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From: BCKRUB@aol.com
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Subject: {ASSM} "Lunch Hour" (NEW, Bckrub, MF, voy, mast, sealife)
Date: Mon, 23 Oct 2000 03:10:02 -0400
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Let's try this again.
<1st attachment, "lunch.txt" begin>
Lunch Hour
by Bckrub@aol.com
This story is a work of fiction and none of the
characters is real, although some are influenced by
actual persons. The places and situations are fictional
except for the Monterey Aquarium, a place you should
visit if you happen to be in Monterey, California.
This story includes explicit descriptions of
sexual activities. If that subject matter offends you,
or if you are below the age of consent, please do not
read further. An illustrated PDF file version of this
story is available. Write to the author if you would
like a copy.
****************************************************
The man gazed out over Monterey Bay. From the
balcony of the Aquarium he could see the seals lounging
around on the buoy a quarter-mile out, the far shore
which would be a ring of lights that evening, and the
birds hovering overhead. The gulls seemed to float on
air, changing their position slightly every few moments
to avoid having to pump their wings, to avoid, for a
moment, the search for food, to avoid going back to
work.
He thought about lying in bed next to her, running
his open palm over her back, smoothing, touching,
tickling, feeling the curves and ridges he knew by
heart.
The balcony, sea, air were always an attempt on
his part to move from a high activity level to a slower
pace, more like the pace of the Bay. Well above and
behind him on the roof the wave machine sloshed away
creating simulated water motion for the huge tank of
fish and invertebrates below. He didn't look at his
watch because he didn't wear one. There was one tucked
into the front pouch of his bag, but that's where it
usually stayed. The only exception was when he had to
give a formal talk. Then he used the watch to make sure
that he didn't drone on too long, when all they wanted
was 15 minutes. Although much of his life was defined
by schedules and meetings and phone calls and email to
be answered, he fought a rear-guard action to maintain
a bit of control, to refuse to have the schedule pushed
into his face, to place things in his schedule which
would undo the neat package into which circumstances
tried to contain his life. The gulls were always a
reminder, changing their position slightly every few
moments to avoid having to pump their wings, to avoid,
for a moment, the search for food, to avoid going back
to work.
He thought about the way her ass looked in jeans,
and the way her ass felt against him when he came up
from behind her, wrapped his arms around her and buried
his mouth on her neck. He thought about the smell of
her hair.
The man walked back into the Aquarium, through the
glass doors which led into a partially enclosed space
with shore birds, sand dunes and water, the midday sun
shining on the pool of water lapping against the sandy
shore, the birds flitting about. He passed through
another set of doors into a space that looked more like
a museum: displays, tables, models. A 6th grade class
was scattered over part of the floor, the teacher
making a rear guard attempt to keep her charges in some
form of order. One kid with brown tortoise shell frame
glasses remained behind at a station with two
microscopes and photos of microscopic marine life. The
man walked over to the child, watched him peering into
the microscope and asked, "Cool, isn't it?"
"It's like there's this 'other' world, the kid
replied. "It's always there and we don't even notice
it. It's just small, invisible to the naked eye."
"Sometimes the stuff you see every day isn't the
most important stuff you need to know about, the man
said. "Do you see the things that seem to have rotors
attached to them, like a ring of spinning claws? Those
are rotifers. They're a unique group of organisms that
are often the first food for newly hatched fish in salt
or fresh water. Any fish you eat may be dependent on
rotifers, but who knows from rotifers?"
"What are things that seem to twitch around, the
ones with the big antennae?
"Those are copepods, the largest group of small
animals floating around in the water. They're the guys
most small fish eat once they're too large for rotifers
and other smaller critters."
"It is like a different world. Like another
planet. And those things that look like bears, they
really weird."
"Yeah. It's a different world that we usually
can't see and don't pay any attention to. These small
critters are essential to life in the sea, but most
people just have no idea. If we took some soil from a
forest and placed it under a microscope, you'd see
another type of "hidden world," and the forest can't
live without those microscopic organisms, either."
"And we're fucking it up, aren't we?"
"How old are you, kid?"
"Eleven."
