the
thin fabric of my pantyhose into the moisture that had seeped out of my
vagina. I normally don't wear this type of underwear when I am expecting any
kind of sexual encounter. I had no idea that this would be in the cards
today! But I had dispensed with panties, since the hose provided the warmth
and modesty that I required for this solemn occasion. Now that stretchy nylon
material was providing almost no barrier to the exploring fingers that slid
along my puffy labia, flicking over the hooded nub of my clitoris. I hadn't
realized how completely aroused I had become, but now I could feel the
moisture soaking into the nylon, and the coolness from the air sent shivers
up my spine. Or were the shudders caused by the stimulation of the prodding
fingers? I gasped with the intensity of it all.

But the seasonal chill was just too much. To say nothing of my fear of being
spotted by a passerby. After all, my courage to be sexual on the Internet is
quite different from what I feel is possible in my home town. So I pulled
away from Dale and let my dress fall back to my knees. I drew his hands up my
torso, bumping over my sensitive breasts, and up to my mouth. My lips wrapped
themselves around a couple of his fingers, and I tasted my own pungent
juices. Stepping backwards a step, I let the grasp of my lips pull him to a
standing position. "Let's go to your motel. I'll follow your car" I said, and
the sultry tone in my voice surprised me. We walked hand-in-hand out to the
dirt road, and kissed passionately one time before getting into our cars. He
was driving some clunky looking rental job. I was in my sporty little Miata,
with the top up for the weather.

When we got into town, we had to stop at the only traffic light. I used the
brief pause to remove my shiny pumps and shimmy out of my pantyhose. I tried
to be inconspicuous about my movements, since this was the busiest part of
our little town. Now my simple black sheath was my only piece of clothing,
and I know I wouldn't be wearing even that much longer. Turning up the car's
heater, I let it blow up between my knees, which I separated as much as I
could within the tight confines of the driver's seat. The hem rode up high on
my thighs. I could immediately smell the unique fragrance that emanated from
my oozing cunt. As I tailed Dale's car for the 15 minutes it took to get to
his motel, I let my fingers tease myself ever-so-lightly, swirling around my
gumdrop nipples, and occasionally dropping down to slide through the
lubricated crevice of my naked cunt. I had to restrain myself from touching
myself too aggressively, for the temptation was very strong.

Continued in part 2... (which is where the really hot sex is, if you've been
wondering if we'd ever get to that!)
========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Sue's 19th: Good Grief 2/2 (mf)
From: SueNH@aol.com
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 02:54:09 GMT

NOTE: This story is, of course, for adults only -- so don't read it if you
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life separate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to
let me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is
something that I REALLY like), you can reach me at SueNH@AOL.com ... but I
can't promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in
my real life! Incidentally, all of my stories are available through the
Louvre archive... check it out.
**********************************

GOOD GRIEF      part 2 of 2
     by Sue

{If you didn't read part one, then little of this part will make sense. But
since almost all of the hot sex in this story occurs in this part, then maybe
that's all the sense it needs to have!}

Finally, just as the sun was setting in the West, we arrived at the High
Hills Motor Lodge. Even before I had pulled to a stop, Dale had hopped out of
his car and was unlocking the door to his room. I stepped up to him and
through into his tidy little room. When he reached for the light switch, I
stopped his hand. Trying to reinforce the illusion, I said "Remember, I am
Beth. You know who I am. You know what I look like from what I told you in
the chat room. Let the light from the window be your guide. Let your hands
lead you." I was using a monotone voice that I hoped would be hypnotic.
"Remember all the wild scenes we have had together. Tonight I want you to
make it the best time of all. I want you to tell me how you like it. I am
yours for the night. I am Beth. I am yours. Make love to me."

He was hooked completely. Even in the dim light I could see that his eyes
were kind of glazed over, and he was breathing rapidly and deeply. I let my
hands drop down to his crotch, where I gave his cock a gentle squeeze. He was
rock-hard, and so very big. He leaned back against the door, and asked me to
take it out. His voice was almost a whisper, desperate and urgent. I wasn't
there to be a tease, so I leaned forwards to kiss him hard. While our lips
mashed together and my tongue plunged deep between his teeth, I unbuckled his
belt and unzipped his fly. Dropping to my knees on the thick carpet, I pulled
off his loafers, and then quickly removed his trousers. His erection made a
huge tent in his white boxers. I snaked a hand up into each of the loose pant
legs and with my fingers straight, I enclosed the hard column of flesh in a
prayerful grasp. My finger tips just reached the head of his cock, which was
trapped under the elastic waistband. I let my fingernails graze lightly over
the sensitive skin of his rotund glans.

