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Message-ID: <29982asstr$987973802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: cats_sara@yahoo.com (Cat's sara)
Reply-To: cats_sara@yahoo.com
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 08:57:51 PDT
Subject: {ASSM} Intuition (Revised)- FF,FD,MC,Rom,NC - by Cat's Sara
Date: Sun, 22 Apr 2001 17:10:03 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

If you are younger than 18 years
If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers
If offended by words full of sexual sleaze
Do us both a favor and skip this please.

FYI - This story includes attempted rape, as part of the storyline,
but not as an erotic element. Just thought you ought to know.

Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere.

(c)2000 by Cat's sara

- Sara


----

Intuition

by Cat's sara

Categories: FF,FD,MC,Horror,NC,Rom

----

I had no idea that the backroads of Florida were infested with so
many rednecks. I was finding out really fast, though. My partner,
significant other, or whatever-is-comfortable-for-you-to-call-it,
Belinda, and I had been driving most of the day on our way to the La
Paradisio resort on the gulf coast. The trip had been nice enough,
and we were glad to get the time alone together. Between our
careers... well, her career. I don't think being a manager of a shoe
store qualifies as more than a job, at least for me. Anyway, our
relationship had been suffering from a lack of time, and this trip
was likely going to be a turning point for us, one way or the other.

Getting harassed by Billy-Bob Brownteeth and his friends was not
what I expected. All I did was stop for gas. As I walked in to get a
soda, I saw them sitting around in the dingy light, staring at me.
They made a few comments about my ass as I passed by on my way to the
racks of cans. I ignored them. They got louder. I ignored them more.
It had always worked before. I got a shiver of premonition. I should
have listened, but what can I say? Ignoring catcalls had always done
me just fine.

As I walked up to the counter, Billy-Bob, complete with sweaty tee-
shirt and greasy hair, stepped in front of me, blocking my path. 

"What's the matter baby, you have a thing for the bitch in the car,
or just can't handle a real man?" sneered Billy-Bob, grabbing his
crotch and moving closer. I sighed. It was one thing to put up with
heckling aimed at me. But calling Belinda a bitch made my blood boil.

I turned and looked at him. My anger rose and my judgement faltered
just as quickly. "I don't see any real men here, bubba," I said,
letting my voice lilt. "All I see is a bunch of ignorant, inbred
assholes who use corncobs for more than just wiping their asses. Find
me a *man* and maybe I'll fuck *him.*"

My head jerked back as someone grabbed my hair from behind, and I
thought my back was going to break as I was dragged and then bent
backward over the counter. I looked upward into the face of Jimmy-Joe
Pustule, the cashier. "I think you owe us an apology, you fucking
cunt," he said, the smell of stale beer and onions forcing its way
into my nose. The "Woops," I muttered under my breath did not
describe my sudden sense of fear and regret, and suddenly I was
desperately hoping that Belinda was looking this direction.

A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up off the
counter, and then pushed me down to my knees. It was Billy-Bob, his
face distorted with a 'That's *Mister* Brownteeth to you, bitch'
look. His actual words were a little more in keeping with his
character. "You also owe my asshole an apology, you goddamn whore. I
think you should kiss and make up with it, after you clean out big
daddy's peckersnot!"

Where the fuck was Belinda? "Oh, boys..." came a sultry voice,
answering my question. The hands on my shoulders let go and I ducked
to the floor and scurried away.

"Why bother with her? She just sells shoes. Now me, I fuck like a
dream."

I peeked and counted five men, standing and gawking, jaws slacked,
staring at my lovely Belinda. Their pants looked like horizontal
tents. Well, except for Billy-Bob Brownteeth. He only had a pup tent.
*I should have guessed as much,* I thought, smiling inwardly. *An ego
is a terrible thing to waste...*

"But since we're on the subject, shoes are nice, don't you think?
Especially ladies' shoes. Ladies' shoes with high heels. In fact, I
bet you boys even like to wear them," Belinda said, her voice almost
musical. "Call it intuition... I see the things you try to hide, even
from yourself," she continued conspiratorially, "and in fact, I can
tell how very, very perverted you are. You can't even get off unless
you are wearing your lovers' shoes, can you? It doesn't matter that
they hurt from being too small. It gets you hot. In fact, what you
really want is to wear your their shoes all the time, isn't that so?"

The "boys" made no motion... they were totally captivated.

"And your first obligation for today was to go buy your women some
shiny, stiletto heeled 'fuck-me' pumps, which will, of course, be
your favorites. Especially to wear to work. And golly, look at the
time. Seven P.M. I think you stalwart fellows have some shopping to
do."

