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Message-ID: <38954asstr$1035641403@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: sylvia@kicksfan.com
Abuse-Reports-To: abuse at airmail.net to report improper postings
Subject: {ASSM} Rave On  (MF, NC, mild BD)
Date: Sat, 26 Oct 2002 10:10:03 -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

Rave On

Will had told her to dress sexy.  It was her first rave, and he wanted
to show her off, he said.  So she wore the leather mini-skirt and the
black lace halter-top he'd bought her for her birthday, and borrowed
her big sister's knee high boots, the ones with the three-inch spike
heels.  She teased her dark hair until it cascaded around her
shoulders in rumpled waves, and wore her brightest, reddest lipstick.
Will called it 'fuck-me red,' and it always got him hot.

She snuck out the back door while her parents were arguing in the
front room about God knew what.  Will was waiting in the alley in his
beat up Mustang, and he whistled low and appreciative when he saw her
coming down the steps.  "You look hot, baby.  Get in."  And she'd felt
hot, and sexy, and maybe, just maybe this was the night.  Will was
patient, he said, but she knew what he wanted and at that moment she
felt like giving in.

He looked good, too.  Dangerous and cool, in torn jeans and a leather
vest over his white t-shirt.  He blew smoke and kissed her with a
mouth that tasted like tobacco and beer and promises, and then they'd
roared away into the night.

The warehouse was teeming with life, and flashing lights.  Blaring
music filled the night around the run down building, loud even
outside, and the party had spilled into the parking lot.  Couples
stood pressed together in the shadows, or dancing in the glare of some
car's headlights.  They drank deeply from bottles of cheap beer and
bad whiskey and passed joints around, the pot smoke drifting in lazy
clouds through the air.

As loud as the music had been outside, when Will opened the door to
the warehouse, she thought she'd go deaf.  Someone had cranked the
bass, and the entire building vibrated with the sound. She felt it go
through her like a pulse, feeling it in her chest and her stomach as
much as with her rapidly going numb ears.  Will turned to her and said
something, but she couldn't hear him over the throb of the music, so
she just nodded and smiled.  He smiled back, said something else, and
then disappeared into the crowd.

'Probably gone to get a beer,' she thought, and looked around for an
empty table, or crate to perch on.  There wasn't one to be seen,
though.  Every available surface was covered with someone else,
sitting or reclining with or on someone else.  The shadows writhed
with arms and legs, and she blushed, moving out into the dimly lit
dance floor and letting the music move into her and move her feet.

It felt good to move, to writhe with the beat, and she smiled at a man
who happened to be dancing near her.  Boy, really, she realized.  Not
much younger than Will, with black hair and laughing eyes.  Come
dance, they seemed to say, so she did.  Pressing her young body
against his, they swayed to the driving beat and danced until she was
breathless and giddy with exhilaration.

The music was still too loud to hear anything, so she pointed to the
impromptu bar and fanned herself, miming a drink.  It was hot, and
Will had been gone too long.  The boy nodded and waved goodbye, and
she blew him a kiss before weaving through the throng.  Boards laid
across sawhorses formed a table and a huge variety of liquors and
beers mingled together in no order at all.  She picked up a cooler and
forked over five bucks to the scruffy looking man minding the store.
It went down cool and sweet, and she rubbed the water-beaded surface
over her hot forehead, letting the cool sink in.

There was a kind of balcony, an open second floor for more storage she
guessed, and there were fans up there, turning slowly.  Maybe it would
be cooler up there.  Maybe she'd be able to see Will from a higher
point, too, she thought.  She climbed the stairs, taking another long
drink from her cooler, and emerged into a deliciously cool breeze
coming from those slow turning ventilation fans.

It was crowded here, too, and she shoved her way to the railing simply
to get some space on one side of her.  The dance floor below looked
like something from Bosch, all waving limbs and contorted features,
and all around was the music, like a living presence itself.  It
writhed and wriggled into everything, filling her ears, her head, her
body with a throb that felt like her heartbeat, but almost
frighteningly strong.  

Then she felt the hands, big and calloused, running up her arms,
taking the cooler from her fingers.  Will, she thought.  He must have
found me.  She leaned back into the warm weight behind her, and
yelled, "Do you want to dance?"  But she did not even hear her own
words.  They were stolen from her by the deafening music almost before
she spoke them.  He responded, though, kissing the top of her head and
then forcing her face forward when she tried to tilt her eyes up to
look at him.

Strong hands.  They ran down her arms again, capturing her wrists in a
grip of velvet iron.  Just to see if she could, she tried to pull
away, and a thrill ran through her when she realized she couldn't.
Her small wrists were held in one hand, with an ease that sent a
shiver down her spine and straight to her privates.  

He was fumbling with someone, and then he moved her arms until she was
cupping her elbows in her palms.  Then warm leather twined around her
forearms, holding them securely in place at the small of her back.
Again, she tried to pull free and again she couldn't, and she started
to feel a fission of fear.

She wanted to turn her head, to see the look in his eyes, if they held
mischief or danger or something more real than all of that.  He
wouldn't let her, though.  Both hands held her head for a moment, and
she was forced to look out over the dance floor and nowhere else.  His
arms twined around her, holding her close with a gentleness that eased
her fears.  It was just Will, after all, and he was just having some
fun.  He wouldn't hurt her.

Pulling away a little, his right hand stroked down the swell of her
breast and rested on her bare midriff.  It was hot against her skin,
and his breath was hot in her ear as he brought his hand under the
lace halter to cup her bosom.  She gasped and shook her head; people
would see.  The people on the dance floor would look up and see her
with Will's hand up her shirt.  She blushed crimson and tried to pull
away, but he held her in place, his hand searing her breast, just
cradling it in his palm and....and brushing his thumb over her nipple.
And then doing it again, and again, until the little nub stood up taut
and aching with sensation that ran from her breast straight to the nub
between her legs.

