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From: suenewhamp@aol.com (SueNewHamp)
Subject: {ASSM} Sue's 18th: Fun With Dick and Jane 1/2 (mfmf)
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Date: Fri,  3 Dec 1999 21:10:01 -0500
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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@kear.tdsnet.com ... but I can't
promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in my real
life!
**********************************

FUN WITH DICK AND JANE     part one of two
     by Sue

(this is the continuing adventures that were begun in “Gee Spot Run.” In that
story, Jane and I meet in the park and talk about Jane’s disappointing sex
life. We both end up at my home, where I teach Jane how to truly enjoy the fine
art of masturbation)

I didn’t hear from Jane for a week, and I wasn’t sure how to interpret her
silence: was she boggled and speechless by the turbulence of her newly awakened
lust;.... or was she beginning to think about publicly branding her neighbor as
a wicked witch. Perhaps the years of rigid, puritanical training would win out
over the libidinous thoughts that were welling out of her subconsciousness. I
worried about the risk I had taken in confiding in her, but what’s done is
done, I thought.

Finally, almost a week after our afternoon walk and masturbation lessons, I got
a call from her, inviting me over for dinner on Saturday. After a moment’s
hesitation -- was this a setup, so that she and Dick could “save” me from my
wickedness, or even worse, was I to be tied to the stake and burned like Joan
of Arc -- I agreed to come over. When I asked if she had read more of my
stories, she said “Oh yes, but I can’t talk about it now....” and in the
background, I heard Dick speaking, so I let the subject drop, and asked if I
could bring over anything for dinner. Jane told me “No, I’ll have all the food
ready, but it would be so nice if you could possibly bring over any more of the
stuff that you lent me last week.” I hadn’t ever given her anything other than
the stories, so I knew what she meant, and I was reassured to some extent.

Saturday evening came, and I arrived at their doorstep with a few more of my
stories folded into a plain manila envelope. Since I had given her the more
tame ones the first time, I was now left with the ones that I had worried were
too explicit and unusual for her awakening tastes. But she had the milder ones
already, so this is what was left. When she and Dick opened the door, I shook
their hands, and Dick took my parka. While he wasn’t paying attention, I handed
Jane the package, which she placed behind the lamp on a sidetable. We went into
the living room, and I was introduced to a friend of theirs who was a professor
at the local college. Charles was a tall and handsome looking guy, but I knew
right away that he was a little too smug and pretentious for my tastes. He was
smart, and he wanted us to know it. Every subject that came up evoked an
opinion from Charles that was carefully constructed like a fortress, unable to
be assaulted by anyone else’s perspective. Even a light-hearted disagreement
with his dogmatic position would be scoffed at, then destroyed by a
condescending defense of his point of view. I started to get more and more
irritated by his attitude, but I held my tongue and behaved like a good guest.
Dick seemed enthralled by Charles’s great store of knowledge, admiring his
conversational confidence. Jane appeared preoccupied, and she said very little.
I wanted so much to ask her about what had been going on for her in the past
week, but she certainly wasn’t offering to bring it up the subject in the
presence of the men.

Eventually, Jane went into the kitchen to prepare dinner -- actually it was all
ready to go, and just needed to be put on serving platters. I joined her, with
the offer to help with the chores. When we were finally alone, I asked her what
was going on, and she quickly recounted her frustration at the fact that Dick
just didn’t want to even talk about sex and her anxieties. He just refused to
discuss it, and Jane was afraid to push him further. As for the stories and
masturbation, she had been stealing moments throughout each day to read and
play. So at least that part of her life was improving. Yet in the presence of
her husband, she found herself reverting to the obedient little girl, filled
with the guilt of her dirty little secret. 

