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Stealing Stephanie [mf, rom]
R Jacobin [jacobin2k@hotmail.com]
***
Standard disclaimers regarding sexually explicit material apply. The
good reader is reminded in particular that works of fiction often neglect
real-world risks and consequences which should be taken into consideration
in any re-creation or work-inspired acts.
This was originally posted 6/2000. This 9/2000 version contains typos
fixes I missed the first time, to my embarrassment. As this is my second
work of this kind, feedback is appreciated at jacobin2k@hotmail.com
More stories and good stuff is on my website, at:
/~jacobin/
This work is copyright (c) by the author. You may download and keep
copies for your personal use as long as the author's byline, disclaimer,
e-mail address, and these three paragraphs remain on the copies. Posting
to newsgroups or on websites is permitted as long as no money is charged
for access and as long as the author's byline, disclaimer, e-mail address,
and these three paragraphs remain on the story. Please respect my work as
much as I've tried to respect the reader.
***
- In the Collins Pub and Grill, I had a bitter taste in my mouth from my
gin and tonic, my eyes were irritated from the faint cigarette smoke that
made the place smell just this side of unpleasant, and I stared across the
table at Stephanie. Stephanie was striking, a tight bob of black hair and
smart green eyes, a sharp black polo shirt and loose blue jeans, glowing
fit and energetic. I knew her from our daily conversations at work,
talking about climbing, hiking, and our other sports. We'd wandered around
the Snoqualmie National Forest once. I'd had a smoldering office crush on
her since I'd been hired, but been too smart to risk poisoning the office
over my fantasy. And if this was her taste in men, well, it was for the
best.
Stephanie was cracking a big smile as she leaned into the meaty side of
her boyfriend Jason. I had spent the last two hours of this launch party
fantasizing about beating Jason bloody with things in the bar.
Jason was about as tall as I was, at six feet, but weighed another
twenty pounds in equal portions gristle and muscle. His fatty face was red
from shot after shot of tequila, and he braced himself on the table as he
told jokes he'd probably last heard in his frat.
Jason struck the table with his open palm and roared. "So he busts in
on this chink and his wife and says 'Not my wife, the whites! The
whites!'"
Jason chortled, sitting back in his seat. No one else laughed. Zhu's
expression was neutral, but if I knew him he was weighing the satisfaction
of putting Jason into an area hospital against continued status as a valued
customer at the only decent bar in the area. Jason leered at Jamie and
tried to give her the wink. Jamie stared out the window, ignoring him. He
tried it again and then gave up.
"Anyway, I gotta go. Nice meeting everyone," Jason said, and got to his
feet. No one said anything. He shuffled off, staring at his feet.
"I'd have taken his keys," Zhu said in even tone, "but there's a fair
chance he might crash into a traffic median and kill himself without
hurting anyone."
Stephanie blushed. "I'm sorry," she said, softly. "He gets like this
when he's drinking. He's actually really sweet."
I got up with my drink and walked to the door by the parking lot behind
the pub. Jason was having trouble shifting into reverse, grinding the
gears on his Cherokee. I could hear him cursing from twenty yards away. I
called 911 on my Nokia and set the cops onto him, offering the vehicle
type, license number, and the likely route home from Bothell. Jason found
the gear and pulled out of the small parking lot onto the empty streets of
the town on Monday night. I hung up on the cops, feeling satisfied and
ratty, and walked back.
Our post-launch party had come alive at last, our team of fifteen
smiling, the tension gone. Our waitress had disappeared after Jason made a
crude pass at her ("How much do they pay you to wear the Bacardi T-shirt?
How much to take it off?"), but she was back and flirting with Zhu, who'd
treated her with respect for a year now.
I pulled a stool up to the bar and waited. The bartender was working on
breaking down one of the taps, and nodded he'd be there in a minute.
"Can I take this seat?" Stephanie asked.
"Sure." She did. I didn't turn to look at her.
"You okay, Paul?"
I shook my head. "I'm tired. We've worked sixty hours for two months,
for what? For cheap drinks and a pat on the back? What's it gotten me?" I
sighed. "I'm sorry I'm in a bad mood."
"It's allright, I feel the same way."
I turned to face her. "Why do you put up with him?" I asked, flat.
She rolled her eyes a little, sighed. Stephanie had always been
friendly, open, giving everyone the good body language vibe, but she was a
little nervous now.
"I'm serious," I continued. "I've known you for a year now, and you're
smart, funny, attractive, and the only reason I can think of you'd be with
Jason was if he was seriously hung."
Her eyes went wide as I said it, a little shocked I'd stopped dancing
around her. "Well, Paul, yeah, that's it."
I got to do the shocked expression thing.
