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Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people, often depict "breaking some rules". Do not read this story if you believe fantasy stories should never depict situations undesirable in real life. Be warned that you may not be comfortable with the sexual situations. Do not read this story if you are less than 18 years of age.
Permission granted to repost, to make available online, and to publish in low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups if attributed to deirdre. Permission granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this type of material if attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is sent to AIDS research in the name of deirdre. -- deirdre
by deirdre, 1/17/96
What was taking so long? I still heard voices: Jack talking to Bill and Yvonne. I guess it did sound like they were at the front door, but they just kept talking and talking.
And they'd eventually realize how strange it was that I wasn't seeing them out. What would Yvonne think? What was Jack up to? It was when I'd teased him about Yvonne: "Checking out her rear?" I'd asked him in a low voice.
He'd looked at me sharply, then smiled that sly smile of his: "*You* go upstairs and get undressed; *I'll* get rid of them." He'd said it low enough that they couldn't hear him. I'd stared at him dumbly. "Come on, get up there: lie on the bed on top of the covers, on your stomach and wait." And he'd slipped away to talk to Bill!
I'd looked at them all: they were Jack's friends and were really paying more attention to him than me. What was he up to? I'd looked at Jack some more. He'd snuck me a *what's holding you?* look.
And did it. Slipped out, into the bedroom, undressed. The light: should I turn it off? Why was I doing this? I finally got in bed with the light off.
On my stomach. Lying there. And lying there, waiting for Bill and Yvonne to leave. What would Clara say if she knew I was doing this? What *was* I doing? It had just been such a wild thing for Jack to say and somehow I just couldn't resist finding out what was on his mind.
And what *did* he have planned? Why my stomach? Was he thinking about my rear? Doing it *that* way? No, we'd never done that, and I certainly hadn't mentally prepared myself to tackle that tonight. But that *had* to be it: I suddenly felt very nervous about it all. How could I back out at this point?
And what were they talking about for so long? I heard the front door open, but they were still yacking away. It was as if they were torturing me on purpose. So my rear was going to get it. Probably. Why did I just lie like this, waiting for him? Where did he get the idea that I'd go along with all this?
I heard Yvonne's voice, louder, then a little laughter. I belatedly realized she'd yelled *Have fun* in *my* direction! Then more talking and laughing. And finally the door shut.
The house was quiet. Where was Jack? I thought again about what he might be planning. And it drove me up the wall that he just left me waiting!
And finally I heard the footsteps. And the door opened, letting light in. I could have looked his way, but I just lay there, listening. He didn't turn on light but left the door open.
He sat on the bed next to me and put his hand on my rear. He started caressing it, my cheeks, softly. I liked it. I made a "mmm" sound, to acknowledge it, but still just lay there. Could I manage to let him do it?
His hands circled down to the backs of my thighs and back up to my rear. Then I felt his finger at the crack of my rear, close. He did it so slowly and softly. His hand dipped between my legs to the inside of my thighs. I wondered if he were going to touch me *there*. He just continued to caress, thighs, rear, my back. I lay there with my eyes closed.
I wondered how long he was going to do this. Finally, I opened my eyes and turned my head sufficiently to look at him. He was looking right at my face.
I needed communication: talk. "Well?" I finally said.
Suddenly he was standing and he'd slipped his arms under my body. He rolled me over next to him, picked me up, and carried me out of the bedroom! "Jack?" I asked, as my eyes struggled with the light.
He didn't answer. Down the stairs he brought me, and into the dining room. He laid me on the table, on my back.
The table was clear and I was lying right on wood, on my back. It was definitely not comfortable. My legs hug over the side, causing my back to arch up off the table. He pushed them up until they were above my body, bending my knees. Then he was on *his* knees, licking me.