Message-ID: <13323eli$9807241416@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: munster@eden.rutgers.edu (El Sol) Subject: Intro to your Seduction (?/f, let your imagination be what it will) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <6p81fh$f2v@er7.rutgers.edu> I was working on another story and decided I needed a break. Reading this story, I decided it could do with some touching up and what the hell, why not repost it. Shrug, email me or not. This is a different version than on my webpage but just grammatically. My webpage is http://www.eden.rutgers.edu/~munster. If you want to read A Master's Ring or some ongoing projects http://www.eden.rutgers.edu/~munster On The Other Side of Seduction (An instructional on your seduction) ElSol In the middle of a hunt, you can lose a part of yourself. You learn things about yourself: maybe you change. Sometimes when what you learn doesn't conform with the vision you had of yourself, the hunter becomes the hunted. "Hello" I say to her as she walks into the lab at that hurried pace she sometimes uses. It's not a quicker pace like most people, more a runner lengthening her stride. She flashes me a hurried smile before entering the manager's office. I watch, enjoy the smile, look back at my screen. She's attractive in the same way ______ is attractive but quieter. Maybe that's why I like her. She's friendly enough to flash me a smile now and then but we don't really know each other well. Actually, she doesn't know me at all but that's okay. I have patience on my side. A week later, I've got her schedule down. It's important to have these small meetings. "Hey, ________. I didn't know you worked today." Especially at night, there's no one else around to talk to. You don't want to do homework. The net has nothing new you need to look at. It isn't late enough in the semester for the lab to be bombarded with users. A couple of hours where you can have a good laugh, talk about her life (absolutely important as an ice-breaker), if she has a boyfriend or maybe girlfriend, if she's looking for a new lover, etc.. The establishment of a comfort zone. I've decided I want her, but I want to see if it's even a thought. At the end of the first of these night, I can call her ___. Small steps in your seduction. It gets interesting later in the semester. It's a ride to get to the lab when she works, but *shrug*. It's no big deal and I have to write papers. She's more comfortable around me. She knows how much I appreciate women, from the few times I've worked with her and the users I unabashedly stare at. It's amusing but an obvious way to say "You're definitely my type." if you can carry the harmless, but sexual sharpness. After awhile, it's innocent flirtation. Well, innocent for her, I'm rarely innocent. Little things like teasing her about how cute she looks in an outfit. Cute is your best friend in describing a girl. Pretty is serious. Gorgeous is almost a commitment but cute; cute is innocent flirtation. One night, she's obviously stressing. Thank you college for mid-term stress. I try to relax her with a few interesting tidbits from the web, before long we're playing "Link to Porn". The introduction of sexuality as humor. Later on as she's studying, I innocently give her a quick shoulder rub. 30 seconds on my way out as I read over her shoulder whatever she's studying. There's a moment of surprise but it's all very friendly. She relaxes. I flash her a smile goodbye and go home to the company of my own mid-term projects. Later, the shoulder rubs gravitate to full on-duty back-rubs. If consultants, look at us weirdly I offer them one too. I'm good with my hands. They're large for my size. It's all friendly, for her. For me, it's different. Very different. Her body learns the touch of my hands, maybe if I'm lucky learns to like it. It relaxes when I do thumb circles up and down her spine. Massaging the connection of neck and shoulder. In that soft spot, behind the lower ear. And of course, ear lobes. Eventually, my hands travel to face rubs. They're not very sexy to most people, but think about the instinctive reactions to foreign objects approaching your eyes. Trust. Plus a temple rub, can be heavenly for stress. It's all innocent. Just a fellow worker that handles stress differently helping you relax. "No, believe me this really helps me relax. With my hands, doing all sorts of interesting things to your body. Well, I can think about other things without my body getting in the way." Each a small step in your seduction. We have social outings. Never quite a date, or even anywhere near a date. A movie night. The diner after work. A party where I make myself available