Message-ID: <36952asstr$1024708202@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <20020620005437.80071.qmail@web20307.mail.yahoo.com> From: Sara Hart X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Wed, 19 Jun 2002 17:54:37 -0700 (PDT) Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest] Intuition (Sara H) (FF,FD,MC,Horror,Rom,Caution) X-Original-Subject: {ROM FEST} Intuition (Sara H) (FF,FD,MC,Horror,Rom,Caution) Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 21:10:02 -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, RuiJorge __________________________________________________ Do You Yahoo!? Yahoo! - Official partner of 2002 FIFA World Cup http://fifaworldcup.yahoo.com <1st attachment, "Intuition_.txt" begin> 2002 ROMANCE FESTIVAL ROMANCE CLASSICS *If you are younger than 18 years If sex is taboo to your neighborhood peers If offended by words full of sexual sleaze Do us both a favor and skip this please. Please ask permission before posting this story elsewhere. - Sara* I decided to submit this story to the 2002 Summer Solstice Romance Festival on ASSTR in the Romance Classics section. I decided to do so because the story is a strange mix of love and fear, of hatred and redemption, of horror and enlightenment. Comments on this story are included at the end. ------------------------------------------------------- Intuition by Sara H Categories: FF,FD,MC,Horror,Rom,Caution ------------------------------------------------------- I had no idea that the backroads of Florida were infested with so many rednecks. I was finding out really fast, though. My partner, significant other, or whatever-is- comfortable-for-you-to-call-it Belinda and I had been driving most of the day on our way to the La Paradisio resort on the gulf coast. The trip had been nice enough, and we were glad to get the time alone together. Between our careers... well, her career. I don't think being a manager of a shoe store qualifies as more than a job, at least for me. Anyway, our relationship had been suffering from a lack of time, and this trip was likely going to be a turning point for us, one way or the other. Getting harassed by Billy-Bob Brownteeth and his friends was not what I expected. All I did was stop for gas. As I walked in to get a soda, I saw them sitting around in the dingy light, staring at me. They made a few comments about my ass as I passed by on my way to the racks of cans. I ignored them. They got louder. I ignored them more. It had always worked before. I got a shiver of premonition. I should have listened, but what can I say? Ignoring catcalls had always done me just fine. As I walked up to the counter, Billy-Bob, complete with sweaty t-shirt and greasy hair, stepped in front of me, blocking my path. "What's the matter baby, you have a thing for the bitch in the car, or just can't handle a real man?" sneered Billy- Bob, grabbing his crotch and moving closer. I sighed. It was one thing to put up with heckling aimed at me. But calling Belinda a bitch made my blood boil. I turned and looked at him. My anger rose and my judgement faltered just as quickly. "I don't see any real men here, bubba," I said, letting my voice lilt. "All I see is a bunch of ignorant, inbred assholes who use corncobs for more than just wiping their asses. Find me a *man* and maybe I'll fuck *him.*" My head jerked back as someone grabbed my hair from behind, and I thought my back was going to break as I was dragged and then bent backward over the counter. I looked upward into the face of Jimmy-Joe Pustule, the cashier. "I think you owe us an apology, you fucking cunt," he said, the smell of stale beer and onions forcing its way into my nose. The "Woops," I muttered under my breath did not describe my sudden sense of fear and regret, and suddenly I was desperately hoping that Belinda was looking this direction. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and pulled me up off the counter, and then pushed me down to my knees. It was Billy-Bob, his face distorted with a 'That's *Mister* Brownteeth to you, bitch' look. His actual words were a little more in keeping with his character. "You also owe my asshole an apology, you goddamn whore. I think you should kiss and make up with it, after you clean out big daddy's peckersnot!" Where the fuck was Belinda? "Oh, boys..." came a sultry voice, answering my question. The hands on my shoulders let go and I ducked to the floor and scurried away. "Why bother with her? She just sells shoes. Now me, I fuck like a dream." I peeked and counted five men, standing and gawking, jaws slacked, staring at my lovely Belinda. Their pants looked like horizontal tents. Well, except for Billy-Bob Brownteeth. He only had a pup tent. *I should have guessed as much,* I thought, smiling inwardly. *An ego is a terrible thing to waste...