Message-ID: <35022asstr$1012615802@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "D.B. Metallo" <db_metallo@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} (ASS, ASSM) Another Chance At Love (oral, anal, romance)
Date: Fri,  1 Feb 2002 21:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


                                       Another Chance at Love

I was giving a lot of thought to this afternoon's appointment.  It was my
first time to see a psychiatrist and the possible repercussions were
bothering me.  I mean, sure, I had always been sort of regarded as
"off-the-wall", perhaps unconventional, maybe "eccentric" even, but no one
had ever called me "crazy", at least to my face.

For instance, I had never thought of my little brother as the embodiment of
world destruction.  Nor did I see him as the Anti-Christ.  He was a royal
pain in the ass sometimes, but what little brother isn't?  I had seen a
psychologist to assess what he termed "suspected hypomania", and he'd
arranged for this meeting with the psychiatrist just to "make sure
everything is okay".  At a rather exorbitant $225 an hour, you would think
they could do a little bit more than that.

I did a search for hypomania on the Internet.  The condition was
characterized by a high energy level and euphoric mood that could last for
several days and then change to irritability, intolerance and rage.  Other
symptoms included extroversion, loss of judgment, rapid speech/flow of
ideas, an increased sex drive and a low need for sleep.  It sounded like I
was a prime candidate.  Except for the rage part.

As far as I was concerned, none of this was a big surprise to me.  I was
certainly extroverted, fairly friendly with strangers, usually in a good
mood, and reasonably productive and creative.  I didn't sleep a lot, and
while I didn't consider myself promiscuous, I surely possessed a healthy sex
drive.  I was the one to whom everybody attached the word "hyperactive".
Self-esteem was not a problem, and I didn't think I had any problems with
the squandering of funds.  In fact, I was quite frugal.  And I couldn't
really see any issues of judgment either, but then again, I would tend to be
biased in that regard.  I simply wasn't aware that my mere existence was
looked upon as a pathological condition.

The modern office complex where the psychiatrist was located was in a better
part of town.  After I entered the building, I walked down a long carpeted
hallway to a large waiting room that appeared to be the reception area for
several medical offices.  Checking in with the receptionist, I speculated
from the style of her glasses and lines on her face that she was around 50
years old.  She gave the definite impression she'd much rather be somewhere
else.

I sat down across from a young woman with a ponytail, who appeared to be
perfectly normal aside from the fact she was muttering "shit, piss, fuck" at
random intervals.  That and the slight unpredictable jerks of her head
occurring each time she voiced the words.  It was a little disconcerting,
but just as I tried to concentrate on the pamphlet I'd picked up at the
front desk, the receptionist called my name.

I stood and started to walk toward someone I assumed was a doctor who
appeared at the hallway door.  I only glanced at her at first.  She was
quite cute; about five feet six inches tall, with small to medium size
breasts, long slender legs, and blonde hair that went to the middle of her
back.  She wore a knee-length beige skirt and a light blue oxford
button-down, and was holding a clipboard.  In fact, although I was unsure
why, it seemed that I knew her.  I had never been to this clinic before.

"Right this way, Daniel," she said, and as she passed she seemed to study my
face closely before walking in an unhurried pace down the hallway.

 I took the opportunity to observe a rather stunning ass in the motion of a
seductive sway, with the tight-fitting skirt serving to highlight it nicely,
and all too soon we were at the psychiatrist's office.  She opened the door
for me, and I walked in as she followed casually, sitting down behind the
desk.   She looked more than vaguely familiar.

"I'm Dr. Lofgren, Daniel.  Please have a seat."  She looked into my face for
an extended moment, and in what seemed like an afterthought stated,  "And
you may call me Suzanne."

'Suzanne?' I thought, in somewhat of a daze as it came back to me.  'Suzanne
Barrett?'  I suddenly realized who she was. "Suzanne?  I thought your name
was Barrett?  And I thought your hair was light brown?"

I knew there was a confused tone in my voice.

"Danny?  Is that really you?" she asked, a smile on her face.  "I was
thinking you looked awfully familiar.  I didn't recognize you with that big
ol' Cheech Marin mustache.  Hmmm.  Small world, isn't it?"

She looked genuinely pleased to see me.

"Yes, it's really me, Suzanne.  It's great to see you, considering the
circumstances."

I had been quite enamored with Suzanne Barrett in my freshman year of
college.  We'd been enrolled in the same English 101 course at UCLA.  I
guess you'd call it a crush, but I was hesitant to act upon it,  as she was
three years older than I was.  There were about 125 other people in the
lecture hall, but we usually sat near each other and talked when we could.
I had also helped her with a few term papers as the semester went on, and
that included meetings at her place.  She was a senior at the time,
acquiring needed credits for her undergraduate degree.  She'd mentioned that
she was  pre-med, but I'd been under the impression she was going into
pediatrics.  It was a major surprise, as I had no idea she had chosen
psychiatry as a career.  It had been about eight years, and I was delighted
to see her, even considering the circumstances.