When we moved to the dining room, Charles was seated across from me around a
round butcher block table. Not surprisingly, the table was set meticulously
with fine linens and polished silver. After Jane had served the soup, Charles
asked me how I knew Dick and Jane, and I explained that I lived down the
street, and that Jane and I had enjoyed a particularly nice walk in the park
the other day. Dick remarked that he hadn’t heard about that encounter. Jane
responded sheepishly by casting her gaze down at her plate, and I could see her
twisting her napkin nervously. Her discomfort was obvious to all, and I wanted
to draw attention away from her. When Jane explained that she and I had just
met for a few moments that day, Dick wanted to know more, and he persisted in
asking about what we had done that day, what we had talked about. Typical of so
many men, he wanted to know everything, and he surely sensed an opportunity to
exercise his manly dominance and power. Jane offered very little in response,
and eventually, she looked up at me and our eyes locked. I gave her a totally
reassuring and warm smile, trying to give her the strength to stand up for
herself. Charles laughed, and said “these girls are up to something, Dick, and
if I were you, I’d get to the bottom of it.”

Calling us “girls” was the last straw (after all, we were all in our early
forties), so I responded quickly, “For someone who knows so much, you know so
little.”

Well, I was off and running now, and any ideas of maintaining my social graces
had flown out the window. When Charles came back with “So what is it that I am
failing to grasp,” I just had to let him know. I told him that “Jane, and many
other women, are living their lives as slaves to an image of sanctimonious
womanhood that just misses the mark completely. Can’t you see that Jane is not
a happy person, that she is yearning for more excitement and more freedom.”

I went on for a bit more, and then took a look over at Dick. He was
shell-shocked, I think, for he had no idea the feelings that Jane was
struggling with. He said to her “Jane, what’s going on? I know you’re happy
with your life. We have so much to be grateful for. Tell Sue to shut up, tell
them all that she doesn’t know what she is talking about....”

As he spoke, Jane shook herself out of her trance, and she looked back at me
for another spoonful of courage before interrupting Dick with a long and
spirited explanation of what was really going on in her life. At first, she
talked haltingly and in generalities, about her discontent with their
predictable and rigid existence. But eventually, Jane let the word “sex” pass
by her lips, and then a floodgate opened up within her, and she spoke
emotionally about the emptiness of their sex lives, and the need she had for
stimulation and excitement. Dick’s face was expressionless, and his mouth hung
open. Charles listened attentively, with a little smirk. This was none of his
business, but Jane could care less if he eavesdropped on her confession. She
was staring holes through Dick’s head, as she finally got around to mentioning
my stories, and how they opened up a brave new world for Jane that included
fantasies and concepts that turned her on, liberating her from the confines of
her straight-laced lifestyle.

At the reference to the fact that I had provided Jane with some of my stories,
Charles pricked up his ears. “Isn’t that interesting,” he said, “ our little
friend here has it in her head that she is an author of erotica. I suppose that
may be true, if you include the silly musings that pass for sexuality in
romance novels. I’m sure that it is nothing that really gets at the
nitty-gritty stuff about sex that interests real men.”

Boy, did that man know how to push my buttons. I had something to prove to him.
Dick voiced his stuttering objections -- he wanted everyone to shut up and talk
about something else. Fat chance! Jane had finally opened up her “hope chest,”
Charles was gloating over his attempted put-down, and I was ready to prove him
wrong. 

“OK, Charles, why don’t I read something of mine, and you see if you can remain
disinterested. You can guess what the test will be. If my story excites you,
we’ll all know it.” And with that, I let my focus drop to his lap, where his
napkin lay limply. I stood up and walked out to the hallway and recovered the
manila envelope. When I returned, they all sat silently. In particular, I
noticed Jane’s eyes flashing around from person to person.... and I also saw
the jutting nubs of her incredible nipples pushing against the white fabric of
her blouse. Perhaps I was mistaken, but it seemed like she wasn’t wearing a
bra. What a change from the plain Jane of a week ago! Her breathing was
becoming labored, reminding me of how energetic she got about masturbating for
me. Once unchained, she was a wild sexual animal.

