Message-ID: <1298eli$9706081041@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: Path: qz!not-for-mail Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: From: Delta X-Good-Address: yep Subject: Delta: THE FAST (f-solo) Should you wish to comment upon my story, I can be reached by E-mail at: delta@bc.sympatico.ca until late August 1997. After that comments should be directed to alt.sex.stories.d Comments and critizisms are welcome. Standard disclaimers: This is a work of fiction - no character within is a depiction of any real person, living or dead. No place or event described within exists outside of the writer's imagination. Copyright retained by the author and this post is for private use of the reader only. It is not to be published in any form whatsoever, including being made available on BBSs, without the express prior consent of author. Any readers who are underage in the jurisdiction in which they reside are asked to please pass by. Delta. THE FAST (c) 1996 by Delta. The whole idea of a fast had been a bad idea. The day had been a bitch. There was no question about it and there was no question that it would only get worse. It was almost over, yet she didn't know if she could last it out. What *had* she been thinking of, Kerri wondered. Still, the end was in sight, and a promise is a promise. This promise was more important than most because she'd made it to herself. Once you start breaking promises you make to yourself, you find it much too easy to break any promise. The pity was that it had all been unnecessary. Kerri cast her mind back to the beginning, shaking her head slowly. She had done it to herself and now there was nothing for it but to stay the course - damn it! She looked into the blue eyes of the woman in the mirror and groaned in frustration. How *had* it all started, anyway? When does a habit cross the line and become an obsession? That was the question Kerri had put before herself. Lately she had begun to wonder. Playing with herself had become a daily, and sometimes more than that, occurrence. The joy, the fun, the excitement she received from masturbating was wonderful, yet when is enough enough. When does it become too much? Was it now an obsession? Kerri didn't like to think that. She didn't like to think that perhaps she'd become addicted. She wondered if she should do something about it. Then, suddenly, she wasn't wondering anymore, wasn't worried anymore. Her body had begun the final build-up to orgasm! Kerri groaned and stroked herself a little faster, imagining that it was a man, instead of her fingers, between her legs, stroking, caressing, moving in and out and . . . oh god! She stiffened and trust her hips up into the air, thighs trembling, breathing stopped, holding back a groan, as the orgasm hit. She held there, motionless, for a long moment before slowly sinking back onto the bed, a long sigh escaping her lips. A grin spread across Kerri's face. It may be an obsession, she thought, but what a lovely one. She couldn't think of a nicer one, one that did less harm. Rather than harmed, she felt warm all over, and a little sleepy. She decided that a shower could wait until morning and turned over to go to sleep. That had been the start. The seeds had been planted. The next morning no thoughts of the previous night came to her until she was in the shower. Then they wouldn't stop. The hot water cascaded across her shoulders and neck and ran down her back as she soaped up her front. She paid particular attention to her breasts, the undersides, the upper slopes, the nipples, and was feeling, oh, so good. She was surrounded by the steam from the shower; the cooler air of the bathroom was held at bay. Stroking the skin was, in itself, an almost guilty pleasure, one not to be squandered by progressing too rapidly. Ah, progressing. Her hands moved down, paying more attention than was strictly required to the area between her legs. And why not? It was early, she had time, who would she be hurting? 'Who would she be hurting'? The question burned in her mind, calling back the thoughts of the previous night, the thoughts about obsession and that this particular pleasure didn't hurt anyone. Was that true? Could it be that it was hurting her in some way? Was she obsessed? She didn't want to think so. No. She wasn't addicted or obsessed. She could stop any time she wanted, Kerri decided. It was just that there was no man in her life at the present time and with no man to satisfy her needs she simply took her own pleasure from herself. It was a healthy attitude. Was there any reason not to? No. There was just one niggling thought. The frequency. Every day - and sometimes (often) more than once a day? Wasn't that a little much? With that thought the joy of the shower had ended, so she simply rinsed off and climbed out of the tub. As she toweled herself dry, Kerri determined that she would *prove* to herself that what she did was simply for pleasure and not because she needed it. She would . . . she would - what? A resolution. That was it, a resolution. She would resolve to not touch herself, give herself that pleasure for . . . . For how long? A week? Not long enough. Two weeks. Two weeks would prove it beyond doubt. Done. Two weeks without masturbating. Yes. That is how it had started. It had seemed a simple enough thing. Just break the habit, for that is what it was, and no problems. Change the way she did a few things and the two weeks would be gone in no time. Yeah, right. Kerri frowned into the mirror, as if the image were the one to blame for her present predicament. "Forgot something, though, didn't you?" she accused the reflection. And then the was that damn film. Decisions, decisions. Granny Smiths or Spartans. Kerri looked over the apple display at the supermarket. What the hell, why not a couple of each? "Kerri. Given any thought to tonight?" Kerri started. "Hi, Lisa. No, not really. What is it this week? French? German?" "No. Spanish. A film called 'High Heels' starring Victoria Abril. It's about a . . ." "Don't tell me. I like to be surprised," she smiled. 