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Subject: {Twassel}JDR"Re: Proof Reading Sex Stories 3"()[3/3]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
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The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=====================
Mat Twassel has given John Dark permission to repost this story.
This story is copyright by the author.
=====================
Re: Proof Reading Sex Stories
by Mat Twassel
mmtwassel@aol.com
Part 3
==========================================================
As I trudged glumly back to my dorm, I tried to understand
what had happened, but I couldn't make sense of it. If only
Laura hadn't been so long on the phone. If only she could
have come out twenty seconds earlier. I wondered who she
was talking to. I wondered, too, if Laura had actually
glimpsed my penis, the tip of its head peeking above the
waistband of my underwear, gleaming with slipperiness. I
thought: that detail shouldn't matter. And yet it did. It
seemed to cement the disgrace. I was sure the smell of my
semen must be all over the room, not just on Rikka's
fingers.
Likely the three of them were laughing about me. "What a
silly boy! He sure can't hold his sperm. Ha-ha. Ha-ha. Ha
ha ha ha ha." I felt ashamed and slightly ill. Why were
Rikka and Big-Guy Guy in Laura's apartment anyway? Helping
her paint? How come I hadn't smelled any paint? How come I
hadn't seen any buckets or brushes? And, if the phone were
in Laura's bedroom, how come earlier Big-Guy answered?
About half-way home I began to feel indignant. It wasn't my
fault that Rikka did what she did. No way could I have
stopped her from walking towards me. I remembered the
little tilt of that pale pink nipple... It all happened so
fast. I tried to slow things up, to put them in order, to
figure it all out, but everything blurred together. Could I
have stopped Rikka from reaching into my pants? I
remembered her thumb circling, her fingers tight, stroking.
Her teeth biting her plump lower lip. And then... and then
the look on Laura's face. Angry? Sad? Puzzled? I don't
know.
It's not as if I had slipped MY hand inside Rikka's pale
yellow sweat-pants, into the slot of her sex. Found her
clitoris between my fingers, and... Oh, Celeste, how can I
write a sex story when I don't even know what a clitoris
feels like? How can I write a sex story when I don't even
know what it feels like to touch someone's clitoris. When I
don't even know what it feels like to have one's clitoris
touched. Is it at all like an earlobe, or the tip of a nose,
or a nipple, or the tippy-top of a penis? Does it feel like
a dried pea, or something even smaller, scant seed? Maybe a
pumpkin seed slippery with that semi-slick pumpkin goo? Or
dry like a sunflower seed? But less elongated? Slightly
fattened? A little knot of flesh, a mere nodule as small and
hard and firm as an unpopped popcorn kernel? And beyond
that: how does a clitoris feel to knead, to be kneaded? If
my experience with Rikka is anything to go on, it's a
million times better, I mean more exciting, to have someone
touch you than to touch yourself. But does that apply
equally to the clitoris? Does it swell so quickly then, and
explode with feeling if not juice? Can I write a sex story
without involving the clitoris? I'm sure you could tell me,
Celeste, you could tell me everything I'd need to know about
the clitoris. But would it do me any good?
By the time I'd reached the middle of campus I decided I'd
write a sex-story after all. I'd show her! I sat down on
the steps of the English Building, my underwear still
sticky, and tried to think where to begin.
Rikka's popcorn bowl. Her fingers picking up a single piece
of popcorn. So light and white, it must feel like nothing
between her fingers. Slyly weightless, with a film of butter
imparting a hint of slipperiness. And then into Big-Guy's
mouth. She can feel the tip of his tongue against her
fingertip. He can feel her fingertip with the tip of his
tongue. Her fingertip, and then the morsel of popcorn.
Fingertip. Tongue. Tongue. Fingertip. There must be a
thousand or more morsels of popcorn in the bowl. And he's
going to get them all, one by one. Would he rather have her
take a whole handful and stuff them at once into his mouth
much the way I imagine he'd eat them on his own? I can
almost hear Rikka's voice telling Bob not to be greedy.
"One at a time is next to nothing," Bob insists.
"One at a time is all you're going to get," Rikka teases.
The next thing you know, Rikka is on her back, her hips
turned up, her lower body bent way over herself, in that
doubled-up, upside-down sit-up position: breasts squashed
against thighs, face touching between the knees, one long
smooth line of girl-body; only this time Bob Big-Guy Guy is
on top of her, fucking her, his silo-fat cock jammed inside
her girl-slim cunt, his cock coming and making her come.