to her use as food handler, clean-up person, someone to reminisce over who got shit-faced drunk and who hooked up with who. Finally, at work during weekends, lunches together. As fellow employees. Someone at the lab asks her "what is going on between you two?" She hesitates. In the corner, I smile. "We're just friends." she replies. She had to think about it? What is going on between us two? Time for a not so innocent move. One not particularly original ploy, but tested classics are the way to go I've found, is flowers. Strange flowers, to be original. Not flowers someone always gives a woman; roses, carnations etc. But lilys, at the beginning of spring maybe HUGE sunflowers. I couldn't help myself, they were so funny in florist shop 3 foot blooms among tiny little roses. A quick smile that says everything I just said is bullshit, these are for you but I don't know how to say it. The shy routine is a tested classic, too. Maybe now, the flirtation is not so innocent. But I'm still a friend; someone safe. A lot of people hate being "safe". I don't mind it. I have patience on my side. Want to talk to me about how much of an asshole your current boyfriend is and not be judged, I'll be happy to listen. I won't give advice. I'll say everything a "safe" friend is supposed to say. Now, the back-rubs are never quite innocent. But that's okay, she still says yes. Now, I'm not so safe. Not dangerous, not yet a possibility but someone more patient than her. I've waited before and after she's gone I'll wait again. I have patience on my side. Another social outing among our pack, I'm a lot quieter enjoying the environment, not really a part of the pack. Walking the outskirts of it watching the centers of attention amused. Circling. She comes outside the pack to talk. I smile. Point her toward an interesting movie poster. We walk over to poster, separating both of us from everyone else. We talk about the movie; somehow we decide we don't want to see the movie everyone else is seeing. She's not really in the mood for a grunt, flex, grunt movie. I laugh at her description and shrug. I wasn't really in the mood for a movie I say, I just came cause you were gonna be here. A smile. Oh really. So what movie do you want to see. I don't know. Well, there's always the girlie flick, over there. Hmm, romance, comedy. Yeap, a girlie flick. She playfully pokes me. I pout. Hey, I'm the one making the sacrifice from the flex, grunt, flex that I "love" so much. "Battle on Xena." She laughs, oh yeah, and it's grunt, flex, grunt. Well, I want to see this one. I nod. The pack barely noticed us gone, and noone really argues when we say we want to watch something else. I'm all stoic innocence. I didn't say it was real innocence, after all if she's willing to be separated from the safety of numbers. *shrug*. It's an interesting movie. Kinda like a romance novel, boy meets girl. Girl likes boy, but is unsure if he's the right one. Boy wants girl but that's it. Girl wants more. Boy decides in the end he wants more too, yadda yadda yadda. It's funny but more so because of the comments that fly back and forth between us. There's only 6 other people in the theater, all pretty much doing the same thing so no one cares about the excess noise or laughter at an inopportune moment in the movie. We said we would meet up with the rest of our friends at the diner, but at the moment we have a comfort zone between us. I ask if she wants to go to Denny's instead. Incredibly, she says sure. It's fun, we sit around eating bad food, and talking about nothing really important, just talking. She drops me off at my place later on that night. I say goodbye and walk inside. We get teased about the whole situation for the week, but stoicism is very effective against most teasing. She just keeps saying we're just friends. We are. We start seeing each other more often. As friends. I don't have transportation to get to a good theater so it's a ready made excuse. After a movie, going out to eat seems natural. We're just friends. The problem with playing the 'hang-out friend' angle is that along the way you might get caught having to make a turn in the maze because you are a friend, and not a possibility. It sucks but then I can usually work myself back if I'm careful. It requires waiting patiently for the right moment to reestablish certain facts in her mind, but some women are so worth it. It happens somewhere along the line. I am now not a friend but 'just a friend'. It's an amusing state but at the same time frustrating. I wait. Small things reestablish my sexuality, like talking to other women at the mall, or the movies. She looks annoyed at times, but then again I'm