"Please take it all the way out" he implored. I bent his cock shaft away form
his stomach, stretching the waistband outward. Biting down onto the
corrugated material, I pulled his shorts down onto his thighs with my head.
My forehead rubbed down his cock, leaving a smear of precome on my skin. I
released his cock from my hands and used them to pull his boxers the rest of
the way down his legs. He was already unbuttoning his overshirt and pulling
his turtleneck up over his head.

"What do you want me to do now?" I asked innocently.

"You know."

"Tell me. I'll do anything you ask. But you must tell me what you want." I
wanted to make sure that I didn't break the illusion of my being Beth, which
I could easily have done by acting in some way that he didn't expect. I just
had to hope that she hadn't convinced him that she was some kind of
dominatrix!

"Please, kiss my cock! Suck on it the way you talked about on the computer.
I've been waiting so long for this moment. I've kept myself from masturbating
or making love with my wife for two weeks. I'm tingling all over. I need you
to suck on my cock now. Please Beth, do it now!"

His use of Beth's name sounded so genuine. I was sure that he was completely
absorbed by the trance. And I too was having trouble keeping track of my own
identity. I felt like I really was Beth. I felt like I had known Dale for all
these months, and that I had been anticipating this moment of forbidden
physical pleasure. I had masturbated only that morning as I showered, but now
I felt the delicious sense that I get when it has been a long time between
orgasm, when I know that my time is coming. This was no time to flirt. Dale's
erection was pointing almost straight up, and was twitching uncontrollably. I
leaned forwards and kissed his balls, then slipped my tongue out from between
my lips and lapped up the entire length of his solid column of hot flesh.
Just as I reached the protruding rim of his glans, my tongue collided with a
falling droplet of his oily precome. I drew it into my mouth, savoring the
musky flavor and smell. My hands came up and wrapped around the base of his
cock, and then milked upwards. The clear, sticky precome poured out of his
pisshole. I don't think that I have ever encountered so much of the stuff,and
I wondered for a moment if he was already ejaculating; but I could tell from
his other movements that this was just the appetizer -- the main meal was
still to cum. My fingers smeared the greasy liquid all over the throbbing
length of his cock. I swallowed the head of his cock into my mouth -- I had
to rise up off my haunches to reach it. Swirling my tongue around the
helmet-shaped head, and sucking in with my cheeks, I began to pump the
exposed shaft with one hand. My other hand cupped his balls and prodded
gently into the sensitive sacks. His hands twisted in my long hair, but
thankfully, he didn't try to force my head into his crotch, for the breadth
and length of his column of veined flesh would surely have gagged me. I was
fortunate that he was a naturally gentle soul.

"Oh god, I'm going to come already. Please don't stop, Beth. This feels like
heaven." I had only been sucking on his cock for a few seconds, but it only
took that long to provoke his orgasm. I took more of his cock into my mouth,
and the jets of semen started splattering into my throat. I swallowed as fast
as I could, enjoying the indescribable taste. I squeezed his balls in time
with his contraction. Abruptly, the strength in his knees gave way, and his
back slid down the surface of the door. I had to wriggle backwards on my
knees, and bend down more so that I could keep my lips clamped around his
writhing cock. My ears were filled with the hoarse grunts of his incredible
orgasm. Seconds seemed to pass like minutes as he came down from the heights.
I continued to nibble lightly on his cock, vacuuming up the final oozing
droplets of cream. 

Finally, Dale got his breath back and stood up, pulling me to my feet with
him. "Your turn" was all he said, as he turned so that I faced away from him.
He pulled my arms up over my head, and then nudged with his toe at my
insoles, spreading my feet wide apart. Reaching around my sides, his hands
started fluttering around on the front of my body, following a seemingly
random pattern. It felt like a swarm of butterflies. He brushed his
fingertips over my face, up my arms, over my heaving breasts, flicking over
my distended nipples, over my ribs, onto my tight tummy, into my navel....
I'm very ticklish, and I had to bite my lip to keep from breaking out in
girlish giggles. But I was also enjoying Dale's touch, light as it was. He
was hardly making contact at all, and my black dress also buffered his
caresses. Yet that was all it took to make me quiver with erotic thrills. 