'High Heels' - interesting. She loved heels and became more aware of the ones she was wearing, thinking of how they enhanced her legs which, she had on good authority, were 'pretty nice'. One of the great things about college, Kerri thought, was the remarkable diversity of interests which the students held. Lisa and a group of other students had 'discovered' foreign films. She had overheard them talking one day and expressed interest. Now she was part of that group. "I think some of these foreign films are great. You get tired of American after a while. Tell me, do we have to read our way through this one or is it dubbed?" "*You* may have to read *your* way through it - *I've* been taking Spanish lessons." "And you're fluent already?" Lisa stuck out her tongue. "Show-time is 8 o'clock. 'Be there or be square'." "Must be hell, having aging hippies for parents, Lisa. Okay, I'll be there. Heaven knows I wouldn't want to be thought of as being 'square'. Oh, who else is showing up?" "Ben, Sandra, Jim, and possibly Kimberly. And, by the way, my parents are pretty 'hep'. It's 'groovy', don't you know?" Lisa was laughing and Kerri couldn't help but join in. "Whatever you say, Lisa." Kerri answered as soon as she was able, then turned to continue on up the aisle. A thought occurred to her and she turned back. "Oh, I'm curious, is this another 'hot' movie?" "Let's just say that I picked it." Kerri knew what that meant. She grinned, knowingly. "Actually, Jan recommended it. She says there's only one 'hot' scene, but that it's worth seeing. Eight o'clock, then." Yes, eight o'clock. And if Kerri had known what was going to come of it, she'd have missed that movie - or would she have? Thirty minutes into the movie, the scene in question came on. Abril was in the dressing room of a female impersonator, helping him undress, when he suddenly bent over and lifted her up. She reached up to an over-head pipe for support and he let go and left her hanging there, swinging. Her forearms were on the pipe, holding her, her knees were drawn up. She asked him to help her down - she was wearing heels. Kerri nodded to herself. Dropping down while wearing heels could easily cause a twisted ankle or a broken heel. She would come down more easily, the man told her, if she spread her legs. Over her protests he spread her knees and put his head between her thighs. The camera panned up and focused on her face. That was what was so good about foreign films. Emotion was more important than action. They didn't have to show *everything*. There was lots left to the imagination. Even as Abril began to succumb to the enjoyment of the moment, she protested that she'd been fasting for four months. Four months! And here was she, Kerri, worrying about two weeks. Of course, she rationalized, Abril's character was talking about sex. Perhaps she masturbated all the time as well . . . but, four months . . . Throughout the rest of the movie, Kerri's thoughts kept going back to that moment. What it must be like - breaking a four-month fast! The thought of it worked on her and she began to look forward to going home for the night, home where she would be alone, able to imagine, able to . . . Damn! No. She couldn't. She'd already made the resolution. She couldn't break it the first day, she just couldn't . . . . She'd start tomorrow. Two weeks, starting tomorrow. Tonight would be her last little fling. Even as she considered it, she knew she couldn't allow that to be the case. First tomorrow, then it would be the next day and then the next, until she finally gave up on the idea completely. If she did that, she would merely prove to herself that she was addicted, obsessed. No, she'd have to stay strong. However, two weeks from now there'd be a wonderful, private celebration. A two week fast, then a feast, she thought. Walking home, listening to her heels click against the concrete, the echoes bouncing off the buildings, Kerri decided that she was glad she had seen the movie. It gave her a focus. A two week fast, then a feast. She would have a delightful feast, one which she could take two whole weeks to prepare for. A smile came to Kerri's face and she tossed her head, sending her shoulder-length blond hair flying about, and added that extra little sway to her hips as she walked - the sway that all women learn, the one that causes men's jaws to drop and heads to turn. She was feeling good and didn't care who knew it. Kerri came out of her reverie. A two-week fast. That's all, just a two week fast. Nothing to it, eh? Is that what you thought? The woman in the mirror brushed back her hair, defensively. Didn't turn out that way, did it? Oh, the