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From: J <autoeroticrobot@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Wow Thanks Chp. 10
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Date: Tue, 19 Dec 2006 13:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "thanks10.txt" begin>

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
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remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author please do not
delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are authorized.

   The author enjoys feedback and comments:
autoeroticrobot[at]yahoo[dot]com.  ...  Or look me up in Second Life:
avatar Fnugus Abismo.
WARNING: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and

   women, or women and women.  Some of the fictional participants in the
story may be under the age of 18.

   Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons) by autoeroticrobot

   Chapter 10.  Improvisations.

   Denise reached the table, and threw down her most recent purchaes with
triumphant exhaustion.  Lissa looked up, and stood energetically.  I saw
the glance the two exchanged, the subtle, disappointed shake of the head
Lissa gave her mom.  "Here mom, you can sit here - there's only two chairs.
Jason gave the other one away." This last with a flippant gesture of
disgust in my direction.

   Denise was clearly a bit weary on her feet, and sat gratefully, with a
heavy sigh.  Lissa stood with her hands on her hips for a moment.  Trying
to build up the nerve to...  "Here, uncle Jason - let me sit on your lap."
I somehow had known it was coming.  The lap was ready.

   Denise grinned across at her daughter and me, as Lissa perched a little
awkwardly on my knee.  "Don't harrass your uncle, hun," Denise said,
gently.

   Lissa twisted around, smelling delicious, so close, looking me in the
eye.  "I'm not harassing you, am I?"

   "No Lissa.  You're fine."

   This lasted a few minutes, until Lissa volunteered to buy her mom
something to drink.  Denise said sure, and ordered an iced latte or
something like that.  Lissa got up, using her hand behind herself, on my
thigh, to leverage herself up.  Pressing unnecessarily hard.  Ah... 
practicing.  She was calmer again, not as agitated as she'd been a few
minutes earlier...  perhaps she was feeling back in control.

   She was gone some minutes, while Denise and I chatted about what she'd
bought.  Then after a short silence, she said, "Thank you, Jase."

   "For what?" I asked.

   "You're so kind.  You're being so kind to her."

   I shrugged, false modesty.  How could a horny heterosexual male between
the ages of 12 and 102 not be kind to Lissa?  But I didn't say this to
Denise.

   Lissa returned with her mom's drink, and, after a bit of fidgeting,
announced she had to run to the restroom again.

   "Too much soda," I volunteered.  Though I had a different hypothesis I
chose not to share.  Denise smiled indulgently.

   Denise enjoyed her drink, and announced that "shopping is over" for the
day.  It was only 1 o'clock.  What would we do for the rest of the day?

   Lissa returned (still her side buttons undone), and perched again on my
knee.  Less than a minute passed when Denise announced that she, too, had
to use the restroom.

   "Oooh, a seat," exclaimed Lissa, melodramatically.  And it was almost as
if in slow motion: As Denise strolled way, Lissa reached back as before and
planted her hand to leverage herself from my lap.  But she'd perched more
off center, this time, and the hand unerringly landed right on the Johnson
family.  Very well done, my girl.  Push, and launch, and swing around, and
sit.  Like a gymnast vaulting off a new piece of equipment.

   I was impressed, though the fondle had been, inevitably, disappointingly
brief.  Lissa pretended not to have been even aware what had just happened
- total innocence.  The most gratifying moment was when Denise came back up
and I caught the victorious nod Lissa delivered to her mom.  She might as
well have grinned and gestured "thumbs up" like a star athlete.

   Now I wondered, what was Denise's plan?  Rather than sit down, Denise
said we should head back to the car.  As we walked back through the mall,
Lissa suggested we go to a movie.  We decided to put all the bags in the
car and see what was playing at the infinityplex next to the mall.  A movie
was selected - an action adventure thing that pleased me well enough, and
soon enough we were in line buying popcorn and sodas and finding our seats.

   The put me in the middle, between them.  About a third into the movie,
Denise leaned over sharply, to whisper something to her daughter.  My hand
was on the armrest...  her breast pressed against it...  firmly.  Still
leaned over, she said, "I'm running to the restroom, k?" And she was off.

   That was TOO easy, I thought.  Had she planned it, or had she exploited
an unexpected opportunity?  Maybe, as "Finn," I could find out later on.

   Another third into the movie, and Lissa ran to the restroom. 
"Definitely too much soda," Denise giggled into my ear.  I just nodded and
watched the show, feeling weird, proprietary, cuddly, husbandy feelings
toward my sister.  After we exited the movie (which had only been
mediocre), both of them needed the restroom again.  Who could blame them?
Wait, wait, wait.