I sat down again, and pulled out my story entitled “Louvre Love.” I chose it
because it was reasonably short, and the build up got around to the really
juicy stuff. Without any introduction, I began reading. “Across the wide marble
floor of the art museum, I think I see your face again....” I kept my attention
firmly locked on the printed words, until I got to the first real sex scene of
the story: “You almost seem to be in a trance as I purse my lips over the tip
of your cock and gently milk your balls. When I take one hand and press the
tips of my fingers up behind your balls and press upwards and forwards right in
front of your asshole, I push a dollop of precome up through your rigid cock,
and it drools out onto my lips.” At that point, I glance quickly around the
table. Charles is somewhat inscrutable, but at least he has shut up for a few
minutes. Perhaps that is victory enough. Jane’s eyes are wide, and her I can
hear the faint rasping of her breathing. Dick has his fingertips pressed to his
temples, and he has pushed his hair up into disarray. He avoids looking at me,
or for that matter, anyone else.

Back to the reading of my story. I didn’t look up again, even when I described
about how I impaled myself on the great bronze god-cock of the sculpture... or
how my partner and I fucked each other in the embrace of the marble sculpture.
I eventually get to the last paragraph: 

“I can hear the squishing sounds as your fingers probes around, and I describe
to you where my G spot is. After a few attempts, you find it and I encourage
you to rub it firmly with a circular motion. I reach behind me and pull my ass
cheeks apart so that you can have total free access. Your thumb lightly
caresses my asshole. My clitoris, my cunt, and my asshole are all being
stimulated at once, and I add to this by massaging my breasts into the stone
woman's thigh. I stare ahead into the joining of the woman's cunt with the
man's balls. As I stretch my tongue out to lick at the cold juncture between
the two of them, you nibble down hard on my clitoris and suck my labia up into
your mouth. That's perfect, and I immediately go over the edge and into an
incredible orgasm. I'm coming and coming. I squeeze down hard on my ass cheeks
with my hands. Wave after wave washes over me, and your fingers vibrates over
my g spot. I gulp in air between the electric pulses of each pounding wave, and
my cunt clenches down on your fingers. I feel my asshole palpitating around the
tip of your thumb. My orgasm lasts for so long,......... until finally it
subsides, and I take a moment to get my wits about me....” 

As I finished the last words, I let the silence of the moment linger, then I
turned to Charles and demanded that he stand up. When he refused, I slid out of
my chair and stood behind his. Reaching around the back, I abruptly jabbed my
fingers into his sides. I guessed correctly that he was ticklish, and he was so
startled that he jumped to his feet so that he could defend himself. And there
was the evidence of his reaction to my story. His slacks were plainly tented
with his erection, and the khaki material had small dark stain of spreading
moisture. He was embarrassed, perhaps not so much to have his aroused cock made
visible, but even more to have lost my challenge. He was a proud man, and being
shown up by me was an unwanted sign of his fallibility. He sat back down in his
chair with a leaden thunk.

I too sat down again. I’d had my victory, and it was time to be magnanimous.
“Charles, earlier I said that for someone who knows so much, you know so
little. Well, I suppose that this is to be expected when your IQ tops the
charts, and you spend too much time in libraries, lecture halls, and Mensa
meetings. Probably all your girlfriends have been fawning little coeds and the
like. So here’s a deal for you. How would you like to expand your horizons
tonight? I’d like for you to discover what a real, hot-blooded woman is like,
and how you can satisfy her, and yourself at the same time. Come into the
bedroom with me right now, and you can start your re-education. I’m not even
going to ask you if you will do this. Just join me in the bedroom, or not. It
would be your loss if you don’t. All this talk has made me very hungry... but
not for the good food that Jane has prepared.

As I stood up and started to walk out of the room, Jane spoke up. “Can I
watch?” I said “Well of course, Jane. I’d like that very much. And if Charles
doesn’t show up, we can watch each other again.” 

