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Message-ID: <47605asstr$1082895004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Lucinda Greely" <starlingstories@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Acting on Impulse (MF d/s fdom con span)
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Date: Sun, 25 Apr 2004 08:10:04 -0400
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Acting on Impulse

Neil and I were the only ones left in the auditorium after the
parents all came and collected their kids from the school play
dress rehearsal.  We had stayed behind to sort out the costumes
and put the finishing touches on the backdrops.  It was the
middle of winter,  there was a blizzard outside, it was nearly
midnight, and neither of us wanted to go anywhere just yet.  So
we plunked down on the edge of the stage and had some tea  from
my thermos and got to talking about the fourth graders, while
trying to work up the will to go out there and scrape the ice off
our cars.

Most of the time, we're just the normal sort of friends and
coworkers doing typical friend and coworker things: we chat over
coffee, we go to staff meetings, and last summer he got me to
take up scuba diving. But every now and then, especially when we
have been working very hard, something else happens.  We normally
don't talk about it except in the afterglow.  It's one of those
things you can ruin if you overanalyze it.

Tonight, I could tell it was going to happen again.  I watched
the way his hair slipped from behind his ear and brushed his
cheek as he strung sentences together about how we could have
done the backdrops differently, and his words started to blur
together.  Eventually he caught my look and stopped talking.  He
got really quiet as we just looked at each other for a while,
until I broke the silence to get his permission to borrow him.
"Borrow" is a word that has a special meaning for us.

I climbed on top of him and straddled his lap. We started
kissing, and he grabbed me around the waist, pulling me in close.
 I pulled his hair and nipped at his neck, though not as hard as
I would have liked; fashion doesn't give men a lot of good
options for covering the marks.   I was starting to get all hot
and bothered, but he kept glancing at the door.  Every now and
then, the wind would gust and make it rattle as though someone
were trying to come in. At first, I was disappointed that he was
being so distracted  when the likelihood of someone actually
turning up at this time of night was so astronomically small, but
then I got an idea.

I took off my paisley silk scarf, folded it to make a blindfold,
and tied it around his eyes.  Neil got really still and listened
as much as he could while I took off his shirt and tie.  I
shifted back off of his lap, and undid his belt, which I then
slid slowly out of the belt loops as I toyed with the idea of
beating him with it.  That seemed a little harsh to start with,
so instead I slid the worn leather over his arms and shoulders,
and finally hooked it around the back of his neck and pulled his
head towards me.  He leaned willingly forward and wrapped his
bare arms around my shoulders while we enjoyed another kiss, this
time slower and with more tongue wrestling.  When we came up for
air, I dropped the belt and stripped off his pants with a lot of
extra touching and feeling along the way.  He tried to get his
hands under my blouse, but only got as far as realizing that I
was actually wearing a one piece dress before I finished getting
him naked and stood up.  I fetched the ruler that lives in the
bottom of my briefcase, and I got him to lie across my lap, still
on the edge of the stage, while I spanked him lightly with my the
ruler and with my hand.

I could feel him squirming and  getting hard against my legs,
encouraging me to keep it up - well, the fascinating range of
noises he was making helped too.  He's very expressive.  People
don't often talk about vocal range as a significant feature when
discussing their lovers, but I thoroughly enjoy the many sounds
of pleasure and pain.  I scooted out from under him and straddled
him for a while, kissing and biting his back and pulling his
hair, scratching him all over while he held his hands clasped
tight behind his head until we barely knew where we were any
more.

When a quiet moment came and I was scratching him lightly and
feeling him shake like a leaf, I once again noticed the creaking
and shuddering of the building as it settled on its foundation
and got was buffeted by wind.  I thought it might be fun to make
Neil think about where we were again, and that getting him up on
all fours with his butt facing the seats at the edge of the stage
would be a good way to do it.

It was a clumsy process, since I was in one of the compulsively
quiet moods I get sometimes and didn't want to explain. He wasn't
sure what I was trying to get him to do with all the tugging and
prodding. He started to laugh and turn around in circles on his
hands and knees, which reminded me of a dog chasing its tail.  I
started laughing, which snapped me out of my weird quiet mood.  I
chased him around, smacking and poking him playfully with the
ruler, until just by chance, he ended up where I wanted him.  I
thought for a moment that he was going to back up off the edge of
the stage if I didn't stop him, but his toes touched the thin
strip of carpet at the edge, he realized where he was, and he
stopped on his own just as I leaned down and grabbed him.  I had
him promise not to move. I walked over to the lighting panel, and
turned on all the stage lights.  He must have been able to the
change in brightness through his blindfold, and feel their heat
on his body, but he was gutsy enough to keep his promise, even
when he heard me slip out into the corridor.