"Seriously?" I asked, feeling my anger gather.
"Yeah," she said, and nodded as I stared. "That's it."
"How hung do you have to be?"
"About three hands," she said. Her green eyes regarded me coolly, as if
she was looking for a reaction.
"I don't know what to say," I said.
"That's fine. Let's talk about something else."
"No, I do know."
Stephanie sighed.
"I expected better of you."
"Yeah, yeah. We don't always do the right thing, Paul. Sometimes we do
what feels good."
"And it feels good?"
"Oh yeah. It feels great."
I chewed on my cheek for a second. "I'm going to regret this
conversation later," I said, "but what's it like? Is he considerate? Take
half his weight on his elbows, you know?"
She shook her head. "No, not really."
"So it's just banging, then?"
"Yes."
I sighed and sipped my drink. It tasted bitter now, like they'd swapped
the gin out for paint thinner or something cheaper.
"Fifteen minutes?"
"Ten to twenty, sure."
I picked up my empty gin and tonic, gripping it hard in my hand, and set
it back down. "And you're satisfied with that."
She tilted her head to one side. "What is your problem?"
"I'm angry," I said, "that he doesn't treat you right in any way.
You're going out with him because he's good in bed for twenty minutes?
That's beneath you. I could make love to you for two hours without taking
off my pants, it would be the best two hours of your life, and I would
thank you for the opportunity."
Stephanie blinked. "You could."
I nodded.
"When?"
"Anytime," I said. "Now."
She stared at me for a long minute, and I started to sweat. Three
drinks over three hours isn't enough to make me feel much of anything, but
I was vaguely aware I'd gotten in over my head, and I was angry at myself
for it, angrier at her for getting me there.
"Allright," she said. "I'll give you one shot."
I set my drink down. "Let's go then."
She picked up her coat. "Okay, then." Her expression was neutral. I
couldn't figure if this was an elaborate set up I'd been led into, some
mistaken surprise birthday party for me.
She followed me out to my car, and we drove in silence back to my
apartment, not ten minutes away. I kept thinking she was fighting a smile,
but when I looked, nothing.
"Nice place," she said, as she dropped her coat across my armchair.
I walked on into the kitchen.
"Drink?"
"Whiskey, water back." She made a circuit of the living room, running
her hand along the bookshelves, and leaned in the entrance to the kitchen.
I pulled down a bottle of single-malt Irish whiskey off a shelf and poured
her drink. She took it and smiled at me again. I opened a can of Sprite.
"Not a drinker?"
"I have to wash that gin out of my mouth," I said. I took a swallow of
soda and felt better.
"I'm uh, I'm surprised at you," Stephanie said.
"Why's that?"
"You really are mad."
"Look," I said. I put my Sprite down and moved closer to her. "I think
you're the greatest. I've thought that since I met you, and you've done
nothing to stop me. You're intelligent, you're quick, you're funny, you're
caring and warm, and I can't do anything about it. You tell me about your
loser boyfriends you get set up with, and I want to scream 'take me!' and I
don't, and I'm tired of it." I took a deep breath. Stephanie was looking
at me and I was going to start back in on my rant, but I blinked, put my
hands on her cheeks, she closed her eyes, and I kissed her. She tasted
like fine whiskey. She made a soft noise as I came back, lips barely
touching. My breath was short.
"You have two hours," Stephanie whispered, each syllable a light kiss.
I stood looking at her, her eyes dancing, her kissable lips drawn back
into the suggestion of a smirk. I kissed her again, softly, and then I
kissed her again, kissing her warm, soft, whiskey lips, and drew her in
closer, so I could feel her against me. I put my hands on her hips as I
kissed her over and over, and as her lips opened I slowly ran my hands up
along her chest and across the sides of her breasts. She squeaked softly
and pressed against me, her forearms up on my shoulders.
The tips of our tongues brushed and we both broke off, only to return
urgently, deeply, and together made low noises and stood closer, pressing.
I moved my hands down again, ran them along her hips, and then cupped her
butt cheeks. Under the fabric, I could feel the smooth muscles, and
squeezed as I pressed her hips into mine. Stephanie caught her breath and
kissed me harder.
I could feel the warmth pressed against my crotch, spreading. I was
elated I could make her writhe, to want me to kiss her, and less scared
about being able to carry this off.
Not that I had a plan, or any idea what I was going to do.
I ran my hands up to Stephanie's breasts again, along the sides, working
by her groans as I went up to her shoulders and then down. I kissed her
softly again, teasing her lips with pecks and bites. Stephanie growled at
me in frustration. I kept on, touching her hips, her sweet ass again, and
when I felt her move just a little against me, grinding, I smiled and with
hands on her waist, moved her back an inch so I could use both hands to
undo the buttons on her jeans.