When Dale reached down to take hold of the hem of my dress, his steamy breath
penetrated the fabric on my back, reminding me of the intimate feeling of his
breath on my breasts only an hour ago. He peeled the sheath up over my hips
and upper body, and then over my arms,which were still reaching for the
ceiling. That dress was the single piece of clothing that I was wearing, so
now I was completely naked, illuminated by the orange glimmers of the sunset
through the window. Dale remarked "what happened to your underwear?" To which
I answered that I never wore a bra, and that I had removed my pantyhose while
I was in my Miata. "Beth, you are as brazen in person as you ever were
online. I love that about you. You know what you want, and with me, you are
going to get just that."

He scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the bed. His strength and
masculinity enclosed my slender body. Before setting me down, he reached down
with one hand and stripped the blanket off the bed. Then he lay me onto the
taut white sheet, face-down, and he sat on my rear. His strong hands began
massaging my neck and shoulders. All the light touches from before were
transformed into vigorous kneading. He worked his way down my back, and then
pushed himself backwards so that he could sit between my knees. As he
massaged my spongy ass cheeks, I knew that he could see the shadowy wet folds
of my cunt, and the star-like opening of my asshole. His thumbs crept closer
and closer to these targets, but just when I thought he would work his way
into my cunt, he shifted his attention to my thighs, and down all the way to
one foot. He sucked my toes into his mouth one at a time, stopping only long
enough to say ""This is what you've been begging to have done for months,
isn't it, Beth? I love giving you this treatment." Then he rubbed my other
leg, repeating his toe sucking on that foot. It did feel good, and he was
very enthusiastic about it. Being Beth meant getting involved with her
particular little fetishes. Maybe having my toes sucked is something I need
to add to my regular repertoire.

"That's wonderful, Dale," I said, "but now I want more."

"Like what" he responded. Right away, I could see that he was going to play
the same game on me that I had played with him. He wanted me to say what I
wanted. "Bring your hands back up to my ass" I said. But when he only went
back to massaging my cheeks, I implored him to touch my cunt. 

"Like this, Beth?" he asked. But all he was doing was grazing over my sparse
cunt hair with the finger tips of one hand, while the other continued
kneading my butt. 

"Dale, I'm too excited to talk. You know what I like from when you've touched
me with your silent voice over the phone wires. I've begged you to do those
things that no one else has. So now I want you to make love to my body the
way we have talked about so much. You know what I want. Do it now. Don't
tease me. Please." With that, I hiked my rear way up into the air, and spread
my knees further, so that I was totally open and accessible to him.
 
Instantly, his fingers pressed more insistently into my cunt flesh. His long
middle finger slipped easily between my slick labia, and the fingers to
either side scissored in around the engorged lips. His hand prodded back and
forth plowing my furrows, thumping against the hard peg of my clitoris. then
I felt the thumb of his other hand slip into my gaping vagina. He pressed
that thumb down toward the palm of the hand that stroked my clitoris, so that
the hard knob of his first knuckle brushed over my G spot. Slowly at first,
then gradually accelerating, he danced over and inside of my totally
receptive cunt. Instinctively, he knew exactly where to probe, how hard and
fast I needed it. Incredibly, at the moment that I started to reach my
climax, he stopped his motion, maintaining a firm but passive pressure, until
I too backed off from the peak. Then he began the gradual climb back up the
mountain of pleasure. 

Four times he brought me almost to the crest, and four times he denied me
that summit. I never feared that he would be so cruel as to leave me
frustrated. I understood that he was playing me like a guitar, strumming
chords on my G spot as he plucked at my rubbery clitoris. I was captivated by
the music. As I ascended the mountain for the fifth time, Dale allowed me to
surge over the final barrier, and I reached my climax with hurricane force. I
could feel the pulsing waves smashing up from my crotch and spreading through
my body and into my head. My breathing was harsh and rapid, like the winds of
the storm. Time stood still as my body shuddered and writhed on the snaky
fingers provoking my convulsing cunt.

