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Subject: {ASSM} Vicarious Satisfaction by The Secret Grrl (MF, FF, inc, rom, cons, voy)
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<1st attachment, "usenet_vicarious.txt" begin>
Please see copyright notices at the bottom of this
post. Also, pleased be advised that this post
contains descriptions of sexual activity, and is
intended for adults only. If you are not an adult, or
if the community in which you live does not allow you
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this post may cause you offence, please do not read
any further.
Vicarious Satisfaction
[MF, FF, inc, rom, cons, voy]
By The Secret Grrl
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/thesecretgrrl/www
thesecretgrrl@hotmail.com
Copyright (C) 2002
"Do you know that guy?"
You turn from the bar to the man at your side. Light
falls on his face in a cascade of colour. The music
beats a staccato in your ears.
"Which guy?" you say, but you know damn well which guy
he means.
He nods to Ryan, standing there across the room. He
has a woman up against a wall, rocking hard with her.
Probably just dancing, but the way his hands are
moving, you just know they'll be fucking before too
long. Through the smoke, you can see him run his hands
down her thigh, then up under her skirt, just a
little. She leans back against him, pressing her ass
into his hips. He bites down on her neck.
He stares at you.
"I know him," you say.
"Old flame, baby? You jealous?"
The idea is laughable. More still coming from this
fuck-hungry jerk who's been coming on to you all
night. You should tell him to fuck off. You really
should.
But Ryan's looking at you. And you want him to fuck
you so damn bad.
"Maybe," you say. "What's it to you?"
The jerk tucks your hair back behind your ear. Like
you're his little birdie to be rescued. You wait, and
sure enough, the mock sensitive gesture turns crass.
He runs that hand boldly down to the side of your
breast. So predictable. So deadly, deadly boring.
But it is a hand, and you arch into it anyway. After
all, being a jerk isn't that big of a crime on a
lonely Saturday night.
"I could make you forget all about him, baby."
You look at him steadily. "That's quite a claim." You
move a little closer, just the same.
He puts his other hand on your other breast, and
smoothes them both down to your waist, tugging you
closer. "If nothing else, it'll serve him right."
You let him do it. Press your hips to his. Let him cup
your ass, and press his cock into your stomach. "It
would," you whisper. "Wouldn't it."
"Mmm-hmm, baby," says the jerk, leaning down to kiss
your neck. You lean back a little, urging him on with
your hands in his hair. Still staring at Ryan. Moaning
when he stares back, even with his hands full of that
other girl's breasts.
"Reese," he says. No-one else calls you that. You
can't hear it, but you can see his mouth form the word
as he looks you in the eye. His hands grow more daring
on the other girl. They slide under her skimpy little
shirt. One closes over her breast, and you can see
from the way she moves that she isn't wearing a bra.
She arches back against him, still half-dancing, while
his other hand slides down over her belly, and under
the waistband of her skirt. You can feel the jerk's
fingers fumbling beneath your shirt, flicking your
nipples, so clumsy, but it doesn't matter, it feels
like him, you can feel your nipples crinkle and swell,
hard and tight, and your eyes never leave his. His
hand strays further into her skirt, and you see the
girl arch against him, and you feel the ache spring to
life in your clit when he touches hers.
Sanity prevails. Only just. Ryan can do this; he's in
a corner, with smoke and curtains and dark shadows in
the way. You're by the bar, in plain view, and you
cannot. Not here. And the only one you want to see you
like this is him. This is your time, yours and Ryan's,
and the jerk and the girl know it on some instinctive
level, even if they don't know they know. You know
this because they always do. It's always a different
girl and a different jerk, but they always, always
know. It's a truth you carry in your blood and exude
on the smoky air, like animal scent, male and female,
brother and sister, different yet one.
"There's a room," you force out through gritted teeth.
"Out the back."
"You want me to fuck you, baby?" the jerk says into
your ear. His breath is hot and clammy. It smells of
stale alcohol.
No, I want a manicure, you feel like saying. So
deathly tiresome, the mating rituals. They bore you
with their meaninglessness. Is that why they never
match up to him? Because of their pallid stupidity
alongside the vibrant man you've known every day of
your life?
"I want to be fucked," you say, and that part is true.
You don't particularly want him to do it - actually,
you don't care who does it - the main thing is, it has
to be here, it has to be with Ryan, where you can look
into his eyes when he does it.
"Let's go," says the jerk, and you lead the way.
