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From: "S Jacobin" <jacobin_11111794@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Stealing Stephanie (mf rom) repost
Date: Wed, 21 Aug 2002 09:10:03 -0400
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Stealing Stephanie
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. As this is my second work of this kind, 
feedback is appreciated at jacobin2k@hotmail.com

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 sharp bob of black hair and smart 
green eyes, a sharp black polo shirt and loose blue jeans, 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 door to the lot behind the pub. Jason 
was having trouble shifting into reverse, grinding the gears on his Cherokee 
loudly. I could hear him curse from the door. 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 weeks, 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'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 
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 we both 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 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 spread 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.

"Ah, 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 nice, 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 them, 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 her 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 arythmic, 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 nub 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 dewey 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 back."

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 nub of 
her tiny anus - she jumped and settled down - and with one thumb there, 
moved the other hand around to slide along her well-serviced 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 hard-on, 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 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 herstart 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, toungues tangled, and 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?" She 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 
six-and-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 lip 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 stepped 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 
half-rection.

"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 from me now 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 sight.

"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. The 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 allright?" 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 valuely 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 on 
speakerphone. I waited.

"Probably," she said. Her expression grew serious. "We should probably go on 
a date first."



-- Jacobin 6/2000


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