"Danny!  It's so good to see you!  I hadn't looked at the client roster
before I came in today," she said and smiled.  "What are you doing in
Birmingham?"

She seemed to have an unspecified glow about her.

"It's really nice to see you as well, Suzanne.  I'm a writer these days.
Short stories, novellas, and, umm - other things."

I neglected to mention that my main source of income was from writing
erotica under the pseudonym ''Dick Bigger''.

"I live out in the country about 60 miles south of town.  Dirt road, well
water, lots of trees, deer in the back yard, the whole ten yards; a good
place to write."  I paused.  "How 'bout yourself?"

"I'm impressed, Danny.  I do a little writing myself besides the technical
drafts and such that I have to do for universities.  I ended up in
Birmingham because of a teaching job at University of Alabama that opened
up, and I also have a burgeoning 'roving' practice, where I see clients all
over Shelby County.  So, what has it been, eight years or so?"

"I believe so."

I noticed that she was poring over the file my psychologist had prepared.  I
was kind of uneasy watching her read the file, for no other reason than I
didn't know what it contained.

We began talking, discussing both the past and present, and she explained
why her name was no longer Barrett.  Apparently, she'd married an older
anatomy professor at the medical school she'd attended, and had stayed with
him for almost seven years.  She gave a few not-so-subtle indications that
the relationship hadn't been satisfying either physically or emotionally.
She was in the process of coming to closure on divorce proceedings that were
for the most part cordial.

"He's a wealthy older man, and I think he's grateful for the time we spent
together," she told me. She gave the rather distinct impression that she
wasn't financially hurting.  "I began dying my hair blonde shortly after our
marriage.  It was something he'd requested, and I thought hair color wasn't
all that big of a sacrifice.  Besides," she said, "I'd always wanted to see
how I'd look as a blonde."

I would have told her she didn't look bad.  Not bad at all.

"Well, we've wasted enough time.  Hypomanic, huh?   Hypomania can be an
indication of the onset of bipolar disorder.  Do you think you're bipolar?"

She had a serious expression on her face, although her blue-gray eyes
sparkled.

"I really don't know.  I've done a little research on the ''Net' after I was
asked about the hypomania, and while I haven't exactly exhibited the more
serious symptoms of manic depression, such as psychosis, a lot of what I saw
in the descriptions of hypomania certainly apply to me,"  I was trying to be
honest.  "And I can tell you this, Suzanne, I'm scared shitless -- if you'll
excuse my French."

"That's perfectly reasonable.  While we don't know if you have it or not, I
can administer a screening that might help us get a clearer idea.  Any
objections?"

"No, none whatsoever," I answered quietly, although I was very nervous about
the evaluation.  Really nervous.

"Okay; has there ever been a period of time when you were not your usual
self and felt so good or so hyper other people thought you were not your
normal self?  Or you were you ever so hyper that it got you into trouble?"
she asked calmly, looking into my eyes.

"No - but I think I've been close."  I paused, then asked, "And is it okay
to call you Suzanne?  I'm afraid I've been presumptuous."

I watched her jot a quick note into her notebook.  At the same time, I
noticed that her breasts looked as good as they had in college.

"No - Suzanne is fine.  I remember those times when you helped me out with
those papers in school.  I consider you a friend."

I thought back to the essay I'd helped her write on ''The Oxbow Incident''.

"But tell me," she continued, "what do you mean by 'I've been close'?"

"Well, you know - not that I felt like shooting up a post office or
anything, but I would get 'all revved up', for lack of a better term."

I watched as she made several prolonged notes on her pad. 'This isn't going
well,' I thought.

"Okay - were you so irritable that you shouted at people or started fights
or arguments?"

She was reading from her notebook.

"No - I'm still kinda laidback, Suzanne."

And I think I really was.  Living in a rural area tends to do that to one.
I found myself thinking how sensuous her lips looked today.  Always had, in
fact.

"Have you felt much more self-confident than usual?" she asked, in a
pleasing tone, but it seemed as if she knew what my response was going to
be.

"Yeah... that's one of them.  I just kinda thought I was being more cocky
than usual."

And that's how I really felt.  She was looking at me, a passive expression
on her face.  Again with the note-taking.

"You always were a little cocksure," she said, smiling.  "Have you gotten
much less sleep than usual and found you didn't really miss it?"

She looked at me intently.  She knew of my sleeping habits from college.

"Guilty as charged," I said, looking into her face for some kind of an
indication.  Either way.  "I probably sleep on the average of five or six
hours a day.  I thought it was merely my 'biological clock' running fast."

I really did believe that.  I'd been that way my entire life.  That's why I
thought nothing was wrong.  At that, the psychiatrist entered several
entries in her notebook before looking up at me.