* "But since we're on the subject, shoes are nice, don't you think? Especially ladies' shoes. Ladies shoes with high heels. In fact, I bet you boys even like to wear them," Belinda said, her voice almost musical. "Call it intuition... I see the things you try to hide, even from yourself," she continued conspiratorially, "and I can tell how very, very perverted you are. "You can't even get off unless you are wearing your lovers' shoes, can you? It doesn't matter that they hurt from being too small. It gets you hot. In fact, what you really want is to wear your their shoes all the time, isn't that so?" The "boys" made no motion... they were totally captivated. "And your first obligation for today was to go buy your women some shiny, stiletto heeled 'fuck-me' pumps, which will, of course, be your favorites. Especially to wear to work. And golly, look at the time. Seven P.M. I think you stalwart fellows have some shopping to do." The room thundered with a stampede for the door, leaving just Belinda and me, holding in our nervous laughter. Oh, she was evil. I thanked God she was my lover and friend. Funny or not, I was shaken, and as Belinda pulled me into her arms, I broke down and the dam burst. "It's okay, baby," she soothed. "They're not going to bother you or anyone else now... I love you, Alyssa... shhhh... shhhhh..." Her tender kisses on my cheeks finally quieted the tears and trembling, and I snuffled and gasped out a laugh, still choked from my crying, as I wiped off my nose and smiled, red-eyed and grateful. What Mr. Brownteeth and Company didn't know, but would soon find out, was that Belinda only spoke the truth. So much so, that no matter what she said, it *was* the truth, and it was total, and permanent. Unless the truth changed. But she got to say. There was a time when the truth would have been that I didn't remember any of this. Now, sadly, the truth is that I remember it all so perfectly that I can't forget the slightest detail. Belinda left a twenty on the counter for our gas, and we got back on the road. I let Belinda drive. I was still shaking from how close I had come to being raped. I couldn't get rid of the smell of beer and onions, and I guess my anxiety was still showing in my face, because Belinda said, "You know, Alyssa, there's no need for you to remember that we even stopped." "We stopped?" I asked. "Was I sleeping?" "Yes, sweetie, and I didn't want to wake you," she said, gently touching my face with her fingers. ------------------------------------------------------- When we got to the resort, it was already dark. It was hard to find - well, maybe that's not quite accurate. It was on a stretch of road, in the middle of nowhere, so we kept wondering if we had passed it. As it turned out, it was a good thing we were watching, because the only indication of its existence, at least on this moonless night, was a small, neatly painted sign at the end of a long driveway. I was a little let down - I had been expecting something with more pizzazz., and this promised to be little more than a typical coastal condo rental, if that. We pulled up to a white, stucco building with a mauve screen door. At least it had a porch light. A little gray- haired man answered our knock, and let us in. Once inside, it turned out to have a comfy little registration area. Very cozy, with a yellow warmth that reminded me, ironically, of warm cottages in the cold winters in New England. I was impressed by the fact that the little man seemed genuinely glad to see us. He was incredibly welcoming, and offered us a complimentary bottle of wine that he said came with registration. We couldn't decide on white or red, so he generously gave us a bottle of each. It was a surprising and genuinely warm gesture, and even now the thought makes me smile. Finally, with the registration filled out, and our cottage assigned, we went back to the car and followed the rather complicated instructions to our home for the next two weeks. As we unpacked the car, and carried our bags to the landing outside our humble abode, I held my breath, waiting for the disappointment that was sure to follow. "Don't worry, it will be perfect," said Belinda, as she turned the key in the lock. It was. And it wasn't one of Belinda's manipulations, either. My first impressions had never been more wrong. The queen-size bed, which was all of entrance room, was covered with a white crocheted bedspread. The needlework was magnificent. And, draped over the four tall bedposts were white sheers of silk. I know it sounds simple, but it was breathtaking. The living room and kitchen were upstairs, and equally graciously appointed. After a look around, and a little unpacking, we went back downstairs to go to bed. I went into the bathroom, and decided that my pussy needed a little trim. Belinda liked it clipped very short, and I thought it would be a good way to start off our vacation. I walked back into the bedroom and saw that the covers were already turned back. I head a noise from upstairs, and turned around. I watched, fascinated as Belinda's long, shapely legs descended, followed by her shapely, voluptuous body. Belinda was not skinny, nor was she overweight. She had let herself into her thirties with soft, rounded features and an exotic face that seemed to exude lust when she was turned on. Her delicate hands slid down the banister in complete silence, and I watched in utter fascination as if her body was appearing out of nothingness, forming before me. Romantic? Romantic is not even the word. Erotic? Seductive? Surely somewhere there is a word that embodies all of these, but I don't know what it is. Her face finally came into view, her eyes heavy with burning lust and desire. Her strawberry blonde hair flowed onto her shoulders as if she were floating under water. I had never seen her so completely alluring. It was as if she were pulling my deepest fantasies of making love with her right out of my head. Maybe she was. It doesn't really matter. She was doing it because she loved me. She walked over and lifted my hand, placing it on her breast. I let my eyes close, feeling her heart beat wildly, her chest slowly rising and falling as she breathed. I stood there in that timeless moment, completely oblivious to anything around us. Remembering our love. This was the promised land. "You want me," she