Message-ID: <41531asstr$1048932603@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-Original-Message-ID: <20030329003826.24273.qmail@web13309.mail.yahoo.com> From: Marianne Writes X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 28 Mar 2003 16:38:26 -0800 (PST) Subject: {ASSM} Marianne, Part 2 Date: Sat, 29 Mar 2003 05:10:03 -0500 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, gill-bates Chapter 2 It was about 1 week later when I got the email. It was from the author of the story, a "woman" from the western US, named Vivian. I'd already put two and two together about David by his reaction the last time we spoke, and figured, "fine... if he wants to pretend he's someone else to protect his identity, so be it." Truth be told, I'd be a little skittish myself if I found myself in such a compromising position; who knew what I would resort to? We struck up an email relationship, "Vivian" and I, discussing everything from our families to our childhoods to our favorite authors. Of course, everything David told me as Vivian was false, but I understood his need to talk with me a little, to find out what kind of person I was. I realized quickly that foremost among his thoughts were fears of sexual harassment charges, or public humiliation. The notion kind of surprised me-- considering how strongly I felt about him the entire time, those were the last thoughts on my mind. In retrospect, it was quite stupid of me, talking with and being drawn into the world of this ridiculous alter ego he cooked up, but it grew out of my loneliness at the time, and a growing need to find out more about this hidden, kinkier side of a man who I'd found so sensitive, endearing, and while sexy, extremely vanilla before I'd read his story. And it wasn't just the email back and forth, and eventually the chatting that kept my interest. What really got me hooked were the stories. It didn't stop at the first story. Although it was never discussed (I learned the hard way earlier that this wasn't a man you confronted directly with your worries, questions, thoughts, comments--or anything at all, really) oftentimes, after we chatted, or mailed one another, sharing particularly intimate details of our lives, or qualities of character, I'd find a story written with one of the themes from our discussion... I found these beyond entertaining at the beginning; especially the one where I was the naughty schoolgirl flirting with, then taught a lesson by, the professor who was twice my age. There were oftentimes Dom/Sub themes to these stories. I'd found male Dom fare intriguing for some time, and the idea that he too had a taste for this kink made him that much more desirable to me. Maybe this was the man who I could finally explore this side of myself with. I thought if I could just put up with his email/story game until he was comfortable enough, maybe trusted me enough, to play a little in the real world, then maybe he could be what I'd been waiting for sexually. His writing expressed such passion, such a deep erotic nature...quite frankly, his writing made me more wet, and more aroused than anything ever had in my life. Despite the silly game we were playing, I wanted him even more than before...wanted to sit down face to face and talk with him about what was going on. Find out who HE really was, not this stupid Vivian character... and let him know who I really was. At one point, I even told him about a period of my life that I'd never talked to anyone about... the most heartbreaking things I'd ever gone through, hoping that by sharing this with him, he'd understand that I was trusting him with this, and that if he felt the same, then he could in turn trust me, and if he was just fucking around with my head, that at least he'd have the heart to at least stop toying with me after reading my sob story. I was really starting to get emotionally involved here, and more intrigued about David by the day... I felt like I had to do something drastic to either bring this into the real world, or end it. As the weeks went by, his stories about me got more and more tender, and as nuts as it sounds, I felt that despite his antics, he was beginning to care for me a little more too. Our cyber meetings and emails had become ritual. I couldn't understand why he still played this game, then. I decided I'd had enough, and I called him; after some polite small talk (none of it related to our last few weeks of email play...we both acted like nothing had happened since the last time we spoke on the phone), we planned to meet at his office a week from that night. Why didn't I just bring it up over the phone? To this day I'm not fully sure... part of it was that I remembered how he treated me on the phone the last time, and how much it hurt me that he brushed me off before I could even say anything, and I didn't want him freaking out on me over the phone if I brought it up...I figured if I could do it in person, I could look him in the eye at least...and if he could look me in the eye and deny it all, then that would be one less pathological liar I'd have in my life. What did I hope to gain by both of us acknowledging this game face to face? I don't know. Truth be told, his stories turned me on so much I didn't know what to do with myself...and to think that someone I was so wild about in the first place was at the root of it all...it drove me up the wall, sexually; after weeks of him enquiring about what kind of sex I liked, how I liked it, what turned me on the most, and all about my newly shaven pussy, I was like a cat in heat for him. I knew there was no