   We got home about 4:30, and the late fall sun was already setting at
these latitudes.  Denise began concocting something in the kitchen
involving leftover turkey, and Lissa spent some time unpacking their
purchases, and then asked her mom and me if she could go on the computer.
Denise assented, and I helped my sister in the kitchen, and we all had
dinner.

   After dinner we cleaned up (Lissa was diligently helpful, impressing me
- up to that point, I'd been wondering if she ever did chores, and had been
thinking her mother was perhaps spoiling her a bit).  Finally, I bravely
fetched my laptop and perched on a corner chair in the living room and
fired up, and found my way online again, while Lissa and Denise reviewed
their purchases.

   Of course, I found an email from Lissa.  She described the day with some
detail...  not quite the level I've given above, but from a different
perspective.  Basically, a series of masturbation sessions in dressing
rooms and restroom stalls, broken up with some incidental stuff.  She said
she hadn't had much of a chance to talk to her mom yet, but she did "a
fondle" on her uncle, as she put it, "though it was very fast and I didn't
feel anything hardly." She described, briefly, what she did, but spent more
detail on explaining the failed plan that had preceeded it, giving me some
insight.

   The intention had been to try on some panties at Victoria's Secret, and
come out of the dressing room wearing them and ask if they were too tight
and somehow get uncle Jason to feel said too-tightness.  But Lissa admitted
several mistakes: a) she didn't realize how far away the sales clerk would
make him sit to wait while she changed; b) she really didn't have a clear
plan how to get him to touch her; c) worst of all, the panties she choose
were simply far more revealing than she'd expected and when she saw herself
in them, she lost her nerve.

   Once that plan had failed, that ruined Denise's plan to be the one who
groped uncle Jason, and so the rest of the afternoon was improvisation. 
Finally, she concluded, "I brought myself soo close a couple times, today,
but the worst was in the theater - I nearly came and had to like gulp
breaths and was shaking for 5 minutes in the bathroom stall to calm down
from it.  But I was a good girl.  Talk to you later - Lissa."

   As I finished reading the email, Lissa came into the living room.  I
minimized the windows on my laptop, and looked up at her.

   "I think it's time to give mom her Thanksgiving present," she announced.


   "Well...  it's really from you, Lissa.  Go ahead."

   There was some commotion and Lissa had her mom come into the living room
and sit on the couch, and she brought in one of the shopping bags.  "I got
you a Thanksgiving present, mom," she announced.

   "That's so sweet, darling," Denise said.  "What is it?  Pottery Barn?"
That was the bag she'd switched the baby doll into at the mall.

   Lissa shook her head, and pulled out the baby-dolls - lovely emerald
green, notoriously Denise's color.

   Denise seemed genuinely surprised, and I suspected the gift purchase had
been Lissa's own exclusive idea.  Denise admired her gift, and then turned
to me, "you paid for this, didn't you?"

   I nodded, sheepishly.  My sister nodded back.  "I didn't think Lissa had
this kind of cash," she reasoned.

   Lissa seemed annoyed that my role in the whole thing had been as
transparent to her mom as it was.  But she seemed more pleased when her mom
gave her a nice opening of her own, when she asked, "so did you get your
uncle Jason to buy anything for you, dear?"

   Lissa was ecstatic, and ran and fetched her new panties from her room,
and brought them out hanging from her hand.  Now, I don't know for sure,
but I doubt there are many mom's that would have been completely pleased if
a 14 year old daughter had gotten her uncle to buy her panties quite like
these.  But Denise was one such mom.  And it was Denise who proposed that
they both model their acquisitions for their "benefactor" as she jokingly
put it.  "Since he paid for them, after all."

   I could have seen this coming, I reckon.  From the minute Lissa had led
me into the Victoria's Secret store, that morning, this was the obvious
conclusion.  But I confess it hadn't occurred to me.  Really.

   Denise was the first to emerge, in her baby doll.  Very sexy, but no
more revealing that the towel Lissa had been in yesterday.  And, well, yes,
the nipples were pretty obvious, I suppose.  Denise seemed remarkably at
ease, reclining on the couch, as I appraised her with my gaze.  Then Lissa
came in.  She had changed into her nightshirt.  She whispered something in
her mom's ear.

   "Lissa's afraid her new panties are a bit more daring than she
expected," Denise explained for her suddenly shy daughter.  "She's says
they show too much."

   At this, Lissa slapped her mom, but mockingly.  "Mooom!" she complained,
clearly embarrassed.