said, the words burning hotly into my brain. "There will never be another love like this." I felt her mouth move close to mine, her warm breath traipsing over my face, heating it into molten desire. Her tongue traced the outline of my lips, dancing and seducing them until they were slightly twitching, the hunger in them trying to jump out to her. Her lips met mine, and I fell into her, my passion so intense that I could not keep my mind from whirling nonsensically. My kisses left her lips to tenderly cover her face... her ears... her neck. My hands freely roamed body, pulling her tighter to me, sealed together by the rising hunger of wanton fucklust. Tonight I wanted to know her body completely, and I was aching with the desire to burn her existence into my own. I had felt love and desire for her before, but this was so far beyond, that even now I am not sure I can feel it all at once. She led me to the bed, and we lay down, our eyes staring into each other, into some swirling dance of eternity, and the only phrase that entered my mind was 'soul-fucking'. My mouth glided down her neck to her breast, my tongue finding the aureole and circling, the nipple raising itself, long enough to touch my lips. I greedily pulled it in and suckled as I let my tongue swirl and flick, hearing Belinda's first moans of promised passion. I stayed there for ages, letting each movement of obsessed sex fill me over and over, like the breaking waves we could hear in the distance. Without even thinking, our bodies intertwined and writhed together, every motion a part of a perfect ballet. It was like fantasy... even when she slipped and lost her balance, I had already moved so that it only gave us each a new source of greedy teasing and arousal. Somehow, we ended up in a tight sixty-nine position, or as Belinda called it, the yummy yoni yin-yang. My fingers closed around her ass, pulling and lightly scratching, and I felt her tongue press down on my hot little clit, finally popping it outward so that a wave over pleasure spasmed down my legs, making my toes open and curl, over and over, in pure, reflexive delight. I was losing all inhibition, and thoughts that I had found revolting suddenly shifted as I became determined to gift my glorious Belinda with every pleasure I could muster. I shifted slightly, and stretched upward until my tongue pressed against her tiny, brown pucker. The taste was completely different than I had expected, and I felt her tremble with unexpected pleasure. I pressed and circled, turned on by the taboo, wishing suddenly that this love, this glorious manifestation of lust, could be seen by more than just the two of us. I felt my mind going out of control, the waves of pleasure coming faster and faster, and I let my tongue slide down to her pussy, voraciously suckling in her clit, circling and flicking with light, lightning fast licks, pulling the blood into it, engorging her precious nubbin, as my finger replaced my tongue in her asshole. I could feel her reaching the crest of the hill, her reactions slowing as she tensed for her climax, and my own body responded, the thrill of making her cum raising my own pleasure until we were tensed in unison, like two lovers holding hands, ready to leap together into eternity. I could feel her heart, beating completely in sync with my own, and I screamed the scream of the ancestral world, lost as the blackness and tingling vision overtook my mind, her mind, nothing but pleasure beyond thought, pleasure that was an ocean and we were drowning happily forever as our souls intertwined in beauty and blissful ecstasy... I awoke, barely aware that I had passed out, my body still tingling and waves still passing, to the sound of Belinda crying. No, she was sobbing. Wracking sobs that cut deeply into my heart. "Oh, God, what's wrong, Bel?" I asked, pulling her close to me. "It's... it's... I don't know, Alyssa. I just love you so much... I don't want to lose you..." "Shhhh love, there's no need to worry... I'm not going anywhere..." "No, you don't understand," she groaned, followed by words I couldn't make out through her wracking sobs. After a few minutes she seemed to gain control. "I'm sorry I'm so silly, Allyson... that was just so beautiful..." "Let's go to sleep, love. In the morning it will all be fine, and I'll still be here with you." Putting it down to an emotional upheaval brought on by the most intense sexual experience of our lives, I held her as we went to sleep, a sleep filled with odd, unsettling dreams. ------------------------------------------------------- The next morning I awoke to find myself alone. That was pretty usual; Belinda always liked her morning walks. I decided to go upstairs and have an apple or some fruit or something. Humming to myself, happier than I could ever remember being, I poured myself some orange juice and fixed myself a cinnamon bagel, and walked into the living room and spied my love looking out the window at the ocean, sitting in a chair she had pulled over. I don't know if I'll ever forget that moment, the waves lapping the shore, her beautiful strawberry blond hair draped over the back of the chair. "Good morning, lover!" I said cheerily. Something took a few seconds to hit as no response came. Confusion, concern, denial, worry, all mixed together. I walked around the chair, praying to God that she had merely fallen asleep. Asleep. Please... Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw. The only thing this... thing... had in common with my lovely soulmate was the hair it bore, and my horrified mind could not come to grips. Like something out of the Twilight Zone, this corpse sat, with empty dead eyes, one eyelid half closed, that watched the eternity of the breaking waves. The lips that I had kissed were shriveled and dried... flaking away... leaving nothing but a gaping hole for a mouth. I vomited, falling to the floor. Whatever it was, it wasn't -- couldn't be -- my beloved. My mind went strangely blank and numb... I remember seeing the slats of sunlight on the kitchen table and thinking how remarkably bright they were... the reflected light off of the crystal sugar bowl made a rainbow on the wall. I couldn't think at all, could not cope. I grabbed at the passing thought that this quickly rotting cadaver was not Belinda, but I immediately knew with certainty that it was. I tried to speak, but all that came out was a choked off scream. Sometime later, I'm not sure when, I walked back over to the horror in the chair. Her eyes had disappeared, leaving empty, black caverns where beautiful green had once resided. It was deteriorating quickly. I held back the cackling laughter running inside my head and looked down across it's/her body. I don't know why I had not noticed before. Yes I do. It was the shock. Anyway, underneath what had been the hand of a thousand caresses, was a note. I gently pulled it free and opened it. My dearest love, How much I would have preferred to be with you this morning, drinking in the loveliness of your eyes. Of all the things I will miss, you are the treasure that I wish I could carry into the next realm... It went on and on, and I was alternately filled with love, and anger, and grief at what I read. It read like a sick joke, but my eyes told me that it was not. Belinda/she/it was not human. But the feelings had been real. I had been under the influence of a fa ade, Belinda's fa ade, created to help me love her, and in so doing, teach her to experience love. Her influence was so great that she could control my memory, my perceptions, my desire... but she never made me love her. To be of value, it had to be given freely. Now that she was dead, her influence no longer could be maintained and I could only see her and remember her as she truly was, in that horrifying moment. Her body was deteriorating even more rapidly now. By the next morning, she would be completely gone. The memories she had given and taken away over the years would have stayed with me but for the one gift that she had for me, the only thing she could leave me. As we had made love the night before, she used up much of the little remaining time and energy she had left instilling me with the gift of Intuitive Truth, the gift she had used to protect and love me for so many years. As a result, my memories were now completely intact. I knew everything she did to me and for me. Every joy and sorrow was constantly with me in its fullest intensity. It was a gift, a curse, a joy and misery all at once. I felt betrayed and angry, loving and loved, used and useful... giving and gifted... but the biggest part of me, the part that held grief I had in losing her, would never go away. Even now, her words sing sorrow into my shattered heart: "There will never be another love like this." It is intuitive. It is the truth. ---- ---- ---- ---- On the road back north, I stopped in to see some old friends: Billy-Bob Brownteeth and his cohorts. I don't know why I did, exactly. Maybe it was in tribute to my beloved Belinda, or maybe it was because I was simply in so much pain. They were sitting around, apparently as usual, with one small difference. They were all wearing bright red patent leather four-inch stiletto healed sandals. They were obviously too small for them, and if I had been able to pity them, I might have changed it. But... today it was not to be. They watched me with raging erections, as their footwear commanded them, but they kept quiet. I stood in the door, unsure of what, if anything, I wanted to do. Billy-Bob finally made the decision for me. "Well, bitch, what are you staring at?" he said, grimacing. I was in no mood. "I was just wondering why you boys were sitting around... it doesn't make sense when all you want to do is give each other head and fuck each other. Ohhhh, yes, you forgot to invite your buddies from work to come watch. Don't worry, there's still time to invite them over for a beer and surprise them with a show." I didn't even stay to watch them fight over the phone. I know it was mean. I don't fucking care. I miss Belinda. ------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------- Comments for the Romance Festival: "Intutition" was a cathartic story for me. It's loosely based on a true story of a trip to Seaside, Florida (where the Truman Show was later filmed). The little filling station full of dangerous men was real, and "Belinda's" rescue also, although it was all much more psychological than physical. Belinda didn't die in real life... her death is symbolic of the end of our relationship. She did pass on later, unexpectedly... to my sorrow, we were never close again. This is the story of how I grieved for her, and how I got to love her while she was alive and in my life... and how I will always love her. Please send any comments or feedback to sara_h2020@yahoo.com - Sara <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. The post was sent as an email attachment and has been converted by ASSTR ASSM moderation software. ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ -- 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 | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+