----------
The room out back is cooler than the bar. You feel the
goosebumps rise on your flesh when the air washes over
your shoulders. You raise your hands above your head,
letting the breeze reach the underside of your arms,
and your belly where your shirt rides up. You turn a
little. The jerk thinks you're dancing for his
amusement, of course, but you're dancing for yourself.
For freedom. For the air beneath your twirling skirt.
For Ryan, with his eyes on you, because you know he
won't be far behind.
The jerk catches you around the waist, and you let him
tug you against him. Arch when he presses your ass and
shoves himself hard against you. It feels good, even
if he is a jerk, and you give a harsh moan through
bared teeth. You smile at him, but it's a predatory
smile, and he seems to sense it.
"You like that, baby?" he teases. Flips up your skirt
with his hand and traces his palm over the crease of
your ass. He slides his fingers into your panties, and
you let your thighs fall open, giving him access. He
dips a fingertip inside you, just enough to draw
moisture, and then traces it over your vulva, over
your clit, slow and teasing.
He's good with his hands, you'll give him that much.
You let the shivers race through your veins, and drop
your head back, baring your neck with a sigh. You
grope with your hands, finding his shirt, and with
trembling fingers, you work his buttons free. You're
just pushing it open when Ryan and his girl appear
through the door.
There's a gleam in his eye. There always is when he
looks at you, but this is something different again.
Like he's drunk on seeing you like this, all hot and
wet and needy. He's been looking at you like that
since you were fifteen, and it still makes you ache
just as much as the very first time.
"Hello, Marisa," he murmurs.
"Hello, Ryan."
"You mind if we come in here?"
The jerk starts to protest, but you overrule him. "Not
at all."
"Good," he says, guiding the girl backwards to the
wall beside you.
The girl seems unperturbed by the prospect of an
audience. After all, she was practically fucking him
in the bar. She walks too steadily to be drunk. She's
high on sex, but only on sex. An exhibitionist, then.
That suits you fine.
The jerk's displeasure subsides. He shrugs and turns
back to you, tugging your straps off your shoulders,
baring your breasts to the air. Ryan does the same to
the girl, leaning down to kiss her throat, his eyes
trained on yours. You feel the jerk's mouth close on
your nipple, and you watch Ryan put his hands hers in
reply. God, you love watching his hands trailing down
over white flesh, soft and hard and urgent all in the
same moment, and knowing that it's all for you.
"That's so good," the girl gasps out, and you gasp
too, feeling her excitement like an electric pulse.
"That's good, baby," Ryan says soothingly. Still
looking at you with those inpenetrable eyes.
The girl misunderstands your scrutiny, perhaps,
because she leans over and kisses you. She's soft and
warm, and you allow it, and when you break apart, Ryan
kisses her too, deep and hungry. Taking in your
wetness and your scent, devouring them from her. She
kisses you again, wet with him, and you do the same.
"That's so fucking hot," says the jerk.
You and the girl laugh into one another's mouths.
"What an asshole," you whisper, and she nods, giggling
too.
"I like this one, Ryan," you say, breaking apart from
her.
"I'm glad to hear it," he says. "Reese."
And that breaks the moment, hearing him say your name
- his name for you - so low and heavy with need. The
shivers come back, racing over your skin at full
force. Suddenly you want him so bad, all over again.
You press back against the wall, crying out, urging
the jerk down to his knees before you. He doesn't
argue, just drags aside your panties, and then his
tongue is on your clit, teasing it to life, and it
aches, it burns, you need it so much. Ryan watches,
and you can see the indecision hover in his
expression. He wants to shove the jerk aside and do it
himself, devour you, consume you, make you his - as if
you've ever been anything else.
The moment passes.
He bows his head and drops to his knees before the
girl. Supplicant. Reverent. He looks up at you as his
hands close protectively on the girl's thighs and
spread them. Then he closes his mouth on her, sucks
her hard through her wispy underwear, and you can feel
the jerk's tongue driving into you. You rock hard
against him, feel his chin bracing against your cunt,
he's hard and soft in all the right places, while Ryan
sucks on her, all the while looking up at you from
between her thighs.
Abruptly, you drag the jerk up by the shirt. "Fuck
me," you rasp out, feral and commanding, but you're
looking at Ryan, and Ryan rises too. The girl puts a
condom on him, and you do the same for the jerk,
faster than he can argue (because you just know he'll
argue, if you give him a chance). You stare down at
the cock between your bodies and just for a moment
it's Ryan, hot and hard and smooth and waiting for
you, and then you blink and it's just another cock,
but it doesn't matter because Ryan's there, he's
watching you, he's waiting for you, he wants to be
inside you so bad.
