Message-ID: <8554eli$9802171553@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/8554.txt>
From: kate1533@yahoo.com
Subject: NEW STORY: Incorrigible--part 1/many M/F
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <6ccm9l$ft9$1@nnrp2.dejanews.com>


If you're under 21 or squeamish about nasty sex play, don't read this.

The first episode is rather mild.  It introduces our protagonists. I have in
mind to illustrate character development over a lengthy BDSM relationship,
along with progressively stimulating activities of increasingly severe
nature.  I would appreciate feedback. (kate1533@yahoo.com)  Not to get
SPAMMY, if you write to me expressing interest, I'll send info on the
phone-sex biz,too.

Episode 1

There had been boys before him.  Fumbling, brutal, arrogant boys, too
overwhelmed with their own needs, with themselves, to take her into account. 
She hadn’t liked them or even known them, really, for the most part, and it
had always been a failure.  She had wondered if boys ever grew up.  She had
wondered if she would ever be made to relish her womanhood, and so she had
turned to women. For a long time it seemed the answer.  Generous and gentle
attention yeilded sweet melting orgasms and nurturing supportive
relationships, until she met him and everything changed. She had a lenghthy
committed relationship that was going through interminable death throes at
the time.  She thought there was still some hope for it when she first set
eyes on him. Many years later she looked back at the virtual child she had
been.  At 24 she had moved as an awkward adolescent, still, and dressed as
one, in jeans, sneakers and Tshirts.  She had a  mane of chestnut hair, which
she wore as the Pre-Raphaelites would have depicted it, coiling with
suppressed sensuality. The messages were at odds.  Her breasts further
complicated things.

They were large and full, and though the nipples weren’t large they had minds
of their own, pointing stiffly through her bra and shirt at unpredictible
moments.  Sensitive, they reacted to the brush of fabric or a change in
temperature, and even women spoke to her chest more than to her eyes, which
were a clear deep gray and darkly fringed.  Inspite of her ripeness, she knew
she appeared younger than her years, perhaps eighteen or twenty, and of
course, where men were concerned, she was still Daddy’s little girl, though
she couldn’t know that, accomplished as she was among women.  So it came as a
disorienting, thrilling shock to find herself suffused with lust for a man
within hours of first meeting him.  It was new and she had no preparation or
experience for dealing with it.  She told herself he was too old and too
married.  And then she answered herself, “I don’t care--I want him.” He was
broad shouldered and tall, with enormous hands and a leonine head, craggy
featured with just untamable iron-gray curls and a darker beard and mustache.
 He emanated heat and took up air in the room.	He had the careworn muddy
brown eyes of a basset hound, but when they found hers they held them for the
entire class. It was a night class, an architectural drafting course, in the
computer technology department of the  local community college.  Then came
the accidental brushings and not-so-accidental ones  that confirmed the
undercurrent of electricity and after the third or fourth class he invited
her for a bite at a barbecue joint. The waiter seemed to know him and asked
if she was his daughter.  He rested his hand at the nape of her neck and
smiled, “No, she is a protege, a student, a friend.” and tightened his grip. 
Unaccountably she felt her cheeks grow hot at the same time as she felt a
rush of warmth to her crotch.  It was the first clearly intentional physical
contact and she felt a wave of powerlessness wash over her. He held a chair
and directed her to it, as he ordered an abundance of food without looking at
the menu. Then he sat down across the table and observed conversationally,
“Your nipples are very erect.  Later, perhaps, I will play with them.  Would
you like that?” Again she felt the rising flush. She had been staring at her
place setting, shredding the paper napkin, since she sat down.  “Stop making
a mess.” he said, quietly, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “Your blush,
you know, is a mating display, but if you think you don’t want it, I won’t do
it.  I will never do anything you don’t want.  Is that clear?” She nodded
mutely.  “But that means you must tell me clearly what you want.” He
continued, as he put beans and burnt ends on her plate, “though it may
surprise you to want it, you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me to
say. Now, is there something you want to ask me to do?” She hardly recognized
the “Yes, please.” that came out as a whisper. “Don’t be timid,” he smiled
encouragingly, “Yes, please, what? You can say it to me.” “Yes, please, play
with my nipples.....sir.” “We don’t have to be that formal anymore.  This
isn’t class and you won’t be graded.  You can call me Mike, when we’re not at
the school. I’d love to play with your nipples.  I’ve been thinking about it
all class.  I thought you’d never ask! Now, don’t tell me I’ve wasted the
best barbecue joint in the city on you!  Eat up!”  And with that she
discovered herself to be ravenously hungry and fell to.  As they ate, he
watched her with approval, adding particularly juicy morsels to her plate as
he came across them and keeping up an informative discourse on regional
barbecue marinades, sauces and dry rubs. When he had paid the bill and held
her jacket for her, he again rested his hand beneath her hairline at the back
of her neck, and she again felt the curious sensation of having her will
drained from her, as he guided her out the door and down the block to his
car. “When we get in the car, “ he said, “ I want you to leave your shirt and
jacket on, but take off your bra.  Leave your jacket open.”