"Will, no," she said, desperately, but her words were again swallowed
up.  She had a feeling she could scream until her voice was gone, and
no one would hear her.  

Now he was pinching, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb,
and causing all kinds of new sensations.  He was hot against her back,
and she could feel his erection pressed into her bottom, huge and
demanding.  Then she felt his other hand, and a tug on the zipper of
her miniskirt.  The waistband loosened a bit, and then his hand was
slipping underneath it, slipping into her lacy panties, slipping down
over her mons to press against her cunny.  She knew she was wet, was
dripping wet from his attentions to her nipple, but she wasn't ready
for his laugh when he discovered it for himself.

His finger rasped over her labia, pushing in and down, searching for
her clit.  He kicked her legs farther apart with a nudge, holding her
up from behind, and then dove a little deeper.  His questing fingers
slipped through her silky wetness, running over the outside of her
vagina, dancing over the moist petals before gliding up again and
circling her clit.  Oh, it was like fire, like a shudder and a gasp
and a hundred times better than when she touched herself.  This was
sex, this was what it was about, and now she understood why Will kept
trying to get into her pants.

Well, he was there now, and wasn't wasting the opportunity.  He
released her breast for a moment, and then his fingers came back wet,
attacking her other tit with warm tweaks and a rough palm that
squeezed and milked the pleasure out of her.  All the while, his other
hand was busy inside her skirt, and she had forgotten the dance floor,
the other people, because it felt so good, so damned good, and
something was building inside her as he worked her clit, moving his
fingers around in her salty wetness.

He slipped a finger inside her, keeping his thumb resting on her clit,
and then started thrusting in and out, in and out, slowly and
carefully, making sure she felt every moment.  It felt strange, then
good, then better as he added another finger and pinched her nipple
hard enough to make her cry out.

He had to stop, she thought.  He couldn't keep doing this to her.
This was a public place, and people would see, and ohhhh that feels
good, don't stop doing that, oh god please stop.  She rested her head
against his shoulder, her eyes closed in embarrassment, in ecstasy, as
he fucked her with his fingers and teased pleasure from her breasts.
His breath was a warm humidity in her ear, sweet and vaguely minty as
it wafted across her face.  And then she was spasming around his
fingers, the orgasm almost a surprise as he thrust in, and then drew
out to roll her clit between his fingers, drawing out the delicious
shudders until she was wobble-kneed and breathless.

He teased her, making her twitch and moan with each playful flick of
his finger against her clit, then drew his hand out, trailing her
honey across her bare abdomen in a path that started warm, but quickly
turned cool.  She thought he would undo her hands now, turn her and
hug her and laugh and they would dance and then make out like demons
later, in the back of his Mustang.

Instead, he unzipped her skirt the rest of the way and pushed it up
over her bottom, exposing black lace covered cheeks and her garter
belt.  "Stop it, Will!"  she shouted, but he kicked her legs apart and
bent her over the railing a little, holding her there with one hand
while he ran his other hand over her ass.  "NO!"  She shook her head,
daring to look over her shoulder, but he grabbed her hair and held her
head in place, then continued his exploration.

The panties ripped very easily.  She felt them go with one sharp tug,
and then the air was cool on her skin, and her face burned with shame.
His hand was back, spreading her legs further before dipping back into
her cunt from behind.  He thrust his fingers deeply into her, then
pulled them out again and reached forward to wipe them across her
lips.  Wet.  She was wet, and all she could smell was her sex.  Could
taste it, salty and sweet on her lips, and then he was inside her
again, two fingers filling her, twisting and probing.

They pulled out, and she thought maybe that was all.  Then something
else nudged her labia, pushing through and up and in and it was bigger
than his fingers oh god he was fucking her, there against the railing,
with the whole room watching.  He was inside her, just a little, and
she screamed as he pushed in further, driving his thick cock inside
her untried pussy, and she had been right, no one heard her.

It was too big, it hurt, and she tried to pull away, but he held her
as he kept pushing in, and in, until she could feel the wiry hairs
from his pubis against her bottom.  She felt stretched, full and
painful with his hot length buried deep inside her.  Tears tracked
down her cheeks, but no one saw, no one looked up, or tried to stop
him.  She was in a crowd of hundreds, but she was utterly alone.

Except for the man buried in her aching pussy.

He gave her head a little shake, silently telling her to stay put,
before clamping on to her hips and rocking out once again.  His length
eased out of her until just the head was resting in her little cunt,
then he drove in again, pushing her up on her toes and almost driving
the breath from her as she collided with the railing.  Then he pulled
out again, and drove in again, filling her over and over with punching
blows from his pelvis.  He was battering her insides with his prick,
screwing himself into her depths with an angry intensity that left her
shaken and weeping.

Then he reached forward, and found her clit, and started milking it in
time with his thrusts, and the pain became an avalanche of pleasure.
It buried her, leaving her gasping once again as she came around his
cock, her pussy fluttering around the intruder until he thrust one
final time and came as well.  They shuddered as one, crying out with
the intensity of their mutual climax, though no one heard.

The man behind her kissed the back of her neck and pulled out; she
could feel his seed trickle down her thighs as he slipped away from
her.  The warm weight of him against her back disappeared.  After a
long moment, she turned, but there was no one there.  With a sob, she
turned back to the railing and tried to collect her thoughts.  That
was when she saw Will, down on the dance floor, looking up at her with
wide eyes.

You can either laugh or scream, she thought, and then decided to do
both as a new pair of hands snaked around her waist, and a hot length
of flesh was pressed against her, iron hard and urgent.  

The End 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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