Message-ID: <36932asstr$1024683004@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: 53ab2750!not-for-mail From: shapeshifter37@hotmail.com (Biff Jones) Reply-To: shapeshifter37@hotmail.com X-Original-Message-ID: <3cf39b94.9644161@localhost> NNTP-Posting-Date: Tue, 28 May 2002 11:00:59 EDT X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 28 May 2002 15:00:59 GMT Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest] Flash Challenge: Ice Sweat (fict, rom, FF) X-Original-Subject: (rom fest) Flash Challenge: Ice Sweat (fict, rom, FF) Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 14:10:04 -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: dennyw, newsman ********** Authors Notes and Disclaimer: All works are drawn from my own experience or imagination and are the sole intellectual property of the author. Names have been changed to protect the parties involved. Reuse of these stories is limited to reposting; any edits or changes are not authorized. Read this story at your own risk. The subject material is of an adult nature and is not appropriate for minors. Do not download this story in violation of any applicable laws in your locality. If you are under the age of 21, you are not authorized to view this material. See my other work at www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Biff_Jones/www ********** Ice Sweat (fict, rom, FF) It was a steamy June afternoon in Savannah, the kind of day where people with any sense stayed indoors where the air conditioning could melt away the sweat inducing heat. Yet here I sat at an outdoor table on the patio of a small bistro on Oglethorpe Street, shaded partially by a striped umbrella. I was daydreaming to the soft rustling of leaves and thick Spanish moss in the trees above me, watching condensation bead down the sides of my lemonade glass. I was sweating lightly, not merely perspiring, but I started to notice a cool trickle running down the back of my neck, across my collarbone, and sliding inside my shirt to moisten the cleft between my breasts. Glancing into the window of the caf , I could see the blurred image of a woman in a white halter top and flowered skirt standing just behind me. Her arm was stretched out toward me, and I recognized ice as the source of the cold stream when another drop of water splashed onto my neck and lazily rolled down my chest. I was not expecting anyone to meet me this afternoon, and the curvaceous figure behind me could hardly have been my husband, done working early. I was torn between confronting this strange woman and leaving, but maybe because of the hot, slow air, I wasn't thinking very quickly. Yet when her cool hand descended to rest lightly on my neck, the chip of ice burned a hole in my indecision. I gasped out loud at the sudden frozen sensation. I could not let this continue; I am a happily married woman, and have never even considered being bisexual. But in spite of my indignation, I somehow continued to sit quietly and watch her imperfect reflection instead of turning to protest. Her hand slowly moved from side to side on my neck, leaving a trail of cool dampness in its wake. It felt amazing compared to the warm sweat on my arms, thighs...the growing moisture in my panties. I suddenly became aware of my arousal just as she leaned forward and began kissing and licking the water from the nape of my neck. Her hand slid forward to my collarbone, then inside my loose blouse. With a gentle insistence, she slipped her fingers inside my bra, all the while leaving a trail of water where her hand had been. Eventually she touched my hardening nipple and pressed the dwindling ice chip against it, then withdrew her hand, leaving the ice to melt and soak through my clothing. Hidden by the tablecloth, I reached under my skirt and found my wet pussy with my fingers. As she kissed and licked my neck, ears, and shoulders, I began rubbing myself faster and faster. The event was so surreal, and I couldn't believe I was masturbating publicly with a strange woman touching me. I don't know when she left, but after I came I realized she had gone. I had never seen her face. -- 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: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d, look for subject {ASSD}| |Archive at Hosted by | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+