She put her head back and looked at me.
"Hey," she said, as if she was offended, but smiling widely.
"Don't worry, they're not coming off," I said, and with my left hand
caressed her cheek thumb along jawline, bringing her to kiss me again, and
slipped my right from her tight stomach down under her panties. It was hot
and damp even at the waistband, and I shuddered a little in anticipation.
Her pubic mat was thin and dew-laden, and I slid down to find her lips
heavy, moist, and sensitive. Trying to touch as softly as possible in the
tight crotch of the jeans, I rubbed up and down.
Stephanie broke our kiss and put her head on my shoulder. "Oh, jeez,
Paul," she managed. She was pushing into my hand as I tried to keep a
light touch.
"Stay still," I whispered, and kissed the spot just behind her ear. She
exhaled sharply against my neck.
"You like that?" I asked, still rubbing her, the nub of her clit against
the heel of my palm. She opened her legs a little, spreading her labia
against my hand.
"Yes," she stammered, sounding as if she was going to cry.
"Been a while since someone kissed you there?" I kissed it again.
"Yes," she replied, choking on her breaths. "Unh.. unh.. unh..
unh.."
I pressed my hand to her soaking lips, and moved just a little faster.
Her noises came a little quicker in response.
"Oh, jeez, Paul," she said, coming back up to kiss me hard, forcing my
mouth open and our tongues came together again. She kissed harder with
each short, deep, throaty grunt. With a squeak she came, her knees started
to give and I had to reach around and hold her up by her clenched ass. I
kept on rubbing as she shuddered over and over, rocking back and forth as I
kept her from falling back. She was pressing her breasts to my chest as
she struggled to stay up, and I could feel the aroused points of her
nipples through the four layers of clothes between our skin.
Stephanie leaned into me, taking long gasps, stopping in mid-breath as
she would tremble with follow-on aftershocks. I kept my hand pressed
lightly against her pelvic bone, and she used me to wiggle herself to
trembling orgasms, softer and softer, until finally she came to a stop.
She looked up at me, straightened herself up, and kissed me tenderly.
"You," she said, taking my cheekbones in hand, "are a great kisser."
"You haven't seen the half of it."
Stephanie looked at me as I felt my pulse in my temples quicken at the
look from those eyes, one, two, three, four, and she smiled.
"I'm not really a visual girl," she said.
"I noticed. I'll come up with something."
She took another deep breath and exhaled slowly, shaking her head. "My
knees are still weak."
I leaned down fast as she started to say something else, left arm under
knees, right arm around shoulders, and swept her up. Her eyes were wide in
surprise and her sentence was lost.
"Don't drop me," Stephanie said.
I didn't answer, paying attention to the relationship of Stephanie,
horizontal, and the hallway. Stephanie horizontal was just as beautiful,
her hair hanging off her face. I set her down on my bed gently. I had
been fortunate enough to have done laundry the day before - there were no
dirty shorts, no socks on the headboard, and the sheets -- the sheets were
clean. Sometimes it's planning, and sometimes, like tonight, it's all
luck.
Stephanie was looking at my desk clock, which every day at six woke me
so I could go to work and hope to look at her, there unfurled on my
comforter, the buttons on her jeans undone, a gap between denim and the
black of her panties. Black panties. Nice.
"That was good, Paul, but what are you going to do for an hour and
fourty minutes?" she looked back at me, eyebrows up. I sat down on the bed
next to her.
"How do you feel?"
She closed her eyes and shifted her hips. "I'm still warm and fuzzy,"
she said, her voice faint and drawling. "Tired."
"Okay," I said. "I'll take my time."
I kissed her neck softly.
"Ahhh," she said. She looked up and over, exposing all of her neck to
me.
"You like that, too?" I asked, kissing under her chin.
"Yes," Stephanie said.
"Been a while since someone kissed you there?" I asked, as I moved, kiss
by kiss, down her neck to the cleft between neck and collarbone.
"Yes," she moaned softly. Her left hand flopped around on the bed and
found my waistband. She tugged on it.
"No," I said. I moved up the side of her neck and kissed her behind her
exposed right ear. She sighed. "You do like that, don't you?"
"Yes."
I left it, and kissed her under her strong jawbone, lightly bit her
chin, and then touched lips with her. I started to roll her shirt up and
she leaned up enough to let me take it off. Her bra was black, sleek, with
a dull shine to it, and her breasts moved with her long, measured breaths.
Stephanie was in as good of shape as I'd always thought -- I could see the
faint tracings of the six-pack on her stomach, and her sharp breasts were
set high in a way I hadn't seen before on my more sedentary girlfriends. I
kissed along her shoulder to her arm and cradled it in my hands.
