Message-ID: <29678asstr$986206203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: not-for-mail From: spoonbender@hotmail.com (Theodore Spoonbender) Reply-To: spoonbender@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <3ac7fd51.3587985@news.earthlink.net> MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=us-ascii Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit NNTP-Posting-Date: Sun, 01 Apr 2001 21:19:41 PDT Subject: {ASSM} ** New Spoonbender Story - Slits [cons, mast] <*> Date: Mon, 2 Apr 2001 06:10:03 -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: gill-bates, dennyw Slits (cons, mast) ************************************************ (c)2000 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors. If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains allusions to naughty, erotic goings on. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not changed, including this heading. If it is to be archived on an archive then please email me first for permission. Note that the characterizations are mine. I do not like people stealing them for inclusion in their own efforts. Please email me with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style. My email address (if you feel the unrelenting urge to shower me with praise) is spoonbender@hotmail.com Please look at my sex story survey at www.spoonbender.demon.co.uk It is completely anonymous and the results will be posted on the web to assist me and other writers in focusing our stories better. Many thanks. ************************************************* Nobody knows how the craze that swept the world started that wild summer. Somebody said it was a French fashion house, others said it swept unassisted out of the crowded subways of the Tokyo underground. Whatever. It filled a strange need amongst certain groups of travellers. The fashion thing was a light flouncy skirt, a sort of peasant girl's going out clothes, but with a cunning accessory. A slit, well more like a pocket really. Right across the bottom of the buttocks. Carefully concealed to the casual observer, it spoke volumes to the sophisticated. It said she was available. For certain things. The flouncy dress went out of fashion within days, but someone took the idea back to Tokyo. A few weeks later the first tentative copies, carefully crafted into sleek business suits, made their appearance. The result was electrifying. The thing is, you see, that there is a special type of problem that occurs on crowded tube trains. When a man is pressed hard against a woman and she is so hemmed in she can't even turn her head to see who it is. Things can happen, stands to reason. Wandering hands, nubile flesh. You get the picture. But what about if she don't want it? Most don't of course, very tricky to choose a willing victim, but they were around. More than you'd ever imagine. However there weren't that many in proportion, so more likely than not an unwilling girl would find hands creeping up her body and between her legs. Hemmed in she can't retaliate, so she just stands there, humiliated. Great loss of face to be caught with a man's hand inside your panties, apparently. It so it went on, much to the dismay of the otherwise rather efficient Tokyo Police. The travelling public, particularly women, demanded a solution, but there was very little evidence to go on. Victim and perpetrator soon got separated in the swirling crowds as the doors opened. There were very few eye witnesses oddly enough even though it usually happened in a crowd of people. Then, just when the problem looked insoluble, along came the fashion. Whispers travelled the crowded tubes full of salarymen dreaming of retiring to the country. The slits, watch out for the slits. Of course this being an extremely civilized country, there were rules. Unwritten but everybody knew them. And so the perversely arousing battle was joined. The search was on for the slits. And they were there! Handy, concealed slits that would yield to a probing hand. Even before the doors close the fingers are at the gusset. Sawing rapidly across the smooth silk. Rule one. Be gentle, but firm. The hand forcing the thighs to split. She resists, momentarily, but the hand pushes again and the thighs part enough to give comfortable access. Rule two. Gusset first, see how far you get. If you get it wet then you are on to the next stage. The finger diddled her clit, she sighs heavily and closes her eyes. Her juices start to flow. Sensing the wet the finger sneaks under the panties and flesh meets flesh. She shudders deliciously. Rule three. If you get to this stage, the challenge is to finger fuck her to orgasm before the next station. The finger probes inside teasing the soaking depths. It wriggles briefly then the pumping begins. Insistent, undeniable. They both know what's at stake here. She's fighting it even though she wants it, afraid of crying out her passion amongst a press of rocking commuters. He is unstoppable, faster and faster. They could both see the lights of the next station looming up and they both battled towards their respective goals. She trying to deny herself, and him, the orgasm that he was being so persistent in forcing upon her. The finger worked assiduously on. The front of the train had reached the end of the station as the finger did its work. A few more seconds, just a few more, if she could just last a few seconds....... She'd be spared the humiliation of coming in public. Oh why did she wear this skirt, today of all days. Oh noooo..... Rule four. When the train stops the hand is immediately withdrawn, whatever the outcome of the encounter. She didn't make it, well she did so it wasn't all bad if you can understand my convoluted tautology. She had her orgasm. He had his fun. Rule five. No acknowledgement of either party to the other. Yeah and no peeking. So if you're off to Tokyo watch out for the slits. Case Study Ryoko stood facing the doors as they hissed closed. It was the last leg of her journey home and her thoughts strayed to what her and her boyfriend were going to do that night. As her mind raced a delicious shudder ran through her trim frame and she blushed modestly. Just thinking about him had an overwhelming effect on her. He could tease sensations out of her body that she still didn't believe were possible. Pleasure so intense it was almost unbearable and afterwards the dreamy, satiated weariness where her whole body seemed to buzz with every nerve ending sending its own tingling message of well being to a fuzzy floating brain. A famous poet had called it the agony of pleasure and she thought that that was the perfect description of what she felt. They had been having sex for over six months now and marriage loomed high on the agenda. A perfect marriage of financial security - he had a very good job and had a foot firmly placed on the promotion ladder - and steamy nights. They were just waiting for her to finish college and then the big day. She could have hugged herself she was so happy. In common with all