Message-ID: <4553eli$9710031211@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/Year97/4553.txt> From: dez187lm@hotmail.com (H.D. Meister) Subject: Story Tales One(M/F; fantasy) - tales001.txt [1/1] Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d 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: <611ae7$2bq$1@solaris.cc.vt.edu> If you are under 18, or live in an area which does not take kindly to adult material such as this, do not read any more! Also, I am the authro, and intend for this and all future post that I make of any and all personal writings to be free to all consenting adults. Therefore... no making money off of me!! Tales of Lost Souls One: Henry By: H.D. Meister It seemed to most who knew him that Henry was comfortable with his current state of independence. Yet such was not truly the case; he often spent his nights cowering from the demons raging within him. Yet he always seemed to come out of his conflicts the victor. Again, this was not the case. Those who claimed to know him would have said that he was a solid man, wanting only for a woman of uncanny quality. They would say that his honor was above reproach, and his heart was true. They would not be totally wrong. As things stood, there was only one demon he battled now. It was not particularly large of stature, but it had strength undreamed of, even by the most imaginative of minds. And its name was Lust. Not the rampant lust most knew of. This beast was singular, and was centered about one woman. Her name was Alexandria, and she was not what one would call a supermodel. Her body was not sculpted by hours in the gym and a skilled surgeon. It was natural, and full of figure. He tended to like them that way, a far cry from his contemporaries. Her hair was blonde, a deviation from his own personal liking. Her dress was that of comfort, not style. And she was once intimate with a friend of his. Anyone who truly knew him also knew of the torment he endured because of this. The evening found Henry sipping quietly on a forty ounce of malt liquor and thinking of nothing. Rap music, loaded with dark and thunderous beats, filled his ears and touched his flesh. He was waiting, and his wait paid off. His mind soon wandered into a corner of his mind reserved for his darkest fantasies. And this one fantasy centered around Alexandria. He felt her skin underneath his finger tips as he let his hands glide slowly just above her flesh. He smelled the sweet scent of an aroused woman drift slowly to his nose. He did not inhale deeply; he simply breathed normally, letting her arousal kiss him as would a gentle lover. He refused to look into her eyes; doing so would almost ensure his retreat from what he so desperately wanted. He saw, within his mind's eye, himself as he stepped away from her. She undressed slowly, and he briefly wondered if she were teasing him, or trying to phantom why she had let herself be seduced by this man whom she trusted. Trust. The word caused the image to waver but a thought, but it was long enough for Henry to notice and file away. He watched as she removed her tee-shirt. Before she could remove her bra, a hand twitched, telling her that that was his right. So long as one stitch of clothing was on her body, he knew he could still run. Dimly, he felt disappointed at the color of her bra: white. This was the color of purity, and was the shield of those whom should never know his touch. Yet here they were, and he was about to violate this shield. His eyes watched her hands as they removed her jeans, taking too much time to loosen her belt and unzip her zipper. Yet he waited patiently; he wanted to see the source of the sweet nectar laying between her thighs. His eyes told her not to remove her panties, which fell into his own category known as "full panties." They spent their energies forming the butt, not framing it for the sex bloated eyes of many who claimed to be men. He waited until the cotton jeans slithered their way onto the floor, and stood before her, not moving. She stood before him in what he assumed to be confusion. She was probably wondering what she was doing, and questioning her trust in one she called friend. Yet he also saw the crumbling shadow of the shell she had formed over the years. He walked toward her, and then the image became nothing more than a blur, punctuated with crystalline visions. He saw himself, tongue extended, playing a gentle tune over her hardened nipples. His hands traced lazy patterns over her skin. More blur, then the image of his mouth as it fastened over her clit and sucked it deep into his salivating mouth. He tasted her nectar as it slid down his tongue, traveling ever downwards. The image froze. He loved plastering his face to a cunt, more so than the actual act of sex. It was not the flavor, nor the perverse thoughts going through his mind. He liked watching the woman as she tried to ride the ever rising wave of her own orgasm, and smiled as she struggled to keep her balance. Just as she caught her balance, the scene shifted once more. It was often interesting for Henry to review the positions he used. He remembered a few of them fondly, but most were experiments. Such as the one which crept slowly before him. From missionary, to kneeling, to him on his back. He could see as she spun around on his manhood. For a moment, he felt her shudder as another wave of orgasm blasted through her. Then he rose, forcing her to hold herself off of the floor with shaking arms. He watched as he got to his knees and took hold of her legs and began to stand. Henry caught a glimpse of pure white, and felt his lips pull up into an evil grin. She was now experiencing an almost never ending orgasm, and it was more than she could tolerate. The air around him smelled odd. It was not heavy with lust. And he could not feel himself thrust into her love. Reality was encroaching. The blur faded, and he was once more himself. The haze of alcohol was fading. And he was readying himself. Soon he would meet Alexandria face to face. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ <URL:http://www.netusa.net/~eli/erotica/assm/> .../assm/faq.html> /