The image is there for a moment, there for the taking,
wonderfully clear in my mind, and then it disappears. Bob is
so big he's made Rikka vanish. I realize I know almost
nothing about sex.
Surely Rikka and Bob have fucked. Maybe they have fucked so
many times it's almost meaningless. Just another morsel of
popcorn. A thousand fucks. Bob's cum filling Rikka's cunt.
For him it's just another tackle. For her it's just another
sit-up. There they are in that empty living room, fucking,
while Laura is in her bedroom, talking on the telephone, her
sweet lips whisper-close to those little holes, her ear
gathering in the soft sounds of ... Maybe it's just her dad
saying hi, while Big Bob's cum overflows Rikka's cunt,
surges up into the red ringlets of pussy-hair, as he
continues to fuck her and fuck her and fuck her. The sticky
sex-juice drenches her.
Maybe that's what would have happened, if I hadn't rapped at
the door, interrupting the flow of the evening.
"What happened?" Laura asks, moments after I've closed the
door and scurried into Twilight Park.
"It was that Madam Adam guy," Bob says.
"Adam Renner," Rikka corrects him. "That shy sex story boy
you were telling me about. He has a nice enough cock, but
he comes awfully quick." Rikka wipes her hand on her bare
breast and then pulls the shirt down. "I wouldn't have
minded a little taste of him. I was about to kneel down and
take him all the way out when he shot."
"Oh, Rikka!" Laura sighs.
"Well, I couldn't help it," Rikka says. "He was just too...
something. So innocently out of it. It made me mad. No,
not mad. It made me... It made me... I don't know...
horny."
"You're always horny," Laura says, her hands on her hips.
"I know," Rikka admits. "I know... I shouldn't have done it.
But, really, I couldn't resist. It's not like I expected
him to be the fuck of the century or anything, but Goodness-
gracious-McGoo. What I really need now is a good hot fuck.
What I'm gonna do is have Bob here fuck me. I'm gonna have
him fuck me until there's no tomorrow. Wanna watch?"
"No thanks," Laura says. "I think I'll just take a shower."
Even with the bathroom door closed, Laura can hear Rikka and
Bob. "Oh you're so big! Oh yes. Put it in. Put it in me
now. Oh yes. Oh that feels good. Oh you fill me so good.
Oh. Yes. Oh, baby, yes." Laura turns on the shower and the
thin spattering sounds cover the sex words, and the steam
quickly clouds the mirror. Laura pulls off her top, steps
out of her trousers, slips off her socks, picks everything
up and puts it all atop toilet tank. Last she draws down
her panties, adds them to the pile of clothing. She notices
the tiniest circlet of moisture in the center of the crotch.
She bundles the panties inside her shirt just in case Bob or
Rikka should come in to pee while she's showering. She
stands on tippy-toe to take two large fluffy towels from the
top of the towel cupboard. She makes sure her bathrobe is
on the hook of the bathroom door. It is. She swings the
curtain aside, steps into the tub. The spray is hot and
fine. It pelts down, a thin slow stream, hot, but without
the volume she'd really prefer. She takes the soap from the
soap dish and quickly lathers her shoulders and arms, and
under her arms; her breasts, her belly, and the crack of her
bottom. She rinses and then lathers again, turning herself
in the hot spray, and then decides to wash her hair after
all. She squirts a puddle of shampoo into her palm. "Is
this what cum looks like?" she wonders, and she works the
creamy shampoo into her hair, her eyes squinted shut, her
shoulders tense. She bends into the spray and rinses out
the soap. The water is still hot. The soapy water streams
down between her breasts, across her belly, into the fat
little wedge of pussy fur and then down between her legs. I
shouldn't use so much soap, she thinks. She squirts
conditioner into her palm and rubs it into her scalp. The
water sprays against her breasts. Her nipples are soft and
puffy. Her skin is red where the hot water has been
striking. She steps back and lets the water caress her
belly. She wonders if Rikka and Bob are done fucking. She
reaches behind her and gently presses her middle finger a
quarter inch into her asshole. It feels good. She works
her fingertip in another quarter of an inch, not quite to
the first knuckle. She thinks about what a boy's penis
might feel like pushing against her hymen. She wonders what
it might be like to take a boy's cock into her mouth, to
feel it explode against the back of her throat. The water
feels good against her belly. It is still hot. Her finger
feels good where it is, especially when she clenches
herself. She wonders if someday she will put it all the way
in. She takes a deep breath, then takes the finger out of
her behind, sniffs it briefly, finding no more than the
shyly spiced scent of shampoo, and then she washes her hands
in the hot spray. She rubs the conditioner out of her hair.