the other girls in the college she wore the standard uniform of blue skirt, white blouse and red string tie, overlaid with a dark blue jacket. White ankle socks completed the ensemble, giving her a cute appealing look that belied her eighteen years. All pretty normal stuff, seen on thousands of teenage girls. Except her boyfriend had suggested one evening that she modify her skirt a little. Just a little. She had blushed furiously when he first broached the subject and refused to talk about it for days. She didn't want to be labelled as being 'that' sort of girl. She had friends of hers who sold their underwear to help them pay for the latest fashions and she found the idea slightly nauseating. So for her to actually offer herself......to complete strangers..... Nevertheless she kept churning it around in her mind, the idea starting to intrigue her. It was a few days later that she felt able to broach the subject again with him. She had been so snappy and dismissive last time that he hadn't mentioned it again. So she had, like a gynaecologist, to search for a suitable opening. It came after a bout of seriously contortionistic lovemaking. She batted the subject lightly and he picked up her theme. Finally, after some hours she'd agreed. And so she got out her sewing machine and carefully altered her skirt. It was a painstakingly delicate task, made more so by the necessity of keeping her little secret from her college friends. She knew she'd just die if they found out. The first time she wore it was a bit of an anticlimax overall. She'd kept her tightly buttoned jacket on and so the slits couldn't be seen. But it got her incredibly hot just thinking that at any moment a hard male hand could intrude between her legs seeking out her sex and...... She'd made the slits at the front, two of them like pockets with no bottom. This was how the fashion was evolving, and so her sex was available to anyone who stood close behind her and could snake his hand around and plunge it inside the folds of her skirt. That first night she had virtually melted when her boyfriend had first broached her sex. And her climax soared like an eagle screaming around Mount Fuji. She'd worn it a few times since, usually on his insistence and each time she had been left unmolested, but still the gnawing tingle of anticipation kept stoking the itch between her legs. But she had never been touched and that aroused mixed feelings in her. On the one hand she felt mildly relieved and on the other the unpalatable fact that maybe she just wasn't pretty enough. She was as it happens, but she started to doubt it. It was the last leg of the journey for her. The train rattled across the points as it made its way slowly across the intersection. Rocking her gently sideways. Ryoko breathed out slowly. She had again escaped possible embarrassment. She even started to feel safe. And so she dreamed. Suddenly the lights flickered and the train came to a halt momentarily catching her off balance. When she found her feet again she could feel someone was pressed up against her. Very close. Her breathing quickened and she fought hard to resist turning to face the stranger as she felt the hand slide under her jacket and down inside her skirt. The train lurched just as the fingers reached her gusset, then the lights went off plunging them into darkness. This seemed to urge the hand on and it briefly played with her button evincing a low moan from her. The finger described a small circle for a few seconds then started to creep under the fabric of her panties. Ryoko realised with a start that she must be soaking down there and she felt her cheeks burning with shame as the finger made contact with her intimate folds. For a second she was completely disorientated. There was something wrong happening her. Very wrong and she struggled to work out what it was. Then it hit her in a blinding flash. It wasn't a man's hand! The carefully manicured nails pressed little furrows in her compliant skin, the smoothly rounded tip teasing her clitoris unmercifully. Ryoko arched her back and gurgled a mild protest. She wasn't a lesbian and she wanted to scream it out but her innate modesty and the intensely wonderful feelings that the fingers were stealing from her body took her breath away. And so she endured in wondrous bliss. If there is one thing that a woman is supremely qualified in it is in being able to extract the maximum pleasure from another woman's body. And these fingers had been this way before, if not exactly this place. They knew what to do and they did it. Ryoko put her hands flat against the glass of the door and opened her legs wantonly as the fingers wove their magic. Wave upon wave of delectable sensations washed over her drowning her in bliss. And when the fingers delved inside...... She had to push the end of her scarf into her mouth to stop her from screaming as she rode her climax. The intensity and suddenness of it creating a stroboscope of bright lights behind her tightly closed eyelids as she wriggled and squirmed helplessly. The lights came on briefly, but she didn't notice. She was lost in the mists at the heights of her lust. Suddenly, before she could fully recover she felt a second hand intrude between her widespread legs. She muttered a muffled protest then a new sensation was visited on her. Something hard was pressing against her sopping entrance. She tensed as the 'thing' started to push in and out with increasingly deep strokes. This wasn't in the rules. She reflexively tried to close her legs only to find the hands forcing them apart again. The 'thing' went deeper and deeper, harder and harder. Then a finger started in on her clit and, just as she was starting to dissolve, the train lurched into life and the lights came back on. She came to blushing crazily and tried to compose herself, convinced that everyone in the carriage could see what was happening. But her molester was subtle, you couldn't see the arms under her jacket and she was pushed against the door, blocking the front of her body from sight. The 'thing' never missed a beat as the finger wriggled. Faster and faster as they started to pull into the station. She was getting close, oh so close. Faster. Closer She was cumming...... The doors started to hiss open and the hands withdrew smoothly. Leaving her poised on the edge of one of the biggest orgasms of her life with, what turned out to be, a rather large carrot pushed up deep inside her. Held in by the gusset of her straining panties. She opened her eyes to be confronted by her mother and younger sister who were going to accompany her on the 2 mile walk to her home. 2 miles and unable to stop to remove the carrot. She groaned in anticipation. ************************** (c)00 Spoonbender ************************ Ok so whaddya think? Email me at spoonbender@hotmail.com Don't forget my survey at www.spoonbender.demon.co.uk Thanks. -- 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. | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+