"I'll bet you have sensitive forearms, like me, don't you?" I asked.
She nodded, trembling as I brushed fingertips along her the tendons that
ran from her wrist. "I'll bet when you're still at work at midnight you
stop and look down the empty row, and you rub your burning forearms,
stretch your sore wrists, and wish you were sleeping under the stars,
wonder if you could make a living as a forest ranger."
I'd expected her to laugh, but she turned her head to face me, eyes
open, jaw a little down, and I thought I'd offended her.
"Yes," Stephanie said, and stared at me. Her eyes were deep and watery,
the line of her lower lids sparkling.
I kissed the inside of her wrist. "I'm sorry," I said. I kissed the
palm of her hand, and she smiled at me. I raised her fingers to my mouth.
She had pianist's fingers, strong, lean, tempered, ending with her clipped,
clear coated nails. I kissed each of her fingertips, then went back to
suck each fingertip slowly, retreated to her palm, and then blessed her
weary forearm again. I kissed the inside crook of her elbow, the scraped
nub, her bicep, and then I was back at her neck. I put my left hand behind
her head, and she arched back, arcing her long neck at me, and I had to use
my free hand to adjust my boxers, now twisted up in the rise and fall of my
unchecked erections.
I made her groan, bussing her hard along the base of her neck, letting
off just short of marking her and then moving an inch over. Stephanie
leaned her chin out to rub on my head, and I could hear her catch her
breath and then exhale sharply next to my ear. When I let off on the right
side, she bit my ear and growled at me.
"What?" I asked, reaching to adjust my troublesome erection again. She
let off.
"I don't know," she said. "I wanted to bite your ear. What's going on
down there?"
"Don't worry about it."
I sat back on my knees. Stephanie had curled her legs to one side of
me. I removed her shoes and socks, and then I collected her ankles in both
hands, swung them up to my shoulders, and reached down for the waistband.
"I'm going to need to take these off," I said.
She smiled and nodded. I tugged and she lifted her hips up, and I
tugged the jeans off her beautiful, curved hips, worked the cuffs over her
ankles, pulled them off entirely, and then Stephanie was lying in front of
me, tanned legs, tanned arms a bare contrast in the dim light to the pale
expanses she kept under wraps. I could understand why she might. No one
would get any work done, ever.
I tossed the jeans down.
"At least take off your shirt," she said. I tossed it on top of her
jeans, which made me smile. She lifted her legs back up and set her ankles
on my bare shoulders.
"This is comfortable," Stephanie continued. I looked over and kissed
each of her ankles.
"How are you on toes?"
"I have no idea."
I pulled one of her feet and regarded it. She had toes like her
fingers, long and strong. I kissed her little toe first and went to the
big toe, and looked for a reaction. She was smiling.
"What's that?" I asked.
"It's a little ticklish. But nice."
I've never been into toes, particularly, but I am into customer service.
I kissed each toe again and then gave each a slow suck. Stephanie, to my
delight, made approving noises, and I give her left foot the same
treatment.
"I'm good on toes," Stephanie said.
I looked down the V of her legs on my shoulder, taking in the black
panties with the particularly dark section, clinging to her visible lips,
the little beads of sweat on her stomach, the tight black bra, showing her
nipples fighting the elastic to stay up, and Stephanie, head back, her eyes
half closed, with a dreamy look on her face. I set her legs down and laid
down on top of her. Her panties were wet against my belly, and I kissed
along the cleft of her breasts. Stephanie started to breathe harder, then
leaned up, reached back, and unhitched the bra and wrapped her arms around
my shoulders. I pulled the bra up, along her arms, and off.
Stephanie's nipples, freed, seemed to have tried to take her breasts
with them as they rose - her areolas were tiny, bumpy, and taunt. I kissed
the underside of the left breast, moved to the gap between them, and as I
went to the other I saw she had her hands cupping each breast, and with her
index finger touched me under the chin and guided me to the nipple.
I took my time, working around it, and Stephanie grew impatient,
wiggling her hips against my stomach as I teased her. I circled again and
then, softly, took her into my mouth and sucked, moving back to take the
nipple between lips, and then forward to suck only on the tough tip.
Stephanie put her shoulder up, trying to force me to take more, and instead
I went to the other breast, just as aroused, and took as much of her breast
into mouth as I could, and then again, sucking hard, and kept at it.
"Oh, fuck," Stephanie exclaimed, trying to grind her hips against me. I
went to the left breast again, sucking it, kissing it, and her attempts at
grinding became arrhythmic, and I stopped. Stephanie bucked again and then
stopped, breathing deeply. She leaned forward to look at me in the dim
light.