In the dark, it wasn’t hard to slip in and out of her sleeves and remove it
from under her clothes. The car had to warm up before the heater would work
and she was chilled by the drafts she had had to expose herself to. He raised
an arm and said, “ Come! I’ll keep you warm til the car warms up.”  She
hesitated and then snuggled against him.  He draped his arm around  her and
dangled it loosely over a shoulder. As the heater began its work he stroked
it through the shirt with just the tips of his fingers, and when the car was
quite warm and she had relaxed a bit, he brushed them across her right
nipple.  It was as if he had his mind on other things, but soon it was
tightened and pointed and he drew his nails across it, through the fabric. 
As he pulled  onto a highway he adjusted his position and pushed her slightly
away, so he could reach her from the front.  Now his fingering was less
casual and more direct.  He used the large padded ends of his forefinger and
thumb to coax both nipples to full attention, increasing his grip gradually
through the material of her shirt.  When either one had been held by his
thumb and middlefinger at the aureole, pulled out slightly, as he ran  his
forefinger in circles over the tip, and she had heard herself sigh and gasp a
little, he told her to turn and face him. “Show me” His eyes were on the
road, as she lifted her shirt, but as they passed under a streetlamp he
turned.  She was looking at them too, so she only heard his sharp intake of
breath.  The aureoles had contracted and were dark and pebbled, the nipples
themselves conelike.  The night had drained color and her skin seemed
luminous and starkly white. His hand approached, lightly curled and he
brushed the  undersides of them first with the backs of the second joints of
his fingers.  Then he held one and the other between his fingers, still not
touching them with his palms. They were lightly squeezed first and then more
firmly, and she noticed she had thrust her chest out towards him.  His mouth
had taken a determined set and his hooded eyes seemed glazed.  When their
eyes met she again felt locked by his and he seemed to come back from a
distance to ask if she was enjoying it.  She did not immediately respond.  He
smiled warmly as he had in the restaurant and then his mouth set again. 
Suddenly, with the crook of his forefinger and thumb, he gripped her left
nipple so tightly that his thumbnail went into the base.  She gasped in shock
and pain but her hands still held the shirt up. Her nipple felt suddenly on
fire and icy and, as if some nerve ran directly to her genitals, there was a
surge of heat to her vulva. “I”ll ask again:are you enjoying this?  Do you
want me to go on?” “Yes! Please stop!” She could force herself to speak, but
not to make sense. The mild warmth of expression returned, but he did not
loosen his grip. “I can be patient, but you have to be clear.  Tell me what
you want.  You have to say.” “I liked it til now, but this hurts too much.
Please stop.” she managed. He promplty let go. “Very well, put your shirt
down.I won’t do the other.” Perversely, she now felt this as her loss. She
was phenomenally turned on and she had disappointed him on their first, and
now, probably, last date.  Her panties were wet, her left nipple still
throbbed, her bra was in her jacket pocket and she was suddenly in tears.
“Come” he said and he put his arm around her and drew her against him, on the
car seat, as he took the exit ramp.  He turned her face into his shoulder and
rested his great hand on her head as she quietly wept for a moment and
collected herself.  When she straightened up a bit, he said, “No harm done. 
We had great barbecue and a little fun, after, right?” “I’m sorry. I’m less
experienced than you probably think.” “Oh? Do you want to tell me about it?”
And she had gushed.  She had told him everything.  They parked on a side
street in her neighborhood and she poured out the story of her life.  For
some reason she wanted to trust this man, she felt she could.  And, of
course, when she had finished her tale she did. Then he said, “You’re too
sensitive; I must be crazy for thinking I can do this.” “Maybe,” she replied
with new confidence, “but I wouldn’t let that stop you.” He drove her to her
door and before she got out of the car demanded “Give us a kiss.” She pecked
him lightly and then went around to his window and leaned in to do it as she
meant to. He bit her lower lip, quickly and hard.  This time, with the pain
came a spasm of pure joy. “Sweet as candy” he said as he put the gear into
drive. “I’ll call”

-----== Posted via Deja News, The Leader in Internet Discussion ==-----
http://www.dejanews.com/   Now offering spam-free web-based newsreading

-- 
+--------------' 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>