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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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