Message-ID: <23488asstr$954832206@assm.asstr-mirror.org> From: michaeld38@aol.communism (MichaelD38) X-Original-Message-ID: <20000403171731.22701.00002368@nso-cg.aol.com> Subject: {ASSM} The Teaser {MichaelD}(MF, FF, MFF, rom)(4/6) Date: Tue, 4 Apr 2000 03:10:06 -0400 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: newsman, IceAltar, Lambchop, gill-bates *********************************************** The Teaser Copyright 2000 by MichaelD38@aol.com Free redistribution permitted; no commerical use without authorization. Archives at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www ************************************************ VI. Now and then back at Yale, when I was feeling depressed about the futility of my affections toward Kate, I would console myself with a little inside joke: Even if I couldn't date her, I was at least the only guy who got to sleep with her regularly. It was one of those jokes more pathetic than funny, which was why I never shared it with anyone. The pathos came from the fact that Kate and I never once had intercourse of anything but the intellectual variety (and for all I knew, she had left Yale a virgin, the way she arrived), but she nevertheless slept in my room fairly often, even when I was dating Mara. Kate did not get a room at her sorority until midway through her junior year, while I moved into my fraternity after having been at Yale just one semester. Kate's roommate her first year could, most charitably, be referred to as having an active sex drive, and as a result, she often asked Kate to sleep somewhere else. That "somewhere else" usually meant my room. I slept on the floor the first couple of times she came over, but eventually she declared that she felt too guilty about evicting me from my bed, and we did our best to share it. Only once, that first April, did my eighteen-year-old horniness get the better of me. We had gone out to dinner and a movie that night, and I misinterpreted the signals she was giving me, thinking that her tipsy flirtiness was something other than playful. When we got back to my room and went to bed, I tried cuddling up to her. She let me, at first, until I started kissing her neck. That earned me an elbow in the ribs and a threat to sleep on a bus bench until I apologized and promised to behave. These nights together stopped during the height of my engagements with Mara, but after I broke up with Mara that last summer before my senior year, Kate again returned to my bed, and my fixation with her returned as well. The break-up with Mara had left me lonely and confused, and Kate was the only other girl I had any sort of bond with. We had become almost like brother and sister over the last three years, and I clung to the stubborn hope that I could nurture that feeling into something more. One frigid Connecticut morning in March of our last year at Yale, I woke up beside her wondering what was going to happen after we graduated. I had already been accepted to the Law School and would start there that fall, but Kate simply planned to go home to Newport after a lengthy trip through Europe. We had, briefly, discussed going to Europe together, but her parents had scotched the idea despite Kate's protestations that I was "just a friend." (And even after four years, it had hurt me to the core to hear her say that.) Kate was still asleep, and she lay on her side facing me, scrunched up under the duvet. She wore the same oversized Patriots T-shirt that she wore to bed every night, and the neck hole had fallen open as it often did while she slept. I had, over the years of sleeping with her, caught various glimpses of her breasts or brief views of dark pubic hair peeking out the leg holes of her panties, and I had by now a pretty good idea of what Kate looked like naked. I could see her left nipple now, small and dark, and I felt, as I always did, as if I were sitting in front of a big pile of cash that I could never possess. I wanted, so badly that it hurt, to reach out and run my fingers through her tousled hair, to slide closer and kiss her awake. I was close enough to smell her breath and feel her warmth under the covers. I let myself fantasize that we were two young lovers hidden away from the rest of the world, sharing something no one else could ever understand. I indulged this fantasy several times a month, and sometimes it seemed so close that I could reach out and touch it, but I always came crashing back to earth when I remembered the impenetrable wall that stood between us. The inevitable disappointment was sometimes so intense that I almost brought myself to tears. Had I been wiser, I would have stopped letting her sleep with me, but there was about as much chance of that as there was of my leaping into the air and jumping over the moon. Kate stirred in her sleep, moving closer to me. I pretended to be still asleep myself, and I rolled on my side toward her. The action left us with Kate's head against my chest and my arm across her waist above the covers. I closed my eyes and lay still beside her. I had not awoken with an erection, but in such close proximity to a female body, I found myself with one rather quickly. It stirred from my boxers, emerged from the fly, and soon rested against Kate's leg. With one arm trapped above the covers and the other trapped under my pillow, I could not undo this inadvertent exposure unless I rolled away from her, and that I did not want to do. Whether my arousal was the cause or not, Kate seemed