Message-ID: <20658eli$9903190436@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: kayla Subject: {ASS} Imagination 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: <36F1ED4A.77A1A4EB@pipeline.com> If you are not of age to legally read adult writing in your part of the world, please don't read this. If you are old enough to read this and you enjoy my writing, please let me know. This is an original story. It is different than much of the stuff you will find here. I am the actual author who would appreciate hearing what you think. kayla@pipeline.com ----- Imagination (masturbation, w/s, phone sex) by Kayla Deidre settled at the computer with a yawn. She looked into monitor, and decided to confess. “Dear Computer Lover,” she wrote with haughty flair. “It is all I can do to keep from running to find you. However, you have your work to do, and I really need to do all the important stuff here, like alphabetizing the spice rack.” She grinned wickedly. Yah, like that was on her list of things to do. All she really wanted was to get laid. But that was going to take some work. She went on: “I sit here, with a throb between my thighs that nothing will ease. My hand, right this minute, is finding its way there and settling between the folds. That’s right, Steve” Deidre wrote with a smile, “I am sitting here naked, but for a large oversized T-shirt, and my hand is stroking fervently at my clit, and if you could see me typing with only one hand, you would laugh.” In reality, Deidre was typing with both hands, and she was fully clothed, but that was irrelevant. “Yes, dear Lover, if you were here, you could ease your way between my legs, and watch, or participate if you were so inclined, but for now, all you can do is read this and KNOW that you are not here, and I am having to enjoy myself without you. So, as you sit there in your office, Love, will you be able to imagine this? Can you stop working long enough to join me in my venture, or is your day just too important? Oh yes, I am laughing at the thought of you trying to touch yourself along with me. For there in your office, you have no opportunity to do anything remotely like this. So I shall stroke myself most defiantly, and you shall have to miss it.” “Angel, do you know how I love to touch myself?” Deidre licked her fingers and wiped them off on her sweatshirt. She parted her thighs a bit. Both hands back on the keyboard, she continued: “I like to linger on these soft folds, and then press down quickly on my clit. I love to stroke, stroke, stroke my clit, with the throb I feel inside, then when it gets to be almost too intense, I like to sink slowly, deep into my vagina, two fingers together, and imagine your face down there. Are you watching, Babe? Now do you see me arch against my hand, to feel the soft throb against my clit again? Oh, do you hear the soft slurp it makes against me? You are missing out, Hon. You are missing out. Oh how I ache for you! Watch, I will pull these wet, slick fingers out, and taste them.” She typed the last line with a relish, “Oh, you should be here today!” She hit “send,” before she lost her nerve. Deidre went to the porch to get the mail. There was an ad from the local hardware store and the power bill. She came back into the computer room and filed the bill into the folder where they put those kinds of things until the money came. She sat at the computer once again. She laughed! She wanted to take her everyday occurances and use them to tantalize Steve at work. Poor Steve, locked away in his office all day. Tsk, tsk, tsk, she thought. A hardware ad in reality. How could she turn it into an invitation? She paused a second, then began enthusiastically. “Oh, Steve, you should see what came in the mail today!! It was a catalog from one of those mail order places. I can just imagine myself covered in lingerie from this store, glistening with oils and scents. There is a dildo here on page 34 that they are calling “The power tool” and it looks just like a socket wrench! I think we should get one! When you come home from work tonight, I’ll get decked out in my raincoat, and I will strip for you. I can play lap dancer and you can sit in your chair and ache to touch me the way I am aching for you. I will strip down to my teddy and part my thighs and finger myself just inches away and No Touching! I might even get the vibrator and have my own little party right before your eyes.” Before she sent the e-mail, she typed one last paragraph: “Actually, I am doing all that right now in front of the computer, but you will just have to imagine it. Too bad we don’t have one of those little computer cameras, I could send you some images. Not that the ones your mind is conjuring up aren't real enough... I can’t wait until you get home!” In the kitchen, Deidre washed dishes with a vengeance. She was thrilled, thinking about the fluster she must be sending him. She thought about him reading the email and getting that excited pitch to his voice, hoping he would make any excuse and slip home for lunch. She swept at the floor and threw food into the cat’s dish. She strode through the house, full of expectation. She returned to the computer room, and hoped she was still connected to her server. She typed anew: “Oh my day is killing me here. I can only think of you, and how it feels to touch the softness of your skin, and kiss your neck in that spot where your hair hits my face. I imagine my face between your thighs, stirring up your cock, pulling you into that place where we go together." Deidre had just finished washing the dishes. She couldn't exactly tease Steve with that little tidbit. How domestic. No, it would need a little embellishment, she thought, taking a strand of hair, twisting it absently. Suddenly, she began to throw a story into the computer, one that she hoped would make him want to leave work to come find her. "I just got done having a serious orgasm in the shower," she wrote. "I thought you would want to know. I soaped myself up and the warm water pulsed against my body with a throb. I took the hand held sprayer and used it to slowly trickle the water over my breasts and eased it down to my pussy. I held the sprayer there, and then my fingers found home, and I started jacking off, using the sprayer to accentuate my own touch. I finally slunk into the corner, water raining down, pussy throbbing and with a rush, I peed all over the floor of the shower, the release washing out of me and down the drain. I did cum, but if I would have had you here, I could have climaxed over and over. That is, if you were here.” Outside, the cat yowled, the dead-giveaway that somebody was in the yard. Deidre crossed from the computer to the window and looked out. Janna, the college student from next door was hunting around in the brush. She had a 35 mm. camera attached to a tripod nearby. Deidre opened