first three days were fine, weren't they? And you thought you had it licked - Kerri groaned at that choice of words - but you were wrong, she chastised herself. Preparing for bed, that first night, Kerri felt a slight tension, a familiar tension, in her body. It knew what was coming - it thought it did, anyway, she corrected herself. "Sorry, not tonight," she grinned to herself and gave her breasts just a little pat, and laughed at the feigned distress of the poor things. It wasn't that much effort to change her ways, to not fall into the habit of most nights. She brought a book to bed with her - not a hot one - read a few pages and then turned out the lights. Sleep soon followed. The next few days were much the same. Some mornings she might run her hands over her breasts when she woke up, before remembering her resolve, but that wasn't much, surely nothing to worry about. Soon she wasn't even thinking of her 'obsession' any longer. And why was that? Because it truly wasn't an obsession. After the third day, just before bed-time, she took stock. The whole idea of 'obsession' had been an over-reaction. True, it was a little strange not doing it, but there was no problem. She laughed at how worried she had been, worried enough to resolve to take a two-week break. Now she realized that her body had its needs and all that she had been doing was pampering it a little. Had her body been her child, she would simply have been 'spoiling' it. The daily (and sometimes more than once daily) aspect of it was simply, as she had before noted, habit. Now she had broken the habit. The lack of sexual gratification didn't bother her at all, though she now wished that she hadn't made the resolution a two-week one. Nevertheless, she had made the resolution and she felt honour-bound to carrying through on it. Once you start breaking promises to yourself it becomes easier and easier - and harder and harder to keep them, she reminded herself. "Ah, well," she reported to her image in the mirror, "it's only eleven more days." Kerri glared at her reflection. Yeah. Only eleven more days. It had seemed so easy. But that was before her sex drive had kicked back in. Everyone has needs, food, water, air and yes, sex. Overeat, drink too much water, hyperventilate or masturbate continually and you will become sated. Your body will no longer require that you fill that need. Stop eating, drinking, breathing, or playing with yourself (or having some other person play with you!) and eventually the need returns. Continue your fast and that need will become more and more dominant. Different people have different levels of tolerance. With air, the want turns into necessity in a matter of a couple minutes. Water and food take a little longer. With sex, in Kerri's case, on the fourth day she received her first 'hunger' pang. It would have come earlier, she realized, had she not been so sated to begin with. It hadn't been much, really, just the urge to stroke her breasts, give them some joy. Perhaps, running her finger-nails lightly up and down her sides would have done the job, too - for the moment. Yes, it might have done the job, but she had resolved not to do this. So she didn't. And the little minor itch had grown. Then she was thinking of it more and more often and it became more and more difficult not to do something about it. Yes, more and more difficult. The taps poured lovely hot water into the tub and Kerri stepped in and sat down. She didn't wait for the tub to fill before entering. Once in, she scrunched forward and lay flat on her back then raised her feet to rest them on the front ledge of the tub and allowed the water to rise around her. In a short period of time her natural buoyancy would lift her torso and she'd lightly float with the bottom of her butt and her feet the only connections with the tub. It felt so good, just floating, surrounded by the warm water. The heavy thrum of water hitting water sent shockwaves through the liquid medium, shockwaves which impacted on her. As the water level rose, those waves began touching her sex. The small vibrations felt so good and she sighed, opening her legs just a little more. She could feel the vibrations throughout her body, so lovely. Kerri relaxed a little more, her mind on distant things, and hardly noticed as her hands splashed some bath oil-slickened water over her breasts. It felt so good. The little vibrations started her body humming and slippery fingers found hard nipples and rubbed circles around them, circles which widened and narrowed. Her torso floated free from the bottom of the tub, rising and sinking in the water as she inhaled and exhaled. It was so beautiful, just resting, allowing herself to float on the tides of pleasure. One hand slowly, languidly, made its way down her stomach, passed through her pubic hair, and on down to her . . . With a sudden splash Kerri sat up, breathing heavily. The abrupt jerk back to reality, to a sitting position in the hot water, left her dizzy and she sat a moment collecting herself before shutting off the water with angry twists of her wrists. Kerri's hands were shaking. She rested her elbows on her knees and held her face in her hands. Her breathing was fast and shallow. She forced herself to breathe more deeply, to calm down. What had she been thinking of? That was the problem, she *hadn't* been thinking. Her body was