The room thundered with a stampede for the door, leaving just
Belinda and me, holding in our laughter. Oh, she was evil. I thanked
God she was my lover and friend.

Funny or not, I was shaken, and as Belinda pulled me into her arms,
I broke down and the dam burst. "It's okay, baby," she soothed.
"They're not going to bother you or anyone else now... I love you,
Alyssa... shhhh... shhhhh..."

Her tender kisses on my cheeks finally quieted the tears and
trembling, and I snuffled and gasped out a laugh, still choked from
my crying, as I wiped off my nose and smiled, red-eyed and grateful.

What Mr. Brownteeth and Company didn't know, but would soon find
out, was that Belinda only spoke the truth. So much so, that no
matter what she said, it *was* the truth, and it was total, and
permanent. Unless the truth changed. But she got to say.

There was a time when the truth would have been that I didn't
remember any of this. Now, sadly, the truth is that I remember it all
so perfectly that I can't forget the slightest detail.

Belinda left a twenty on the counter for our gas, and we got back on
the road. I let Belinda drive. I was still shaking from how close I
had come to being raped. I couldn't get rid of the smell of beer and
onions, and I guess my anxiety was still showing in my face, because
Belinda said, "You know, Alyssa, there's no need for you to remember
that we even stopped."

"We stopped?" I asked. "Was I sleeping?"

"Yes, sweetie, and I didn't want to wake you," she said, gently
touching my face with her fingers.

----

When we got to the resort, it was already dark. It was hard to find -
well, maybe that's not quite accurate. It was on a stretch of road,
in the middle of nowhere, so we kept wondering if we had passed it.
As it turned out, it was a good thing we were watching, because the
only indication of its existence, at least on this moonless night,
was a small, neatly painted sign at the end of a long driveway.

I was a little let down - I had been expecting something with more
pizzazz., and this promised to be little more than a typical coastal
condo rental, if that.

We pulled up to a white stucco building with a mauve screen door.
At least it had a porch light. A little gray-haired man answered our
knock, and let us in. Once inside, it turned out to have a comfy
little registration area. Very cozy, with a yellow warmth that
reminded me, ironically, of warm cottages in the cold winters in New
England.

I was impressed by the fact that the little man seemed genuinely
glad to see us. He was incredibly welcoming, and offered us a
complimentary bottle of wine that he said came with registration. We
couldn't decide on white or red, so he generously gave us a bottle of
each. It was a surprising and genuinely warm gesture, and even now
the thought makes me smile.

Finally, with the registration filled out, and our cottage assigned,
we went back to the car and followed the rather complicated
instructions to our home for the next two weeks.

As we unpacked the car, and carried our bags to the landing outside
our humble abode, I held my breath, waiting for the disappointment
that was sure to follow.

"Don't worry, it will be perfect," said Belinda, as she turned the
key in the lock.

It was.

And it wasn't one of Belinda's manipulations, either. My first
impressions had never been more wrong. The queen-size bed, which was
all of entrance room, was covered with a white crocheted bedspread.
The needlework was magnificent. And, draped over the four tall
bedposts were white sheers of silk. I know it sounds simple, but it
was breathtaking.

The living room and kitchen were upstairs, and equally graciously
appointed. After a look around, and a little unpacking, we went back
downstairs to go to bed.

I went into the bathroom, and decided that my pussy needed a little
trim. Belinda liked it clipped very short, and I thought it would be
a good way to start off our vacation.

I walked back into the bedroom and saw that the covers were already
turned back.  I head a noise from upstairs, and turned around.  I
watched, fascinated as Belinda's long, shapely legs descended,
followed by her shapely, voluptuous body.

Belinda was not skinny, nor was she overweight. She had let herself
into her thirties with soft, rounded features and an exotic face that
seemed to exude lust when she was turned on.

Her delicate hands slid down the banister in complete silence, and I
watched in utter fascination as if her body was appearing out of
nothingness, forming before me. Romantic? Romantic is not even the
word. Erotic? Seductive? Surely somewhere there is a word that
embodies all of these, but I don't know what it is.

Her face finally came into view, her eyes heavy with burning lust
and desire. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed onto her shoulders as
if she were floating under water. I had never seen her so completely
alluring. It was as if she were pulling my deepest fantasies of
making love with her right out of my head. Maybe she was. It doesn't
really matter. She was doing it because she loved me.