just a friend. I make sure I don't neglect her. On the other hand, I was the one pushed into the friend zone. There have been times where there has been no way out. Those times you accept your friendship for what it is. Laugh at yourself (it's healthy), and swear off women for the rest of your life or at least 24 hours. There I am looking for a way to get out of the safe place of asexual friendship and going nowhere fast. We talk at the lab and are both in the mood for a movie. I say let's do something different. What? Let's get a movie or movies from Blockbuster, and get some take-out. Yeah, that sounds cool. My place? She nods and goes to help a user. A sliver of excitement, maybe, maybe. Then again maybe not. After work, we head off to Blockbuster. The ritual arguments about what two people don't and do want to see. We agree on each picking one movie, since it's a Friday night and neither of us have shifts 'til Sunday night. maybe, maybe, maybe not. We both pick a movie, we laugh at each other's choices. She picked a grunt, flex, grunt movie and I picked "Pretty Woman." Julia Roberts is money. We proceed to have an argument about what type take-out. It's not really an argument. It's well, what do you want to eat? I don't care you pick. I'm not really in the mood for anything you pick. Hmm, but I don't know if you would like what I would pick and I don't really care, you pick. I'll like what you pick, pick. Pizza. No, I ate pizza for lunch. Then you pick. No, I just forgot no pizza, you pick. Deli. For nighttime, no way. Pick. No, you pick. Chinese? Yeah, that sounds great. You realize, you picked. No, I didn't. Of course, there's the from where discussion. It's not the first time we've had this discussion. We both have the same "if we're with someone else they get to pick what we do" syndrome. Finally, we have the movies, the food, and are laughing at our made-up discussion about where she should park, along the line of you pick ;no, you pick. Inside, I'm glad I cleaned up this week. She looks around curiously. I say grunt, flex, grunt first. Or do we just eat and then watch the movie? Eat first, then movie. I go to the kitchen to find utensils. They're clean, woohoo. I made the mistake of living with more than four people, never again. Thankfully, none of my housemates are here. We talk while eating. Actually, we do a lot more laughing about what might be in the food instead of real meat. I tease about my missing dog. Everything quiets down as she becomes uncomfortably aware that I'm actually not asexual. Finally, but dangerous at the same time. I start talking about school and finals. I ask how's she looking towards the end of the semester. The great thing about college is you always have at least one thing to talk about that has absolutely nothing to do with sex. Then again, I'm taking Human Sexuality so I talk about the 30 foot pussy that several people walked in on because they were late for class. The introduction of sex as humor. We finish up trying not to lose it completely to the description of my professor's explanation of why we didn't have to study our sexual positions. She helps me clean up, I don't really think it's necessary considering my other housemates' kitchen habits but I'm not one to break a mood. The kitchen is incredibly clean for our house. In other words, there's nothing in the sink. We decide the grunt, flex, grunt movie would be a good idea as a first movie. We have the required you pick, no you pick argument. I picked. Plans for the night require a softer touch at the later hours of the evening. It is a grunt, flex, grunt movie; doesn't even try to have much of a plot which is forgivable when the action scenes are good enough, and the premise is at least plausible. The comments fly about the impossibility of this stunt or that stunt. Or how really not good looking the female decoration is. We both agree she has great breasts though. This spawns a discussion whether it's a boob job, and if so an east coast or west coast one. The obligatory sex scene decides us both in the direction of definitely boob job and probably west coast. The movie finishes in a bloodbath of car crashes, bleeding bodies and sadly tied together plot lines. Ice cream? Yeah, that's a good idea. Let's go. We go outside, walk the few blocks to the local campus ice cream place. We decide to split a banana boat without much argument. We actually suggested it at the same time. It's a messy ice cream meal, but we have fun. I'm a people watcher so I'm much quieter as I watch the Friday night crowd a week before finals. Some will end up in a short story here and there. She notices me watching people and asks; I