"Yeah, I remember those all-nighters you used to pull in college.  That's
not good -- as your doctor, I'd prefer you get at least eight hours per day.
I may prescribe some sleeping medication, like Ambien.  How does that
sound?" she asked rather cheerfully.

'Too cheerfully', considering the moment, I thought.

"If you say so, Suzanne.  You're the doctor, and I trust you more than I
normally would any other physician."

I hated the thought of using sleeping pills to regulate my sleep.  I didn't
like pills much.

"I say so.  Proper rest is important.  Especially considering the fact you
may be bipolar.  Proper sleep can be a major factor in preventing manic
episodes," she said pointedly, giving me a nervous glance.  I was developing
a very uneasy feeling.  "Were you much more talkative, or did you speak
faster than usual?"

She was beginning to look at me in a different manner than she had earlier.
Or maybe I was simply beginning to get paranoid.  This wasn't going well at
all.

"Again, guilty as charged.  I thought it was just my novel view on life.
You know me, I've always been rather gregarious."  I smiled impishly, then
asked, "Is that bad?"

I watched her make a few quick strokes in her notebook before she resumed.

"Well, it's not necessarily bad in and of itself, but when a number of
factors show themselves as positive, then we may have a problem," she stated
ambiguously.  I wondered who this ''we' was she was referring to.  "Do
thoughts race through your head -- do you have trouble slowing your mind
down?"

"I've had racing thoughts.  Sure thing.  Again, I thought they were just
inherent to me.  I thought it was simply the way I was."

I really did.  I had nothing to compare me or my thinking patterns to.  She
made a few hurried notations in her notebook.

"Are you so easily distracted by things around you that you had trouble
concentrating or staying on track?"

She looked as if she already had a clue as to what I was going to say.  At
least that's how I read it.

"Are you sure you've never read any of my stuff?" I joked, and seeing her
smile, I continued.  "Yes, I do have those problems, but I thought they were
merely the plague of a 'scatterbrained writer'.  I have to make extensive
outlines of the stories I'm going to write to be sure I stay on track,
because, quite frankly, I lack the discipline to tell a story without
meandering needlessly all over the place."

I heard the exasperated tone in my voice.

"Perhaps I will -- I'd like to read some of your stuff, Danny," she said,
looking at me for an extended moment.  "Have you had much more energy than
usual?"

She looked at me again like she knew what my response would be.  This was
getting uncomfortable.

"That's me.  To be honest, I thought that was my particular body type.  I
thought I was simply 'hyper'," I said, as I watched her scribbling into her
pad, "and everyone else was just less so."

"I'll agree with you on that point.  When we were going to U of A, I
actually thought you were doing methamphetamine or something when you were
helping me with those term papers.  You were going a mile a minute," she
said.  "Were you?" she asked quietly, almost as a second thought.

"Nope.  Never was much of a speed man.  Makes you grind your teeth and smoke
like it's going out of style."

I was being honest, as I had no reason to lie.  She looked at me and grinned
winsomely.

"This is off topic, so don't feel compelled to answer, but do you still use
marijuana?" she asked.

She'd used the word 'still' because she was aware of the fact I'd smoked
reefer in college.  If I recalled correctly, I had smoked a joint with her
one night after we finished one of her papers for English 101.

"What's it to you?" I joked, raising my voice in a mock offended manner,
then answered her harmless question.  "Sure, I've been known to burn one
occasionally.  It helps me 'take the edge off', if you will, of my normal
constitution -- umm,  I guess this would be irrelevant as well, but do you
still use marijuana?" I asked softly, lowering my voice to a near whisper,
as if we were discussing our next bank job or something.

"You're right -- it is irrelevant, but I'll tell you anyway because I
consider you a friend."  She paused while looking intently into my eyes.
"Remember the joint we smoked after you helped me finish that paper on
Orwell's '1984'?"

She'd lowered her voice as if telling a secret.  Seeing me nod in
accordance, she giggled and smiled broadly.

"*That* was the last time.  And I was higher than the dickens," she told me,
grinning in a child-like manner.

Suzanne went on to ask more questions; covered risk-taking, problems with
overspending and similar issues.  We had already spent way past my allotted
hour, but since my appointment was her final case of the day, she seemed to
have some leeway.

"There's a good chance you're a manic-depressive, but with regular use of
anti-manic medication, there's also a good chance we can prevent any
episodes from occurring."

She prescribed a small amount of Ambien for sleep, but held off prescribing
Lithium for the time being, saying she'd like to observe me a little more
before committing to it.  Christ, I was frightened.

"Now, don't take this personally, Danny, but I'm sorry, I can't really
remain your doctor.  I'll get another one assigned. She's really good.  Her
name is Dr. Huntsberry," she said, then went on to explain that our prior
relationship prevented her from remaining my psychiatrist.

