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Subject: {ASSM} Learning her: part 5
Date: Sat,  7 Dec 2002 00:10:04 -0500
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Learning her: part 5

(C) E. Howe  2002
All rights reserved

Learning her.  Part 5

My breasts flattened against my ribs beneath my shirt.   My hair slid 
across my shoulders, and fanned out over my back and I "UMPH'd" 
when I connected with the floor.  I raised myself by pushing up with 
my hands, flat on the carpet.  Her bare foot came into view beneath my
hair.  On impulse, I kissed it.  

I felt her hand in my hair again, raising me.  I sat up, first on my 
haunches, and them my knees, and still she drew me upwards.  I arose 
to my feet, and she turned, my hair in her hand over her shoulder.
She drew me into my own boudoir.  

Upon entering, she turned to me, and placed her hands to my shirt.  
Grasping the edges of the closure, she pulled, her lips pressed tight
into a white line across her face.  The buttons popped, scattering
across the hardwood floor, bouncing with a sound like rain.  I winced.

Next, her hands were at my waistband, releasing the closure with deft 
fingers, and my skirt fell to my ankles.  I stood in a slip, and
nylons.  The slip slithered down my legs, and then she tugged down the
nylons and my panties.  They puddled at my feet.  

I stood in just my corset, my breasts high and the nipples exposed and
erect.  They had slipped forward of the edge when I'd been on my 
hands and knees.  I missed the brush of fabric on them now.  

She sat me at my dressing table, and made me face the mirror.  She 
took my comb, and combed out my hair, quickly, making me wince as 
she tugged at snarls.   Soon, my hair floated free about me, and she 
gathered it at the nape of my neck.  With a dexterity that surprised
me, she parted it into three strands, and began to manipulate them.  

"A braid?" I thought?  No, not a braid.  She would twist the portion
on the right, twisting out from the neck, clockwise.  Then she passed
it over the top of the other two, to our left.  I watched her in the
mirror.  Over and over, rotating through the strands, twisting out and
passing to the left.  

She affixed the end with an elastic, and tugged on the resulting rope.
Yes, a rope of my hair.  It hung down my back, thick and shining.  She
passed it over my shoulder for me to see, and then took it back, and 
drew me from my seat.  I slid from the stool, and found myself on my 
knees again. 

Between my bed and the dressing table, I knelt, she stood.  I could
see the bed behind her, and longed to be laid upon it.  She did not,
but forced me down on all fours, my hair now a leash for her to direct
my path.  My breasts swung free beneath me, above the top of the
corset.  

I followed.  She led me out to the parlor again, and sat in my chair.
I felt a surge of possessiveness, and anger.  She tugged my rope
braid, and I crawled between her open knees.  Her sex was before my
mouth again.  I moved to place my face to it, but she stopped my head
with her hand, refusing me.  I seethed.  

She placed her fingers against her cunt, and spread her lips wide.
Then she drew back her little hood, and began tapping, tapping gently
at her clit.  I watched, enraged, entranced.  It grew beneath the
tapping, and she finally dipped her finger into her neither mouth and
withdrew it, glistening.  She began to stroke, and then to rub her
clit before my eyes.  I watched.  Again, a woman's arousal is quick,
and easy to miss if you do not pay attention.  I had a perfect view.
Her lips began small, tucked away beneath her outer folds.  She opened
out, and her color deepened, darker red.  I watched in fascination,
and I hungered to taste her again.   I did not dare. 

Soon, she rolled her hips, bucked them up and down, and I could see 
her sex wink, the clit bob, and then she was still.  She had not made
a sound.  

I longed to hear her voice.  How I longed to hear her voice. 

I whimpered once again.  Again, the tug on my hair, and she stood, and
I with her.  Taking me by my shoulders, she turned me, and as I had 
done to her, she bent me at the waist, and stood behind me.  My rope 
braid slid to hand almost to the floor over my shoulder.  

I felt my face flush with blood from bending, and from shame.  Shame 
at being so viewed, to be so open and vulnerable, so exposed.  I lost 
myself in that shame, and felt my own cunt swell.  

I almost jumped, and did cry out as I felt her cool fingers part my
lips, and then to stroke them.  I did not know what to do with my
hands.  I braced myself on my knees with them finally.  She stopped,
and I felt her take her fingers away briefly, only to return them wet
and slippery.  I envisioned her wetting them in her mouth, and
groaned. 

She speared my cunt with those wet fingers.  My hips rocked in 
response, and I could feel her fingers explore me, open me.  I began
to weep with shame. 

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