tell her. See that couple, they're arguing about whether or not to break up. That guy over there is stalking the pretty blonde but she hasn't noticed it yet. How do you know? I don't I'm just running different plots through my head. I'm giving everyone a personality that fits their physical characteristics, motions and quirks. That way when I write a story I can describe a stalker without saying 'He's a stalker."; instead I can describe the nervous hand gestures, and eye movements that dude is going through right now. She starts pointing people out to me, and seeing what I come up. After awhile, she gets into the act and it denigrates to who can come up with the most fantastically impossible scenarios. We head back to my apartment this time trying to figure out what other people are thinking about us as they walk back. Or what stories we would make up about us if we were people watching and only had our physical looks to work with. At the apartment, we put in 'Pretty Woman' and sit back on the couch to relax. I start dancing to the opening theme on the couch, she laughs. She has never seen the movie, which makes me feel old. She relaxes after a bit and starts to enjoy the movie. At the point where Julia and Gere are bargaining for the week, I start to play with her hair. I like playing with hair, the longer the better. She moves so that I have access to all of it. She knows I like playing with her hair. She likes it, and after all we're just friends. I put a husband between us so she can lean back to watch the movie comfortably. Where Richard Gere is getting the store manager to kiss ass to Julia Roberts, I start massaging her shoulders. This makes her lean back deeper into the husband. It's a standard massage, except for the electricity of tension on the air. I rub the connection between shoulder and neck first, trying to get her to relax. I only use my fingers and make sure to react to every part of the movie. I'm waiting. Rubbing the sides of her neck with my thumbs. Small circles to the soft spot behind her earlobes. Gently taking her earlobes in my fingers, tracing her ear. Tracing her hairline with my fingers. The piano scene Julia on top of the piano, Gere reaches up for a kiss that would say possession but she denies him. I pull the husband from between us and put it behind me. I scooch forward so that she's leaning on me with her head just beneath my chin, small circles at the sides of her neck, waiting for her to react to the sudden change of circumstance, she doesn't. I start to breathe again. Keep the massage going, for lack of inspiration on what to do next. The movie continues, so does the massage. I reach down massaging her hands now. I saw a Sci-fi movie once about humanoid aliens where the hands where how sexuality and liking someone were expressed. Basically, hand holding for them was kissing. I took that to heart the instant I saw it. I kiss her now. Massaging each and every finger individually, while at the same the time whatever I do to her right hand is shadowed by my actions on her left. I run thumb circles on the palms of her hands. I can feel the slight deepening of her breathing, I smile to myself hoping she is not falling asleep. Tracing lines on her wrists tell me she isn't. The movement finishes with us like this we watch the screen credits with my hands running along the inside of her arms. I wait to see whether or not she will move. VH1 replaces the movie on the TV. I give a quick prayer of thanks to God, a Pop-Up video marathon. Thank You God! Thank You God! She does not move as my hands travel up giving her a face massage full of caresses and light brushes of fingertips. I run my right hand down to her neck palming the front of neck and rubbing her neck right beneath her chin, and then using my thumb to rub the skin underneath her chin. I'm waiting and waiting. I don't think patience is on my side any longer. I consider just asking. It does upon occasion work. "So ____ how far do you want this to go?" Of course, when that happened the situation was a little more pressing. Well, that woman was wearing less clothing so it was a much appropriate circumstance. In this case, I could ask or hope. After about five minutes of considering, I decide I am much better of hoping, and maybe I'll be asking later on and hoping she says why don't we see where this goes. I bite her neck. I think this might be the best way to get everything across. It is. She arches back into me. I was right to hope. I hold my teeth in place; not putting enough pressure to even approach pain, just holding her with my teeth. I let go, and go back to just the massage. I need a moment to recapture lost