"Wait till you're 40 to be cynical. What do you
want to do?"
"I want to be a marine biologist. Or maybe a C+++
programmer."
"There's more money in programming, but
programmers don't get to go out on boats and take some
of their work home for dinner."
The pizza doesn't count?" The kid laughed,
turned, waved and walked toward his teacher.
As the man took the stairs down to the first floor
of the Aquarium he flashed back to her kneeling in
front of him, sucking him, her eyes locked onto his as
she did so, making him come with her eyes as much as
with her lips and tongue.
He passed by the reception desk and nodded to
Julie, who smiled, who always smiled in a way that
could either be flirtatious or just practiced
informality. He passed through the front doors, past
the line of people moving into the Aquarium, and made a
point of patting the shoulder of the intern working the
line. Smart kid, he'll make a great scientist. And he
likes people, which is so rare with techie types.
*************************************************
As on most Mondays, the Laughing Porpoise Bookshop
was not terribly crowded. Last week's supply of
tourists had mostly moved on and this week's set would
not filter in for another day or two. The woman who
owned and more-or-less ran the store was making small
talk with the owner of a local bed-and-breakfast while
the Laughing Porpoise's primary employee, BookGrrl, was
reorganizing the poetry section, once again. Poetry
which generally did not sell more than 1,000 copies
nationally, on average, had been arranged by author,
then by title, then by "literary tradition." Most
recently the poets from California had been arranged by
bioregion. The owner had no problem indulging BookGrrl
since she was bright, worked hard, only insulted
customers who really deserved it and was exceptionally
helpful whenever someone came in looking for something
other than a best seller or a book about John
Steinbeck. BookGrrl didn't have a problem with
Steinbeck per se, it was just that in Monterey everyone
comes to buy a book by John Steinbeck which they could
buy in a bookstore in their own town. As she worked,
BookGrrl absent-mindedly played with the stud in her
tongue, a newly healed piercing that brought with it a
slight remaining taste of her lover's semen from early
that morning when they had celebrated her piercing by
giving each other head. His tongue had been pierced
when they first met two months ago and it had taken her
that long to get up the courage to have some slightly
seedy-looking guy smack a needle through her tongue.
BookGrrl ran her fingers through her short black hair
as she looked over the shelves of poetry and declared
herself satisfied with her work.
The woman left BookGrrl to her poetry and walked
to the back of the store to find the volume the bed-
and-breakfast proprietor wanted.
The woman thought about his scent, and the feeling of
his large, strong, smooth hands on her. She had
originally been attracted by his hands. It seemed a
bit silly now. A person's hands don't keep the flame
lit, or pay the bills or solve arguments. She just
knew that when he hand one of those hands under her,
cupping her ass, while the other played with her
pussy...
Although a few other customers passed in and out of the
store during that early Monday afternoon, the only one
who was a fixture that day was a college student who
was sitting in one of the ancient, well-padded, chairs
scattered around the store. Her chair was located
along the back wall next to the entrance to the store
room and office. She was wearing cutoffs, a cotton
camisole and sandals. She had been sitting with one
leg hanging over one of the thick upholstered arms but
now her legs were tightly crossed. A copy of "Super
String Theory and Its Implications for Astronomy" was
perched in her lap, (subtitled, "The Closer You Get,
the Weirder the Universe Looks") and that was the book
she had gone to the store to buy, for a course during
the upcoming semester. But hidden inside the physics
text was a paperback edition of "Beauty's Release", by
A.N. Roquelaure, and it was that book she was reading,
that book which was causing her to absent-mindedly play
with her long blond hair, and that book which had her
pressing her thighs tightly together. Her thigh
muscles flexed, the crotch seam of the cutoffs wedged
just where she happened to want it at that particular
moment. One of her sandaled feet tapped in the air.
The woman checked out the customer and glancing out the
window, watched a man walk by the store. She thought
about how his butt looked when he was naked, walking
still wet from the shower, or walking away from her
while she was still in bed. She thought about the
muscles in his back.
She spoke with another customer, who was interested in
nature guides for central California. They exchanged
stories about bears and eagles and condors as the man
walked into the store.
