Message-ID: <16702eli$9810230531@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/16702.txt>
From: voyer@notme.com (voyer)
Subject: {voyer} "Framing Device" mc, md, (mf)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Reply-To: voyer@notme.com
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <199810222100.OAA22773@sos.sos.net>
Framing Device
mc md (mf)
voyer@notme.com
Note: This short is a hypnotic fantasy. It contains adult language and
situations, and examples of fictional characters doing illegal,
immoral and/or impossible things to other fictional characters as a
prelude to sexual activity. If you are disturbed by such concepts,
attempt to do most of these things in real life, or want graphic
'on-stage' sex in your pornography, please stop reading now.
Permission granted to re-post to any on-line forum, as long as no
one's being charged to look at it, and this disclaimer and the above
e-mail address are not removed.
Copyright me, 1998
The address is real. Comments welcome.
******
SOPHIA AND WILL
BY VOYER
"Hello, Will. Working on another one of your little stories?" The
dark-haired girl set her things down on the next table over and slid
into a chair, carefully smoothing her long grey skirt under her as she
did so.
"Hmm?" The target of her question looked up from the battered
spiral-bound notepad in which he was intently scribbling. "Oh... hi,
Sophia... yes. Well... trying to..." He paused and studied her,
absently tapping the remnants of the pencil's eraser on the pad.
"Say... maybe... um... you could help me here.."
"Oh?" A sound with a mixture of emotions behind it: 80%
disinterest, 10% mild caution, 10% even milder curiosity.
"Well, I'm sorta stuck on this stupid thing at the moment. Maybe
I could bounce a few ideas off of you, and you could tell me what you
think? We writers always appreciate feedback."
"OK... I guess." She looked pointedly at her watch. "But I came
here to do some research, and I don't have much time..."
"OK. Great. Thanks." He quickly flipped back a page or two before
she had time to change her mind. "This won't take long. Now... I'm
writing this story... and in this particular scene, there is this man
and a woman..."
Sophia sighed in annoyance, and rolled her dark eyes towards the
ceiling tiles.
"Will, this isn't another one of your love scenes, is it?"
"Huh? Oh, no. No no. They actually don't like each other very
much. Well... they certainly aren't in love, anyway. The man's name
is... uh... Homer. I guess. I've changed that about six times now...
and the woman is named Jane."
"Me Homer, you Jane?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry, Will. Never mind. Go on."
"Oh. Well, they're meeting in a... " The brown-haired man
shrugged and looked around in a slightly embarrassed fashion at the
sagging, book- loaded, shelves that surrounded them. "... in a
library... Here, I'd better read to you what I've got down..I'd let
you just read it yourself, but my handwriting..." He shrugged again,
cleared his throat, and started reading, tapping the metal of the
pencil on the wooden table now instead of the pad:
HOMER AND JANE
BY WILL
Holding her books to her sweater-covered chest, sexy
Jane Manderly swayed her shapely ass around the end of the
last shelf of the university's library, and noticed with an
annoyance that bordered on disgust, that Homer Tarquain
had already taken her favorite table. The skinny glasses-
wearing geek had a large pile of books and papers next to
him, and was paging through one thick book with great
intent, pausing only to add a note to one of the pages that
lay in front of him. Several crumpled sheets lay on the floor
near his feet. The voluptuous, blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl
sighed in annoyance, and was turning to go to another part
of the library, when she saw there was something else on the
table besides books. She paused, looking at it. She wasn't
sure what it was. It stood about a foot high, perched on
three black legs. Fancy scrollwork came together at a point
near the top of the thing. At that point, held by more iron,
was a glass or crystal sphere.
Only it was irregular, had lumps sticking in and out of it,
like a golf ball. What was really strange about it was that it
was filled with coils of some kind of heavy white gas. The
gas went around and around in a restless but sluggish
fashion. Despite herself, she stared and stepped closer.
Homer looked up as she came up, holding his pen
nervously between his fingers.
"Oh. hello, Jane." His eyes looked at her suspiciously
from behind his glasses. "What do you want?"
"What's that thing?" She asked, pointing at the thing on
the table.
Homer confessed:
"I don't know. That's why I'm here at the university's
library; trying to figure it out."
"Don't you have any classwork to do?" She sneered.