"I'm getting there," I said. I sat back on my knees, hooked her panties
at the hip, and ran them up her legs and off.
Stephanie had the cutest pussy I'd ever seen, short trimmed hair running
to a smart bump over beautiful pink lips. I went down like a bolt. With
my hands I spread the folds of her labia out gently and ran my tongue along
the wet inside of her lips and then around her swelled clitoris, starting
to pop out for a look around. I alternated between teasing her clit and
going down to penetrate her with my tongue, my mouth and chin picking up a
dewy goatee of her delicious, sweet-smelling juice. I worked her harder as
the taste emboldened me, trying to bury my face, licking her up and down,
pushing her sweet clit in circles, until Stephanie stiffened and I kept on,
kissing her nub, and she started to shiver, wiggling against my tongue, and
I stopped trying to keep a pace and just worked to make contact as she
came, screaming, shaking the bed, her bucking knocking me in the lips. I
moved off and watched her slowly stop trembling as I moved up on the bed.
I laid alongside her, and Stephanie rolled to her side and snuggled into
my chest.
"That was nice," she said. She sighed, scratching my back idly. "I'm
so relaxed, I feel like you've removed my skeleton." She ran her free hand
down my side to my rumpled slacks and then placed it carefully on my
clothed hard-on, her fingertips just at the base of my shaft. "Do you need
anything?"
"Yes," I said. Stephanie smiled sleepily at me.
"Mmmm?"
"I can't have it," I said. "Two hours, I promised."
She leaned her head forward and kissed me sweetly.
"Your promise," she said, "was to keep your pants on. I can help you
without taking your pants off, if you're going to be that serious about
it."
Horny smart women. Goddamn.
"That's not the point," I said. "Here, roll onto your stomach."
Stephanie blinked as she looked into me, and even in the darkness I
could still see the green of her eyes. But she did it.
"You figure if no one sees it, it doesn't count?" she asked.
"Nope." I got off the bed to find my Lubriderm. It couldn't have been
far, as - well, yeah. It was in the bathroom, of all places, where the
label would lead you to believe it should be. I returned, set it on the
baseboard, and then rubbed some between my hands.
Stephanie, naked, laid out in front of me, was just as amazing from
behind. Her defined, toned calves led to strong thighs, a tight, muscular
ass, and a long sweep of back to her muscled shoulders and her arms,
straight out, hands dangling off each side of my double.
"You are so beautiful," I said. "I don't even believe it." I moved to
sit at her side and massaged her shoulders gently. She moaned and smiled,
and I moved to her back, reloading, warming the lotion, then trying to
remember the massage strokes. I paid particular attention to her
spectacular ass, first gently and firmly going around the sides and up, and
then working up-and-down strokes following the line of her legs which were
spreading a little with each of my movements, until I couldn't resist and
went down along the crack, drawing along with both thumbs, skirting across
the rose of her tiny anus - she jumped and settled down and with one thumb
there, moved the other hand around to slide along her wellserviced labia.
She was still wet, or wet again, or it didn't matter.
"What do you think you're doing?" she asked from far away, but she moved
into my hands.
I grinned and took my hands off. Stephanie made a little groan like she
was disappointed. I put more lotion on my hands, rubbed them until the
lotion wasn't cold, and rubbed the back of her thighs. I massaged each of
her calves individually, and they were smooth and lean under my hands.
My erection was painful now, having almost subsided and come back harder
and more sensitive than before several times during all this, forcing me to
repeatedly adjust it out of my boxers, and when Stephanie rolled over she
caught sight and smiled.
"You're all tangled up, looks like." She grinned. Indeed, my latest
revival had come on badly, trying to force itself straight out from a
hanging position, and it was apparent, a stick from my crotch to the inside
of my left thigh. I nodded. She leaned up on one elbow.
"Here, let me just--" with her left arm she reached into my waistband,
went straight down and, grasping my dick just under the head, worked it in
and up and freed it to stand up comfortably. Or at least as comfortably as
an erection denied so long like this was going to be. She didn't move her
hand off my hardon, and it grew. She laughed and removed her hand.
"Just trying to help out," she said. She laid back. "Nothing wrong
with that."
"Nah," I replied. I started on her shoulders this time, but the breasts
were too tempting. So I went to the arms, got the biceps I'd been unable
to reach before, and then, more lotion in hands, I went to her breasts.
They fit well in my big hands, and I gently worked each firm breast from
the base towards the nipples, and then I did it again, more firmly, and
blood started to come to them again, slowly growing tight again. I got
more lotion and did it all again, slicker and faster this time, and
Stephanie didn't make any noise but she was biting her lip, her forehead
furrowed, wearing an expression a cross between ecstasy and painful
reservation.