control. Somehow, I manage to work myself a little bit more underneath her so that the next time I go for her neck I won't be reaching down so far. I started kissing her hands with mine again. This time, I don't bite. I blow at the hairline at the back of her neck. I reach forward and carefully place my tongue at the juncture of neck and shoulder and blew on the wetness I've placed there. I begin to enjoy the dance at the edge of control, who will lose first. The small blasts of air on just moistened spots continues with a randomness that belies the absolute purpose behind every action. I stop lean back to stare at the ceiling. mybe, maybe... maybe not. But I can always hope. I move forward and nibble on her earlobe. Someone did this to me once, it's the the only time that I had a giving lover, it answered the question about why so many women like it for me. Where to go from here though? I FUCKING hate this part. I hope. I continue various actions on her neck; licking, nibbling, biting (somewhat in frustration), kissing, caressing with just lip touches. My hands wander, up and down her arms, across her abdomen, on her face, I FUCKING HATE THIS PART. I hope. I start at her stomach and my hands travel upward following the aura of her body; she can stop me. She tenses. I cup her breasts through her t-shirt and bra. Now what? Oh yeah! Small circles on the tips of her breasts with my thumbs. A holding action, far beyond what I had hoped. I'm a bit lost. I nibble on an earlobe again. HERE GOES!! My hands travel down to the waist of her jeans, I start pulling the t-shirt out of her jeans. She can stop me. She tenses. I play with the skin of her stomach. This is more familiar ground, beyond the cusp of insecure footing, onto the overloading of someone's senses. I play with the skin at her sides. She's slightly ticklish so she starts to giggle. I push the issue, not a lot just enough. Small nibbles on her neck followed by fingertip touches at her side. Pleasure and a giggle. Then just running my fingertips on her body beneath her breasts, on her stomach, at her sides. Calmer now, no giggling. She relaxes. Waiting, waiting. Patience is again on my side. Fingertip touches on nipples covered by measurably thin lace. I can feel the the bump of her nipple rising in excitement; separating, asking for attention. Fingertip kisses, letting each pad of my fingers touch, caress, trace. Plans inside of plans inside of plans. Seductions can be so much fun. I tickle her sides. She starts giggling and struggling against me. She struggles harder and finally turns to lie on her stomach, on top of me. Her bra latched at her back. This killed just about any chance of my getting it undone unless she turned over, or really really wanted it off. I decided not to hope on the really really. The first kis to distract her from the small break of passion I had forced on us. Slow, probing, questioning. I nibble at her lower lip. I raise her head up to gain access to the front of neck for a quick bite that descends to playful nibbling. The pads of fingers are making brief sorties along her back approaching the bra latch; making it obvious that's where I'm heading toward; giving her a chance to stop this. I kiss her again. An exploration of how two pairs of lips can mold themselves to each other in a breathless attempt to stop, go, say, do everything. The bra comes undone much more smoothly than expected. I smile into the next kiss. Fingerpads massage where the bra has touched on her back, pushing it aside while at the same time claiming territory. I'm content for now. Kissing, nibbling, licking. Massaging her lower back. I'm trying to figure out what to do. I go for broke. I wrap my arms around her and give myself into the deepest kiss so far. In the middle of it, I rotate us so that we are facing each other on our sides now. On the edge, on the edge. I walk the other side; continuing the motion I reverse our original positions so that I'm on top of her now. I don't want to be here, but I need borders. She doesn't give me any, so I enjoy myself in a series of kisses that get longer and deeper. I nibble any piece of skin that won't take me too far from her lips. I slide to her side. I keep kissing her but my hands are exploring the bare skin of her stomach again. I come close but don't touch her breasts in my exploration. I'm waiting. Everytime my touch approaches her breasts, she arches up in expectation. Finally, a thumbpad crosses her nipple. The pad explores her nipple to my content. Then the other nipple. I'm not kissing any longer. Watching. Small circles with each fingerpad on each nipple. Fingertip touches everywhere my hands can reach. I reach