Dick was finally shaken out of his lethargy. I was standing right next to him,
and looking down, I could see his erection showing through his pants. So much
for self-control. But in this moment of truth, he fell back on his timeworn
thinking. “JANE! How could you? You can’t possibly want to join them in this
wickedness. And anyway, what did Sue mean by ‘again?’ I am going to throw this
cunning temptress out of the house right this minute.”

Jane responded immediately. “Don’t you dare. Sue is my guest, and my friend.
She is giving me the keys to my happiness. Don’t you interfere. I won’t tell
you what to do with yourself right now, but you had better not try to stop me,
or I’ll leave tonight and never come back.” Dick was struck dumb as Jane smiled
broadly at her new-found power, and I laughed softly to myself as I strode
though the door into the hallway and found my way to Dick and Jane’s bedroom.
It was decorated in sort of a “colonial quaint” style, with Currier and Ives
prints on the wall, ruffled white curtains, and a thick maroon comforter on the
pencil-post bed. Kicking off my shoes, I jumped up onto that bed and propped up
the floral print pillows behind my back. When I looked back at the door, there
was Jane, leaning against the jamb with her the fingers of one hand pulling and
twirling her short bangs. I was just about to speak to her so that I could find
out how she was handling the stormy discussion in her dining room, when Charles
pushed past her and stood next to the bed. His eyes were now fiery with lust,
and his erection still press at the fly of his pants. He reached over to turn
off the table lamp, when I stopped him, saying “Leave it on. Jane wants to
watch. And so do I. So take off your clothes for me.” He seemed taken aback by
the firmness in my voice, as he was clearly not accustomed to a woman in the
bedroom who did anything but mewl like a kitten in the dark.

Nevertheless, he was driven to continue, and I’m not sure what it would have
taken to stop him at this point. He stepped back from me and yanked his sweater
over his head. When he started to unbutton his shirt as fast as a fireman
getting on his uniform for a fire, I commanded him to slow down. “Don’t you
think you could put on a little show for us? Show us what you’ve got hidden
under all those starched duds, but do it slow and easy.” I winked
mischievously, hoping that it would help relax him, and he did calm down a bit.
When his button-down shirt was gone, he left on his ribbed sleeveless
undershirt. He unbuckled his khaki slacks and pushed them down to his ankles.
but he had neglected to take off his shoes, so he struggled awkwardly to
untangle the knot of clothes while he remained jackknifed at the waist.
Eventually, the snarl came off of his feet, and he straightened up, showing us
his underwear, which was uncharacteristic, I thought, for he was wearing a pair
of those teeny, tight bikini briefs. Through the thin black cotton, Jane and I
could see his erect cock clearly outlined and pointing straight up towards his
belly button. Bushy black hair overflowed all around the edges of his briefs,
and filled the V-neck of his undershirt. Little clumps of hair also sprouted on
his shoulders and upper back. All-in-all, not a bad looking body, and I made
the assumption that he had taken advantage of the facilities at the College
sports center. He didn’t get that physique by only exercising his ego.

As both Jane and I admired him, Charles stood silent and still, with his hands
on his hips. He wasn’t volunteering to go further with his strip-tease, so I
got up from the bed and stood close to him, with my back facing his chest. I
asked him to undress me. He unzipped my dress and I shrugged off the shoulder
straps and let the bodice fall enough so that my entire upper body was
revealed. The dress caught on my hips, but Charles pushed it further down so
that it fell into a pile around my feet. I kicked it away, and stood there in
only my shiny blue satin panties, as skimpy as his own underwear. I pushed my
ass backwards so that it collided with his groin, and I slid it around, feeling
his rock-hard erection pressing into and between my cheeks. Raising my hands up
toward the ceiling, I asked him to play with my breasts. His hands immediately
enveloped my tits, and he started squeezing hard, too hard. “I don’t want to be
mauled! Be sensitive, and concentrate on my nipples and the flesh right under
the surface.” And he was a fast learner, for his technique improved radically,
and tendrils of pleasure raced around my body.


(continued in part 2)

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