When I took my hands away for more lotion, I drew them up and they were
still cupped, and I could still felt her breasts in my slick grasp. I was
breathing harder. Two hours. The fuck had I been thinking?
Her stomach was sexy, too, and I could feel the muscles just under her
soft skin. I moved along to the hips, and then one by one the facing
thighs, the inside of her thighs, and the shins.
Finally I returned to her cute pussy.
I stroked around her pubic mound, between stomach and trouble, trouble
and thigh. I could smell her growing aroused again, I could see her lips
grow apart a little, grow a little pinker, see her start to move a little
against my hands. I licked my lips and tasted Stephanie, sweet and strong,
and I ran two fingers, middle and ring, down towards the source of the
wetness.
"Yes," Stephanie said clearly.
I pressed as I got there, as if to penetrate, but didn't, and with the
same pressure moved back up to gently stroke her short hair.
"No."
I stroked down, my fingers at the entrance to her vagina, and she was
slick with wetness. I pressed a little, putting barely the tips inside.
"Yes," she said. With that pressure, just inside the lips, I moved my
two fingers along the inside of her lips. It was wet everywhere, the
slickest I'd ever felt a woman. I had done good work, apparently, but it
was more than that. I pushed further in, and Stephanie squeaked and
started to breathe heavily. I pushed my fingers in further, keeping them
forward, curling back, as if trying to reach her clitoris from inside, and
she bucked her hips once against me.
"Yes," she said. "Yes, that's it. Come on now."
I drew them back and then forward, keeping careful track of where they
were, against her pubic bone and slowly increasing the pace. Stephanie
loved it, she started to moan loudly, quickly, and before I realized I was
blazing three fingers in and out of her as she writhed on my hand.
Stephanie leaned forward, reached down to grab my working wrist, made sure
I was all the way in, and with her other hand grabbed me by the back of the
neck, drew me close, and kissed me hard, pushing her tongue in. We were
open-mouthed, kissing deeply, tongues tangled, my hand again penetrating
her faster and faster, and the faster I went the deeper she kissed me.
Stephanie broke off, panting, bracing herself up with both arms, threw
her head back, neck out, and arched her back, her pert breasts out into the
air, hips in, taking me at a steeper angle, my fingers rubbing her clit as
they came in and out. Her breath ragged she opened her eyes and looked
over.
"When my two hours are up," she said, and stopped to groan and bite her
lip. She let it go. "I am going to fuck you into next week." Her
expression had an intensity I'd never seen from her before. It would have
been pointless to protest. I didn't.
Stephanie cried out loudly and kept going, and then paused, shouted, and
I kept working my fingers in and out, feeling my arm start to burn with
fatigue and the awkward position, possessed with lust myself, and Stephanie
kept coming, shuddering on my hand. I could feel her clench my fingers and
orgasm, stop, and then she'd start to shift her weight, moving up and down
on my hand, and I would go at it again, heedlessly, until she came again,
and again, and my own control gave out and I came in my boxers, my dick
twitching all over the place, and my rhythm suffered. Stephanie collapsed
back on my bed.
"Whew!" she shouted. "Oh my god, Paul, I have never, ever..." she'd
spotted the spot. I blushed, she laughed. "What happened there?"
"I'm only human," I said. She laughed again, smiled widely, warmly at
me. She wasn't disappointed, instead pleased. I sighed in relief.
"I was starting to wonder," she said. "When was this?"
"When you started to come again. That was so sexy."
"You like that?" I nodded. "Good. Let's go shower. I'm hot and
sweaty, and you've got a little mess to clean up."
"It's a big mess."
She shrugged, shoulders to pillows. "You'll have to show me."
"Allright." I got up, helped Stephanie up, and led her to the bathroom.
I turned on the lights and started the shower running.
"Turn around," Stephanie said. She looked at the huge wet spot on my
slacks. "Wow." She undid the fly and pulled them down. My boxers were
worse. "It's too bad I couldn't have helped you with that." She sighed.
"I would have liked to have participated."
"You did. I had no control over that."
Stephanie smiled. "Thanks, I think." She put one hand on each side of
my boxers, and I felt a pang of cold in my chest as nervousness hit me.
I'm not a small man, as penises go -- when I heard that the average erect
size was sixand-a-half inches I thought 'well, that's me' -- but knowing
she was accustomed to seeing a nightstick, that she could grow another arm
and use all three to whack off her man, I felt unsure, suddenly.