   "That's ok.  No big deal," I said.  "I saw them in the store...  and
just now she showed them to us.  I don't need to see her wearing them."

   Lissa's embarrassment seemed sincere, though I couldn't help suspecting
there was an element of pretending, given the fact that she must've already
known how much they revealed, having tried them on in the store.  Perhaps a
change of heart.

   "They ARE pretty transparent," I offered, in absolute neutrality.

   Lissa seemed to want to drop the subject, for the moment anyway.  "Mom,
can I go on the computer again?" She said, after we'd stared at the tv
quietly for a few minutes.

   "What is it you do on there?" queried her mother, but it was obviously
rhetorical, soley for my benefit - she actually knew very well what her
daughter did on there.

   Lissa neglected to answer, taking the question as an assent, and
disappeared into the den.

   I was feeling brave and foolhardy...  and the television was
unfulfilling.  I made sure I was angled out of view of both Denise's line
of sight and the doorway to the den, and I reopened my laptop and logged
onto yahoo.

   "Hi, Finn," came Lissa, instantly, on the screenname she and her mom
shared.

   "Hi.  Is this Denise?" I typed, intentionally guessing wrong.

   "No, Lissa.  I think I might be in trouble."

   "In trouble, why?" I couldn't figure out what she might be referring to.

   "I'm breaking one of your rules."

   "Breaking?"

   "LOL I'm wearing panties without your permission."

   "Oh, I see.  Why is that?"

   Denise looked at me from the television.  "What are you working on?"
She'd apparently noticed as I started the sporadic typing of my
conversation with Lissa.  Did she suspect?  I doubted...

   "Just some requirements documents, for work."

   "Sudden inspiration?" she asked.

   Lissa's instant message window was blinking, with her response.  I again
abandoned said requirements document, saying to Denise, "Yeah, I guess. 
TV's pretty boring."

   Denise chuckled.  "No argument from me there." With a quick, decisive
movement, and grin in my direction, she stood and left the room.

   I looked down at what Lissa had typed:

   "Did you see my email, yet?"

   "Yes," I answered.

   "Well mom got this idea her and me should model the things I got with
uncle Jason at Victorias Secret.  I thought oh cool but the panties are
kind of revealing and I chickened out."

   "So you're still wearing them?" I asked.

   "Yep - under my long tshirt I wear to bed."

   "Definitely against the rules," I typed.  Meant mock-seriously.

   Lissa typed back, worried, "Am I in trouble?"

   I gave her a second to stew.

   "Do you want to be?" I finally typed.

   "LOL maybe." she answered immediately.

   Denise returned with her cuddly blanket, which she flung onto the couch
and continued into the den.  I heard mom and daughter's much lowered voices
in there.

   "Mom's here," flashed the next message.

   "What's she think?" I asked.

   "She thinks I should get a bonus task for breaking the rules," Lissa
typed.

   "Logical," I agreed.  "Let me think."

   A few seconds, then I typed, "Why are these panties embarrassing?"

   "My pussy kinda shows.  Hairs, a little, the...  you know.."

   "I see.  Do you feel sexy in them?"

   "Oh god yess," she responded.

   "I think your bonus dare should be to let him see you in them.  I think
you want that anyway, right?"

   "LOL ya probly.  I'm that obvious?"

   "I know how the horny mind works," I said, mystically.

   "Mom's laughing," she typed.  And I actually heard Denise's chuckle.

   "So that's the task?" she asked.

   "There's more," I said, spontaneously.

   "Ok, what?"

   "You said the original plan was to get him to touch them.  I think you
need to carry through with that plan."

   "OMG..." was all she typed.  More whispering.  Then, "Ok.  Talk to you
later."

   And that was that.  Quickly, I closed those windows and returned to my
requirements document, as Denise came back out of the den and snuggled
under her blanket.

   I gave Denise a few minutes to get settled into her spot, while I
pretended to be diligently working on my document.

   "What's she do on that thing, anyway?" I asked.

   "Some game she's into," Denise explained.

   I nodded and did some rapid typing on my document, to make sure they
didn't associate my typing with HIS typing...

   Lissa emerged from the den, and disappeared briefly into the bathroom.
Checking her appearance in the mirror, I surmised...  estimating,
evaluating...  procrastinating.  Finally, she re-emerged.  She crashed down
on the couch next to her mom...  the side closest to where I sat, a few
feet to her left.  Slouched back.

   I kept typing on my laptop, as the two watched TV.  About 10 minutes,
and finally, unable to take the tension myself, I shut down my laptop and
put it away in the den.  Let's see how this would play, I thought.

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