You release him, and that's the signal to the others,
knowing and unknowing participants in your ritual. The
jerk shoves it into you, hard and fast the way you
want it. You don't want his finesse. You get that in
Ryan's eyes, in the way he smoothes his palms over the
girl's arms when he enters her. From the jerk, all you
want is the power, the visceral shove of bodies hard
against each other, mediating your rhythm. He does it,
in time with the dull pulse of the music drifting in
from the bar, and you grope at his hair, pressing his
face to your throat, letting him suck you there,
leaving your eyes free for your brother, your lover,
your world.
You grope blindly with your free hand, and Ryan
catches hold of it, twining his fingers with yours as
he strokes his cock in and out of the girl. She's
slumped against him, whimpering with need. Does she
know what's happening here? You think she probably
does, but she doesn't seem to mind.
You can feel vibrations all through your body. In your
back, shoved hard against the wall. In your cunt,
shoved full of cock. In those fiercely locked palms,
transmitting your strokes like little surges of pulse
from one shared bloodline to the other. This is a
union of the mind, of the heart, of your very blood.
He is your other self, your own eyes reflected and
blazing with need and hunger for you, and his thrusts
are for you. You feel them down in the depths of your
soul. As your cries grow higher, as your climax nears,
his face inches closer, until you're just a breath
apart, and you hear him blurt your name through
hitching breaths. "Reese," he whispers, "you, I-"
"Yes," you whisper, understanding perfectly. "Yes."
He grows faster then, more relentless, and a few
strokes later he comes, and so do you, whimpering his
name, so low only he can hear. He lets go of your hand
and you fumble for one another, you touch his lips and
he touches yours, soothing you so sweetly, so tenderly
while the jerk finishes off.
The girl is dreamy. Sated. Her face is pressed to
Ryan's neck. She watches you, a smile gracing her
lovely mouth. Yes, she knows what's happening here,
and for some reason it pleases her. You don't question
why that is, but you reach past Ryan and stroke her
hair in gratitude. She leans in to your hand and
kisses it. Ryan rewards her with a kiss on her
forehead, and she smiles again, serene.
"That was fucking brilliant," says the jerk. You'd
almost forgotten about him, but he's still there,
wiping himself off with a handkerchief. Completely
oblivious to the undercurrents that had passed him by.
The three of you look at each other. The girl titters.
Ryan is grinning.
"Yes," you say diplomatically. "It was." You step away
from the wall and straighten your clothes.
The jerk tucks himself into his clothes and pats
himself down. Produces a crumpled piece of paper with
a phone number on it. He hands it to you.
"Thanks," you say, tucking it into your pocket. You
won't use it.
"Do you need a ride?" He may be a jerk, but you give
him points for etiquette, at least.
"No," you say. "My brother will see me home. But
thanks." You kiss his cheek.
He gets the message. "Okay. Night, then."
"Night."
You watch him leave. Dimly, you hear Ryan and the girl
go through the same rigmarole while they straighten
themselves up. No, she doesn't need a ride. She has
her car. She produces a phone number, too, but to your
surprise, she hands it to you.
"I don't want to intrude," she says softly. "But
you're so beautiful together. I'd like to see you
again. Both of you. Will you think about it?"
She sounds almost shy. You feel rather touched.
You look at each other. Exchanging impressions without
words. At last, you nod.
"We'd like that," you say. "We'll call."
She leaves you there, looking at each other.
He tugs you into his arms when the door clicks shut
behind her. You slide your arms around his waist, and
hold on tight. You can still feel the tremors in his
body.
"I love you, Reese," he murmurs into your hair.
"Same," you whisper. "Take me home, Ryan?"
He drops a gentle kiss on your lips. Nods. And then he
takes you home.
FIN
Author's note: This story was something of an
experiment with second person POV. It was also my
first foray back into erotic writing after a long
break. I was aiming to be obtuse with the
characterisation, which I think worked well for what I
was aiming to do. However, there is a related story,
Seduces Me, which is more developed. I will probably
continue the series in the future, but at this stage I
expect each story to be able to stand alone.
Copyright notice: This story is the intellectual
property of the author. All rights reserved. You may
not repost or redistribute this story without the
express permission of the author. You may link to the
author's website or to the ASSM archives, both of
which retain copies of the story.
(C) 2002 The Secret Grrl
thesecretgrrl@hotmail.com
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/thesecretgrrl/www
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