I had no time to recuperate before Dale moved up behind me and placed the fat
head of his cock at the dripping entrance of my vagina. Gripping my hips with
his hands, he drove his cock all the way into me with one sudden thrust. I
was totally open, and was able to accommodate his huge prong of meat with
only a shrill hiss that came not from any discomfort, but only from the
visceral pleasure of being stuffed full of my lover's cock. His wiry pubic
hair pressed into my ass cheeks, and he remained motionless.

"Beth, your cunt fits my cock so perfectly. I can feel your inner muscles
churning and clutching. I've dreamed of this moment for so long. It feels so
incredible." For emphasis, I did my best to clamp down on his cock, and then
I started to rock back and forth. At first I only moved an inch or so, and
his hips remained glued to mine. But eventually, he allowed his cock to
withdraw and then disappear, again and again. He let go of my hips and
reached around with both hands to envelop my breasts. His fingers softly
pinched and rolled my plump nipples. I clutched at the sheet and tried to dig
my toes in, so that I could gain the leverage needed to drive my cunt into
his groin. I needed him to fuck me hard, and it just wasn't enough.

"Lie back, Dale, and let me do the work. That's what I want now." And I
pushed back extra hard with my ass, encouraging him to flop backwards onto
the bed. His cock was pulled out of my cunt with a slurping sound, and then
flopped hard onto his stomach. With my back still facing him, I settled back
onto my haunches, with my ass hovering over his hips. I reached between my
sweaty thighs and took hold of his slippery cock, aiming it straight upwards.
Lifting myself up, I reinserted the glans between my drooping lips. Then I
dropped my butt down onto his groin, impaling myself completely. Immediately,
I began pistoning up and down at a furious pace. The bed started creaking
loudly, and I worried momentarily that the frame might break! My head swung
around, flailing my long blond hair into a golden cloud. My breasts swam
around crazily, colliding with each other with damp slapping sounds. One of
my hands found its way behind me to a spot along side of Dale's chest, and I
leaned backwards and to the side. He could again reach my breasts, and he
tried to tame their wild dance. My other hand fell down to his balls,
bouncing around under my pounding cunt, and I took up the gentle squeezing
that had been so stimulating for him earlier. My wrist rubbed against the
splayed lips of my cunt, sweeping over my slippery and tender clitoris. 

He could remain passive no longer, and he started meeting my downward thrusts
with vigorous upwards hip-tilts. I felt like I was riding a bucking bronco
(or was it a fucking bronco). Both of us were sweating profusely, and the
fingers clutching his balls were bathed in the commingled juices from his
cock and my cunt. Earthy smells and animal grunts filled the air. We had both
achieved an earlier orgasm, so we had the time to enjoy our uncurbed lust. At
one point, I thought I might have to stop from exhaustion, but I got my
second wind and was able to continue and even quicken my pace. It wasn't long
after that I could feel my second climax begin to spread it's tendrils of
elation though my veins.

"I'm going to come now, Dale. Come with me. Pour your seed deep into my body.
Don't wait. Aaahhhhhh."

And he didn't wait. His hips exploded off the mattress several times in
rapid-fire succession, and then he pumped upwards one last time, becoming
frozen with his ass a foot from the bed. I sat up straight, abandoning my
pistoning. Instead, I bore down hard, grinding my cunt into his bushy pubic
hair. I was milking his spasming cock with my cunt muscles and rubbing my
finger tips into the sensitive spot between his balls and his asshole. My
wrist pressed hard into my clitoris. Within my seething vagina, I could feel
the blasts of semen erupting volcanically like hot lava, splashing up against
my cervix. My own orgasm was short and electrifying. It was a dizzying
rapture that was so intense that it almost became painful, and I forced
myself to push off of Dale's stiff body, falling onto the bed at his side. In
the faint light, I saw his shiny cock still pointing toward the ceiling,
shooting one last fountain of silvery come into the air and landing on his
sweaty chest as he allowed his hips to sink back down to the bed. 

The intensity of my exertion and my lust left me drained and spent. I could
only close my eyes and fall immediately into a deep sleep. Fluids percolated
from my ravished cunt, and the sticky secretions dried in my pubic hair.