trembling, aching for the release which she had just denied it. "Damn!" she whispered to herself. It had been close. A little more of that and she wouldn't have been able to stop - and then where would her vaunted resolution be? She would just have to be more careful, she told herself and began shampooing her hair with business-like efficiency, eyes closed against the suds. As Kerri continued, her hands slowed in their ministrations, lightly massaging her scalp, making it feel so alive, so loved. She ran her fingers down slowly through the shoulder-length blonde hair, feeling it slip between her fingers, feeling . . . Her eyes snapped open. She was doing it again! Chagrined, she dunked her head into the water and rinsed off the shampoo. The rest of the bath was a study in efficiency. There were no wasted moves, no lolling about, nothing that gave the slightest indication of pleasure. She moved quickly, ruthlessly and remorselessly. Finally done, she pulled the plug and stepped out of the tub. "Son of a bitch," Kerri swore softly. She toweled herself brusquely, dried her hair and went out to get a small snack before bed. Going to bed at this point, she surmised, would be a recipe for disaster. After the snack, she brushed her teeth once more and headed for bed. By that time she had cooled down. Even so, getting to sleep was a fitful process. More than once she had caught her hand sneaking down her body on a mission of its own. Blue eyes glared at blue eyes. And that had only been the start, hadn't it? It was becoming more difficult to concentrate during class and by the final period of the day Kerri had had enough. "Ready for tonight?" Lisa asked, catching up to Kerri who was headed for the parking lot at a fast walk. Damn. She had forgotten. Tonight was film night. She stopped and turned to Lisa. "What is it this time?" "Belle Epoque." "Another Spanish one?" Kerri had to grin. "You got it. This one's a comedy." "Good." She could use a little light entertainment. "I'll be there." "He'll be there, too. Actually, he'll pick you up." "Who?" Kerri didn't like the way Lisa was smiling. "You know - *him*." Kerri did know. She had secretly, and not so secretly, lusted after Rob for some time now. She knew she shouldn't have let Lisa in on the secret. Now Lisa was trying to set her up. Who was she helping - her or Rob - Kerri wanted to know. Dressing for the film date, Kerri chose a pair of white, lacy panties and matching bra. She gazed at her reflection in the full length mirror, enjoying the look, and the feel, of the undergarments. Next came the shoes. There was something about her figure, naked but for the underwear and heels that pleased her enormously. She cupped her breasts and raised them a little, liking how looked pushed together, the natural cleavage increased. Hot. They looked hot. Turning in a little pirouette, she further enjoyed the look of her backside and walked a few paces away from the mirror, hips swaying outrageously. Better than the poor man deserved, she thought to herself and grinned. She winked a blue eye at the mirror. A comedy, Kerri snorted to herself. A comedy, perhaps, but a ribald one. It was about a Spanish soldier who, in 1931, had deserted and found a place to stay with an old artist. When his four daughters arrived for the summer, he had fallen for them one by one. One, the oldest daughter, who had been widowed the previous year, had been almost desperate to get the young man in her bed. It was too close to how Kerri was feeling to be comfortable. Yes, there was that and the fact that Rob was almost constantly running his hand up and down her arm, stroking and caressing her, making her want more than just this. She knew her nipples, which were engorged, could be made out against the thin material of her blouse and was undecided as to whether she was embarrassed or proud of that. As was to be expected, after such a film, the discussion which followed was full of double entendres, winks and flirtatious glances. Normally Kerri would have enjoyed the playful conversations, but just now each teasing remark seemed aimed at her specifically, trying to tempt her into doing something she would later regret. It is a funny feeling to be aroused and yet know that there will be no fulfillment forthcoming. Funny? Well, frustrating might be a better word for it, yet it is something more than that, too. There is a certain eroticism about it as well. And that eroticism was fully working its way on Kerri. Finally she could take no more, made her excuses and left. Rob followed her out and offered her a ride home. Although she didn't want this, she couldn't turn him down - that might lead him to believing she wasn't interested and to look elsewhere. The warm wind blew in through the open window as Rob drove her home and caused her blouse to whip back and forth against her body. The feel of this, along with the wind blowing her hair, was simply delicious and Kerri closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back, exposing her neck to the touch of the wind, to the moonlight. She was almost unaware that the car was slowing to a stop. With surprise she opened her eyes to find the car stopped in front of her place. Rob's quick eye shift alerted her to the state of her nipples, prominent against her blouse. No wonder he hadn't been talking to her as he drove her home. He had been