The man passed by the magazines, picked up the new
issue of The Whole Earth Review and leafed through it,
reading the first few paragraphs of an article by John
Todd. He walked around the store, past the college
student, who looked up from her story of bondage and
spankings, to check him out as he passed. She tried to
look uninterested, but didn't quite pull it off.
The man met the store owner at the check out desk,
and she smiled.
"We can leave in a bit. There's something I need
to do first."
She nodded to BookGrrl and walked toward the back
of the store with the man following.
They walked into the office past the college
student and the door closed behind them. The woman
bent over a large wooden desk near the door, searching
for a catalog. The man stood behind her and lightly
ran his fingers down her spine and then over the back
of her skirt.
The woman stood up, turned around and brought the
palm of her hand against the front of his pants. She
took an additional half a step up to him and kissed him
on the mouth, her other hand reaching up to his face.
His arms reached around her and slid up and down over
her back. They kissed several times, caressing each
other until he broke off the kiss to ask, "I guess
we're not going to lunch right away, are we?"
The woman stepped back and sat on the edge of the
desk. She reached down and hiked up the mid-thigh-
length denim skirt she was wearing.
"You can eat lunch once you've finished eating me,
Ocean Boy," she said.
He walked forward and dropped to his knees in
front of her as she brought her feet up to the edge of
the desk, leaned back and spread her legs, fully
exposing her pussy to him.
"Hmm. No panties. I hadn't noticed"
"Shut up and lick me, sweetie."
The college student heard all this from outside
the door, and she heard, even more clearly, the woman's
moan when the man had finished his preliminary slow,
soft licks of her lips and had started to fuck her with
his tongue. The student thought it was particularly
strange that the sounds of two real people making love
on the other side of the door and wall were now a
distraction to her surreptitious reading of a
pornographic novel. She looked around to see if there
was anyone else in sight and began rubbing the crotch
of her jeans.
The woman's ass was perched on the edge of the
desk, as were her feet. She leaned back a bit,
supported by her arm behind her, while the other arm
reached forward to grab the man's head. She gave him
whispered instructions about how she liked her pussy
licked and when to slide his fingers into her cunt, and
then into her ass.
He licked and sucked her with real enthusiasm,
stopping briefly to whisper to her how good she smelled
and tasted, until she brought his mouth back against
her. He buried his face hard against her and she
whimpered more, until a saliva-coated finger slid into
her tight ass and she screamed and came, hard.
The college student jumped out of her seat for a
moment and was feeling very wet. Her nipples were
getting hard and their outline could be seen in the
fabric of her cotton top. She could not hear the man
continuing to lick the store owner's pussy, although
slower and softer now, but she could her the woman's
continued soft moans. She could hear the rustling of
papers on the desk as the woman stood back up but could
not hear her drop to her knees. Her ears perked up
again as she heard the unmistakable sound of a belt
being unbuckled and a zipper being unzipped. A few
seconds later she hard the slurping sound of a cock
being sucked.
The college student quickly refastened her cutoffs
and put the books down on the floor. She quietly padded
across the back of the store to see if there was anyone
else around, to see if she was going to get caught
masturbating in the back of a book store as she
listened to two people fucking one or two feet away
from where she had been sitting. This took no more
than 30 seconds and the only people she saw were
BookGrrl, who was standing at the checkout, and a woman
looking through the magazine racks near the front of
the store. The college student's well-educated but
hormone-soaked brain did the risk assessment math,
return to her chair, unzipped her jean shorts, sat
down, draped a leg over one of the well-cushioned arms
to spread herself open and slid a hand down her pants,
her fingers going straight for her wet pussy.
The woman sucked cock for several minutes and then
went through a quick routine of moves she knew he
liked. She flicked her tongue on the sensitive spot on
the underside of the shaft near the head. She slid his
cock over her lips and cheeks while she looked up at
him. She licked his balls while she stroked the shaft
with her hand. She dropped her free hand down between
her legs and masturbated while she sucked him.
The woman rose to her feet and stood in front of
the man with her back to him. She reached back and
took his hands, bringing them to her breasts and
pulling him up against her. She could feel his hard
wet cock against her ass, his hands caressing her
breasts through her shirt and his breath on her neck.