That night, I had the most real-feeling dreams.... of being surrounded by
radiant white angels, and of Beth looking down on me with an impish smile.
She said to me "OK, Sue, so of course I'm jealous... but I still want to
thank you for taking my place tonight. You've given a great gift to Dale.
You're a sweetheart. I'll put in a good word for you up here."

To which I could only reply "No need to thank me. By having the chance to
"be" you for a few hours, I've already gotten to visit heaven. So thank you,
Beth. You've been a dear friend. I'll hold you and your secrets in my heart
forever."
========
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: Sue's 14th: Craftsmanship (mf)
From: SueNH@aol.com
Date: Thu, 31 Aug 1995 02:56:00 GMT

NOTE: This story is, of course, for adults only --  so don't read it if you
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life separate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to
let me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is
something that I REALLY like), you can reach me at SueNH@AOL.com ... but I
can't promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in
my real life! Incidentally, all of my stories are available through the
Louvre archive... check it out.
**********************************

CRAFTSMANSHIP
     by Sue

I met him at a local craft fair. He is a glass blower, and his work is
stunningly beautiful. The designs are organic: elegant, flowing, natural
shapes that are both crisp and soft. As soon as I saw his work in his booth,
the word that came to my mind was "sensuous." Not that any item looked like a
specific part of human anatomy. In fact, everything was abstract. But
universal images of penises and skin and breasts and thighs and backs and
lips and fingers all floated through my mind's eye as I looked at the body of
his work. 

Then I turned around and looked at him, and those same images were reinforced
in my imagination. He was a hunk. Big and strong and intense. He must stand
6'4" or more. But he wasn't standing; he was sitting on a stool, head tipped
back, arms crossed on his huge chest, staring into space. I hesitated to
break his serenity by speaking to him, but I was genuinely interested in his
work. In fact, with a wedding coming up soon, I needed a present to give to
the lucky couple. One of these glass sculptures would be perfect to help
"keep the fires burning" in their long life together. 

So I asked the craftsman about how the pieces were made. My question sort of
startled him out of his trance, but he looked over to me and stared deeply
into my eyes in a way that seemed to penetrate my very soul. Most men will
look into my face, and then their gaze starts to travel over my body,
sneaking peeks at my hair, my breasts, my legs, ... but this guy (his name
was Malcolm) kept his eyes zeroed in on mine in a way that felt inviting and
warm. Warm enough to melt my heart, and to make my body tingle. Not
incidentally, I could feel a little gush of moisture form within my cunt.

But he certainly wasn't much of a conversationalist. He answered my
questions, but offered no elaborations. Eventually, we both became aware that
it was frustrating for him to try to put into words what was an inexplicable
creative process, and we spoke about that for a few minutes. As a solution,
he suggested that I could come by his studio some day to watch him work.
Perhaps that would help answer my questions. He had a showroom there, too, so
I could pick out something for my wedding gift at the same time. That sounded
fine, and it would give me time to think about my purchase. At least that
what I told him. To myself, I was being more honest. I found this guy
attractive. A visceral hunger began to gnaw at me, and over the next week, I
thought about Malcolm and his beautiful craftwork frequently. On Friday, I
called him and made an appointment to visit his workshop the next day. 

It is way out in the sticks, perhaps a half-mile down a single lane dirt road
that made me concerned about the suspension on my little Miata. Anyway, I
made it OK, but my knock on the front door elicited no response. But there
was an old beat-up van in the driveway, so I walked around the house through
some absolutely stunning gardens of perennials and wildflowers. It made me
feel that I had worn just the right outfit for this setting: a lightweight
cotton peasant dress with a floral print. A scooped neckline and knee-length
hemline. Underneath, a loose-fitting golden silk chemise with a snap crotch.
Nothing else. It all seemed so free and flowing and natural, just like this
afternoon in nature with a craftsman. All was well with the world at that
moment, and I was so happy that I raised my arms into the air and kind of
danced and pirouetted around the gardens, proceeding in the general direction
of the building behind the house, which was obviously Malcolm's studio.