"Yeah, I was thinking something like that might come up.  We could still
talk to each other privately though, couldn't we?"

I didn't want to sever the ties with the woman I had a crush on all those
years.  And still did.  I looked at my watch.  It was seven fifteen.  She
was studying my face closely, seeming to measure me.

"Sure thing, Danny.  Listen, umm... now that I'm not your doctor, would you
care to join me for a little dinner?" she asked, speculatively.  "I haven't
eaten all day, and I thought you might make good company."

She looked at me with a flirtatious smile on her face.

"Hell, I'd be honored, Suzanne.  Hell, I'll join you for a 'big' dinner."  I
grinned.  "I'm fairly famished, myself."  'Perhaps the day might not turnout
to be all bad after all,' I noted silently.  "And this will be nice -- on
the arm of a beautiful psychiatrist."

I noted her blushing slightly when I said it.

"You flirt, you," she said and laughed nervously.  "Let me get my purse, and
we'll go.  Did you drive?" she asked, and seeing me nod said, "Come with me.
We'll swing by and get your car after we eat."

"After you, m'lady," I jested, holding my arm out, then followed her out the
door, wondering what, if anything, she had in mind.

As we walked to her car, I noticed the gray herringbone tweed jacket she
wore.  I thought it looked quite fetching, especially considering the
camouflage fatigue jacket I was wearing.  We walked to a dark-blue 1992
Camaro, and after she entered, she unlocked the passenger side, and I got
in.

"Have any preference? There are a bunch of CDs in that case."

Suzanne pointed to a CD case in her back seat, then started her car and
drove toward the freeway.  I looked back over the seat, then sat back and
relaxed.

"No, that's okay... the radio will do just fine."

I selected a familiar FM rock station.  Elvin Bishop's "Fooled Around and
Fell in Love" was just beginning to play.  Maybe it was the temperature in
the car, but I suddenly became aware of the enticing perfume Suzanne was
wearing.

"So, what have you been doing since you left UCLA?  And why haven't you
married?  Seems a handsome charmer like yourself would have been snatched up
long ago," she asked with a appealing smile.

"As far as the marriage thing goes, don't you remember the line I had when
we were at school?  The 'neither The Church nor State has any business in
any relationship of mine' thing?  I stuck by it," I said with a chortle.

"Oh yeah -- your 'radical' line," she smirked and smiled broadly.  "So, what
have you really been doing since you left school?"

"Oh, that -- sorry.  I've been writing a bit," I said, still not ready to
divulge I was ''Dick Bigger''.  Not at the moment anyway.  "Stories."

"Great.  I do a little writing myself, you know."

She looked over at me quickly as we continued down the highway.

"I'd like to see what you're writing.  If I recall correctly, I'd turned you
into a pretty fine writer when we were at school.  You were hurling adverbs
and flowery adjectives around like there was no tomorrow," I said, grinning.

"You never know, Danny.  You just might get to see some of it... soon," she
said, rather mysteriously.

I wondered what she meant.  We arrived at the restaurant, and she pulled in
and parked.

"After you, m'lady," I said with a grin as I held the door open for her.

"Fresh!" she said, smiling as we entered the eatery.  "Thank you, Danny. You
always were the polite one."

We sat at a corner table and talked about our days at the university as we
dined on pork ribs, slaw, and beans.  We fondly remembered our time we spent
writing those papers, and talked and laughed about college days.  There was
a pleasant intellectual foreplay taking place.  I found myself recalling why
I'd had a crush on her as I looked into her attractive face.  Beside her
cute nose and piercing-green eyes, she had very sensuous-looking full lips.
I think she may have noticed me glancing at them as we were speaking.  We
finished our meals, and afterward she had a vodka martini while I had an
imported beer.  As Suzanne gazed across the table into my unsuspecting eyes,
her foot found a resting place between my legs, and brushed lightly along my
length.  My length, indeed!  I responded in an instant.  She flashed a
seductive smile and winked at me as the waiter brought our check.

"I'll get this.  For all of those papers you helped me write.  You helped me
get a good grade in the class.  I don't believe I've properly thanked you,"
she said, smiling temptingly as she picked up the check.  She found her
credit card and handed it to the waiter who took it to the register.

"Let me at least pick up the tip."  I left it on the table as the waiter
appeared with her card.  "And thank you, Suzanne.  I've had a wonderful
time."

I was still reeling from her unexpected graze of my crotch.  There was a
growing bulge in my pants.

We departed the restaurant, and while walking side by side to her car, I
felt her hand come to rest on my lower back.  I turned to face her, and she
caught me by surprise by quickly pulling my face to hers.  It was a
passionate kiss.  I parted my lips slightly, and her tongue met mine,
dancing frantically in my mouth as my hands rested on her rounded hips.  We
paused the kiss, looking intently into each other's eyes.  She grabbed my
hand and led me to her car.  I was taken aback, not knowing what to say, and
planned on keeping my mouth shut in fear of spoiling the moment.