She walked over and lifted my hand, placing it on her breast. I let
my eyes close, feeling her heart beat wildly, her chest slowly rising
and falling as she breathed. I stood there in that timeless moment,
completely oblivious to anything around us. Remembering our love.
This was the promised land.

"You want me," she said, the words burning hotly into my brain.
"There will never be another love like this."

I felt her mouth move close to mine, her warm breath traipsing over
my face, heating it into molten desire. Her tongue traced the outline
of my lips, dancing and seducing them until they were slightly
twitching, the hunger in them trying to jump out to her.

Her lips met mine, and I fell into her, my passion so intense that I
could not keep my mind from whirling nonsensically. My kisses left
her lips to tenderly cover her face... her ears... her neck. My hands
freely roamed body, pulling her tighter to me, sealed together by the
rising hunger of wanton fucklust. Tonight I wanted to know her body
completely, and I was aching with the desire to burn her existence
into my own. I had felt love and desire for her before, but this was
so far beyond, that even now I am not sure I can feel it all at once.

She led me to the bed, and we lay down, our eyes staring into each
other, into some swirling dance of eternity, and the only phrase that
entered my mind was 'soul-fucking'.

My mouth glided down her neck to her breast, my tongue finding the
aureole and circling, the nipple raising itself, long enough to touch
my lips. I greedily pulled it in and suckled as I let my tongue swirl
and flick, hearing Belinda's first moans of promised passion. I
stayed there for ages, letting each movement of obsessed sex fill me
over and over, like the breaking waves we could hear in the distance.

Without even thinking, our bodies intertwined and writhed together,
every motion a part of a perfect ballet. It was like fantasy... even
when she slipped and lost her balance, I had already moved so that it
only gave us each a new source of greedy teasing and arousal.

Somehow, we ended up in a tight sixty-nine position, or as Belinda
called it, the yummy yoni yin-yang. My fingers closed around her ass,
pulling and lightly scratching, and I felt her tongue press down on
my hot little clit, finally popping it outward so that a wave over
pleasure spasmed down my legs, making my toes open and curl, over and
over, in pure, reflexive delight.

I was losing all inhibition, and thoughts that I had found revolting
suddenly shifted as I became determined to gift my glorious Belinda
with every pleasure I could muster. I shifted slightly, and stretched
upward until my tongue pressed against her tiny, brown pucker. The
taste was completely different than I had expected, and I felt her
tremble with unexpected pleasure.

I pressed and circled, turned on by the taboo, wishing suddenly that
this love, this glorious manifestation of lust, could be seen by more
than just the two of us. I felt my mind going out of control, the
waves of pleasure coming faster and faster, and I let my tongue slide
down to her pussy, voraciously suckling in her clit, circling and
flicking with light, lightning fast licks, pulling the blood into it,
engorging her precious nubbin, as my finger replaced my tongue in her
asshole.

I could feel her reaching the crest of the hill, her reactions
slowing as she tensed for her climax, and my own body responded, the
thrill of making her cum raising my own pleasure until we were tensed
in unison, like two lovers holding hands, ready to leap together into
eternity. I could feel her heart, beating completely in sync with my
own, and I screamed the scream of the ancestral world, lost as the
blackness and tingling vision overtook my mind, her mind, nothing but
pleasure beyond thought, pleasure that was an ocean and we were
drowning happily forever as our souls intertwined in beauty and
blissful ecstasy...

I awoke, barely aware that I had passed out, my body still tingling
and waves still passing, to the sound of Belinda crying. No, she was
sobbing. Wracking sobs that cut deeply into my heart.

"Oh, God, what's wrong, Bel?" I asked, pulling her close to me.

"It's... it's... I don't know, Alyssa. I just love you so much... I
don't want to lose you..."

"Shhhh love, there's no need to worry... I'm not going anywhere..."

"No, you don't understand," she groaned, followed by words I
couldn't make out through her wracking sobs.  After a few minutes she
seemed to gain control. "I'm sorry I'm so silly, Allyson... that was
just so beautiful..."

"Let's go to sleep, love. In the morning it will all be fine, and
I'll still be here with you."

Putting it down to an emotional upheaval brought on by the most
intense sexual experience of our lives, I held her as we went to
sleep, a sleep filled with odd, unsettling dreams.

----

The next morning I awoke to find myself alone. That was pretty
usual; Belinda always liked her morning walks. I decided to go
upstairs and have an apple or some fruit or something.

Humming to myself, happier than I could ever remember being, I
poured myself some orange juice and fixed myself a cinnamon bagel,
and walked into the living room and spied my love looking out the
window at the ocean, sitting in a chair she had pulled over.

