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From: juan smith <cannibaldotcom@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} As One: a story by "Menagerie"
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Date: Fri, 30 Sep 2005 16:10:02 -0400
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AS ONE


The doorbell rang; Sharon straightened her clothes
nervously, checked herself in the mirror over the
mantel.  She had only met Danielle a few weeks
earlier, in the Library Science class Sharon taught as
a graduate assistant; she was two years older than
Danielle, but somehow the younger woman, just a
junior, had seemed far more worldly, more with it. 
"Hello, yourself!' she had replied to Sharon's
hesitant welcome, extending a strong hand and
squeezing her own.  "I've heard a lot about you," she
continued, the eyes under the blonde bangs smiling as
much as the wide, dimpled mouth.  "I wanted to be in
your class, so I asked for it.  Special."

As she introduced the class to the course, Sharon kept
an eye on Danielle.  It was mutual; Danielle seemed to
be taking her in, head to toe.  She was stretched out
in the uncomfortable little seat, her long legs
crossed and sprawled across the aisle, her chin
resting on knuckles, her eyes rapt.  The vivacious
blonde was a half a head taller than Sharon, but
slender as a rail and dolled up in the finest
miniskirt and striped hose Donna Karan had to offer. 
Sharon was dressed conservatively, neatly, dully; she
was envious...and atttracted.  Finally, their eyes met;
the younger woman, of all things, winked.  A flustered
Sharon was tongue-tied; the class titterred...and
Danielle displayed that toothy grin.

They bumped into each other again at the Union
Canteen, chatted over coffee. Danielle's neon blue
eyes never wavered from Sharon's neat, well-kept face.
 They talked about school, jobs, the future. She had
been to Paris, to Madrid; Sharon had never left the
Midwest.  "You've been around this campus a while,"
the younger woman said.  "I just transferred, from--" a
small school, private, for the proud and
public-spirited.  "Where do you go for fun?"

"There's Chez Jack's, downtown," Sharon said,  "and
the Boiler Room's good for dancing--if you dance."

"Do you?' Danielle asked.

"Not much," Sharon admitted.

"Boyfriend?"

She looked down, stirred her coffee.  "No."

"Girlfriend?"

Sharon looked up.  Danielle's face was frank,
inviting...and there it was.  Another wink.


The evening get together had been Danielle's idea. 
"It'll be fun," she had said one day, after the class
had left.  "Listen to a few CD's, tell a few ghost
stories..."

Sharon half-smiled.  "Do you like Beautiful South?"

"My favorite!"  The blonde took both of Sharon's hands
in hers, looked at her eagerly.

Seven o'clock, Saturday night.  Sharon's place, a
stone's throw from campus, was as mild-mannered and
responsible as she was.  Sturdy, dependable furniture
in earth tones; the table nicely set in plaids, a
vegetable casserole warming.  Sharon looked again in
the mirror.  A little broad in the buns, small
breasts.  A round face, stubby nose, a floppy `do and
round-framed glasses.  A little mouse, she had
decided; a friendly, nervous little mouse.

She never made it to the door; Danielle merrily swung
it open.  "Cheers!" she announced, striding in and
offering a bottle of red.  "Let's get girlish!"

Danielle disdained the kitchen for the living room;
plates of casserole and glasses of wine balanced
precariously, they sat first on the old couch, then
found their way to the floor, close quarters.  The
talk was as it had been in the Canteen; Danielle going
a mile a minute, Sharon with the occasional, delighted
"No!" or "You don't say!"  It was as if she'd known
the girl forever, as Jackie Abbott crooned in the
background: "I want my love, my joy, my laugh, my
smile, my needs".  It was really so easy, as hands on
shoulders became hands in hands, legs against legs,
lips against lips...

Danielle's colorful dress slid easily from her slim
frame; as she stepped out of it, her breasts,
outthrust and true, shone in the reflected light from
the street lamp outside the window.  They had moved
into the bedroom; Sharon lay on her back, dizzy from
the wine, from the petting on the floor in the living
room, from the night.  "I'll do you, dear," whispered
Danielle, sliding Sharon's slacks past her hips,
unbuttoning her blouse, one button at a time.  "You
are so beautiful...have you been told?"

Sharon giggled, pulled Danielle to the bed.  They
embraced, arms and legs intertwining, tongues peeping
out, then boldly filling mouths.  They rolled; Sharon
looked down, deep into those soulful, blue eyes.  And
then she was filled with the spirit; the veneer of
mousiness, of prissydom, was cast off.  Sitting up,
she drank in Danielle's long, elegant form, the finely
curved legs, the ribs in shallow detail on her chest. 
"Danielle," Sharon said huskily, and evenly, "I will
make you mine."