"I suppose you'd like an explanation," she said, looking me in the eyes as
she started her car.

"It's up to you, Suzanne.  I'll accept the kiss for what it was.  It was
nice.  I've wanted to kiss you since we were in English class."

We left the parking lot and pulled into traffic.  She seemed to be heading
in a different direction than we came in.  Suzanne glanced at me and
actually blushed.

"You too?  Danny, you don't know how much I'd wanted to kiss you when you
were helping me with those papers.  You helped me immensely in that class.
I doubt if I'd have gotten into a reputable medical school without that
grade you helped me get.  And I appreciated it.  But at the time, I was
paired with that dork football player, and if I recall correctly,"  she
said, looking into my eyes briefly, "you were doinking the waif-like girl
with the unnatural-looking blonde hair from Oregon."

That required a response.

"Not only that, but I was kind of intimidated by the fact you were a senior
and I was a mere freshman.  Not to mention you were beautiful, popular, and
sought after by all of the BMOCs," I explained, and looked to see an
unexplainable smile on her face.  "But Marilyn's hair was natural - I
confirmed it."

I couldn't help my grin.  I knew she was aware that I was referring to the
co-ed from Oregon.  I noted the upscale neighborhood we were entering.

"Hmmm... 'BMOC', huh?  I haven't heard that term in ages. I remember it
well -- Big Man On Campus.  Let me tell you, Danny: Most of those frat guys
and jocks were dickweeds."  She erupted in soft laughter, delighting me with
her use of the term 'dickweed'.  "Sure, there were exceptions, but that's
just what they were -- exceptions, rather than the rule."

"Ummm... where are we headed, Suzanne?  I don't seem to remember this
neighborhood on the way here."

"We're going to my place, Danny.  We have a bit of catching up to do; you
don't have any objections, do you?" she asked, flashing the same sexy smile
she'd displayed in the restaurant.

"Let me out here!" I kidded, raising my voice in imitated anger.  "No
objections at all, my dear.  You're right; we do have a lot of catching up
to do.  I think I'd like to kiss you again as well."

"Oh, that can probably be arranged," she told me, giggling softly.  She
pulled into a long driveway of an expensive-looking house.  "Here we are,
babe,"

She delighted me in her choice of endearing terms.  We both got out, and as
we did, we exchanged nervous yet desirous glances before heading to her
door.  The house was pretty impressive, a two or three bedroom one-story
rancher, and was done in red brick.  We made it to her door on a walkway of
flat stones.  She produced a key to let us in.  The front room was striking.
There were original lithographs of several well-known artists hanging on her
walls.  It was furnished in a somewhat modest but appealing fashion.  There
were several tasteful Asian rugs throughout the area; a nice personal
computer and a laser printer in what seemed to be her office.  The PC was
on, the screensaver going through its rotations.

"Have a seat, Danny.  I'll be right with you," Suzanne purred, and
disappeared down a hallway.  I viewed her superb derriere as she swayed down
the hallway and I thought about how I'd like to see that ass.  Without
pants.  The 'little head' was thinking again.  I took off my fatigue jacket
and draped it over a chair.

"Nice place, Suzanne... you've done quite well for yourself.  Quite well
indeed," I remarked.

She emerged from the hallway as I sat back on her stylish couch.  She'd
changed into a very washed-out pair of cut-off blue jeans, cut short enough
that I could see the white cotton pockets hanging beneath frayed denim, and
a plain white t-shirt.  Perky nipples made their presence known, jutting
through the thin material.  She was barefooted.

"I wanted to get out of that skirt and that stiff oxford shirt.  I hope I
haven't offended you," she said, with a sly smile as she sat next to me.
"And thank you -- like I said, it was a generous settlement."

"Quite generous, it appears.  Ummm, no -- I think offended is the last thing
I'd be," I told her, with a smile, glancing at her attractive frame.  "Hell,
I've wanted to get you out of that skirt and oxford shirt for a while now,"
I kidded.  I looked and saw her smiling softly.  "May I kiss you now?" I
asked her, hoping I'd read the moment correctly.

"Certainly.  I'd be upset if you didn't."

It was a flirtatious glance, and she stared into my eyes with a look of
desire.

"I wouldn't want to upset you now, would I?" I asked, facetiously.

I leaned in close, maintaining eye contact, pulling her to me as I brought
my lips to hers.  Suzanne closed her eyes and parted her lips, inviting my
tongue into her mouth.  I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her to me
tightly.  Her tongue met mine, and they swirled in our mouths.  I felt her
firm breasts pressing into my chest.  Her hand lightly caressed my back, and
we gradually eased away from each other.

"Wow.  That was nice.  It's a shame we hadn't done that sooner," she said
softly, looking up into my eyes.

"Yes, it was -- but it was worth the wait," I said, smiling, running my
fingers through her silky hair.  "Well worth it."