I don't know if I'll ever forget that moment, the waves lapping the
shore, her beautiful strawberry blond hair draped over the back of
the chair.

"Good morning, lover!" I said cheerily.

Something took a few seconds to hit as no response came. Confusion,
concern, denial, worry, all mixed together. I walked around the
chair, praying to God that she had merely fallen asleep. Asleep.
Please....

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.

The only thing this... thing... had in common with my lovely
soulmate was the hair it bore, and my horrified mind could not come
to grips. Like something out of the Twilight Zone, this corpse sat,
with empty dead eyes, one eyelid half closed, that watched the
eternity of the breaking waves. The lips that I had kissed were
shriveled and dried... flaking away...  leaving nothing but a gaping
hole for a mouth. I vomited, falling to the floor.

Whatever it was, it wasn't -- couldn't be -- my beloved.

My mind went strangely blank and numb... I remember seeing the slats
of sunlight on the kitchen table and thinking how remarkably bright
they were... the reflected light off of the crystal sugar bowl made a
rainbow on the wall.

I couldn't think at all, could not cope. I grabbed at the passing
thought that this quickly rotting cadaver was not Belinda, but I
immediately knew with certainty that it was. I tried to speak, but
all that came out was a choked off scream.

Sometime later, I'm not sure when, I walked back over to the horror
in the chair.  Her eyes had disappeared, leaving empty, black caverns
where beautiful green had once resided. It was deteriorating quickly.
I held back the cackling laughter running inside my head and looked
down across its/her body. I don't know why I had not noticed before.
Yes I do. It was the shock. Anyway, underneath what had been the hand
of a thousand caresses, was a note. I gently pulled it free and
opened it.


	My dearest love,

	How much I would have preferred
	to be with you this morning,
	drinking in the loveliness of your
	eyes. Of all the things I will
	miss, you are the treasure that
	I wish I could carry into the
	next realm...


It went on and on, and I was alternately filled with love, and
anger, and grief at what I read. It read like a sick joke, but my
eyes told me that it was not.

Belinda/she/it was not human.

But the feelings had been real. I had been under the influence of a
facade, Belinda's facade, created to help me love her, and in so
doing, teach her to experience love.

Her influence was so great that she could control my memory, my
perceptions, my desire... but she never made me love her. To be of
value, it had to be given freely. Now that she was dead, her
influence no longer could be maintained and I could only see her and
remember her as she truly was, in that horrifying moment.

Her body was deteriorating even more rapidly now. By the next
morning, she would be completely gone.

The memories she had given and taken away over the years would have
stayed with me but for the one gift that she had for me, the only
thing she could leave me. As we had made love the night before, she
used up much of the little remaining time and energy she had left
instilling me with the gift of Intuitive Truth, the gift she had used
to protect and love me for so many years.

As a result, my memories were now completely intact. I knew
everything she did to me and for me.  Every joy and sorrow was
constantly with me in its fullest intensity. It was a gift, a curse,
a joy and misery all at once.

I felt betrayed and angry, loving and loved, used and useful...
giving and gifted... but the biggest part of me, the part that held
grief I had in losing her, would never go away.

Even now, her words sing sorrow into my shattered heart: *"There
will never be another love like this."*

It is intuitive. It is the truth.

----

On the road back north, I stopped in to see some old friends: Billy-
Bob Brownteeth and his cohorts. I don't know why I did, exactly.
Maybe it was in tribute to my beloved Belinda, or maybe it was
because I was simply in so much pain.

They were sitting around, apparently as usual, with one small
difference. They were all wearing bright red patent leather four-inch
stiletto healed sandals. They were obviously too small for them, and
if I had been able to pity them, I might have changed it.

But... today it was not to be. They watched me with raging
erections, as their footwear commanded them, but they kept quiet. I
stood in the door, unsure of what, if anything, I wanted to do.

Billy-Bob finally made the decision for me. "Well, bitch, what are
you staring at?" he said, grimacing. I was in no mood.

"I was just wondering why you boys were sitting around... it doesn't
make sense when all you want to do is give each other head and fuck
each other. Ohhhh, yes, you forgot to invite your buddies from work
to come watch. Don't worry, there's still time to invite them over
for a beer and surprise them with a show."

I didn't even stay to watch them fight over the phone.

I know it was mean. I don't fucking care.

I miss Belinda.








----


Please send any comments or feedback to cats_sara@yahoo.com.

- Sara



http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Sara_H/www/

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