For the first time, it was the younger woman who was
hesitant, uncertain.  "Yes, of course," she said,
"I'll be yours."  Their breathing was the only sound
in the room.

Sharon began at her toes, those dainty little toes,
nails a pale pink.  She nibbled as she moved up the
calves to lean thighs, to a womanhood as perfect as
Sharon could ever imagine, a flavor so sweet. 
Danielle had watched nervously at first--the aggressor
was in her blood--but had given way to Sharon's skills,
moaning in delight as her teacher very carefully, very
thoroughly, used her tongue and teeth to caress that
most tender flesh.  They were carried away,
transported to another place, another time...

And the time had come.  Danielle was in Paradise,
would agree to anything.  Sharon said slowly, clearly,
"Danielle...I said I will make you mine...I will make you
a part of me."

Danielle lay very still on the bed, groggy.  It was
the wine, the lovemaking...but it was something else. 
The older woman began to grow in her eyes.  The
freckles on her breasts, her navel, the hairs on her
pussy...all became huge.  Those soft brown eyes, staring
at her from a mile away, a small smile flitting across
her features.

"You will be part of me," repeated Sharon, and with
that she took Danielle's left leg in her hands, placed
it in her mouth...began sucking off the flesh.

Danielle felt no pain; indeed, she felt ecstasy. 
Sharon tasted the soft, supple, sweet flesh, so round
and firm, chewing very carefully as the meat separated
from bone.  The mouthfeel!--It was as the most
perfectly done filet, fibers of muscle separating
neatly, lean meat from the young blonde's calves,
veins of rich fat between the muscles of her thighs
and a thin, milky white layer of the stuff gracing her
buttocks.  Sharon smacked her lips several times,
savoring the beautiful girl's juices.  There was
another leg...

For Danielle, knowing she was disappearing into her
lover's gullet produced an erotic warmth she had never
before known.  The emptiness below her waist just made
her that much lighter, airier; she managed to gasp,
"Please...please, go on."

Sharon had no intention of stopping; her love's tender
meat had her passions worked to a fever pitch.  She
turned to Danielle's breasts, standing high on those
bony ribs, devouring them as one would a rich
dessert...each large bite rolled around in the mouth,
the flavor almost an aroma, rising up into her head. 
With each mouthful, Danielle gave a small yip; she was
coming!  And for Sharon, it was much the same; she
turned so she was crouched above the girl's face. 
Danielle greedily took her in, using her mouth and
tongue in a frenzy.

The belly.  It was taut, no fat, yet soft and smooth. 
Sharon scooped with her bottom teeth; the meat came up
like ice cream, and fairly dissolved in her mouth. 
Beneath her, Danielle's efforts at pleasing Sharon
took on an even more voracious nature; what remained
of her beautiful body thrashed vigorously on the bed,
enjoying a succession of orgasms.  And Sharon also
felt that ping!, her mouth half-full of Danielle's
belly, she arched her back, took a deep breath through
her nose and held it as her body was wracked with joy.

From there, each portion of the blonde's delectable
body became another morsel of unique taste.  Her
shoulders were a fatty, succulent joint, a breakfast
meat.  Her back was thick and strong; strands of
tissue unraveled as Sharon enjoyed Danielle's sirloin,
tilting her head and chewing with abandon.  She shook
her head, her hair swinging as she felt that richest
cut of flesh give her entire body a jolt of glowing
energy.  "Dear Danielle," she said in a low voice; the
blonde, looking up, smiled feebly.  "Sweet
Danielle...may I take what is left?"  The girl nodded,
vigorously; this would be the last.

Sharon bent down and, so carefully, gathered into her
mouth those tender lips.  Her teeth felt as razors,
shearing through the flesh cleanly; it lay moist and
heavy in her mouth, Danielle's gift to her, her very
womanhood.  It was as strong in taste as it should be,
and Sharon again felt the simultaneous tensing and
weakness of orgasm, as she swallowed the delicacy. 
She could stand it no longer; straddling what was left
 of Danielle, she threw back her head and wailed, a
wail of supreme euphoria; she gripped at the last
shreds of her love, now mere bones beneath her clawing
hands...


No one, the faculty, the students. could get over the
change.  The nervous little mouse that had been Sharon
was brash, brassy; it was as if she was trying to pull
them all into giddiness with her love of life.  Her
tutoring took on a dynamic quality as she cajoled,
enticed the class; she was...so worldly.  So with it.

And after class, one day, there was a little
sophomore.  Frail, petite, with red hair, looking at
her anxiously through wire-rimmed glasses.  "Sharon?"
said Madelyn.  "I've heard so much about you.  Are you
going to the Canteen?"

Sharon grinned.  And winked.
 






		
__________________________________ 
Yahoo! Mail - PC Magazine Editors' Choice 2005 
http://mail.yahoo.com

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