I kissed her again, holding her face in my hands as I traced the outline of
her lips with my tongue, then met her tongue in her mouth.  She sucked
softly on my tongue as it darted around her mouth.  I looked into her
brilliant-green eyes and saw in then the intimation of a smile.

"C'mon, Danny - I want to show you something," she said, and grabbed my
hand, towing me toward the hallway.

I was looking at her nicely-rounded ass, thinking about how it was going to
look in the bedroom, but she stopped by her PC, and I almost bumped into
her.  She clicked on ther networking icon, got online, then selected the
alt.sex.stories.moderated newsgroup.  *My* stories were in a.s.s.m.  She
clicked on a file and brought it up to the screen:


            '"Thank you, Danny," she tells him as she puts her
              hands behind his neck, and as she moved to kiss
              him, adds, "I appreciate it", and pressed her lips
              to his, and softly insinuated her warm tongue into
              his mouth until their tongues twirled sensually together.
              She stood upright, and taking him by the hand, led him
              wordlessly to her bed.  They sat arm and arm on the edge
              of the bed, kissing passionately as their hands slowly
              explored each other's bodies.  He felt her dainty fingers
              journeying over the growing bulge in his pants, and he
              slowly moved his hands up and down her sides until coming
              to rest on her firm breasts, and her fingers deftly
              unfastened the button on his jeans.''


"Alyssa D'Angelica - she's pretty good.  She has a sensuous way of putting
text to keyboard, if you will," I said.

I was speaking honestly, being familiar with her work in the newsgroups and
at ASSTR.  "Nice name she uses in the story as well," I said, grinning
widely.

"I'm glad you think so, Danny -- you're looking at her."

She was looking at me demurely, a seductive grin on her face.

"Really?  No shit?  You're ''Alyssa D'Angelica', huh?  Cool.  I've always
liked your stuff... her stuff... well, you know what I mean.  I taught you
well, didn't I?"  I asked with a sly smile, considering the many
ramifications of her admission.  Alyssa D'Angelica had quite an erotic way
of thinking.

"You really did, Danny.  You taught me the value of proper word choice. You
turned me on to the whole concept of outlines.  You helped me with writing
immensely," she said, and smiled at me with a sexy grin.

"My pleasure, Suzanne.  I knew you had potential. That's why I worked with
you so closely.  Not to mention that you were a fox... although I just did,"
I said with a grin, noting her redden slightly.  "Here... click on that guy
''Bigger'' there."

"Dick Bigger?  He's one of the most popular erotica writers on the Internet.
A rather peculiar choice of pseudonym in my opinion, but I would be
surprised if he isn't published somewhere," she said, and clicked on a story
named 'Rendezvous'.  "This is a good story, Danny; I'd love to meet the guy
who wrote it," she said, pausing to read the file out loud.


              ''She was still sucking on my neck with inspired
               fervor as I lazily ran my finger along the glistening
               lips of her dewy slit, and I knew then I had to taste
               her. I gently dipped a finger into her tight quim, and
               she stopped sucking on my neck to gasp softly. Looking
               into her exuberant face, I brought my finger to my lips,
               tasting her piquant juices, and she paid deliberate
               attention to me licking her juices with enthusiasm. I
               returned my hand to where her legs met her body, and slowly
               ran my finger up along the length of her puffy lips, avoiding
               her erect clit purposely."


When she paused, I spoke up.

"You're looking at him.  Pleased to meet you, Ms. D'Angelica," I replied
with a grin, revealing my 'clever' pseudonym.

"Wow!  I've kissed Dick Bigger!  I thought I remembered someone who threw
around the term 'piquant'.  I mean it, Danny.  It brought you to mind," she
said, grinning at me.  "Piquant is a rather elitist term, don't you think?"

"And I've kissed Alyssa D'Angelica -- and I've always wanted to do that.
Yeah, 'piquant' is beyond most vocabularies.  At least I didn't use
'lubricious'.  But sometimes it just 'fits', if you know what I mean... let
'em look it up.  For instance, I'd go so far as to wager that you're
somewhat piquant," I said, smiling at her, surprised at my frankness.

"I really wouldn't know, but if you play your cards right, you might be able
to observe first hand," she said, an inviting smile on her attractive face.

"Deal them cards," I said grinning, smiling at her captivating face.  "No
hurry, I'll find out soon enough," I added facetiously.

"Oh, will you now?"

Suzanne, with a smile, stepped toward me and kissed me, softly pressing
tender lips to mine at first, then with a mounting passion, sliding her
tongue into the recesses of my mouth.

She placed her hands on my hips, her head beside mine and whispered into my
ear, "Come with me, Danny.  We have a lot of lost time to make up for."

Breathlessly, Suzanne took my hand in her own, and led me toward her
bedroom.  I followed silently, guiding my arm around her petite waist.