busy, no doubt, sneaking peeks. Good for him. She hoped he had enjoyed the show. As she slipped inside she almost wished she'd invited him in for a cup of coffee. Almost. Had he made any advances, however, she doubted that she would have been able to resist them. She stood for a long time, just breathing, allowing her body to come down from the level of excitement which it had attained. Surely it couldn't get much worse. Ah, but it could. As the final week passed it seemed that Kerri was living in a world of heightened awareness. Everything she did, everything she saw, seemed to add to the sexual energy which was threatening to overload her senses. Walking into the candle shop to buy the scented candles, her nostrils were assaulted by the perfumes floating about the store. The clerk looked at her a little strangely, she thought, as he handed her back her change. His fingers touched her palm for an instant and that simple touch seemed to send her senses into a frenzy. Outwardly calm, Kerri thanked him, turned and left the store. Did he sense, somehow, that her hormones were raging? She wondered about that. The simple act of walking had become a moving symphony of sensation. She dared not wear tight clothing for the heavy sensations caused by the rubbing of it against her skin would surely cause overload. Yet loose clothing teased and tantalized her with its light touches. There seemed to be no way in which she could win. At a nearby construction site, her eyes were held by the muscular bodies, working in a way almost calculated to set her off. Unconsciously she moistened her lips with her tongue. A couple of the workers noticed her and stopped what they were doing to look her up and down. Could they tell, she wondered, even at that distance, that she fairly reeked of sexual frustration? Didn't they realize that all that they would have to do to have her was to ask? Kerri gave them a little wave as she turned to leave. They didn't know what they were missing, she thought, and had to giggle. Would she have done it there, on the site? She could almost imagine one of those men telling her, "Please bend over, miss. You'll feel so much better." Yes, she could imagine it, and she could imagine herself complying. Thank god the fast was almost over. That night, as she slid into bed, the feel of the sheets against her skin made her almost delirious with desire. Her hand brushed against her skin, running up and down her torso, avoiding her breasts - that would have been too much - until she almost screamed out her frustration. Never, Kerri thought, never would she do this again. Sleep finally came, and with it the dreams. Sensuous dreams of love and making love. Kerri woke to find herself highly aroused, with her hand between her legs. Even after realizing what she was doing she allowed herself a few extra strokes before she jerked her hand away, staring at it in disbelief, as if it were a traitor. Still trembling, Kerri rose from bed and put on her robe. Back to the kitchen again. Thank God, she thought, that she didn't have any fantasies about sex in the kitchen. It was the only safe place she had. With a trembling hand she poured herself a glass of juice and dreaded the thought of going back to her bed. Finally, in desperation, she lay down on the sofa and drifted off into a fitful sleep. That had been this morning, the morning of the last full day. Tomorrow afternoon, at last, it would be over! Her preparations had continued apace. Everything was ready. She had even begun to set things up for the next day. Yes, she smiled, tomorrow afternoon and the feast would begin. But there was still this night and several hours of tomorrow to get through. Could she do that? Would she be able? Every thought she had, every move she made seemed to remind her of sex. Almost every man she saw, she envisioned taking her into a quiet, or not so quiet corner, and having his way with her. Ah, this had been a bad idea! Kerri glared at her bed. The simple act of lying on it excited her, made her wet now. Anticipation of the morrow was having a greater effect than she would have believed possible. Each morning she had awoken with her hands between her legs. The next time, she was sure, would be too much. There was only one thing for it - she couldn't afford, at this late stage, to give into her body - restraints. She put the cuffs on her wrists - what the men in the shop must have thought of her when she had purchased them this morning! She had flushed bright red, but it had been necessary. She just hoped that she would never meet any of them again. She attached the cuffs to straps she had tied to her bedposts. They were long enough to give her plenty of freedom of movement - she wasn't trying to immobilize herself - but they weren't quite long enough to allow her to put her hands down past her waist. She briefly considered putting mittens on her hands as well, but decided that was a little too much. Twice that night she woke, whimpering with frustration, her hands straining at the restraints, desperately trying to reach the core of her problem. This fast had been such a terrible idea! Finally came the dawn. After breakfast, Kerri decided to go for a long walk, a walk which would take care of the time, and not allow her to do anything to spoil the success of her mission. A warm wind was blowing and she walked, so aware of every