"I finished all of my work some time ago. Now, if you'll
excuse me, I'm really..."
"Where did you get it, if you don't know what it is?"
"As if it were any of your business, I inherited from my
mysterious great uncle, who died last month."
"Oh. I'm sorry." She felt bad for what she had said before.
"I barely knew him."
"Didn't the will say what it was?" Normally, she avoided
the geeky Homer, but the gas fascinated her. She continued
to stare at it as it went around and around, the coils
wrapped together like lovers, thick and white and heavy.
"No. My great-uncle willed me a large steamer trunk. This
thing was inside, along with other things. Now will you go
away? I'm very busy."
"It's pretty." She didn't go away, but continued to watch
the coils go around and around, the stark whiteness of the
endlessly twirling, copulating gas sharply contrasting with
the pointed-tipped black iron claws that held the
methodically dented sphere firmly in place. The intertwined
strands of gas seemed to flicker as they passed out and back
into sight behind the nearest 'claw', white on black, white on
black, going around and around, the black iron catching bits
of white from the dim lights, the white gas floating specks
of dark in among the ever-shifting coils and suggestively
organic folds. The living, twirling coils, going around and
around. White on black... black on white... twirling
together, closer and closer, going down and down and
down... around and around... forever and ever..."
(Will smoothly broke off for a moment from his droning narrative,
and glanced at Sophia. She was staring at him, her eyes slightly
glassy. He carefully, quietly, set the pad down on the table and
continued speaking without looking at it, looking at Sophia.
Gently tapping the table with the pencil's metal band. Tapping more
and more slowly.
Speaking softly and smoothly.
Staring into her eyes.)
"... deeper and deeper and deeper. Down, down into the
whiteness, the creamy smooth whiteness. Endless whiteness.
Down, down into the blackness, the rich, warm, blackness.
Bottomless blackness. Infinite white, going out forever.
Eternal black, going down always. Both together, spinning
together, going deeper and ever deeper, as the black and
the white, the white and the black, went around and
around... down and down... slower now, black on white,
white on black, mixed thoroughly together, mixed deeper
and deeper and deeper... black and white.... much, much,
slower now... the colors spinning, pulsing, gently pulsing
like a slow... calm... breath... slower and slower... deeper...
and... deeper... much, much, deeper... ever deeper... black
and white... and white and black... the two coming together
now... while your slow... calm... breaths come further
apart... much further... much slower and deeper... merging
slowly into one.... black on white... white on black...
merging ever so slowly into one... breaths... almost stopped
now... almost there now... white... black... and... black...
white... black... coming... together... forming one... only
one... color... no color... all colors... all at once... everything
slowing... time... space... thoughts... everything...
stopping..."
"And...."
"...stopped."
Stopped.
WILL AND SOPHIA
BY VOYER
"Sophia? You still with me here?"
Sophia Mullins gave a little start of surprise, and blinked rapidly
two or three times. She looked around in confusion for a moment, and
then her eyes came to rest on Will Attercomb, who sat nearby. Holding
his battered notepad, he smiled in a self-mocking sort of way.
"I was hoping my story wasn't *that* dull."
"What? I can't... no! I mean... no, it was great! Really, Will!"
"You're not just saying that? You seemed a little bored towards the
end there."
"No! No, of course not! I was enthralled! I hung on every word!"
"Any suggestions about anything I should change?"
"Oh, no! In fact, I think..." She broke off, and looked down at her
watch. "Oh, crap. How did it get so late? I have to go. I'll talk to
you later about it, I promise, OK, Will?"
"Sure."
Sophia got up and gathered her things, started to leave. She
hurried away, but after only a few steps, she abruptly stopped and
turned, as if something had just occurred to her.
"I really liked the story, Will. I mean it." She licked her lips
hesitently. "Do you think that maybe I could... come over to your
place tonight, and hear another one?"
He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.
"My place? Are you sure you want to do that?"
"Of course I'm sure. How about eight, or so?"
"OK. Yes. I'd like that."
"You live at 2447 Gablehouse Drive, right? Apartment 23?"
"That's right. Actually, now that you mention it, I think I've got
a story idea that you'll like a lot. I'll get to work on it right
now."
She smiled warmly.
"It's a date. I can't wait to hear it."
She hurried off.
Will sat alone at the table, again tapping the pad with the pencil.