When we reached the door of her bedroom, she paused to look me in the eyes,
kissed me softly, and whispered ''right this way, lover'', and again I was
exhilarated by her choice of terms.

As we entered the room I noted a faint odor of frankincense.  The room was
almost dominated by a massive four-poster bed.  There was yet another large
Asian rug with intricate patterns etched into it at the foot of the bed.  I
looked into the large mirror on her bedroom wall.  Her reflection was gazing
back at me with a certain warmth.  We moved without words to opposite sides
of the bed, and as she turned back the ornately decorated covers, I reached
over and brushed a few strands of hair from her face.  After I slipped out
of my running shoes, we eased onto the bed.  She looked over at me to say
something.

"I guess it's a pretty good thing I'm not your doctor anymore," she said, a
soft smile at her lips, then wrapped her arms around my waist and pulled me
toward her petite body.  I moved to press my lips to hers.  Her soft full
lips separated slightly, allowed my tongue to enthusiastically mingle with
hers as I placed my hands on her softly rounded hips.  She tugged my t-shirt
from my pants, pulled it up over my head as I raised my arms, and then her
hand went to the button on my jeans.  As she maneuvered the buttons free,
she paused a moment while I pulled her shirt off, revealing firm breasts.
They were just as I'd imagined them many times before -- perky, 'sparing',
as in not too big, not too small, her erect nipples jutting out proudly.  I
pulled her tightly to me as we engaged in a lusty kiss and relished the
sensation of pointed nipples pressing against my chest.

She gently pushed me onto my back, put her fingers into the waistband of my
pants as I lifted my hips.  She eased the jeans from my body.  My hardened
shaft rose from my body proudly, and she looked up into my eyes and smiled
quietly.  I stole a glance at her elegant breasts as she pursed her lips and
slowly kissed her way down my body, descending to my hardened shaft.

She very deliberately licked the drop of pre-cum off the bloated head, then
eased me into her warm mouth.  She teased me with her tongue for several
moments, then slowly worked her lips up and down my stiff member, looking
into my eyes as she did.  I entwined my hands in her hair, guiding her
motions as she bobbed her head up and down at an increased speed.  She
continued her movements, looking into my face as she took me deeper into her
mouth, and I thought I saw the hint of a smile in her eyes.  I felt that
familiar feeling in the core of my being, then erupted into her eager mouth,
and she hungrily swallowed each thick warm shot.

Keeping eyes on mine, Suzanne slowly climbed my body and hesitantly kissed
me, inserting her tongue into my mouth and swirling it wildly.  Returning
her kiss with passion, I sucked gently on her tongue, then moved to her
lithe neck, planting soft kisses there.

After spending some time kissing and sucking on her sensitive neck, I
proceeded to her sloped shoulder, tonguing and licking the supple flesh.  I
moved down to take an excited nipple into my mouth, licked it tenderly,
moved to the other one, taking my time as I kissed my way down her flattened
tummy.  Kissing my way along the soft flesh of her belly, I eased her
cut-offs from slightly rounded hips and became conscious of her sensual
aroma as I neared her frilly panties.  I hooked my fingers into her sexy
underpants and eased them slowly from her slender legs, aware of her fingers
in my hair urging me ahead.

Tenderly touching a pointed tongue to her sex, I slowly brought it up
vertically along the length and slid my tongue deeply into her welcoming
fleshy slit.  Her hands played gently with my hair, spurring me on.   My
aroused cock was jutting into my stomach, pulsing into my skin, and I licked
and sucked upon her soaked womanly folds, thrusting rhythmically into her
with my tongue.  Licking and nibbling at the swollen lips of her distended
labia, I drove my tongue into her depths, savoring the taste of her essence.
I moved at a slow pace to her proud sensitive clit, and lightly bathed it
with a flippant tongue, then sucked on it ever so tenderly.

Stealing a glimpse of her head thrashing back and forth on the pillow as I
tenderly licked her proud nub, I raised her legs onto my shoulders and
cupped her firm ass in my hands.  Suddenly, her hands clutched my hair
tightly as she emitted a high-pitched squeal.  Toned legs tightened around
my head for several moments, gradually relaxing as she came down from her
crest.

Suzanne slowly raised her head with a serene smile, then spread her legs and
pulled me on top.  Easing my stiff shaft deeply inside her exquisitely tight
pussy, I felt her vaginal walls adjust as I filled her completely.  She
closed her eyes as I moved within her, and  I began a moderate pace as she
placed her hands on my ass, pulling me deeply inside of her.  I moved to
kiss and suck lightly on her neck, and she initiated a soft bucking motion
matching mine.  I slid my throbbing cock in and out of her receptive wet
cunt for what seemed like an eternity, and she opened her eyes and smiled at
me as I did.

Just as I was feeling that familiar feeling in my swollen balls, she
murmured into my ear, "Yes! Fuck me, Danny! Fuck me harder!"