nerve ending in her body, so aware of what was awaiting her back home. (She had finished the final preparations before leaving.) The wind caused her top and skirt to brush against her skin in ways that brought her almost to a frenzy. The men who passed her looked at her, and she was sure that they looked with greater intensity than they normally did. It was as if they were all aware of the rampant sexuality which was driving her. She knew that her resistance to any suggestion was way down. If one would but ask . . . She had made it! The fast was over and the feast was about to begin. Kerri drew the curtains against the sunlight and lit the scented candles which she had purchased. Several candles were in each room, and she lit one of each group and breathed in of her favourite fragrance. Next she moved to the stereo and put on a compilation of her favourite soft music. She sat back a moment to listen to it, breathing deeply of the scented air. Her eyes closed as she listened to the soft music. A bottle of her favourite wine was sitting, ready, on the kitchen table. She opened it and poured out a glass, took a small sip and carried it, along with a tray of tasty treats, into the living room. All was going well. She could feel the tensions within her relaxing in the knowledge of what was to come, while other tensions started to rise. Nothing, however, would be hurried, yet everything would be taken care of. In her bedroom Kerri quickly stripped, then put on her heels. She felt delightfully naughty as she strutted about wearing nothing but the heels. Her underwear she had previously laid out on the dresser - soft, frilly, sexy undergarments that had her touching her tongue to her lips even as she slowly, sensuously put them on. Little goosebumps covered her arms and she shivered as she looked in the mirror. It was going to be a day to remember. The candles bathed her in a soft light and there were shadows everywhere, making her look softer, more mysterious, more sexy, than she had ever been. Kerri closed her eyes and with a gossamer touch ran her fingers over her face. She smiled and tilted her head slightly as the touch of her fingers awakened the joy. After a few moments of that joy, she opened her eyes and put on the silk pajama bottoms. The feel of the silk as it slid up her legs was indescribable. Kerri let out a little gasp and stood absolutely still, waiting for the sensations to subside. After a moment she put on the top, doing up only the lowermost buttons. Again the slippery silk did unimaginable things to her as it slid over her arms and surrounded her body in a light cocoon of sensation. With a dreamy expression on her face, Kerri swayed, with the music, back into the living room. She picked up a ripe strawberry and popped it into her mouth, enjoying its sweetness. A small sip of wine followed. All of her senses were engaged. Indeed, Kerri was swamped with the stimuli she had organized for herself. It was wondrous. And behind it all stood the reason for this feast of the senses, and it heightened each one in turn. She lit two more candles and turned the music up a notch, as a particular favourite came on. Dancing to the music, the silk slid across her skin, inflaming her senses. Yet it wasn't enough, and reluctantly Kerri undid her bra and slipped it off. Now there was nothing between the sensitive flesh of her breasts, her nipples, and the silk. Her hands come up, fingers extended. They slipped up through her hair and her scalp, her fingers, were tantalized as her blond tresses rose, then fell back to her shoulders. Her hands continued to rise until her arms were stretched out above her head, her breasts pushed out against their silken prison. She stretched and twisted her upper body, causing her nipples to graze across the silk, then slowly allowed her arms to fall to her sides as little shocks of electricity flew up and down her body. God, it was great. Up the music went another notch, and Kerri carried the tray with her wine and treats into the bathroom and set it up beside the tub. She lit the other candles, which were in small glass enclosures, lantern-like, and stood in front of the mirror admiring the flush on her face. Her gaze fell across her hairbrush and, smiling, she picked it up and ran it through her hair, lightly scratching her scalp as she did so. Little shivers were coursing through her body now on a regular basis and she felt herself moistening, becoming ready. A joyful smile crossed her face, only to be replaced by the dreamy expression as one hand stroked her neck while the other continued to brush her hair. Throughout it all, Kerri swayed to the music in a never-ending dance which caressed her skin until it was fairly aflame. She couldn't hold out much longer, she knew, and put down the brush. A liberal amount of bubble-bath was placed in the tub and the water came roaring down, almost drowning out the music. Kerri slowly slipped out of her clothes, allowing the silk to drag its way down her arms and legs. Her heels and panties followed and she stepped into the tub, eager to repeat the feelings of the previous week. This time, however, there would be no stopping. She slipped into the tub and sat down. Another sip of wine warmed her stomach, sent warmth coursing through her. She lay back and allowed the thundering water to come up and surround her, even as the