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From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister)
Subject: {ASSM} Series Story: Sit And Think One - sat 000.txt [1/1]
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Greetings. Here is another story from the Mind of H.D. Meister. If
you are not at least 18 or live in a community which does not allow
adult material, DO NOT READ THIS. Post freely, archive and critique as
you will so long as the work is not altered in any way, you do not
gain a profit from my work, and all due credit is given to the author:
me.
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Sit And Think: Sleepless Nights By: H.D. Meister
(dez187lm@hotmail.com)
How many times have I forgotten the names of women whom I have known
for much longer than I have known you? Countless. And I will forget
many more before I end my tenure on this planet. Yet you are
something of an oddity. Not because of your dress or personality, but
because of the voice I hear within my head.
I have been in love before, and I believed that I knew every form it
could take. Lust. Friendship. Enemy. I thought I knew them all.
But you... are something else. You have awakened within me a small
voice I have heard plainly within others. I hear its voice speak to
me, and wonder why it exists within me. And it says one thing. Try.
I have watched many others try, and some have accomplished the
impossible. They have dated outside of their race while remaining
true to whatever morals they have forged within themselves. They have
conquered hearts which were shielded by miles after mile of desert and
mountains. The impossible is nothing when one believes strongly
enough to do. Yet I have become one of the jaded. I have seen more
than enough pain and suffering, and have fashioned ways upon ways of
avoiding or defeating them. Yet in one quiet day, I have fallen prey
to those same hopes and dreams.
Where did you come from? Why are you here? What do you crave? What
sets your heart beating so fast that light finds itself hard pressed
to match its speed? And why do I care?
When I first laid my eyes on you, I was intrigued. Not by your
beauty, although that would definitely be enough. I was fascinated by
the strength within your eyes. The way you moved with such grace
defied all notions. And your smile... even when you were not having
the best of days there was always a smile waiting for me.
I tried to always be friendly towards you, and I never tried to hide
my reaction to seeing you. I know the futility of such an action, and
have too much honor to attempt such a deceit. Yet that was when I saw
you few times during the month. I knew that I had plenty of days to
forget your face. Now you are working at my side. I cannot look to
work to offer me any solace. I must face you as an equal and work
with you day after day. It may only be for three or more days, but
that is enough. More than needed for my mind to wonder what it would
be like to have you at my side.
And I do not mean sex. Not entirely. While sex with you has crossed
my mind, that is not the only thing. In fact, it has been more of an
idea spawned from a greater question: what are you like? What do you
like? What do you not like? What brings a smile to your face?
And I will not lie to you. I have heard the rumors. if I were to
believe the tales of other women whom you have worked with, you are
rather free giving. To hear their tales, you'll bed anyone with a
good line and a smile on his face. And I have watched you, hoping to
prove them wrong. What I have seen does not slot their words into
Truth, but it can make one believe them. You seem to flirt with many
men, but I have seen their faces. I know those men. Many would
consider them nothing more than the "safe" man. For you to make their
acquaintance is nothing amazing or evil. Yet I have also seen you in
the company of others not so "safe." Yet one thing remains constant:
you never go for the open invite to bed you.
And therein lies my greatest problem. Where I am concerned, you tend
to show little more than a passing interest. Just enough to hold at
bay any feelings of discomfort. I could easily slate this action to
the differences in our race; the South is not known for it's
tolerance if interracial relationships that are capable of breeding.
Yet that would not seem to be the case, or at least it's not the full
case. There is another of my race whom you have barely spoken to.
Yet I cannot sense any hostilities between you. Perhaps I am growing
slow in my old age, but I would bet that race has nothing to do with
it. You two have very little in common. So I could easily assign
your reaction to me as racially motivated. So then... why do you
smile that warm and true smile whenever you see me?
I know what darkness lies within my heart. I have been there at every
birthing of every shadow within my soul. I know what lies hidden
there. I have walked through the pain of watching someone I claimed
to love walk away from me because that love was not what they wanted
or needed. I have loved and lost. I have known the tainted hand of
Lust around my throat. Yet with you... everything I thought was law
is now a topic for debate.
I can no more change who you are than I can change the flow of Time.
What would you become if I were to accomplish the impossible? Would
you lose the fire within your eyes which I find so attractive? Would
I snuff out that light, along with any others? That is not my right
and I know this. I accept this. I obey this one rule with a zealot's
zeal. Yet I still hear this voice inside of me as it whispered in my
mind. Try.
What would it take? Would I have to be the Supreme Lover? Would I
have to last for several days, pleasuring your body in ways not even
the ancient dead of Atlantis could have conceived? Would I have to
master my body to the point where a hard-on was my normal state?
Would I have to lick your body with suck care that I would be able to
tell which skin cell had recently died? What would it take? And is
the price too high?
And why would I want to? Sex? I admit that the thought of sliding my
tongue along that forbidden pathway between your thighs appeals to me.
I have even fallen asleep wondering what your hands would feel like as
they traveled along my body. Yet there is always something missing,
even in my wildest fantasies. You. I am missing what can only be
you. Your smile. Your laughter. Your moans of pleasure or disgust.
What I am missing cannot be made up by forcing myself to imagine the
result.
Were I to hold you in my arms late at night, would you cuddle with me
or try to escape my grasp? were I to kiss your lips, would you taste
and see that it is good or force yourself not to retch? Were we to
have sex, would you enjoy the moment or sit through it like one would
a bad movie?
So I sleep. I lay my head on a pillow and wonder what your skin would
feel like beneath my fingers. I can feel myself become aroused...
just as sleep claims me once more.
(dez187lm@hotmail.com)
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