Stephanie was not, pulling the shorts right down to my ankles, bending
with them, doing the hip wiggle as she went, and if I hadn't already came,
I would have re-caulked the bathroom seeing that descent. Stephanie paused
as she came back up, regarding my cum-slick limp penis. She stood back up,
taking it in her hand, running her grip slowly along my slick shaft.
"Cute," she said, with a wicked grin on her face. That wasn't what I
wanted to hear, but she kept going with the stroke.
"Cute?"
"I didn't mean it like that." She kissed me. "Let's shower up."
She let go of my cock. We stepped in together to the cramped stall.
She held her face up to the water, slicking her hair back, rubbing her ass
into my spent penis, and took the soap out of the holder and turned to me.
"Wash me off?"
I felt the first tingle of revival.
It was like massaging her all over again, except faster, with soap and
water, we were both standing, I was naked, and it wasn't like that at all,
actually. I soaped her neck, her shoulders, and she turned so I could
spend too much time on her soft, pert breasts, and then she washed me. For
the most part I didn't require it, but she spent particular attention where
I'd managed to come all over myself, and she soaped my balls, worked her
slick hands over the head of my penis and then the shaft, and then started
all over again, this time with me erect, my penis reaching up for her. I
closed my eyes in pleasure as she kept stroking me, the hot water on my
chest.
"Okay, I'm done," she said, and turned off the water. I looked at her
in front of me, her eyes flashing, wet black hair matted. She stepped out
and took a towel, and before I even started she'd dried quickly and stode
on out of the warm, steamy bathroom, leaving the door open. I ran the
towel around, not paying attention, wrapped it around my waist, and stepped
into the hall. I could see a leg lying in bed from the hallway, and I
followed her in.
Stephanie was laid out on the messed sheets, towel laid on her,
following the rise and falls of her body, and along the sides I could see
her sweet skin.
"I'm tired," she said, "so you're going to have to be on top."
I blinked and stood in the doorway, my brain misfiring. What had I done
to get here? Was that possible?
Stephanie smiled. "You raised in a barn? Come in, close the door."
I came in and closed the door behind me.
"That's better," she said.
I walked to my desk and started opening drawers.
"I'm over here," Stephanie said.
"I'm looking for a condom," I said.
"What?" she said, no longer at all seductive, or dreamy. Annoyed.
"Don't you trust me, Paul? After everything?"
I found one. "I completely trust you," I said.
"Why, what have you --" she said, an angry tone coming into her voice,
but she trailed off as she followed the train of thought through. "Oh,"
she said, quietly. "Oh, Paul, I'm sorry, I didn't mean."
I shook my head. "Don't worry about it."
She moved to the edge of the bed and sat, head at my stomach. She took
towel off my waist. My erection was waning, a half-arch towards her.
"Ah, I'm sorry," Stephanie said. "I.. " she leaned forward and kissed
the tip. It jumped. "Oh, you liked that."
She opened her mouth and licked the underside of the head, then each
side, and then as my dick started to rise, she put her right hand on the
shaft, cupped my balls with the other, and worked my head between her soft
lips. After only a few seconds my erection was back again, but Stephanie
kept on, sucking and stroking, and I started to feel the pressure building
again. She came off, slowing her stroking.
"You want me to keep on?"
"You are amazingly good."
"It's as much the instrument as the musician," she said. "What do you
want? We can do this, or we can put on the condom and do the other."
"I want both," I said, looking at her pleadingly.
"Then that's what you'll get," she said, and returned to sucking me off,
faster and faster, panting as she came off only to return to kiss and suck
the head, and it felt amazing. My body grew warmer and warmer and I was
breathing so fast my teeth started to hurt, and when Stephanie looked up
and said "Come on, now," and then took me into her mouth again, I came, and
she moaned herself, kept her mouth wrapped around my head as I shuddered,
quickly and then after the initial moment a slow, easy final release.
Stephanie leaned back, holding me still, stroking slowly.
"What's your normal downtime like?" she asked, smiling.
"I thought we weren't going to talk about work," I replied. Even my
toes felt good, curled into the carpet. She laughed.
"Can you give me a rough estimate?"
"For you, I don't think it's going to be long at all."
She stopped stroking and ran her index finger along the underside of my
halfrection.
"Because I'm so tired, Paul, I've been so sexed, but I want you before
we collapse."
"I want you too," I said.
"How much do you want me?"
"I want you more than anything else I can think of," I said. "You can
take everything else I have away as long as you stick around."
"That's a lot," Stephanie said. "What can I do to help this return?"
I got on my knees in front of her on the bed, dropping the wrapper on
the nightstand, cupped her breasts in hand, and kissed her. She sighed and
looked up, and I kissed her neck again, and then I sucked eagerly on a
nipple and she squeaked.
"They're just a little tender right now," she said.