She took a step forward and bent herself over a pile of
boxes of books, spreading her legs and aiming her ass
upwards.
The man took in the view. The strong, smooth legs
with well-defined muscles taut and spread, leading to a
beautiful ass and spread pussy with just a little bit
of fur framing the lips, and the denim skirt scrunched
up around her waist.
"Are those boxes what I think they are?" he asked.
"Yep. Just think of it this way. Someone always
makes a tacky porn version of a hit movie. Just think
of this as a scene from, 'Harry Potter and the Spurting
Cock.'
The college student started to snicker but was
stopped by the sound of the woman and man both moaning
as her entered her. The student's fingers rubbed her
pussy as she heard their moans and then, after some
minutes, the sound of his stomach slapping hard against
her ass.
The woman reached back between her legs to rub her
clit while she was being fucked. The man freed one
hand from her hips to suck on a thumb until it was good
and wet. He then placed the wet thumb against her
rosebud anus and began to push as if it were a button.
As the thumb slowly slid into her ass the woman began
to buck and her legs began to shake almost
uncontrollably.
The sound of the woman's long low moans of orgasm
brought the college student to the edge of her own
cliff, but the sound that flung her over the edge was
the sound of the man. She loved hearing men come, and
this guy was a real cunt-twitcher. The moan started low
and deep within him. It rose from his diaphragm
through his lungs until it caught in his throat and
turned into a cry. Almost a cry of protest that too
soon the intense pleasure would be over. It was if she
could hear his balls draining into her hot wet spasming
pussy.
The college student lost it, her hips rising from
the chair, her eyes closing and her head snapping
backward. At that point, she didn't care if there was
an entire crowd watching her come. In fact there was
only BookGrrl who peeked, unseen, around a bookcase
and who let out an inaudible "Oooo!" as she watched the
college student spasm in pleasure. Another moment and
BookGrrl was returning to her post, but making a mental
note to go and sniff the chair once the student left.
The man and woman were still coupled, wet, hot and
moaning softly. Cum and pussy juice were dripping down
one of her thighs, his hands were running up and down
her back, her fingers were gently brushing his balls.
They both shivered from aftershocks.
The college student was still in her seat when
they emerged a few minutes later. The student's brain
had sufficiently returned to near-normal function by
then for her mischievous streak to reassert itself.
She rummaged around in her bag and as the office door
opened and they walked through, she lit a cigarette
lighter and held it as high as she could above hear
head, letting out a high-pitched whistle. The man saw
her, laughed and walked on toward the exit. The woman
saw her, took two steps and then turned and walked
right up to the student, taking the girl's free hand
and smelling the fingers.
"Did you enjoy yourself Lindsay?" The student turned
beet read for a moment, and then smiled, feeling just a
twinge of voyeurism-induced guilt. The woman ran her
hand through the student's hair, looked straight into
her eyes and said, "If you're a good girl, maybe this
weekend I'll let you watch me fuck him in the ass" The
woman flashed a mischievous smile of her own, turned
and left.
A rush flashed up the spine of the student as she
heard the phrase, "fuck him in the ass," and it
repeated through her consciousness over and over. She
grabbed for her bag, and the two books and limited
herself to one thought: Was either of her two
occasional lovers home right now, and which one was
closer to the bookstore? Her pussy was crying out,
propelled by a new and unexpected fantasy that aroused
her to the point of desperation.
She half-stumbled to the check out desk where
BookGrrl recognized her condition on sight and could
not let her go without tugging at her chain. While the
student obviously wanted to be on her way immediately,
BookGrrl suppressed a smile as she slowly processed the
purchase and when the student almost threw the cash at
her, BookGrrl slowly unfolded the bills and slowly
counted out her change as the student stood by looking
nervous. BookGrrl momentarily considered asking, "Can
I wipe this cum off the books for you?" but decided
that would be too cruel, even for her.
As the student rushed out of the store toward
either a man or a woman about to encounter their
surprise of the week, BookGrrl watched her and thought,
"There goes a woman with a mission."
Bckrub@aol.com
October 2000
<1st attachment end>
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