Message-ID: <38414asstr$1032721804@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Reply-To: "The Secret Grrl" From: "The Secret Grrl" X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MimeOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2600.0000 X-Original-Message-ID: X-OriginalArrivalTime: 22 Sep 2002 14:50:05.0168 (UTC) FILETIME=[56686F00:01C26247] x-no-archive: yes x-asstr-no-archive: no X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 23 Sep 2002 00:48:18 +1000 Subject: {ASSM} Vicarious Satisfaction by The Secret Grrl (MF, FF, inc, rom, cons, voy) Date: Sun, 22 Sep 2002 15:10:04 -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-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: gill-bates, kelly <1st attachment, "usenet_vicarious.txt" begin> Please see copyright notices at the bottom of this post. Also, pleased be advised that this post contains descriptions of sexual activity, and is intended for adults only. If you are not an adult, or if the community in which you live does not allow you to view mature content, or you have reason to believe this post may cause you offence, please do not read any further. Vicarious Satisfaction [MF, FF, inc, rom, cons, voy] By The Secret Grrl http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/thesecretgrrl/www thesecretgrrl@hotmail.com Copyright (C) 2002 "Do you know that guy?" You turn from the bar to the man at your side. Light falls on his face in a cascade of colour. The music beats a staccato in your ears. "Which guy?" you say, but you know damn well which guy he means. He nods to Ryan, standing there across the room. He has a woman up against a wall, rocking hard with her. Probably just dancing, but the way his hands are moving, you just know they'll be fucking before too long. Through the smoke, you can see him run his hands down her thigh, then up under her skirt, just a little. She leans back against him, pressing her ass into his hips. He bites down on her neck. He stares at you. "I know him," you say. "Old flame, baby? You jealous?" The idea is laughable. More still coming from this fuck-hungry jerk who's been coming on to you all night. You should tell him to fuck off. You really should. But Ryan's looking at you. And you want him to fuck you so damn bad. "Maybe," you say. "What's it to you?" The jerk tucks your hair back behind your ear. Like you're his little birdie to be rescued. You wait, and sure enough, the mock sensitive gesture turns crass. He runs that hand boldly down to the side of your breast. So predictable. So deadly, deadly boring. But it is a hand, and you arch into it anyway. After all, being a jerk isn't that big of a crime on a lonely Saturday night. "I could make you forget all about him, baby." You look at him steadily. "That's quite a claim." You move a little closer, just the same. He puts his other hand on your other breast, and smoothes them both down to your waist, tugging you closer. "If nothing else, it'll serve him right." You let him do it. Press your hips to his. Let him cup your ass, and press his cock into your stomach. "It would," you whisper. "Wouldn't it." "Mmm-hmm, baby," says the jerk, leaning down to kiss your neck. You lean back a little, urging him on with your hands in his hair. Still staring at Ryan. Moaning when he stares back, even with his hands full of that other girl's breasts. "Reese," he says. No-one else calls you that. You can't hear it, but you can see his mouth form the word as he looks you in the eye. His hands grow more daring on the other girl. They slide under her skimpy little shirt. One closes over her breast, and you can see from the way she moves that she isn't wearing a bra. She arches back against him, still half-dancing, while his other hand slides down over her belly, and under the waistband of her skirt. You can feel the jerk's fingers fumbling beneath your shirt, flicking your nipples, so clumsy, but it doesn't matter, it feels like him, you can feel your nipples crinkle and swell, hard and tight, and your eyes never leave his. His hand strays further into her skirt, and you see the girl arch against him, and you feel the ache spring to life in your clit when he touches hers. Sanity prevails. Only just. Ryan can do this; he's in a corner, with smoke and curtains and dark shadows in the way. You're by the bar, in plain view, and you cannot. Not here. And the only one you want to see you like this is him. This is your time, yours and Ryan's, and the jerk and the girl know it on some instinctive level, even if they don't know they know. You know this because they always do. It's always a different girl and a different jerk, but they always, always know. It's a truth you carry in your blood and exude on the smoky air, like animal scent, male and female, brother and sister, different yet one. "There's a room," you force out through gritted teeth. "Out the back." "You want me to fuck you, baby?" the jerk says into your ear. His breath is hot and clammy. It smells of stale alcohol. No, I want a manicure, you feel like saying. So deathly tiresome, the mating rituals. They bore you with their meaninglessness. Is that why they never match up to him? Because of their pallid stupidity alongside the vibrant man you've known every day of your life? "I