I popped into the 7th grade room and looked around quickly for a
suitable phallic object.  I found a big fat whiteboard marker
with a rounded cap that was just perfect.  I hurried back to the
auditorium and found Neil right where I left him, much to my
delight.  "Welcome back," he said, hopefully.  It would have been
nice of me to answer and give him a little reassurance, so I
didn't.  Instead, I fiddled with the lights, adjusting several of
them so that they pointed directly at his back and his backside.

Once I was satisfied with the lighting, I sat down on a seat in
the second row. I slipped my underpants off and set them down on
the seat next to me, then propped my feet up on the back of a
first row chair.  I took my sweet time and masturbated with the
marker and my fingers while I watched him up there on the stage,
shifting his weight every now and then, breathing slowly, and no
doubt wondering what on earth I was doing.  In the hot stage
lights, his beautiful body began to shine with sweat.

As much fun as I was having playing with myself, I can do that
any time.  The desire to play with him won out, so I took the
marker out, and climbed back up on the stage.  After a little
playful pinching and scratching that made him squeak cutely, I
knelt down beside him and poked the slippery pen into his butt
and slowly started to wiggle it and slide it in and out. He asked
me what it was, and when I claimed that it was the tail of a
monitor lizard, he mumbled doubtfully that it didn't seem like a
very lively creature, but didn't press the issue.  He told me
afterwards that he could have almost sworn he heard someone come
in at that point.  I didn't hear anything out of the ordinary, so
I grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling his head back, as I got
more forceful with the marker. I could tell that his breath was
catching in his throat as he tried not to make a lot of noise. 
Since Neil is normally  so expressive, I knew that he must be
feeling particularly self-conscious. Perhaps he wasn't completely
sure that we were still alone.

When I got tired of playing with the marker, I stayed right
beside him and spanked him silly while he did his very best to
stay still and not cry out. I placed my left hand on his thigh so
that I could feel his body twitch and his muscles tense up with
each slap.  I love watching him struggle with himself as much as
I love watching him struggle with ropes or duct tape, but the
heat from the stage lights was starting to make me uncomfortable
since I was wearing a black dress.   I gave him an affectionate
pat on the shoulder, then retreated to my spot in the second row
and finished what I started earlier, minus the marker.

Content, if not much cooler, I finally climbed back up on stage
and hauled Neil to his feet, then turned him around.  I told him
to take a bow because his audience had really enjoyed the show. 
(Hey, it was true!)  He didn't do it at first, but with a little
coaxing, he placed his hands together humored   me by giving a
quick, oriental style bow.  I took the blindfold off at last.  He
squinted intently at all the empty seats, and then a big relieved
grin blossomed on his face.

I was reaching for his hand, intending to drag him backstage for
a carnal romp in the pile of unexplained foam chunks, when we
heard a door at the other end of the building open for real.  It
was unmistakable.  Neil reacted first.  He scooped up his clothes
and made a beeline for backstage, and I followed a moment later
after snatching the marker.  Neil scrambled into his underwear
and pulled on his pants.  I tied my scarf back on and fixed my
hair as the sound of footsteps got closer and closer to the
auditorium door.

The auditorium door opened, and we froze like two deer caught in
headlights.   Whoever had entered couldn't see us any more than
we could see them, and so complete silence seemed like the best
plan.  The footsteps stopped at the piano to the right of the
stage, and we heard the piano stool scoot back.  A moment later,
the person started to play.  To this day, we have no idea who it
was.  As the piano player struggled through "Sunrise, Sunset"
from Fiddler on the Roof, hitting wrong notes and butchering
chords, we snuck down the backstage stairs to the basement.  We
paused briefly for Neil to get his shoes, shirt, and tie back on,
then scurried through the locker room, and snuck up the stairwell
at the other end of the building to get our coats and boots from
the staff room.  It felt like being sixteen and trying to sneak
in after curfew when every single door and floorboard was
determined to squeak.

I didn't dare go back to the auditorium to get my briefcase and
possibly face awkward questions about the underpants on the
second row seat.  If we left right away, I could more easily
claim ignorance and forgetfulness.  Speaking of forgetfulness, I
don't think Neil is ever going to let me forget about our narrow
escape.  Now every time I ask to borrow him, he asks if it's
going to involve a piano recital.

Off we went to our separate homes in the blowing snow to catch a
few hours of sleep.  I went to work quite early the next morning,
hoping to retrieve my briefcase and underpants unobtrusively. The
underpants were gone, but my briefcase was still right where I
had left it. I collected it and trudged upstairs to the staff
room to drink copious amounts of coffee in a vain attempt to make
up for the lack of sleep.

I never heard a word about anyone finding my underpants.  Neil
and I did finally get to have our long overdue carnal romp a
couple of weeks later, but that's another story involving a flea
market, bubble tea, and a big red sombrero.

This smut has been brought to you by
starlingstories^at^hotmail^dot^com

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