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From: Wiseguy <wiseguy35@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Adult Education" (MF,rom,mc) 2/5
Date: Thu, 23 Mar 2000 05:10:03 -0500
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("Adult Education" by Wiseguy, part 2 of 5)


The drive home was interesting, to say the least.  As I
drove, my eyes kept wandering over to Meg in the seat next
to me.  I saw the outlines of her nipples pressing against
the sports top, and her tulip shorts had spread open when
she sat down in the car seat, showing me lots and lots of
lean, sexy upper leg.  Somehow I managed to tear my eyes
away enough to watch the road.

"So what did you think of the class?" Meg asked with forced
nonchalance.

"It was . interesting," I said.  "I wonder what all she
told us while we were out of it."

Meg moaned a little when I said that.  "I think we know at
least one thing she did," she replied, as her hands cupped
her breasts through the stretchy top.  "I can't believe how
randy I am!  Does it show?"

"You mean your flaring nostrils, the rising color in your
cheeks, and the way you keep looking at me while you grope
yourself?  No, I hardly noticed at all."

Meg let out a Bronx cheer, then reached over into my lap.
"Feels like I'm not the only one whose boiler pressure is
rising," she said as her hand clamped down on my straining
cock.  "How does this feel, wise guy?"  With a deft
movement, she pulled down my zipper and started stroking my
shaft through my briefs.

My field of vision narrowed to just the road in front of me
as I tried to ignore the exquisite sensations in my crotch.
Finally I gulped and found a couple of words.  "I'm
speechless," I confessed.

With an evil laugh, Meg withdrew her hand.  I was both
relieved and disappointed.  "Are we even going to make it
home?"

"Probably," she answered.  "But if I don't get that dick of
yours firmly implanted at the first possible moment, I
think I'm going to burst."

"You're not driving," I pointed out.  "Go ahead and come if
you want to; blow off some steam."

"Great idea!"  Meg's right hand dove through the waistband
of her shorts.  From my vantage point I could just make out
the shape of her hand as she curled her fingers to reach
into her seam.  Her breathing quickened and deepened, and I
felt my own body reacting to the low, growling moans that
escaped her lips.  After a very long few minutes, she
groaned loudly.   "Shit - I can't come!" she shouted, her
eyes still shut and her fingers still working.  "All this
diddling is only making it worse!"

"Making it worse for me too," I replied with feeling,
painfully aware of my cock pressing against the back of the
steering wheel.  "Good thing we're almost home."

Meg opened her eyes and checked our position:  about 3
blocks from the house.  "Hallelujah!" she cried.  "I knew
you had it in you . now hurry up so you can get it into
me."

A small corner of my mind started laughing.  Meg is never
shy about letting me know when she's horny, but I'd never
seen her this incensed before.  The fact that I was in
equally bad shape myself made it all the more funny.

An eternity later, we cruised into the garage.  I hit the
button to close the door and jumped out of the car,
fumbling with my keys to locate the inside door key.  Meg
was right behind me, her hands running up and down my upper
body.  I got distracted and dropped my keys onto the
concrete floor.

"Forget it," Meg said fiercely as she grabbed me by the
shoulders and spun me around, pressing me against the
doorframe with her sweating body.  "Right here, right now,"
she added, then locked her mouth onto mine for a
sweltering, deep kiss.

In moments I felt my pants fall to the floor, followed
immediately by my briefs.  Not to be outdone, I lifted
Meg's sports top enough to expose her breasts and caressed
them, noticing with pleasure that her nipples felt as hard
as my cock.  Meg dropped to her knees, pulling herself out
of my hands, and brought her tongue to bear against the
sides of my shaft.  She licked me slowly, sensuously, up
one side and down the other, tracing rings around the head
with the tip of her tongue.  One of her hands reached
around me and started stroking my balls.  We were both
breathing in heavy gasps.

My head jerked back as Meg squeezed in just the right
place; I felt something hard behind my head move, followed
immediately by the sound of a small motor.  Out of the
corner of my eye, I saw the garage door start to lift.