want to be fucked," you say, and that part is true. You don't particularly want him to do it - actually, you don't care who does it - the main thing is, it has to be here, it has to be with Ryan, where you can look into his eyes when he does it. "Let's go," says the jerk, and you lead the way. ---------- The room out back is cooler than the bar. You feel the goosebumps rise on your flesh when the air washes over your shoulders. You raise your hands above your head, letting the breeze reach the underside of your arms, and your belly where your shirt rides up. You turn a little. The jerk thinks you're dancing for his amusement, of course, but you're dancing for yourself. For freedom. For the air beneath your twirling skirt. For Ryan, with his eyes on you, because you know he won't be far behind. The jerk catches you around the waist, and you let him tug you against him. Arch when he presses your ass and shoves himself hard against you. It feels good, even if he is a jerk, and you give a harsh moan through bared teeth. You smile at him, but it's a predatory smile, and he seems to sense it. "You like that, baby?" he teases. Flips up your skirt with his hand and traces his palm over the crease of your ass. He slides his fingers into your panties, and you let your thighs fall open, giving him access. He dips a fingertip inside you, just enough to draw moisture, and then traces it over your vulva, over your clit, slow and teasing. He's good with his hands, you'll give him that much. You let the shivers race through your veins, and drop your head back, baring your neck with a sigh. You grope with your hands, finding his shirt, and with trembling fingers, you work his buttons free. You're just pushing it open when Ryan and his girl appear through the door. There's a gleam in his eye. There always is when he looks at you, but this is something different again. Like he's drunk on seeing you like this, all hot and wet and needy. He's been looking at you like that since you were fifteen, and it still makes you ache just as much as the very first time. "Hello, Marisa," he murmurs. "Hello, Ryan." "You mind if we come in here?" The jerk starts to protest, but you overrule him. "Not at all." "Good," he says, guiding the girl backwards to the wall beside you. The girl seems unperturbed by the prospect of an audience. After all, she was practically fucking him in the bar. She walks too steadily to be drunk. She's high on sex, but only on sex. An exhibitionist, then. That suits you fine. The jerk's displeasure subsides. He shrugs and turns back to you, tugging your straps off your shoulders, baring your breasts to the air. Ryan does the same to the girl, leaning down to kiss her throat, his eyes trained on yours. You feel the jerk's mouth close on your nipple, and you watch Ryan put his hands hers in reply. God, you love watching his hands trailing down over white flesh, soft and hard and urgent all in the same moment, and knowing that it's all for you. "That's so good," the girl gasps out, and you gasp too, feeling her excitement like an electric pulse. "That's good, baby," Ryan says soothingly. Still looking at you with those inpenetrable eyes. The girl misunderstands your scrutiny, perhaps, because she leans over and kisses you. She's soft and warm, and you allow it, and when you break apart, Ryan kisses her too, deep and hungry. Taking in your wetness and your scent, devouring them from her. She kisses you again, wet with him, and you do the same. "That's so fucking hot," says the jerk. You and the girl laugh into one another's mouths. "What an asshole," you whisper, and she nods, giggling too. "I like this one, Ryan," you say, breaking apart from her. "I'm glad to hear it," he says. "Reese." And that breaks the moment, hearing him say your name - his name for you - so low and heavy with need. The shivers come back, racing over your skin at full force. Suddenly you want him so bad, all over again. You press back against the wall, crying out, urging the jerk down to his knees before you. He doesn't argue, just drags aside your panties, and then his tongue is on your clit, teasing it to life, and it aches, it burns, you need it so much. Ryan watches, and you can see the indecision hover in his expression. He wants to shove the jerk aside and do it himself, devour you, consume you, make you his - as if you've ever been anything else. The moment passes. He bows his head and drops to his knees before the girl. Supplicant. Reverent. He looks up at you as his hands close protectively on the girl's thighs and spread them. Then he closes his mouth on her, sucks her hard through her wispy underwear, and you can feel the jerk's tongue driving into you. You rock hard against him, feel his chin bracing against your cunt, he's hard and soft in all the right places, while Ryan sucks on her, all the while looking up at you from between her thighs. Abruptly, you drag the jerk up by the shirt. "Fuck me," you rasp out, feral and commanding, but you're looking at Ryan, and Ryan rises too. The girl puts a condom on him, and you do the same for the jerk, faster than he can argue (because you just know he'll argue, if you give him a chance). You stare down at the cock between your bodies and just for a moment it's Ryan, hot