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Message-ID: <42125asstr$1051413004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Philip Harris" <pcmail@boxfrog.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Stephanie's Date {MF,mast}
Date: Sat, 26 Apr 2003 23:10:04 -0400
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Stephanie's "Date" {MF,mast}
by Philip Harris 

It was Friday night, still ten minutes before 10 o'clock, and Steph
was already in bed, ready for her "date."  She was dressed in her most
see-through nightgown; it was diaphanous and blue, indecently short,
and with a neckline that closed only by a small bow just at her waist.
She'd bought this nightgown seven years ago, before a first date
with a certain boy.  But he hadn't asked her on a second date, and so
she'd never had a chance to wear the nightgown for him.  She'd never
had a chance to wear it for anyone. 

Steph had the two dildos on the bed beside her, freshly loaded with
batteries.  She'd had to stop in the filthy part of town on the way
home from work to buy them.  David had instructed her to.  Steph had
never used a dildo. 

Steph only knew David from email today.  Steph was thirty-five years
old, she lived alone, and she hadn't had a real date in at least six
years.  Steph was short--well, mousy, to be honest.  Her breasts were
undersized, and her face was very plain, behind practical, dull
glasses.  She tried to stay skinny, but years of sitting at a desk had
made her a little large in the behind. 

Five more minutes until 10 o'clock.  Steph checked that she had
arranged everything right.  She'd lurked on the personals newsgroups
for months before getting up the courage to post herself.  She'd
rewritten the ad again and again during her lunchtimes, for at least
a month, before finally submitting it yesterday: 

   Willing slave girl will submit to any man. 

That's all she had posted, along with a Yahoo email address.  She must
have checked her email a hundred times since yesterday.  When she first
opened her email account after the posting, her eyes lit up to see that
she'd gotten 20 emails in just an hour!  But there were no legitimate
responses, just ads for "penis enlargement," and other spam. 

Her only real answer came today, just after lunchtime, from a man who
called himself David.  They exchanged a flurry of emails all afternoon,
each email getting bolder and more erotic.  Steph didn't have a
computer at home, and she didn't want to lose her new boyfriend over
the weekend, and so she had given him her home phone number, and he'd
proposed this "date." 

Steph could remember her last real date with a boy.  She was, yes, 29.
He talked about installing wallboard, which was his job.  Where was all
the hand holding, the copped feels, the sexual innuendo?  Steph had
never had a date like that.  She'd given her virginity to a drunken
date in college, and he hadn't even remembered it the next morning. 

She'd had a boyfriend when she was twenty-four, for about one month.
She'd had sex with him every weekend.  She'd even tried oral sex on
him, but he didn't seem to enjoy it. 

"You like fingering, don't you?" he'd said, and he did that to her
often enough, but he only fucked her on Saturday nights.  She was
horrified when he told her that she got wetter than other girls, even
though he'd claimed that it was a complement.  She learned to put a
big towel beneath herself in bed. 

Steph had a few dates after he broke up with her, but mostly she got
just one date with each guy.  And when they had sex it was always a
one-night stand.  Steph began worrying that her wetness disgusted
men, and after that she seldom dated. 

After Steph turned thirty, she kind of forgot about sex for a while.
She felt horny sometimes, but her wetness was an embarrassment whenever
she played with herself.  For a long time she just went without. 

Then about a year ago her urges seemed to grow.  She explored herself
again, always using a towel underneath.  She had to start spraying her
bedroom with perfume. 

Steph knew that there was sex on the Internet, and sometimes at work
when there was nobody else around, she went looking for it.  Gradually
she found newsgroups where men and women hunted one another for sex,
and where they wrote erotic stories about their fantasies.  After that
she had to start bringing extra, dry pairs of panties to work with her. 

Bringgg!!!!  The telephone's ring startled her.  It was now six minutes
past 10 o'clock, and Steph had become worried that David wouldn't call
after all. 

She picked up the telephone and answered a timid, "Hello." 

"Stephanie?" a man's voice asked uncertainly. 

"Yes," she said.  Her panties had become uncomfortably wet while she
was waiting, and she suddenly felt a renewed flush of excitement there. 

"I'm David," he said, and then after a pause, "Are you ready to do the
things that you promised me?' 

"Yes," Steph answer.  My god this was exciting!  She felt as nervous as
if he were in her bedroom with her.  She'd never done anything like
this before, and had never let a another soul know about her urges.
But in her emails today she'd told him an awful lot.  She'd promised
him a lot! 

"Are you in bed, ready for sex?" Dave asked. 

"Yes," Steph said. 

"Did you get the two dildos, the big one and the small one?" 

"Yes." 

"Turn on the big one, low, just to listen to it humming for you." 

Steph turned on the bigger of the two dildos.  At first it roared to
life like a racecar engine, making her afraid of it, but then she
turned the vibrator down to something quieter. 

"I don't want it shaking roughly," Dave said.  "I don't you to cum too
quickly.  Just let it buzz like a sleeping bunny rabbit." 

"It's quiet," Steph said.  She was already gushing.  She knew that she
was going to cum very easily, and very soon, and many times. 

"Put the persuader down for now, I just want you to listen to it," Dave
said.  "Are your breasts bare for me?" 

Steph's nightgown didn't really cover her breasts, but she spread the
neckline open to expose them anyway. 

"Yes David," she said, "They're bare for you." 

"Describe them to me," David said. 

Steph looked down at her smallish breasts.  They were little cones,
like those cone-shaped paper cups for water coolers, and her nipples
were light pink caps that turned just slightly downward, and slightly
toward the outsides. 