"Shit!" I cried, stabbing at the switch wildly to reverse
the movement.  On about the fifth try I succeeded, and the
door settled back into closed position.  Meg used my
distracted time to hastily strip off her clothing; she
stood before me in only her sneakers, like a streaker from
the 70's.  Pulling one foot free from the entangling grip
of my pants and briefs, I grabbed Meg in a bear hug, lifted
her up, and set her down on the edge of my workbench about
10 paces away.  Lips locked together, tongues wrestling
each other to a draw, I tilted her back a little bit and
slid into her dripping slit.

"Yes!" she gasped as I buried my cock between her legs.
"Oh, this is perfect!  Don't you dare stop!"

"Stop?"  I replied jokingly.  "I've barely started."

Meg's legs wrapped themselves around me, simultaneously
squeezing my torso and pulling me closer to her center.
The rising pitch and frequency of her moans told me she was
almost there.  I clenched down hard with my groin muscle,
lifting my cock and putting a little extra pressure on the
top of her canal, and that was all she wrote.  Meg shrieked
again and again as the orgasm ripped through her body.  I
was so pleased with her reaction that I barely noticed I
was still pumping away.  Then, with almost no warning, my
balls burst and I came.  One spurt after another came
flying out like water from a fire hydrant; part of me
wondered if I was going to pull a muscle this way.  Finally
the fury subsided and we collapsed against each other,
kissing and stroking as we fell into post-coital bliss.  A
long time later, we separated.  We looked at each other in
wonder.

"Wow," I remarked, knowing even as I said it how inadequate
that word was.

"Definitely a wow," Meg replied.  We both had spit-eating
grins on our faces as we gathered up our hastily discarded
clothes and carried them into the house.



If there's one problem with having a Thursday night like
we'd had, it's this:  Friday can't help but seem lame by
comparison.  I spent most of the day glued to my desk,
updating some CAD drawings with last-minute changes from
the client.  Once I'd sent the finished version across the
wire to the print shop, it was just after three o'clock -
too early to leave, too late to start something new.

I decided that the best way to kill time until I could
reasonably go home would be to back up my local data files
to the network.  Those of us who do design work get the
nicest PC's in the place and have enough storage to keep
our files locally so we don't hog the network reading and
writing our CAD data.  In exchange, the network
administrator expects us to make backups of our drawing
files in a special directory on the network, where they can
be written to tape for disaster recovery purposes.  Things
are never that busy on Friday afternoons, so I figured it
was as good a time as any to be a good citizen.

As I sat there watching files copy, I thought again about
the previous night's class.  Going into hypnosis had been
surprisingly easy, especially the second time.  I wondered
if I could do it again without the extra aid of Carol's
voice.  I took a quick survey of the neighboring cubicles;
nobody home but me.  I already knew the boss was off, so
all systems were go.

While I was up, I grabbed one of the high-backed chairs
from the team room and dragged it back to my cube.  From
the progress on my computer screen, I figured I had about
twenty minutes to kill.

I sat down in the high-backed chair, stretched out my legs,
and put my feet up on the seat of my regular chair.  My
hands I let fall into my lap.  It was almost as comfortable
as lying down on the mats in the dojo.  I let my eyes close
as I took a deep breath in and let it out, slowly and
easily, as we had done the night before.  In my mind's ear
I imagined hearing that strange musical sound again,
flowing through my mind, relaxing me, taking me deeper and
deeper.  A warm, pleasant feeling crept through me, and I
encouraged it, letting myself grow sleepier and sleepier,
relaxing, drifting .

. and waking up suddenly to the feel of a hand on my
shoulder.  I looked up to see Shirley, our boss's
secretary, looking down at me with an amused smile.  "Rough
night, Pat?"

"Something like that," I waffled, trying to get myself
oriented again.

"So take off," she suggested.  "Just about everyone else
has.  I only came over to rib you about swiping one of the
good chairs."

I looked at the clock on my computer screen:  4:18.  A full
hour, and then a little, had gone by while I was zoned out.
Too embarrassed to come up with a clever reply, I just
thanked Shirley, put everything away, and went home.

I told Meg about what I'd done over dinner, expecting her
to share a laugh with me over getting caught by Shirley.
She surprised me by saying that she'd done the same thing.

"I got home at the normal time," she said - for Meg, that's
about 3:30 because she starts work at 6:45.  "I took a
quick shower, and when I came out I just had this idea that
it would be fun to see if I could put myself under.  I
stretched out on the bed and just let go, and after a while
I felt the buzz and went with it.  The phone woke me up -
another long distance company trolling for na<ve customers
- and I saw it was almost 4:30.  I must have been really
gone, because it only felt like a couple of minutes to me."