and hard and smooth and waiting for you, and then you blink and it's just another cock, but it doesn't matter because Ryan's there, he's watching you, he's waiting for you, he wants to be inside you so bad. You release him, and that's the signal to the others, knowing and unknowing participants in your ritual. The jerk shoves it into you, hard and fast the way you want it. You don't want his finesse. You get that in Ryan's eyes, in the way he smoothes his palms over the girl's arms when he enters her. From the jerk, all you want is the power, the visceral shove of bodies hard against each other, mediating your rhythm. He does it, in time with the dull pulse of the music drifting in from the bar, and you grope at his hair, pressing his face to your throat, letting him suck you there, leaving your eyes free for your brother, your lover, your world. You grope blindly with your free hand, and Ryan catches hold of it, twining his fingers with yours as he strokes his cock in and out of the girl. She's slumped against him, whimpering with need. Does she know what's happening here? You think she probably does, but she doesn't seem to mind. You can feel vibrations all through your body. In your back, shoved hard against the wall. In your cunt, shoved full of cock. In those fiercely locked palms, transmitting your strokes like little surges of pulse from one shared bloodline to the other. This is a union of the mind, of the heart, of your very blood. He is your other self, your own eyes reflected and blazing with need and hunger for you, and his thrusts are for you. You feel them down in the depths of your soul. As your cries grow higher, as your climax nears, his face inches closer, until you're just a breath apart, and you hear him blurt your name through hitching breaths. "Reese," he whispers, "you, I-" "Yes," you whisper, understanding perfectly. "Yes." He grows faster then, more relentless, and a few strokes later he comes, and so do you, whimpering his name, so low only he can hear. He lets go of your hand and you fumble for one another, you touch his lips and he touches yours, soothing you so sweetly, so tenderly while the jerk finishes off. The girl is dreamy. Sated. Her face is pressed to Ryan's neck. She watches you, a smile gracing her lovely mouth. Yes, she knows what's happening here, and for some reason it pleases her. You don't question why that is, but you reach past Ryan and stroke her hair in gratitude. She leans in to your hand and kisses it. Ryan rewards her with a kiss on her forehead, and she smiles again, serene. "That was fucking brilliant," says the jerk. You'd almost forgotten about him, but he's still there, wiping himself off with a handkerchief. Completely oblivious to the undercurrents that had passed him by. The three of you look at each other. The girl titters. Ryan is grinning. "Yes," you say diplomatically. "It was." You step away from the wall and straighten your clothes. The jerk tucks himself into his clothes and pats himself down. Produces a crumpled piece of paper with a phone number on it. He hands it to you. "Thanks," you say, tucking it into your pocket. You won't use it. "Do you need a ride?" He may be a jerk, but you give him points for etiquette, at least. "No," you say. "My brother will see me home. But thanks." You kiss his cheek. He gets the message. "Okay. Night, then." "Night." You watch him leave. Dimly, you hear Ryan and the girl go through the same rigmarole while they straighten themselves up. No, she doesn't need a ride. She has her car. She produces a phone number, too, but to your surprise, she hands it to you. "I don't want to intrude," she says softly. "But you're so beautiful together. I'd like to see you again. Both of you. Will you think about it?" She sounds almost shy. You feel rather touched. You look at each other. Exchanging impressions without words. At last, you nod. "We'd like that," you say. "We'll call." She leaves you there, looking at each other. He tugs you into his arms when the door clicks shut behind her. You slide your arms around his waist, and hold on tight. You can still feel the tremors in his body. "I love you, Reese," he murmurs into your hair. "Same," you whisper. "Take me home, Ryan?" He drops a gentle kiss on your lips. Nods. And then he takes you home. FIN Author's note: This story was something of an experiment with second person POV. It was also my first foray back into erotic writing after a long break. I was aiming to be obtuse with the characterisation, which I think worked well for what I was aiming to do. However, there is a related story, Seduces Me, which is more developed. I will probably continue the series in the future, but at this stage I expect each story to be able to stand alone. Copyright notice: This story is the intellectual property of the author. All rights reserved. You may not repost or redistribute this story without the express permission of the author. You may link to the author's website or to the ASSM archives, both of which retain copies of the story. (C) 2002 The Secret Grrl thesecretgrrl@hotmail.com http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/thesecretgrrl/www <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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