Her hands on my ass pulled me deeply into her, and I looked into her pretty
green eyes as I released a heavy load of warm pearly cum into her womb.  I
kissed her with a passionate hunger, our tongues engaging lovingly as I did.
We fell asleep in each other's arms.

I awoke the following morning to a cup of strong black coffee that Suzanne
thoughtfully chose to bring me.  I noted how good she looked without
make-up.  Wearing a fairly short sheer negligee, she slid into bed beside
me.  I kissed her tenderly on those soft lips, then quickly excused myself
as I climbed out of bed to relieve my bladder.

I washed my face and hands, then brushed my teeth with Suzanne's toothbrush.
After what we'd just done the night before I reasoned that she wouldn't
mind.  I returned to the expansive bedroom to find her still in bed with the
covers pulled up to her chin.

"Umm, don't you have to go in today, Suzanne?" I asked, looking at the clock
on her nightstand.  It was nine forty-five.

"I don't have anything scheduled until noon, Danny.  Come to bed... I think
we should 'talk'.

A sly smile was on her pretty face.  She patted the side of the bed softly
with her hand.  I slid in beside her and felt her warm skin pressed against
me.

"Umm, Suzanne, do you think we should do some research for that upcoming
collaboration of Dick Bigger and Alyssa D'Angelica?  I bet it would be
pretty hot.  Maybe we could post it as  Dick D'Angelica or Alyssa Bigger," I
said,  grinning as I did.

We discussed my idea of co-authoring a piece of erotica.  I had always
wanted to write with someone of the feminine persuasion.  Seemed to me that
it would make that story that much more "real".

 "That would be a good idea," she said , slowly kissing her way down my
chest, "and research just might be fun."

She looked up at me and smiled softly for a moment before attacking my
now-erect nipples with warm lips and magic tongue.

She continued very slowly across my stomach, occasionally glancing up at me,
a shy smile on her face.  When she reached my half-erect length, she took me
in her mouth, lazily running her tongue around the sensitive crown of my
shaft.  She bobbed her head up and down very slowly along my swollen length,
and I quickly achieved full hardness.  Suzanne swept the hair from her eyes,
looked at me intently, then moved up to kiss me.  With need in her sparkling
green eyes, she gently positioned my throbbing shaft at the entrance of her
overflowing wetness, rubbing the bloated head very deliberately along the
length of her tight slit.  Her wet pussy swallowed my length as she slowly
lowered herself down.  I took her firm breasts in my hands as she began to
move up and down along my hard cock.  I placed her softly rounded hips in my
hands, and a soft smile crossed her face.

"That's right, babe -- fuck me, Suzanne -- fuck me!" I hissed as she rode me
like a woman possessed, arms flailing to keep her balance as I thrust upward
into her, holding on to her well-shaped ass.

She bounced enthusiastically upon my swollen rod, looking at me with a
serene smile on soft full lips.  She leaned forward to press her lips to
mine, erect nipples grazing across my chest.  Breath quickening, she thrust
her tongue into my mouth as I felt the cum rising in my swollen balls -- and
I erupted inside of her, sending rivulets of warm seed into her womb.  As I
did, she thrust herself down hard upon me, seductively wiggling her lovely
hips as a beatific smile came upon her face.  With a deep satisfied gasp,
she collapsed into my waiting arms and we kissed lovingly.

A half hour later she got up to get ready for her half day in the clinic.  I
got dressed and drank another cup of coffee.

'Damn good java', I thought to myself.  She came out of her room dressed in
jeans and a purple t-shirt.

'''Casual Day' at the office," she explained with a grin.  After she
collected her things, she made her way to the door.  "This isn't over,
Danny.  I still have some issues with you."  It was a fleeting grin.
"C'mon, let's go.  I'll get you back to your truck."

We drove to her office, and she pulled in next to my '52 Chevy pick-up.
Okay, it was rather beat-up and it was painted all primer-gray, but I liked
it.  It had sort of a nostalgic feel to it, with its oversized steering
wheel and ancient AM radio.  My blue-tick coon hound Elvis looked rather
picturesque when he was in the bed of the truck as well.  "Ain't nothin' but
a hound dog".  Get it?

"Danny, it's been... real," she said smiling as she handed me her card with
her home number written on the back.  "Give me a call... soon.  I think we
have some out-patient therapy to discuss."  She gave me a attractive smile.
"I have to get to the office.  You take care, Mr. Bigger," she joked, then
kissed me hungrily, swirling her tongue in my mouth.  "Let's do it again
soon... real soon.  Call me."

"Sure thing, Suzanne... I mean, Ms. D'Angelica," I smiled.  "I'll get dinner
next time.  Take care of yourself."

I watched her strut gracefully toward the door of the clinic.
 'Definitely -- real soon,' I thought as I started my truck. 'Real soon.'

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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