the window and called, “Hey Janna! What in the world are you doing?” “Oh, hi.” Janna looked up to see where the voice was coming from. “I have an assignment for journalism. I already wrote about the community clean up of the lake, but I forgot to take any photos. Hey! You were there. Can you come out here and act like you are cleaning up the litter from these bushes, I can snap the photo, and no one will know the difference.” “Sure.” Deidre called. Moments later, Deidre put on a straw hat and some heavy gloves, found the rake, and tried to look the role of a convincing ecologist. Janna snapped the photos she needed and was soon on her way to the camera lab to develop her film. Deidre raked some other litter out of the bushes, and pulled a few scraggly weeds. She would have done more, but her heart wasn’t in it. She put away the props and went back to the computer screen. All she really wanted to do today was play with her man. She licked her lips. Janna had just taken pictures of a most normal situation. But, what if? Deidre's mind raced with possibilities. “Oh my! What fun you just missed!" she typed in. "I was just sitting here, and a van pulled up. A camera crew came up to the door and wanted me to let them in. They were making a film on the art of masturbating, and wanted to know if I could to accommodate them. I slid into some costume they wanted me to wear, white chiffon, with a feather boa, and I slipped white satin gloves up to my elbows, with the fingertips cut away. They pulled out thick, cushy luxurious pads of velvet, and perched me on top. When the camera started rolling, I thought I would never be able to move, but they were all pretty nice about it, and they egged me on. I was soon rocking into the throes of an orgasm, calling out convincingly, and I thought for sure the guy behind the camera wanted to join me. It was all I could do to regain enough composure so they could finish the film. They left, then I went into our bedroom and had a session alone. I’m telling you, you’re missing out!” Deidre sent that one, and then she checked one more time to see if she had any incoming messages. None!! Shit. What was with Steve today? She knew he was a workaholic, but this was ridiculous. She had given up on the hope that he would leave work and come home and give her the good fuck that she needed. Now she was just hoping he would E-mail her back and make promises of dinner, wine and foreplay. But nope. Nothing. How come he wasn't writing her back? He had to be able to make time enough for that! Shit. Hours later, Deidre was tired of fretting about it. Still no E-mail. Now she was mad. The phone rang. Deidre, furiously folding clothes and watching TV, ran to the receiver and picked it up. Steve? No. A phone solicitor was asking for donations for the local contender in the coming election. Deidre promised a donation and cited her street address. She cradled the receiver in her hand and slid a lean finger against its smoothness as she hung it up. Steve didn't even have the time to recognize her enthusiasm with a phone call! Now she knew why housewives had the reputations of finding time for the milkman and the travelling salesmen... Deidre sighed. She checked the computer for incoming messages one more time. Nothing. She opened up her mail file once again. She sat there with a fierce urgency, thinking she would really make him think twice if this is how he was going to handle her mischief. She took the phone conversation--a political solicitation--and twisted it, like she had with her other daily events, typing as fast as the words would come. “Well, I don’t know if you caught that last note yet, so I thought I should update you on my progress. You see, time waits for no man. I have this ACHE, and you are not here, so truth be told, I telephoned Monica Lewinski herself, and invited her into my imagination. I sat on the edge of the bed, the phone balanced on my shoulder, and told her everything. I described in vivid detail the way I unfastened my blouse, and opened my bra, taking a breast in each hand and playing. I slicked up my fingers and pinched my nipples into hard ridges and described to her what it felt like. Later, you can only imagine the ripple of flesh as I smoothed my hand down my body, and settled between my legs. She told me she was stroking himself, and I believed her. I heard her gasp as she came and I whispered through the phone lines while the shudders shook us both. It is a good thing the phone receiver has such a long cord or else I don’t think I could have gotten it out of my body!! I had no idea phone sex could be so literal! Later, I shared an Altoid with her. She asked if I had a cigar, and we laughed about old lovers. Somehow your name came up.” There, Deidre thought decisively as she sent the note, 'that ought to get a reaction!' Hours later, the back door opened and Deidre looked up from her book to watch Steve put his briefcase down on the kitchen table. The comfortable smell of tuna casserole filled the air, and the table was set for two. He looked tired. She was used to feeling a little underappreciated when he got busy, but this was infuriating! “How was work?” Deidre called, getting up to handle the finishing touches. She was trying to read his face, but wasn't getting any clues at all. “Fuck.” Steve said, exasperated, collapsing into the chair. “The computers were down all day, and the technician couldn’t get to the bottom of it. We finally had to pull out old invoices and write everything out long hand. Tomorrow, we are going to have to finish the work from Tuesday, transfer all the handwritten notes from today, and get started on tomorrow’s work. We couldn’t get anything done! I probably should have just come home.” Deidre stifled a snicker and pulled the casserole from the oven. “Yep,” she agreed, “you probably should have.” She stepped behind him, forgiving him, since he hadn't been able to even read the notes yet. She put dinner on the table, smiling to herself knowing that tomorrow he would be sorely tempted to pull himself away and come home. She leaned down and kissed his neck, wanting to start nibbling. Somehow she was very much in the mood. Steve continued his rant: "Honey, I just don't know what to expect when I get to work tomorrow. Last time something like this happened, the computers just went haywire when they connected them back up. Every E-mail to anyone in the whole company got fed to every computer in the system. Somehow I spent a whole day sorting my personal E-mail out of notes intended for the stock room and the order desk. And all of them got my mail as well. Shit. I hope that doesn't happen again." Deidre cringed, feeling a deliciously naughty shudder. Then she giggled. "Yep," she agreed, licking his neck below the ear, "That would be just awful." -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----