chance of a real relationship here if he was so uptight that he had to make up an alter ego and a whole elaborate scheme of denial just because of a sex story. I also knew that there was no chance of a real relationship because of who I was. Call me cynical, but I had a hard time believing that if I was a tall, lithe, busty brunette or blond that he'd slept with then written a hot and heavy sex story about, only to find out that I was an intelligent, spunky, erotica freak on top of all of that, that there wouldn't have been a ring on my finger faster than you can blink. Sounds like a crude analysis of reality, I know, but after weeks, then months of these games, you wouldn't believe the thoughts that crossed my mind. So we planned our meeting, and that was that...I'd confront him in as meek a way I could, and hope for the best. The morning of our meeting, I woke up well before my alarm clock... I was so antsy and worried and hopeful about what was going to happen that night. I went over and over in my head what I would say to him; how I would bring it up without being confrontational. What I would say or do, or how I would react if he denied it all. All of it was for nothing. By the time I was standing outside of his office door that evening, I could think of nothing but the erotic things I'd told him about myself, and the sexy volumes he'd written about what I'd shared with him. My brain was racing, yet blank, my nipples were harder than pencil erasers, and between my legs was sopping wet... and he hadn't even answered the door yet! When he opened the door, and I saw him standing there, after not seeing him for almost two months at this point, I wasn't quite sure what to do. It was weird... I think I'd almost forgotten what he looked like. I can't quite describe what it was like when I got into the office. It was a mixture of sheer nerves, but sexual energy. I was so nervous to be near him after our months of cloaked sexual banter... nervous to be near this man whose thoughts put to paper had been making me weak in the knees for the last 2 months. But at the same time, I was angry with him, for putting me through this... and embarrassed at myself for putting up with it. I may not be some tall beach blonde, but I know I'm damn hot and have always had my share of guys falling over me right and left to choose from... I was embarrassed that I let him play with me for so long, and didn't have a spine about it... The people who knew me would be shocked to know that I ever let a guy play with me like this; sitting in that chair, I couldn't stop wondering what the hell had gotten into me? Was it just because of loneliness? Or because I liked him so much at the beginning, and loved how right it had felt being with him? How could I let anyone treat me like this? And here I was with the chance, and I still couldn't work up the nerve to say what I wanted to him. So I just sat there, mute, nervous, angry, hurt, confused and aroused. So there we were, still at square one; he had nothing to say about our net activities either. Instead he went into a bullshit spiel about why we couldn't see each other; namely the age difference. I sat there like an idiot, now knowing what to think or do, so many thoughts and emotions going through me. Before I knew what I was doing, I'd gotten up, leaned across his lap and began kissing him softly at first, then deeply, passionately. Of all of the emotions I felt that night, the only one that came to the front, the most overwhelming one, was desire. As confusing as everything else about this was, the one thing that was clear was that David aroused me like no one else, and he did it all with nothing more than his words. I'd been with guys who'd fumbled for what felt like hours, clumsily groping my breasts, my ass, anything, trying so hard to turn me on. The fact that he could get me so worked up with mere words was simply amazing. Again, I can think of nothing else to describe the feeling, other than heat... It was driving me insane, and in spite of everything else, all of the unanswered questions, I needed him to fuck me the way he'd been writing about all of these months. I knew that he felt it too; I knew that it would be futile to sit there, and try to make productive conversation with a man who was scared enough or pathological enough to deny everything that had happened the past few months, and that it would be an uphill battle. I knew that I couldn't get everything I wanted from him that night; the answers, the cloak lifted and the lovemaking that I craved. So I chose the one most basic need that I knew he wouldn't deny that night either, and I went for it. Do I regret my choice? In retrospect, after finding out just how far his lies would go, the people that would get involved, the precarious positions I would later find myself in with absolute strangers, and how many times he would disappoint me, yes. But as we both fell into that deep kiss, and later as he fucked me hard and raw against his desk, nothing else was on my mind but fulfilling every last sexual fantasy that I could with this deceitful man. Part 3 to come (w/ sex) --------------------------------- Do you Yahoo!? Yahoo! Platinum - Watch CBS' NCAA March Madness, live on your desktop! <1st attachment begin> <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------ ------- ASSM Moderation System Notice-------- This post has been reformatted by the ASSM Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting. -- 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 | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+