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Message-ID: <42544asstr$1053457803@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Hammon Wry <hammonwry@nospamyahoo.com>
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NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 11:40:45 EDT
Subject: {ASSM} Hammon Wry's  Words of the Day for March 13, 2003
Date: Tue, 20 May 2003 15:10:03 -0400
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Hammon Wry's  Words of the Day for Thursday March 13, 2003

tetchy
http://dictionary.reference.com/wordoftheday/archive/2003/03/13.html.

parol
http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/mwwodarch.pl?Mar.13

The speaker droned on, his voice as soporific as the hum of bees on a
summer afternoon.  Tricia fought to stay awake in the lecture hall.
The professor's parol of information was test material--and she dared
not miss the lecture.  

So she found herself squirming slightly, unable to sit still. Her
boyfriend had begun training and was too tired to do more than grope a
bit and ask for oral sex the night before.  She had gone to bed horny
and consequently, had started the day techy.  She was thinking of
dumping him.

The auditorium was tiered, and she sat at mid level, careful to keep
her knees firmly together.  She was begining to regret not wearing
panties when she left the house for classes.  At least she could have
worn a longer, cooler skirt.  The heat of the room was making her
thighs moist, and she longed for a means to let some air onto her
skin. 

Ennui at the droning voice, irritability at being sexually frustrated,
boredom at the lack-luster subject matter all conspired against her.
She took out her pen and opened her note book.  "I'm horny, and I'm
not wearing any underwear" flowed from her pen to the paper.  

In the space of three heartbeats, she heard someone whisper into her
ear from behind her: "So am I, and I bet your thighs are sticking
together right now from more than the heat, aren't they?"

She stiffened.  Her face flushed lividly.  She liked the sound of the
voice--male, soft.  His breath had sent shivers down her back.
Someone must have come in after she did to take the seat behind and
slightly above her.  

"To hell with it", she thought.  "I might as well have some fun!"

She turned the page and wrote: "I'm wet enough to drown a man.  Why do
you ask?"

The voice chuckled softly. Again his breath slid past the veil of her
hair to reach her ear. "Do you ever wonder how Professor White would
react to seeing you flash him?  Why not find out?"

Again, she blushed.  Then she grinned. The pen danced arabesques on
the page. "I'd rather give you a closer look.  What do you have after
this class?"

She felt a hand brush aside the hair on the back of her neck, and then
a finger drawing a lemniscate over and over on the skin just below the
hairline.  Her thighs became wetter. 

The breath and voice combined with the hypnotic tracing of the
infinity symbol sent shivers down her spine.  "What do I have after
this class?  You."

She blushed, and realized that her legs had parted, and the professor
had stopped in mid-sentance.  He was standing with his mouth agape
looking up her skirt.  She slid back in her chair, and pressed her
knees together.

Hammon Wry

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