"Another of Carol's demonstrations?" I speculated.

"I don't think so," she answered thoughtfully.  "I mean, we
were all awake when she told us that she wanted us to
practice going under when we get the chance.  I didn't feel
as though I had to do it, just that it would be interesting
to try."

"Same here," I agreed, and let the matter drop.  We could
always ask Carol about it at the next class.


The weekend was mostly unremarkable.  We spent Saturday
catching up on errands and odd jobs:  laundry, washing
cars, a little light household maintenance, that kind of
thing.  Meg practiced her self-hypnosis in the morning
right after her shower, and I did mine after dinner.

Meg had an interesting idea on Sunday.  "Why don't we
practice together today?"

I shrugged.  "Sure, why not?"  After lunch we retired to
the bedroom, pulling the shades to filter out most of the
afternoon sun.  We kicked off our shoes and stretched out
on the bed, face up, my right hand in her left.  Meg
started us on a deep breath, but I stopped.

"What's wrong?"  she asked.

"Nothing," I answered.  I rolled away from Meg and checked
out my alarm clock.  It read 2:10pm, so I set the alarm
time to 3:15.  "Just a precaution," I explained.  "As nice
as this is, I don't want to spend the whole afternoon
sacked out."

"Good idea," she agreed.

The alarm set, I resumed my position next to Meg.  We each
took a series of deep, slow breaths to get ourselves
started.  As I relaxed into the bed, I could sense Meg next
to me doing the same.  We found ourselves breathing in
unison without really trying to.  Soon I felt the warm,
inviting buzz of hypnosis coming over me and I let go into
it, confidant that we would wake up at the appointed time.

My eyes opened again almost immediately, or so it seemed.
I felt wide awake, at ease, rested.  Meg stirred next to
me.  "What time is it?"

I did a double take at the clock before answering:  "Three
fifteen . can you believe it?"

"Did the clock go off?"

"No, it didn't."  Puzzled, I scooted over and checked the
clock.  "Shit - I set it to 3:15am instead of pm."

"It doesn't seem as though we needed it," she observed.

"I guess not.  The question is, was it dumb luck -"

"-or did we wake up just now because we had already decided
to?"  We both shrugged at that one.  Another thing to ask
Carol about on Thursday.



I got into the office early on Monday to get some extra
things done before a 9:30 meeting.  As luck would have it,
though, our LAN team had chosen Monday to roll out an
automated update of some sort.  They aren't supposed to do
those on the CAD systems because we have different
configurations and hardware from most people, but somebody
apparently forgot.  Seconds after logging in I got a screen
message telling me to please wait while my system is
updated.  A minute or so after that, I got the infamous
Blue Screen of Death.  After leaving a voice mail for the
help desk and a warning for my cohorts Gary and Barbara, I
spent the time I had wanted to be working in the cafeteria,
drowning my sorrows in hot coffee and a blueberry muffin.

Other than the meeting, the day was a total loss.  The
first tech that came up took one look at the PC, saw it
wasn't a standard configuration, and retreated immediately.
The second one looked at it a bit longer, asked me what I
had changed on the system, and looked unbelieving when I
explained what had happened.

After the meeting, and a long lunch with Gary and Barbara
during which we contemplated various methods of torture
suitable for the network administrators, my PC still wasn't
up.  Barbara had the afternoon off so I tried to get some
work done using her machine, but it was like driving
someone else's car - the controls are more or less the
same, but everything is just different enough to be
awkward.  By three o'clock, with three techs now huddled
over my crippled PC scratching their heads, I'd had enough
and headed home in disgust.

Meg's car was in the garage as usual when I got home, but
the house seemed quiet.  I was still in a pretty foul mood,
so rather than go looking for Meg right away I slipped
upstairs to the bedroom.  Changing out of my office clothes
does wonders for my attitude on a bad day.

I found Meg on the bed and started to say something, but I
stopped short.  She was so still, so peaceful looking.  Meg
is an active sleeper, rolling around and moving her arms
and legs as she dreams; seeing her this quiet was odd.  I
tiptoed around the bed for a closer look.