I danced all the way to the doorway, discovering that it was open. Inside, I
could see Malcolm working. Undetected, I watched him for a few minutes as he
moved from a furnace over to his work area, where he spun and shaped an
orange glob of soft glass into a elongated shape. When he got up again to go
back to the furnace, he saw me at the doorway. He waved for me to come on
over, which I did. Immediately, I was struck by how warm it was inside, in
contrast to the slight chill in the air. The building housed several
furnaces, all going at once. Some held pots of molten glass of various kinds,
and one was the furnace that he used to heat and reheat the piece that he was
working on at the moment. Around the rest of the shop were shelves of items
-- works in progress and experiments of all sorts. The same sorts of
sensuous, organic shapes that I had seen in his booth at the craft fair. In
fact, some of the work was more blatantly erotic, and I could see why he
might not choose to show it in a public setting. 

Hardly ever saying a word, Malcolm allowed me to watch him complete the item
he had started before my arrival. His movements were smooth and muscular. He
and his work were so alike in that way. When he finished this item, he
knocked it off the puttee (the iron blow pipe) with a decisive rap that
seemed to endanger the result of his hard efforts...., but the glass fell
safely into a tray of sand, where it cooled off. Then he asked me if I'd like
to work on one with him. Of course, what an opportunity to learn -- and to
get closer to his magnetic physique! He gathered up a new glob of molten
glass on the puttee, and then had me sit at his bench while he and I together
held and rolled the piece across the rails on the bench. At first, I was
unable to get a bubble of air blown into the center of the glass, but he got
it started, and then I was able to open it up more. Malcolm showed me how to
use the pincer things to change the outside shape, and together we worked on
the piece. He allowed me to choose the form, but I relied mostly on him to
make the thing happen. 

While we were working on it, he kneeled on the hard floor, so close that his
shoulders bumped into my arms. His hands intertwined with mine to guide and
strengthen my motions. His thin sheen of perspiration mingled with mine. I
had to spread my legs to straddle the end of the bench, and to gain leverage
for the manipulation of the glass. I could feel the warm air pressing into my
skin all over. When we got up to reheat the glass in the furnace, Malcolm
stood right behind me and reached around me on both sides to help hold the
puttee in position, and to keep it turning. The heat radiating out of the
open door of the furnace burned into my skin, and yet I could still feel the
heat radiating from his body into my back, and the light touch of the front
of his jeans grazed over my ass cheeks. The brilliant cherry color of the
molten glass put a blush on my skin. Or was it the fiery lust that was
building higher and higher as we worked? 

The glass had started as an amorphous ball, but I kept squeezing it out
longer and longer, When I blew into the puttee, the whole sausage shape got
both wider and more elongated. The surface remained somewhat ridged and
bumpy, with thick walls. Then I pinched in more a few inches behind the head
of it, which caused the end to swell out more. Perhaps he had suspected what
I was up to before that moment, but now there could be no mistaking it. He
burst out with a deep-throated laugh that was so sincere and jovial that I
too joined in with my own giggles. 

Of course, the piece was pretty much done, although Malcolm added more glass
to the base of it, making a wide flange. When we knocked it off the puttee
into the sand, we both spent a few moments staring at the transparent, shiny
phallus that I had just made. He said that he had never actually made one
before, but from what I could see of his work, I knew that everything he made
came from his erotic sensibilities. I was just not talented enough to be so
indirect and abstract.

He put the puttee down and then grasped my shoulders and turned me around, so
that I was facing out through the open doorway, looking out into the
incredibly lush gardens. His fingers traced down the outside of my arms, over
my wrists, past the end of my fingers, onto the front of my thighs, and then
touched my knees. I was quivering with anticipation as he took hold of the
hem of my dress and pulled slowly upwards. I raised my arms toward the lintel
of the door, and he pulled my dress upward and over my hands, tossing it
aside. I left my arms up, and his fingers traced back down along my arms to
my neck, and forward onto my chin. He fluttered and swirled all over my face,
pulling my long blond hair out of the way and over to one side. His hands
moved down onto my throat, and continued onto my breasts, cupping and milking
them through the sheer satin. He tweaked and massaged my nipples, which stood
out like pink pencil erasers, tenting the silk fabric. 

