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From: artie <artie@netgate.net>
Subject: {ASSM} "Sensory Deprivation" by artie (MF, Muse)
Date: Sat, 19 May 2001 23:10:01 -0400
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<1st attachment, "sd.doc" begin>

Sensory Deprivation

**a9** Copyright 2001 by <a
href="mailto:artie@netgate.net">silli_artie@hotmail.com</a>

This work may not be reposted or redistributed without the prior
express written permission of the author.

A work of fiction, meant for adults.  Read something else if you
are not an adult, or are offended by stories with sexual content.
 Then again, if all you're looking for is in-out, in-out, in-out,
you should probably read something else.  I welcome constructive
comments.  Enjoy.

Some gifts from my Muse are gentle, yet vivid.
This one was a red-hot wire stuck into my brain.
 Thank you, beautiful Muse!

	She calls it "Sensory Deprivation."

	I call it bliss.

	She has a way of holding me, surrounding me, enveloping me in
her voluptuous breasts.  I don't know why she calls it "sensory
deprivation," as I'm filled with sensation -- her softness, her
warmth, the sound and feeling of her heart beating so close.  My
eyes close and the world fades away.  She squeezes me, and the
world disappears -- only she exists.

	She knows.  She knows very well.  She knows how much I need to
be held, to be squeezed, to be taken by her.

	She plays with me.  We'll be snuggled up and she'll ask me
something.  Then as I'm in the middle of a sentence, she'll do it
to me -- her hand slides sensuously behind my head, pulling me to
her, and with a sigh my mind goes blank.  I don't mind -- she
takes my mind away from me, and I love it.

	A couple of months ago, we had a celebration for the team I led
handling an acquisition for the company.  We had a nice dinner
and weekend for team members and their spice at a local
spa/country club.  I was surprised when the head of the company
praised me for being so tenacious, yet fair, in negotiations.

	I pulled my love to her feet beside me and told everyone that I
couldn't have made it without her help.  And it's true.  I
remembered those days, getting home late after another day of
tough negotiations worn and frazzled, with my head still
spinning.  But within moments of being in her arms, all that
would be gone.  She'd hold me again in the morning and I'd be
healed, recharged, and ready to go again.

	The head of the group we'd bought, now one of our senior VPs,
stood up and told people that I was firm and fair.

	As people applauded, I turned and kissed the woman I love.

	Later in our suite, I was helpless in her arms in minutes.  She
had me begging to please her, to make love with her -- so much
for tenacious.  Well, at least I was firm.

	She loves doing that to me.  She's told me so.  And she's asked
me if it bothers me -- no, please don't stop.

	Sometimes she'll hold me and rock me to sleep in her arms.  It
doesn't matter how aroused I am, how awake and excited I am --
within minutes I'm asleep in her arms.  She can tell by the way I
look when I get home sometimes, that's what I need.  Other times
I'll ask her, beg her -- please...

	But other times she doesn't want me asleep, not at all.  She
holds me, squeezes me, whispers to me, and gets me so aroused, so
excited, so hot and hard for her.  And what else she does -- it's
hard to explain -- she gets me so lost, so confused, so weak --
she takes away my mind, my strength.

	How?  She has her ways; her favorites, my favorites.

	One of my favorites is her burgundy stretch velvet dress.  She
calls it her "Empire" dress.  I call it her "Goddess" dress.  It
has a high waist, a delicious neckline, and it's wonderful to be
lost in.  If she really wants to tease me, the only thing she'll
wear under it is perfume.  One of her favorites is a very soft
embroidered top.  She likes the way it leaves marks on my face.

	The favorite we share is skin against skin.  It's still the
best.

	What does she do?  I've already told you about the way she
slides a hand slowly, sensuously behind my head and pulls me to
her.  She's got me so well trained that by the time her hand
reaches the back of my head my eyes have closed and I'm melting
in her arms.  Even when I'm holding her, sucking on her, there's
something magic that happens when she cradles my head.

	How she gets me so lost, so confused, so relaxed in her arms, I
don't know.  She holds me to her breasts.  She caresses and
cradles my head.  She whispers to me.

	She holds me to a nipple and tells me to suck.  She tells me to
suck on her at the same time she's cradling me, telling me to let
go and relax in her arms.  I get so confused, so lost.  She gets
me to the point where I can't even hold on, and she has to hold
me to her breast.  She loves that, and so do I.

	She'll squeeze me, holding me between her breasts, smothering
me.  I can't breathe, and when I'm enveloped in her, I don't
care.  But my body responds and she lets me go to gasp in air,
only to fill my mouth with her softness again.  A few times now
she's trapped me between her breasts, smothering me, and at the
same time stroking me to delirium.  She calls the results
"spectacular."  I don't have words for what happens to me when
she does that.

	You might get the feeling that she's manipulative, controlling.
She's not.  Sometimes, depending on our mood, she gives me the
softest, most sensual pillow in the world.  She holds me gently,
playing with my hair, occasionally whispering to me, other times
letting the sweet sound of her heartbeat hypnotize me.

	I love to caress and tease her nipples, and to suck on them. 
They respond so well to attention.  I know they're hot-wired
directly to her clit.  I can suck on her, tease her, and get her
to that place where all it takes is a gentle bite and a soft
caress to push her over the edge.

	I've asked her how she does it, how she learned.  She smiles and
tells me it's instinct, guided by my response.  Oh, she knows me
so well -- she knows where to touch, how to touch, when to tease,
and when to finally give blessed release.

	When Frank Zappa said that "more than a mouthful is a waste," he
didn't know what the hell he was talking about.


FIN 
19 May 2001 

Sensory Deprivation 
By <ahref="mailto:artie@netgate.net">silli_artie@hotmail.com</a>
<a
href="http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www">http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www</a
>
 

	Sensory Deprivation

**a9** <a href="mailto:artie@netgate.net"></a>	3	<a
href="http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www">http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/artie/www</a
>





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