The water is still hot. She lets it rain upon her for
another minute, her back, her breasts, her face. The spray
is little more than a mist. She opens her mouth, lets the
drizzle play upon her tongue. It is almost too hot, and
getting hotter. She turns off the water. She stands there
dripping. There won't be enough hot left to shave her legs.
She lifts her right leg and runs her fingers along the front
from the knee down to the ankle, and then back up the back
of her calf. Not too bad. It should last for another few
days. A few beads of water sit on the top slopes of her
breasts. With her fingertip she gives one a nudge. It
flattens and flees. With the same fingertip she touches the
flesh just above the nipple. She presses in slightly so that
the puffed nipple leans against her finger. Her fingertip
circles the nipple. There is just enough exposed nail to
scratch the nipple skin. Laura contracts her center. The
pleasure makes her lift her chin. She takes a deep breath,
lets the air out slowly, and steps out of the tub, quickly
takes a towel from the top of the sink and wraps it around
her body above the breasts, then takes the other towel and
gently pats her hair. "I feel so relaxed now," she says to
herself, "So very very relaxed."
Maybe I should have just said "Laura takes her shower while
Rikka and Bob fuck."
Mostly dry, Laura slips into her robe. She opens the door a
crack. The air feels cool, especially on the backs of her
legs below the knee-length terry-cloth robe. Laura turns
and notices that the window is open an inch--tendrils of fog
climb the frosted window-glass. She gathers her clothing in
her arms. Barefoot, the robe loosely cinched about her,
Laura steps into the hallway. No sound comes from the
living room.
Laura steps barefoot down the hallway. Almost at the corner,
she calls out, lightly, "Is the coast clear?"
There's no answer.
She's not absolutely certain she wants to see. "One living
room surprise a night," she says to herself. "You guys
better not be tricking me," she says aloud. She steps
around the corner.
She sees Rikka, lying there spent and sticky.
"Are you all right?" she asks.
"I don't know," Rikka says sleepily. "I'm a sticky mess."
"But you're ok?"
"I guess," Rikka sighs. "I feel sort of like I took on the
whole team. I feel sort of like I'm just one big puddle of
cum."
"Is there anything I can do?" Laura asks.
"Maybe help me get into the shower?" Rikka says.
"Oh dear," Laura says. "I'm afraid I used up the hot
water."
"Little piggy," Rikka says, a tired grin.
"I could wash you off a little bit," Laura says.
"Clean me up?" Rikka says. "That would be nice."
"I'll fill a bowl full of hot soapy water. You won't have
to move a muscle."
"That sounds nice," Rikka sighs. "And do you think maybe
you could..." She trails off.
"What?" Laura asks.
"Do you think maybe you could shave me? Shave my pussy? I
feel so sloppy and slutty. I want to be a little girl
again."
Laura takes the popcorn bowl to the kitchen and empties the
last of the popcorn. Then she rinses the bowl with cold
water. Next she fills the tea kettle with cold water and
sets it on a burner to boil. Then she carries the popcorn
bowl to the bathroom. She lets the water in the sink run
until it's as hot as it's going to get, and then she sets
the bowl under the spigot. While the bowl is filling, Laura
finds a soft cloth, and then her razor, the double-edged
Gillette that was her dad's, and she opens it up and shakes
the old blade into the trash basket and unwraps the new
blade and holding it carefully by the ends deftly fits it
onto the razor, and tightens the top down by twisting the
fat handle, four succinct turns. Now the bowl is almost
full, the water almost all the way up, mildly cloudy, the
sound of water running into water strangely comforting.
Laura twists the hot-water handle stopping the flow, all
but two last drips, and then it's quiet. Laura picks up
the wash cloth and puts it over her shoulder and then she
sticks the shaving cream can under her arm, and with the
razor in her fingers, she's still able to lift the water-
filled basin and begin to carry it back down the hallway
towards the kitchen.
The water is hot and clear now, all the cloudiness has eased
away, and as Laura walks, the water wobbles. Could it be
that she's nervous? The kettle is whistling in the kitchen.
Sex juice is drying in Rikka's bright red pubic curls.
Some of the water sloshes over the edge of the bowl onto
Laura's light-gray bathrobe. It isn't much of a spill, not
enough to burn her through the fabric of the robe, but it
makes Laura overly conscious of her balance; and not wanting
to spill again, she brings the bowl against her belly. This
is probably a mistake--now the water sloshes over with each
small step. Her robe becomes wet. She attempts to make an
adjustment, and what happens is her robe begins to open.
