Message-ID: <45392asstr$1069074602@assm.asstr.org>
Return-Path: <news@google.com>
X-Original-Path:  not-for-mail
From: elle_attend@fuqme.com (elle`attend)
X-Original-Message-ID:  <c3754006.0311150723.694f877b@posting.google.com>
Content-Transfer-Encoding:  8bit
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 15 Nov 2003 15:23:10 +0000 (UTC)
X-Spamscanner: mailbox8.ucsd.edu  (v1.4 Oct 30 2003 22:20:52, 0.0/5.0 2.60)
X-Spam-Level: Level 
X-MailScanner: PASSED (v1.2.8 7445 hAFFOBMW010921 mailbox8.ucsd.edu)
X-ASSTR-Original-Date:  15 Nov 2003 07:23:10 -0800
Subject: {ASSM} [BSFSF]  'Time' by elle`attend
Date: Mon, 17 Nov 2003 08:10:02 -0500
Path: assm.asstr.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://assm.asstr.org/Year2003/45392>
X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation <story-admin@asstr.org>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@asstr.org>
X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, RuiJorge

"Shit," I hiss, my phone cupped in the sweaty hollow of a 
shoulder - I'm developing a nasty crick in my neck. The voice 
drones, and my fingers fly at its behest; one hand above, one 
beneath my body's nexus, now the fulcrum of my universe. I 
groan, lifting my hips, grimacing as I work a second finger into my 
asshole. She knows how I hate this; that's why she makes me do it. 
   "Fuck you," I pant into the phone, squirming, impaled upon my 
own fists, kneading my clit, yanking it from its shelter, losing it, 
seizing it anew with eager fingers. "I won't do it!" Even as I speak, 
my hand abandons my ass and, groping blindly across the floor, 
finds what it seeks. The cucumber turns in my fist, nearly slips out 
of it. Tightening my grip on its slickness, I work it slowly into my 
pussy, fingers stretching myself to admit it. There goes dinner I 
moan, as my greedy cunt gobbles up my would-be salad.
   "You bitch," I husk, stiffening as the entrée arrives. The phone 
slips from my shoulder and clatters to the floor by my ear. I come
 in unison with her voice, hollow and lifeless in the darkness.
   "At the tone, the time will be..."

All rights reserved (C) MEB 2003

                                                 *        *

This has been an amazing exercise for me, for a couple of reasons. 
First, because until quite recently whenever I heard the term 
'stroke piece,' I thought of an oar on an eight-woman shell; 
Second, because I dashed this thing off in ten minutes, and then 
spent the better part of two days trying to fit it into the GD format! 
I 'm not sure that this experience has provided me with any useful 
life skills, but it was challenging.

The piece has a name, but as there was no way to fit the one-word 
title into the format, you'll have to make up your own. 

elle`attend

	*        *

-- 
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: <story-submit@asstr.org>|
| FAQ: <http://assm.asstr.org/faq.html> Moderators: <story-admin@asstr.org> |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+
|ASSM Archive at <http://assm.asstr.org>   Hosted by <http://www.asstr.org> |
|Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}|
+---------------------------------------------------------------------------+