down to encircle the near nipple with my tongue. She arches herself to the contact. I pull up to kiss her. I reach down to encircle the far nipple with my tongue, the arch is less pronounced this time. I apply suction, the arch is more violent. I lick circles around her nipples, around and around without contacting any part of aerole this time. I lower myself so I can lick her sides; she's not ticklish there anymore. Finally, on her abdomen circling her bellybutton. I stop to lie on top of her and kiss her again. I'm waiting. How far? Do I ask, do I hope, do I stop? I don't want to stop. I don't want to stop. I stop. I kiss her one last time. Deep. I slide to her side and start playing with her hair, touching her face. She looks up at me. She turns until she's on her side. Her hand reaches down to the waist of my jeans. She pulls my t-shirt out of my own jeans. Fingertip touches on the sides of my stomach. I'm smiling at her. Reaching forward to kiss and take over again. I want. I push her onto her back again, she goes willingly. I'm kissing her as my right hand is cupping her breast, playing with her nipple. I want. I reach down to the belt on her jeans and it comes undone after a a brief frustrating struggle with it. I want. I want. What the fuck do I want? I start playing with the available skin to calm myself down. I don't want to scare her but I can feel myself losing control. I can feel the tension leave me as she starts to release small gasps of pleasure. I reach down to undo the buttons of her jeans. They come undone easily enough. I spread the opening as wide as it will go without taking them off her. Classic white panties. I play with the cloth pressing fingerpads against it. I rub her skin, pubic hair through the panties. I start to kiss her, nibble her earlobes, lick whatever skin is close. I stop, push up to my knees. I look down at her. I reach for the waist of her jeans. As I start to pull them down, she pushes her hips off the couch to give me the room. I stop, and grab onto her panties also. The jeans and panties slide off her body. I can feel myself dancing on the edge of control again. I carelessly toss her clothes to the side of the couch and lie mostly on top to kiss her again. I spend a luxurious amount of time making sure she's comfortable naked. Nibbles at different parts of her neck, kisses raining gently on her face, licking the soft spot underneath her earlobe. I slide off to her side again. I'm closer to the edge. I want. Fingers lead, lips explore, with my tongue tasting. My fingers become more insistent in their touching. I reach down to her pubic hair. I let my fingertips excite every strand of hair. I reach farther down to run my fingers along her thighs, inside to outside. I feel myself lose it into fascination with the touch of skin to skin. I grab her thigh and place it on mine spreading her, opening her to my touch. I want her to scream. I want her to lose her identity to pleasure. Circles on the inside of her thighs. Touch after touch, promising, getting closer and closer but never crossing the line. I can feel her every reaction. Each gasp of air. Each whimper of pleasure. But I want more. I get it. She starts to breathe need into the air. I can smell her excitement. I touch her. I place one finger on her. Applying no pressure just touching. I trace her with that finger, still applying no pressure, just touching. She's close. I apply a touch of pressure, still circling but not touching anything important yet. She's closer to the edge. Have you wanted this too? I apply my fingerpad and pressure where it will do the most good right now. It does. Small controlled circles. Slowly over the edge, not a jump and a fall but a soaring spiral. Small controlled circles carrying her, her hands come down to grab at my wrists. I won't stop, not this time. The circles become faster I want the careless leap this time. No control, I want her control snapped. After awhile it does. Gloriously. She comes down slowly, snuggling to me. She is giggling in contentment. I'm lying there touching different parts of her skin. I can feel her fall asleep. I stand up. Slowly to make sure she doesn't wake up. I walk to the window where I stretch. I stare outside to the brightly lit darkness. I don't know how long I stand there. I look back to her lying naked on my couch, far more than I had hoped. I start laughing at myself. I have to. Maybe I did it to myself, and maybe I didn't. I'd been seduced. I sit down on the bed, carefully push the hair out of her face. I sit there staring at her wondering if I'll drown before I learn to tread water. -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----