Then he smiled as well, and flipped ahead a few pages to a blank
sheet. He whistled tunelessly through his teeth, and wrote slowly and
carefully across the top of the sheet, in firm block letters:
SOPHIA
BY WILL
Sophia liked listening to Will's stories. Ever since he read
her his story in the university's library, the story about Jane
and Homer and the black and the white going down, down
forever, Sophia would go to his apartment, and sit quietly in
a soft, comfortable chair. Just sit and relax for hours and
hours and hours, and listen to one of Will's stories about the
black... and the white... going down... and down... Listen to
it again and again and again, listen to Will's words wash
over her, sink down... down... into her mind, see the
pictures they formed deep in her mind. Bright, vivid,
wonderful, pictures, pictures that resolved themselves so
realistically before Sophia's eyes that it seemed she could
just reach right out and touch them. Feel them. Pictures so
bright... and vivid... she could just step right out and merge
with them if she wanted. Seamlessly become the pictures.
Go down... down... into the pictures... Become the
wonderful... happy... pictures completely and without
hesitation... or fear... whenever she wanted. Merge with the
pictures whenever it was needed for full enjoyment of the
story. Merge whenever it was required of her.
And her favorite story... the picture she liked to go
down... down... into best of all... the brightest and clearest
and most wonderful of them all... was the story about
Sophia the Sex Slut. Will could talk for hours and hours...
in his hot sexy powerful voice... about the wonderful...
steamy... adventures of Sophia the Sex Slut, and Sophia
would never get even the slightest bit bored... or tired... or
distracted. It was the easiest of all to go down... down...
and merge her mind with the Sophia the Sex Slut pictures.
So easy. Sophia didn't even have to make any effort when
Will started to talk about Sophia the Sex Slut in his
powerful... hot... sexy... voice.... So easy... it was almost as
if it was... inevitable... Almost as if she had merged with
Sophia the Sex Slut... even before Will had opened his
mouth. Almost as if she had written the story... herself...
SOPHIA THE SEX SLUT
BY SOPHIA
Sophia the Sex Slut never gets bored or tired.
Sophia the Sex Slut is always eager, always happy,
always open, always wet, always ready. Ready to
have fun. Ready to experience pleasure. Ready and
open and eager.
Eager to experience pleasure, and even more eager
to give pleasure to others. Sophia the Sex Slut is
filled to the brim, bubbling and dripping and
overflowing with pleasure, and it is her duty, her
ecstatic... wonderful... glorious... duty, to spread
that bottomless, eternal, pleasure to whomever she
happens to be with. Spread as much of it as she
possibly can, as often as she can.
And when she isn't spreading happiness, spreading
her pleasure, Sophia the Sex Slut likes to listen to
Will tell his stories. Likes to sit quietly in a comfy
chair and listen to Will. Likes to listen only to Will.
Only to Will.
Will.
WILL AND SOPHIA THE SEX SLUT
BY VOYER
"Will."
Sophia the Sex Slut looks up from her slick, stylish, notepad, her
eyes smouldering with lust. Happiness. Joy. Devotion. She smiles from
her chair, shifts her chest forward before speaking again.
"Well... Will... Did you like my... little story?" Raising the
expensive pen to her lips, she runs its shaft down her tongue,
watching him all the while through half-lidded eyes. "I wrote it
*just* for you." Leans further forward in the chair.
Will casually leans back in his chair, and looks at the ceiling,
his hands folded behind his neck.
"Not bad for a first attempt. Not bad at all." He looks down again.
"Where did you get the idea for it? As a writer myself, I'm always
curious about these things."
Sophia the Sex Slut tosses away the pad and pen, and rises to her
feet. Opens the sheer black robe, and lets it drift down onto the
chair behind her. Underneath is nothing. Or to be more accurate,
everything.
She crosses the floor of Will's apartment, hips swaying, and leans
over him, her dark ringlets of hair spilling forward over her pert
breasts. Her dark eyes are very wide now. She whispers in a grave,
confidential, tone of voice:
"Actually... Will... It's sort of autobiographical."
"Ah."
"And now... if it's all right with you... I'd like to do... a
little more... research."
"Ah."
And after a moment...
"Aaaahhh...."
THE END
THE END
THE END
THE END
THE END
--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>