"Sorry," I said, and kissed her chin apologetically. She returned my
kiss, and we started in at it again, necking passionately, and I became
aware I was poking into the bed frame when I leaned in on her. I got my
feet under me and started to stand, Stephanie rising to keep our kiss
together, stopping, my erection at her chest.
"Well," she said, moving to push her breasts together around it. "That
didn't take long after all." She rubbed it between her breasts and I stared
in pleasure at the miracle.
"What a sight," I said. She looked down.
"Oh, that? Yes, it is nice."
Stephanie swiped the condom off the table.
"Let me put this on," she said, and tore the wrapper.
The way to condom mastery is this - you masturbate with them until you
find one that feels good. Then you practice. I had spent a lot of good
money on that project, and settled on a outrageously expensive Japanese
brand I had to go to Lover's Package and ask for specifically. Of my desk
drawer filled with rejects, I owned two of these investment-grade condoms,
and Stephanie rolled one down my shaft with a firm touch. It felt good.
"Is that all right?" she asked, looking at me for my reaction.
"That's great," I said. "Now lay down."
She did, her legs open before me, and I got on the bed, settling into
position over her, arms around her shoulders, adjusting, until finally I
came to press against her, pushing against her lips, almost into her.
Stephanie put her hands on my cheek and pulled me nose-to-nose. "Paul,"
she said, "if you tease me any more I swear I'm going to kill you. Do it,
do it now."
I pushed inside her and we both gasped. She flexed and I felt her
tighten around my cock, and I started to thrust in and out of her, the
sensation taking over my senses one by one until all I could feel was the
way she slipped around me as I entered each time, the way she moved against
me, the tightness as she contracted, trying to hold me inside. I kept no
kind of pace, crazily pounding faster and faster, aware only vaguely that
she was screaming and that I was screaming, but I never came, the pressure
never built, only the pleasure, until Stephanie dug her nails into my ass,
holding me deeply inside, and I felt her coming, jerking up against me, and
I came, too, gasping, and we collapsed, our sweaty chests slick against
each other, panting in time. I ran a hand through her wet hair, looking
into her eyes, and I wanted to tell her I loved her, and I didn't.
We cuddled up and fell asleep, and early in the morning she left to get
dressed and go to work, but I just called in sick and slept in. I didn't
want there to be a next day, or a day after, if that's what it was going to
be, so I ignored the phone and the cell phone and the door, and sat in my
nice armchair, thinking of Stephanie and the night, and I didn't get
anywhere. So I skipped the next day, too, and then it went badly so I
skipped another. Forty-eight hour flu, twenty-four hour cold. I needed
the time off anyway.
I got up and went to work Friday, figuring I could sneak in late, cut
out after lunch and then put the weekend between working together and
sleeping together, and then see how to patch things up.
Stephanie caught me anyway. She was wearing a light summer dress that
swayed as she walked down my aisle. She waved and came into my pen, sat
down on the bend of the desk, legs hanging off the edge. She crossed her
legs.
"You feeling better?" she asked. Her face was as I'd seen it many times
before, friendly without invitation, and her eyes were just as beautiful
but they weren't live as I'd seen them.
"Yes," I said.
"Good," she replied, and nodded. "Glad to hear that. I was thinking
something might have happened to you."
"Something did sort of happen to me." I wished for something to hold I
could twist nervously, like a pen cap.
"What?"
"I, uh, I don't know." I looked up past her legs at her, the side of my
brain reminding me, unwanted, of what each part looked like, felt like,
smelled like, tasted like... I changed the subject. "What are you doing
this weekend?"
"Nothing," Stephanie said. She stared at me and waited.
"No... dates?"
She shook her head. "No."
"No? What happened?"
She smiled. "Funniest thing. I met Jason Thursday-"
"You did." I felt my heart drop, and weirdly not there.
"It's not that, I wanted to see -- it went nowhere. He just seemed.."
she trailed off, looking at me with warmth and a dirty thought in her eyes,
and with great care she leaned forward and whispered "... inadequate."
My heart, cold, jumped and was doing one-sixty beats a minute,
scrambling my brain in the acceleration. I blinked, made sure I'd just
heard that, seen her eyes flashing again, and worked to regain my
composure. She reached out and I held her hand. It was the same hand I
knew.
Stephanie was smirking, watching me cat-like.
"Will you marry me, Stephanie?"
There was a long pause and I waited in silence, feeling her hand still
relaxed in mine, which at least meant she wasn't terrified, or slapping me.
On the next aisle of cubicles, someone put a conference call speakerphone.
I waited.
"Probably," she said. Her expression grew serious. "We should go on at
least one date first."
-- Jacobin 6/2000