When I brought my own hands down so that they rested on the top of my head,
it made room for Malcolm's face to come in and nestle alongside of mine, his
stubbly chin resting lightly on my shoulder. His hands were so strong, yet
his fingers were so gentle. Every move was smooth and controlled, just the
way that he worked on his glass. I felt like he was memorizing my curves and
concavities. Under his touch, I felt so voluptuous and pliant. He pushed my
flesh around as if it was molten glass. His hot breath acted like the
invasive fires of the furnace, melting away my resistance (actually, I was
totally receptive to his advances). Sun light poured through the doorway,
fanning the flames more. I stared in mesmerized euphoria into the tapestry of
enchanting flowers.

His hands began to slide further down the front of my chemise, lightly
kneading and probing into my skin along the way. When he got to my cunt, he
wasted no time. Immediately, he reached between my thighs and expertly
unsnapped the crotch of my chemise, and then pulled it up over my head in one
quick movement, throwing it into the pile with my dress. As the filmy
material wafted to the floor, I kicked off my sandals, and then stood
absolutely naked with his coarse textured shirt and pants pressing into my
back. The fingers of both hands zeroed in instantly onto my cunt. He pulled
my lips apart and ran the length of one finger through my soggy slit several
times, letting his knuckles and rough calluses bump over my erect clitoris in
rapid succession. Talk about being "hand-made!"

But he didn't linger like that for long. He pulled back away from me, and I
could hear him undress behind me. When he was naked, Malcolm gripped me by
the waist and pulled me backwards, so that my feet shuffled backwards a few
inches or so. Then he gently but insistently pushed forwards on my back,
right between my shoulder blades, so that I was forced to lean forward at the
waist. My only choice was to reach out and grab onto the frame of the door on
each side of the opening. I was bent over at the waist, with my back parallel
to the floor and my swollen breasts hanging pendulously, gumdrop nipples
pointing at the door sill. My hamstrings were stretched tight. The small of
my back arched downward, which pushed my ass up high into the air. I spread
my legs wide for balance, and to open myself for whatever he had in mind. He
reached in under my ass and again plucked at my clitoris and massaged my
drooping outer lips. When he pulled his hand back a little, he let it linger
in the moisture that was now oozing from my percolating vagina. I could feel
cool droplets of my juices dripping down the feverish flesh of my inner
thighs. He knew that I was open and wet and ready.

Malcolm pulled his fingers away, and my whole ass followed his hand,
unwilling to let him escape. But immediately, his fingers were replaced by
the hard heat of his cock, slipping between my ass cheeks, insinuating itself
between the thickened flaps of my labia, and then directly into the entrance
to my vagina. The swiftness of this move caught me by surprise, as I had
expected him to play around some more. As I sucked in my breath in a long
inhalation, he plunged his cock into me in a single thrust. My vaginal canal
expanded and stretched just barely enough to accept his wide-bodied pillar of
flesh. The knob on the end was incredibly large, but once that had gone past
the tight ring at the entrance of my cunt, things became at least a little
easier. Fortunately, I was prepared by my gushing torrent of juices, which
lubricated his impulsive penetration. 

As I gasped with the fullness of my cunt, I also noticed how wonderfully
slippery and silky his cock felt inside me. And even more, the heat that
radiated from his cock. It was unbelievable how hot his cock was, not quite
scalding my inner tissues, but burning in an exquisite way. It seemed hotter
than should be possible, but it wasn't until his cock was fully embedded into
my tautly stretched vagina that I realized that it wasn't his cock at all.
For I should have felt his groin and his wiry pubic hair pressed into my ass
cheeks; instead, I could feel his fist as it gripped the flared end of the
glass phallus that we had created. It had cooled down just enough to be
handled and touched. And it had been thrust deep into the furnace of my body,
where it was stoking the fires of my unbridled lust. I grunted with the
passion that had been kindled by this glass spike, and that sound
communicated to Malcolm that I understood and accepted his gift.