Meg's arms were at her sides, her feet tilted outwards.  I
could see her eyes flickering around under her closed lids
and see the slow movement of her chest as she breathed.
She was wearing her white silk robe, closed but not
fastened, and nothing else.  She smelled faintly of soap
and moisturizer, suggesting that she'd had a shower when
she got home.

I fingered the edge of her robe, pulling it back ever so
slightly, peeking at the line of smooth skin leading
between her breasts, to the navel, and down to her thatch.
For about three seconds I thought about waking her up; then
I had a better idea.

Backing away from the bed, I slipped my own clothes off,
being careful to make as little noise as possible.  I knelt
down beside the bed and gently, lightly, let my hand come
to rest on her stomach.  The silk moved under my hand as
she breathed.  Watching Meg's face carefully for signs of
awakening, I moved my hand slowly up toward her breast,
using just enough pressure to let me feel her through the
silk robe.  My fingers reached the nipple and parted,
teasing the sides, and I was pleased to feel the nipple
stiffen in response even as my palm crossed over it and
reversed directions, stroking downward just as slowly and
gently.

The next time I applied just a little bit more pressure and
lingered over the nipple, squeezing very slightly, letting
the silk move a little more under my hand.  The gap in the
robe widened of course as I moved the material around;
after a few minutes I just had to peel it aside the rest of
the way.  My hand brushed down her bare skin one time as I
leaned forward.  My tongue contacted her exposed nipple as
my hand came to rest on her mound, fingers reaching down to
her slit.  I felt her breath in suddenly and her legs
starting to move, and my eyes darted up to her face.  Her
eyes were opening, but she still looked dazed.

"Relax, Meg," I said, trying my best to imitate Carol's
smooth delivery.  "There's no need to wake up yet.  You're
about to have a wonderful, erotic dream.  Just close your
eyes and let it happen, let the dream take your mind to new
depths of peace and relaxation even as you feel your body
becoming aroused."

Meg's eyelids closed down and she sighed a long, lazy sigh
as she settled back into the bed.  Watching that happen
sent a rush of adrenaline to my groin that almost
completely derailed my train of thought.  I'd had all kinds
of fantasies about Meg responding to my voice that way, but
seeing it happen in reality was a rush unlike anything I'd
ever known.  In my distraction - or was it fascination? - I
barely noticed that my free hand had taken a firm grip on
my cock.  I knelt there for several seconds at least, just
trying to assimilate the powerful erotic feelings that had
erupted within me, before I remembered what I was trying to
do.

My cock was screaming for attention, but I willed myself to
let go and get back to the original plan.  I put my mouth
over the nearest nipple and sucked, running my tongue over
the extended tip, while at the same time I began probing
her slit with my fingers.  Meg moaned deeply, and soon I
could feel moisture coating my fingertips as they stroked
her center.

As delicately as I could, I rose up and climbed onto the
bed.  I let my left hand take over on her breast
momentarily while I kissed my way south, parting her legs
as I came to rest between them.  I kissed her thighs, her
mound, her lips, and felt her hips start to move up and
down.  I lifted my head long enough to see that her eyes
were still closed and her face slack, then dove in to
finish the job.

A lick here, a suck there, my hands caressing her legs all
the while, I watched and listened for signs of awakening.
Her breathing remained deep but the pace was picking up,
and each exhale came with a long, sustained moaning sound.
Her body felt heavy and loose, but there was no question
that she was responding and would be ready to come soon.  I
thought briefly about trying the "you can't come until I
tell you to" trick that figures into so many of our
favorite stories, but I opted not to - I wasn't sure I
could pull it off, and I didn't want to spoil this by
trying and failing.

Instead I put the broad side of my tongue right against her
swollen clit and teased it, rubbing against one side and
then the other, until the moans turned into passionate
cries and then to shrieks as Meg came.  I did my best to
stay in position, trying to make the orgasm last as long as
I could for her.  Even in the throes of a climax, she was
so relaxed that her legs remained almost completely limp on
my shoulders.

When the shrieks had died down to loud, heavy breaths
again, I felt more movement on the bed and peeked up in
time to see Meg's head rising up, her elbows coming back to
support her.  Her face looked dazed, dizzy . and absolutely
beautiful.

"Honey," I said playfully, "I'm home."



(continued)

-- 
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reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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