She stops too suddenly, and an over-sided splurch of
exceedingly hot water flows down her belly, rushes through
her pubic hair, trickles into the heart and heat of her
pussy.
If Laura were to read this would she get excited, or would
she think it foolishness? Forgive me, Laura, but it makes me
hard to think of scaulding hot water trickling against your
clit. Shameless stupidity by one who obviously knows
nothing of sex? Do girls masturbate when they read sex
stories? Does Laura masturbate? I'm fairly certain that
she doesn't, that she's innocent that way, and that these
words abuse her. Or maybe I am kidding myself. Maybe she
loves to touch herself. Maybe she has a hundred ways of
making herself climax, each more delicious than the last.
If I weren't in a semi-public place, sitting on the steps of
the English Building a few minutes after dusk, I'd probably
touch myself into orgasm. Oh, Laura.
In the kitchen she pours the boiling water into the bowl.
"I'd better not spill this," she thinks. She re-cinches her
robe, and then she carries the water to the living room.
"You're really going to do it?" Rikka says in a happy little
voice. "To clean me and shave me?"
"Yes," Laura says. "I'm going to clean you and shave you
and make you into a little girl again."
First she cleans Rikka with the cloth, mopping as much of
the cum as she can out of the tangled hair. The water is
exceptionally hot, but Rikka seems to like it.
Then Laura jets a big billow of shaving cream onto her
fingers, and she works it thoroughly into the delta of hair
atop Rikka's plump little mound.
"Should I go top to bottom... or?" Laura asks.
"Whatever," Rikka says.
Laura's touch is firm but gentle, her stroke careful and
exact, and gradually the lather and Rikka's red pubic curls
disappear. After each careful stroke, Laura cleans the
razor by wiggling it briskly back and forth in the hot
water, making a wrinkle of noise which pleases her. Her
daddy's Gillette scraping quietly across Rikka's most
private skin also makes a nifty little noise, frayed
electricity, or burnt toast getting lightly scraped.
"You're all smooth now," Laura tells Rikka. "All but this
last little part."
Rikka sighs.
"I don't want to cut you," Laura says. "If you could just
spread a bit, and hold the skin to stretch it a little, to
tighten it so..."
Has Laura seen Rikka's clit before, or is this the first
time? How easily does a clit come into view? Does it vary
from woman to woman? Does the shaving excite them? Does
Laura want to take Rikka's clit between her fingers, pinch
it this way and that? Does Laura get wet thinking about
this?
Rikka's outer labia carry a faint fuzz of light red down.
"Should I shave here, too," Laura asks.
"Where?" Rikka says.
"Here," Laura says, touching the fuzz of these lips as
lightly as she can with her fingertip and the tip of her
thumb. Rikka's cunt opens. Contracts. A liquid bubble of
Bob's cum pools at the opening. When Rikka contracts
again, the cum-glob begins to slide quite slowly towards the
wry wink of Rikka's asshole.
"Oh," says Laura, entranced.
Without thinking about it, she puts her forefinger on the
glob of semen, pushes it back into Rikka's cunt. Rikka moans
softly. Laura adds a finger. The fit is snug and hot and
completely slippery. Laura moves her fingers together.
"I'm making you into a little girl again," she tells Rikka.
"It feels like fucking," Rikka says. "It feels good."
"Yes," Laura said. "But it's not fucking. It's unfucking.
My fingers are your hymen. Squeeze and feel how tight you
are, all new and girl-good. That's it, squeeze, squeeze
good and hard."
"Oh," Rikka says. "I'm coming now. I'm coming so hard and
good."
"Mm," Laura says, feeling Rikka's coming. "You're a good
girl. Such a good girl."
After a long quiet time, Laura removes her fingers from
Rikka and brings them to her lips. Rikka is asleep. Laura
carries the basin of tepid water along the hallway back
towards the bathroom. Small hills of spent shaving foam
slosh in the tepid, faintly pink water. She pours the water
into the sink. She gives her dad's razor a final rinse.
She takes a deep breath, and walks back towards the living
room to help Rikka to bed.
When I get back to my room, the telephone is ringing.
"Hullo?" I say.
"Adam? It's Rikka."
"Hi," I say. I fear I sound dreadfully stupid. There is a
long silence.
"You're not mad at me, are you?"
"No," I say.
"You left so quickly and all."
"Well," I say.