He slowly withdrew the glass dildo, and then sipped it back into me with
little thrusts that penetrated only a couple of inches. With his other hand,
he reach around me and started rhythmically squeezing one of my breasts,
holding the entire mound of pulpy flesh in his palm. After being so totally
filled, I felt the wanton need to be filled again. But Malcolm was exploring
for my G spot, and he found it right away. The heated knob brushed across it
again and again, and in my state of extreme passion, this stimulation was
enough to put me over the top quite quickly. I shrieked my pleasure out into
the garden, and flailed my hair around my head. He again impaled the glass
pole all the way into me, stuffing my vagina. Oh, my god, what an incredible
orgasm was rising within me. I was awash in the elation of total nirvana, and
my cunt tried to clamp down onto the shiny hot cock as if to shatter the
glass. My hips pistoned up and down rapidly over the unbending implement.
Displaced by the incredible fullness, clear juices were squeezed out from my
cunt and they drooled down onto Malcolm's hands. He took his thumb away from
the flange he was holding and let it slide across my asshole as I snapped
down onto the cock. My climax seemed to last forever, and eventually, I was
too weak to remain in my bent-over position, and I sagged to the floor, and
rolled out onto the lawn outside the door.

It took a while for me to regain my wits, but eventually, I opened my eyes
and focused on Malcolm, who was leaning against the doorframe. He had a smug,
wry look on his face, and a fat long erection in his hand. I smiled back at
him and beckoned to him wordlessly with my index finger. He placed the glass
cock on the grass, and kneeled down next to me. I got up on my haunches and
pushed my shoulders into his chest, trying to push him over. He was a solid
as a oak tree, but eventually, he allowed me to topple him. He lay flat on
his back in the green carpet of grass, and I straddled his hips, weight on my
knees. Again I impaled myself on his cock. And this time, it was the real
thing. Perhaps it wasn't as massive or as hot as the one that had filled me
moments before, but it was deeply pleasurable for me, and judging by the
expression on his face, it was what he wanted too. He hadn't been coy with
me, so I determined to be just as abrupt. So I started riding Malcolm's big
cock like a bucking bronco, rapidly rising and falling, lifting my cunt up to
the bloated mushroom-shaped head, then sinking down with all my weight. I
rhythmically constricted my cunt muscles as hard as I could, milking his cock
in my steamy pneumatic vessel. At the same time, I was running my fingers
through the thick black hair on his broad chest, scratching him lightly with
my fingernails. I pinched onto his hard little nipples, which drew an
appreciative snort from his throat. 

When Malcolm's hands came up and attempted to grip my waist, I slapped them
away. Now it was my turn to be in control, and I pulled my self up so that I
was squatting now, his hands immobilized between my feet and his hips. I
increased the speed of my pistoning, bouncing my weight around. My breasts
were flopping around wildly, and I leaned forwards so that my hair whipped
over his face and neck. Of course, it didn't take much of this animalistic
rutting to push Malcolm to his own orgasm. When I felt him tense up, and saw
his face begin to contort, I pushed myself all the way up and off of his
cock, settling instantly onto my haunches at his sides. I grabbed hold of his
pulsating cock and began to jerk up and down on the sheathing skin. I could
feel the incredible heat of the blood coursing through his veins, and I could
smell the intermingled liquids of his salty precome and my spicy cunt juices.
His pubic hair was plastered to his groin with our slimy secretions; his hips
were twitching with the impending climax. His eyes were screwed shut, and
then he drew in a deep breath that expanded his muscular chest to incredible
size (glass-blowers lungs!). 

Only then, at the moment of his orgasm, did I bring my mouth down to kiss and
then swallow the purple head of Malcolm's cock. Only then did I remove one
hand from the plump shaft of his cock and start of juggle his heavy balls in
my fingers. And that is when he began to blast his succulent semen onto my
lapping tongue. Pumping his cock with the other hand, I synchronized my
strokes to his ejaculations. This added to the forcefulness of the blasts,
and the thick globs of cream shot deep into my throat. His magnificent cock
had become a flame-thrower, and the heat and thickness of his come reminded
me of the amorphous dollops of glass that we had shaped an hour ago. I tried
to swallow as much as I could, collecting his nectar hungrily. But there was
just too much, and it dribbled out around the edges of my pursing lips, and
down through my fingers. 

Finally, he released the tension from all of his muscles, and I released my
tight grasp on his softening cock. I lay down next to him in the grass. With
his arm around me and my head resting on his slowly heaving chest, we fell
asleep with the sun and our blazing memories keeping us warm in our naked,
blissful splendor. 

It wasn't until two days latter that I finally left Malcolm's place. I
carried with me my glass phallus, my gift for my friends' wedding, and the
intention to return soon to learn more from this true craftsman!