"Um, they're pink, and small, and . . ." 

"Touch them," David interrupted.  "Tell me what they'd feel like in my
hands right now." 

Steph cupped her left breast with her right hand.  It didn't feel
special to her at all, but she tried to imagine what it would feel like
to a man. 

"Uh, they're soft, warm.  They feel good to my fingertips.  It feels
good having my fingertips touch them." 

"Rub them Stephanie," David said.  Open your fingers flat, and rub them
in circles on your nipples for me." 

"Okay," Steph said, doing as he wanted, holding the phone to her ear by
tilting her head. 

"Where is the big dildo now?" he asked. 

"It's buzzing on the bed.  It's rolled down against my knee." 

"Then you are sitting up?" 

"Yes." 

"Then keep rubbing your nipples for me, but use your knees to work the
vibrator between your legs.  Press your clit against the dildo's head." 

Steph did it.  It took her several tries to get the dildo into place
without using her hands.  But oh!  She was ready to cum as soon as it
touched near her clit. 

"Okay," she said.  "It's working on me." 

"Hump it," he said. 

"It keeps moving away."  By now she'd stopped rubbing her nipples, but
she kept her hands clenched on her breasts, trying to get the dildo to
her pussy using only her legs and hips. 

"Keep doing that until your panties are wet for me," David said. 

"Oh they're soaked now," Steph confessed. 

"Good girl.  Now you can stop rubbing your nipples.  Are they erect and
ready for me?  If I sucked on them now would your nipples be firm for
my tongue?" 

"Yes," Steph answered truthfully.  Her nipples never showed through her
clothing the way nipples sometimes did on other girls, but now they
were truthfully aroused and betraying. 

"Lie down in bed now Stephanie," David said.  "Leave your panties on,
but pull them aside and slide the big dildo inside you.  Deeply." 

Steph did as he asked, although she'd never put anything other than a
tampon into her before.  She climaxed right away, luxuriantly,
discovering a spot inside her that she'd never known before.  Gasping
for breath, she held the telephone away from her face to prevent David
from hearing that she'd cum so soon. 

"Is it inside you?" David asked. 

"Oh yes," Steph answered, after a deep gulp.  For a moment she could
hardly breath. 

"Now slide it in and out slowly," he instructed.  "Let it make you
horny." 

Steph's pussy was still quivering from splendid orgasm.  Ordinarily
this would have been enough for her, and she wanted to rest, but she
did what David asked her to do, passionately easing the buzzing coaxer
in and out of her pussy. 

"Press it in deeply," David said.  "Make it fuck you.  Let it rape you.
Are you fucking yourself with it Stephanie?" 

"Yes," she said, "I'm fucking myself with it."  She pressed in deeply,
but kind of upward toward that spot.  Oh god! 

"Put the phone down there and let me hear," he said.  "I'm going to
time you with my watch, and I want to listen to five minutes of
Stephanie fucking herself slowly and deeply with a dildo, understand?" 

"Yes," Steph said, and with her left hand she held the phone receiver
between her legs while she dildoed with her right hand, timing herself
using her bedside clock. 

The five minutes seemed to last forever, and Steph was a gushing mess.
She had at least two quivering climaxes, and juice kept flowing from
her. 

"There," she said into the telephone after the five minutes were up.
Even the phone was messy.  "Can I rest for a moment now?" 

"No, now I want to hear you cum for me," he said.  "Take your panties
off now, and put the telephone down next to your head.  Take the little
vibrator and turn it up half way.  Let me hear it.  Turn it higher than
that.  Now I want to you keep penetrating with the big vibrator, but
use the little dildo on your clit.  Keep it working there.  I want five
minutes of that Stephanie, and I want to hear you cumming loudly." 

Stephanie's yelling confessions of orgasm were genuine.  She did just
as he said, although she couldn't keep the little dildo on her clit for
more than a few seconds.  He made her do it again and again, and
although the ordeal didn't last an entire five minutes, Steph's
climaxes became painful.  Still he made her continue, until she pleaded
that she could give no more. 

Tears soaked her eyes, both from pleasure and ordeal, and she was sure
that her juices had soaked through the towel beneath her and onto the
bed. 

They talked on the telephone for another forty-five minutes after that,
with David insisting that Steph lie naked, her tits exposed and her
tired pussy dripping, while she confessed sexual fantasies to him.  It
felt good to her, being naked and sexual while revealing herself to a
man.  She felt intensely sexual.  Her breasts even
felt . . . more womanly. 

David praised her sexual performance, coaxing two short repeats from
her.  The last time, before they ended the call, David came with her.
Steph had never really heard a man cum before.  Her other lovers had
been silent grunters, while David shared his sensations aloud as he
described his actions to her.  When he described his semen, shooting
hot and sticky upward and then raining down onto his hand, Steph
stroked her breasts, feeling as if she were actually taking his
rough, man's hand and using it to rub his cum onto her tits. 

Cautiously, Steph revealed to David the nearest big city to where she
lived, and David revealed what state he lived in.  They agreed that
they lived close enough together that they might actually arrange to
meet sometime.  Steph deliberately didn't ask David if he was married
or anything. 

As they said goodbye, she didn't ask him for another "date," thinking
sadly that this was probably just another one night stand, but then
before David hung up he asked, "What time should I telephone you
tomorrow for breakfast sex?" 

 --- 

The author appreciates comments, at pcmail@boxfrog.com 

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