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From: "S Jacobin" <jacobin_11111794@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Stealing Stephanie (mf rom) repost
Date: Sat, 21 Dec 2002 19:10:04 -0500
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Stealing Stephanie
Jacobin
jacobin_11111794@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 my second story. Feedback, comments, questions, are all
welcome at jacobin_11111794@hotmail.com

   You can find my other stories at http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/jacobin/www

   This work is copyright (c) 2000-2002 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 four paragraphs remain on the
copies. Posting to newsgroups or on websites (with the specific
exception of www.asstr-mirror.org) is not permitted unless you have my
express written or email consent, and then only as long as no money
is charged for access and the author's byline, disclaimer, e-mail
address, and these four paragraphs remain on the story. Please
respect my work as much as I've tried to respect the reader.

   Jacobin

--
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
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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