bubbles covered her. Ah, yes, it was great, feeling the vibrations against her, between her open legs. So wonderfully warm and exciting. Her hands brought up bunches of bubbles and smoothed them over her breasts. The steam from the hot water soon made the candles seem like fuzzy lights in a fog. It was so deliciously wicked, she thought, and ran her fingernails down her sides, feeling small muscles jump in their wake. It was so wonderful. She was so safe and protected. The air was warm and close and fragrant, the light was soft and blurred the edges of reality. She existed within a magical place where only her desires mattered, where she was the center of her world. The water encased her in its loving embrace, allowed her to float among the bubbles in this lake of joy. And joy it was, for her body was beginning to shake with the vibrations induced in it by the waterfall. "Ahh," Kerri breathed out a sigh as a small release occurred within her. With her feet she turned off the taps and, once again, the music from the other room made itself known. It was somewhat muffled, yet that quality fit well within the dreamscape of her little world. Now her hands took the place of the waterfall and began to excite her, lift her to heights she had not previously attained. Still she teased herself, satisfying herself with only light, gentle strokes, slowly, oh so slowly, climbing up the slope toward the great release. Her eyelids closed and her head hung back in the water, ears now muffled. Her world was small and dark and glorious. Sensation built on sensation, fingers touching breasts, lips, breath coming in little gasps, body floating in warmth. A great shiver ran through her and she knew that it was time. Her fingers reached down and toyed with that nub of pleasure. Great bolts of joy began firing up her body. She shook and rocked her hips, building up waves in the tub even as the waves of energy within her built. Kerri's mouth was open and she was gasping. Her whole body was a quivering mass of excited nerve ends. "Oh yes, oh yes . . . oh yes!" Time stood still. The waves of energy broke their bonds and spread outwards in an all encompassing warmth. Kerri's legs tightened, straightened and pushed her back. Her head came to rest on the ledge of the tub and a low cry escaped her lips. For a time she rested, then sat up a little farther. It had been wonderful. The fast was over. She picked up another strawberry and placed it gently into her mouth. "Mmmm." Yes, so good. She breathed in deeply and relaxed. Yes, the fast was over, but the feast was not! The water gurgled down the drain as Kerri toweled herself off, then ran the hair-dryer. She blew out the candles, then opened the door and walked, naked, to the bedroom. Her eyes smiled with the taste of pleasure to come as she eyed the satin sheets which awaited her. The music from the living room had ceased and Kerri pushed the play button of the player in her bedroom. That last had been for the joy, the floating, sensuous joy of it all. This, now, would be for the power, the magnificence, of all that she was. She lay down and began, once more, to lightly stroke herself. Long languid strokes, in time to the soft, slow music. Again the energy within began to build. Her nipples hardened and her breathing quickened. This was for those men at the construction site - wouldn't they love to be here, watching this? This was for the men who had turned their heads as they passed - wouldn't they have loved to be a part of this. This was for - for her. Her legs spread a bit, knees came up and feet rested flat on the bed. Her finger found her moistness and spread the oils around even as the music deepened and strengthened. The beat changed, became a driving, relentless being, pushing her onwards, ever onwards. Her hand moved across her breasts, fingers pulled and twisted on nipples. A crash from the speakers and fingers dove deep into her depths, forcing a cry from her lips. Everything was motion. Her hips rocked, fingers flew, head twisted back and forth. There was nothing which would, could, stop her now. Another finger found its way into that dark moistness and she grunted. Both hands were between her legs, legs which pushed and released, bringing her bottom off the bed so far that she was suspended between her feet and shoulders, then let her down again, only to push once more. Thighs trembled, breasts jiggled as fingers strummed across her clit driving her higher and higher. "Oh, YES!" She was coming, coming like she had never come before. Her body twisted until she was lying on her side, yet her fingers never stopped moving, never stopped plunging in and out of her. A soundless scream marked the second orgasm. She was on her front now, squirming, nipples dragging across the satin, mound pushing into her hand trying to stop those wicked fingers. Her legs splayed open, betraying her as she bit into her pillow. The fingers wouldn't stop. Then her whole body was shaking like a leaf in a windstorm. Exhausted, limp, Kerri lay. Sated. Maybe, just maybe, she thought, a fast wasn't such a bad idea after all. End of THE FAST, by Delta. -- +--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+ | story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us | | Archive site +--------------------+------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | \ .../assm/faq.html> /