to wake up at that moment. Her leg moved against my penis, then stopped. A few moments later, I felt her arm moving slowly under the covers, reaching down to where my erection lay against her knee. Very gingerly, she felt around, as if to be certain of what it was. Feeling her gently touching my penis, I could no longer feign being asleep, and I slowly stretched out beside her. Kate's hand withdrew instantly, but she stayed where she was. I still had my arm over her waist, and I snuggled with her sleepily. She mumbled something, nuzzling her head against my chin. Sharing my narrow bed as we had to do, it was not unusual for us to end up like this simply by rolling around in our sleep, but as Kate made clear early on, it would never go beyond that. Except, that last morning, it did. Even now, on the eve of her wedding, I still didn't know what was going through her mind that day. Curiosity perhaps, though afterward she would insist endlessly that it had been a mistake and that she was sorry to have let it happen. We fought. I didn't speak to her for nearly a month. We had been awake for a minute or so. I felt her hand moving again. It found my erection, touching it gently, exploring. My breath caught in my throat as I realized what she was doing, not wanting to move for fear it would end. She took me in her hand, enveloping me. She began to stroke me softly. I remained paralyzed beside her, not believing what was happening. She kept up a steady rhythm over me, and when I began to leak in arousal, she used it to lubricate her hand. She sped up. I began to twitch and shake beside her. After a few minutes of this, she brought me to the brink, and with a restrained grunt, I ejaculated all over the sheets between us. We lay still as the odor of my semen rose from under the covers. Confusion spun through my head. What did this mean, if anything? I dared to hug her closer to me, but she went suddenly rigid. My heart stuttered. She finally moved, reaching up to caress my face. She kissed me once, quickly, half on the lips and half on the cheek. Then she was slipping rapidly out of bed. "I'm sorry. I need to go." "Uh. Wait--" She didn't look at me as she quickly pulled on her clothes. She turned away from me, pulling her nightshirt over her head--something she was normally far too modest to do in my presence--giving me a view of her naked back as she donned her bra. I lay in bed, dazed and on the verge of tears. Only when she was completely dressed did she glance at me, face lined with pain. "I'm sorry. I--" She grabbed for my hand, squeezing it, then ran out of the room. She was gone down the stairs before I could get to my door. I tracked her down later that day. We fought, as I said. Though I went back to her a month later, unable to stay angry with her, we would never speak of that morning, nor would she ever share a bed with me again after that. * * * VI. "Okay, spill it." I was at work later that week, rubbing my forehead in frustration as Kate waited at the other end of the line for my report on the bachelor party. "You sure you want to hear this?" "Yes." I had spent the last several days struggling over what to tell her, not out of any desire to protect Preston but because I knew the full truth would cause Kate a lot of pain. And I just didn't know if I could do that to her no matter how much I felt she deserved to know. "We played golf." She snorted. "And that's all? Come on." "Well, they had some strippers Saturday night." "Go on." "I don't know about this." "Tom, please." I sighed. "No one else is going to tell me anything," she went on. "You know that. Even though the other guys have probably told other people. How can you let them know and not me?" "I don't want you to get hurt." I heard a little gasp, and she didn't say anything for a few seconds. I banged my fist against my head at what I had just done. Her voice, when it returned, was quiet and nervous. "Tom?" "What?" "What happened?" I groaned. "I'm not trying to protect Preston," I said. "I'm trying to protect you." "I don't have the right to know what my future husband has been doing?" "You do, it's just . . ." Silence howled over the line. Then I began to hear vague noises that I was fairly sure were the sound of Kate crying. I heard her cry enough times before to know. "Kate?" She took a ragged breath. "Tom, listen to me. I told you I don't love Preston. And this is not a surprise. I think he's cheated on me before, I just wasn't sure about it." "How can you do this to yourself?" "I don't have any choice. You know that." "Kate--" She cut me off instantly. "Please don't. Just don't, okay? You can't say anything that will change the reality of this." "Okay. I'm sorry." "Now tell me what happened." "They had strippers, like I said." "And?" "It turned out they were also hookers." "And Preston . . ." Her voice trailed off. My throat tightened. "Yes," I managed. "You're sure?" "Yes." Neither of us said anything for about five seconds. I could hear her breathing heavily. "Thank you," she said finally. "I'm sorry, Kate. I wish it were different." "It's all right." "No, it's not." Her voice came back at me, heated and edgy. "And what do you want me do about it?" "I don't know." "This isn't your problem, Tom. It's mine, and I'm doing the best I can." "Is there anything I can do?" "No. You've done what you could. Thank you." "I'm sorry." "I know." She sighed heavily. "I need to go cry now. Goodbye, Tom." "Good bye." The line went dead, and I hung the phone