"I'm sorry if I..."
"That's ok," I say.
"I'm sure Laura would like it if you'd come back."
"She would?"
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Please come, come now, ok?"
"I guess so," I say.
"Good," she says.
I have my finger on the top of the Coke bottle. Pressing
in a little. Before I can ask Rikka if I should bring it
along, she's hung up.
I know I should shower, but I don't. I just change my
underwear. I hurry out taking the philosophy notebook, and
at the last second I decide to take the Coke bottle, too,
not because I think Rikka wants it or cares about the
deposit, or because I'm afraid that my roommate might mess
with it. I just take it.
Rikka answers the door. I give her the Coke bottle. "Thank
you, kind sir," she says. There is no sign of Bob Big-Guy
Guy. His book, Mechanical Man, the Physical Basis for
Intelligent Life, lies on the floor next to the popcorn
bowl, which is empty.
"We won't need this, either" she says, taking my philosophy
notebook. She sets the notebook on the floor, and places
the Coke bottle on top of it. "Come with me." She takes my
hand in hers. As we walk, I wonder if she's washed her hands
since earlier this evening. Despite myself I grow hard.
Rikka takes me around the corner. The hallway looks
familiar. I can hear the noises. The bedroom door is not
all the way closed. Rikka pushes it open. We stand in the
doorway. The bed is right in front of us. Bob Big-Guy Guy
is fucking Laura. She is underneath, nearly obliterated by
his huge body. Her toes touch the mattress above her head.
Bob's hands pin her ankles--her middle rises to meet his
plunging prick. Otherwise she is immobile as he
jack-hammers into her.
"Our girl sure does grunt when she's getting a good
fucking," Rikka says. It's true. The noises are clearly
Laura's, deep grunting gasps quite unlike anything I've ever
heard before.
"They've been at it a long time," Rikka says. "They're both
close to coming, so close." Rikka leads me to the foot of
the bed.
"Isn't her little asshole pretty?" Rikka says. "What I like
to do is stick a finger in... a finger in her and a finger
in him. When they start coming it's incredible. Here, why
don't you put a finger in Laura's pretty little asshole
while I put one in Bob's. It'll take them right over.
You'll see."
Part of me really wants to do it. But I don't do it. I
don't wait around for Rikka to do it, though I'm sure she
does. As I leave Laura's apartment, I hear a high keening
cry.
Halfway back to my dorm I realize I've left my philosophy
notebook under the Coke bottle. I have no need for it--I'm
going to drop the course. I feel sad, but it's not a
sadness about anything that has happened, it's a sadness
about what now will not happen.
Can you tell me, Celeste, would anything be different if I
hadn't said I wrote sex stories? Would Laura and I still
be able to meet for cocoa? Talk about philosophy and life
and ordinary feelings? Would we walk across campus,
hand-in-hand, thinking shy, sweet, sometimes sexy thoughts?
And one day would we fall in love, fall fully, deeply
head-over-heels in love? I'm just curious, that's all.
I pass that little off-campus coffee-house. It's dark in
there locked up for the night. I stare for a moment at my
reflection in the dark glass. I look ok, I think. But
then as someone I once knew said, appearances can be
devastating.
Sincerely yours,
Adam Renner
PS It's three weeks later now. Nothing much has happened.
Life goes on without Philosophy, without Laura. I did see
her this morning. I went back to that coffee-shop. First
time since... well, since. I don't think anything special
drew me there. I was just walking around. I've been doing
a lot of that lately, and I happened to be passing. Laura
was sitting at that same table. Her back was to me. I
recognized her right away, of course. I was used to looking
at her back. She was sitting with a boy. Just an ordinary
guy, probably an underclassmen, not someone I recognized.
The boy had Laura's hand in his on top of the table. He
looked immensely happy, as if the world were a wonderful
place. I thought about walking right out, but I didn't--I
took a chair at a low table along the back wall. The
waitress came over. She looked confused at first, and then
she recognized me. "One cocoa?" she said. "I think I'll
try the coffee," I told her. The waitress had a really nice
ass. Full and firm but not too big. A few minutes later
when she brought out my coffee I thought she had nice tits,
too. She poured the coffee. It was good.
Oh, and one more thing... pre-cum... does it have a hyphen?
END
==========================================================
Author's note: Comments welcome.
Write to Mat Twassel (mmtwassel@aol.com)
or post to alt.sex.stories.d
==========================================================
=====================
Re: Proof Reading Sex Stories
by Mat Twassel
-30-
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