up slowly. I didn't know whom I hated more at that moment, myself, Preston . . . or Kate. * * * VII. During my years in law school after graduating from Yale, Kate and I had remained in close contact. We spoke on the phone every week or so, and about once a month, she would come down from Newport and we would have lunch. A few times she spent an entire weekend with me, staying at my apartment, though she always slept on the couch. Kate had never mentioned her trust fund or its onerous terms, but that was in part because we did not much discuss her family, and I would certainly never have pried into something so private as her finances in any case. She must have begun seeing Preston during my third year of law school, but she never mentioned him once or even hinted that she was dating. She surely suspected that I would not have reacted well to the whole truth, as indeed I would not have. But I wasn't any happier about it now. The last time I saw Kate before receiving the invitation to her wedding was shortly after my law school graduation, when I was taking a brief break before beginning my study for the New York Bar Exam. She had come down for the commencement ceremony and stayed at my apartment for a few days afterward. My roommate had already moved out, having gone home to California, and I was in the midst of packing up myself in preparation for a return home to New York City. I woke up early that Monday morning, stumbling out of my bedroom to make some coffee. Kate was sprawled across the sofa, still asleep. She remained so while I filled the coffee maker, and when I was done, I sat down in a chair beside the couch, watching her. It occurred to me at that moment that, almost seven years after we had met, we were finally going off into our respective lives. I was heading home to New York for a big firm job; Kate would remain in Newport in her world of money and privilege. We would not see much of each other in the foreseeable future. For all I knew, I might never see her again after she went home that night. A lot of things could happen. I would be very busy. Kate might finally succumb to family pressures to settle down, and I might come to be viewed as a distraction from some arranged marriage. And I felt a profound ache in my chest the longer I contemplated this bleak future. The smell of the coffee finally woke Kate up. She stretched, yawned, popping a few joints, then rolled on her side to look at me. She smiled. "How long have you been sitting there?" "A few minutes. Just since starting the coffee." We stared at each other for a moment or two. "Marry me," I heard myself say. Kate's face paled, and her eyes closed slowly. She rolled on her back and covered her face. My throat tightened as I watched her begin to cry. I had to look away from her at that point, and I did not look back at her until I heard her voice. "Tom?" She lay on her side again, eyes red, staring forlornly across the gulf between us. My powers of speech were temporarily crippled. She reached for my hand and squeezed it. "I can't," she whispered. "But you want to." "I can't," she said again. "Tom . . . I love you, but right now, at this point in my life, I need a friend more than I need a husband." I pulled my hand from her grip, turning away. "I can't go on just being your friend. I'm sorry." I heard her climbing off the couch, and then she was trying to hug me. I remained rigid. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, "but if I marry you, I turn my back on my entire family. I can't do that. You don't know what you're asking me to do." I pushed her away from me, battling the tears. She sat down heavily on the edge of the couch, sobbing into her hands. I couldn't stand anymore of this. I stood and walked back to my room, lying on the bed. I covered my face with my pillow and began to cry. Some time later, I felt Kate sitting on the end of the mattress. I looked up. She was dressed, and her overnight bag was at her feet. She reached out and rubbed my leg. "I should go. I'm sorry." I let go of the pillow and stared blankly up at the ceiling. "I meant what I said." "I know. So did I. For what it's worth, I do love you. Probably more than I'll ever love anyone else." "For what that's worth." She sniffed. "I'll call you. Good luck on the exam." I nodded, unable to say anything. She left. Ten months later, I got the invitation to her wedding. By then, though, I had filed that morning away with all the other temporary insanities that infected my relationship with Kate. We were back to being best buds again. Right? * * * *********************************************** The Teaser Copyright 2000 by MichaelD38@aol.com Free redistribution permitted; no commerical use without authorization. Archives at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/MichaelD/www ************************************************ Michael ~Story Archives~ www.asstr.orq/files/Authors/MichaelD/www/ www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Richard_Bissell/www ~Other Archives~ www.storiesonline.net www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/BitBard/www/forray/michaeld/ -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ----- send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderator: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Archive: Hosted by Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository | |, an entity supported entirely by donations. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+