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From: J <autoeroticrobot@yahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Wow Thanks Chp 1
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Date: Wed, 06 Dec 2006 01:10:02 -0500
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<1st attachment, "thanks01.txt" begin>

Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by the author unless explicitly waived.  Non-commercial re-posts
to ASSM or similar venues are allowed provided copyright information
remains on the re-posted story.  As a courtesy to the author please do not
delete the copyright information.  No commercial reprints are authorized.

   The author enjoys feedback and comments: autoeroticrobot (at) yahoo
(dot) com
WARNING: This story depicts consensual sexual activity between men and
women, or women and women.  Some of the fictional participants in the

story may be under the age of 18.

   Wow Thanks (MFf, exhib, voy, inc, cons) by autoeroticrobot

   Chapter 1.  Stories and Games.

   This story starts with me writing a story.  Actually, two stories.  But
those stories I wrote were just made up, whereas this story I'm now telling
you is true, more or less.  I've changed some names and details to protect
the guilty, innocent, and the downright perverted - of course - but this is
basically how it happened.

   The stories I wrote were dirty stories, which I had posted to the
alt.sex.stories website.  It was a way I had found to vent fantasies and
ideas, I guess.  But I admit the stories weren't entirely generic porn -
they definitely revealed my particular kinks.

   One of the stories was about a group of college students who form a
"tease club" - basically, it provided them a way to titillate themselves
and others, but it included a principle of "no-touching." They'd give each
other "tasks," and there were some rules for assigning points.  The club
consisted of mostly girls, but a few guys were involved too.  Tasks started
out as: flash a stranger; say something overtly sexual to someone you know
but haven't been involved with; etc.  Eventually they included: masturbate
in public (with or without getting caught); bring yourself as close to
orgasm as possible and keep yourself there for some fixed period of time;
etc.

   The other story boiled down to a description of a game of truth or dare.
The main twist was that the people playing were two sets of teenage
siblings.  This revealed certain kinky incestual tendencies of mine, I
guess...  but I didn't let my characters consummate anything - it was just
lots of "show and tell." The farthest things went was toward the end of the
story, when the "showing and telling" involved a substantial load of cum
emptied onto one of the girls' faces.

   Actually the second story I described above was the first I posted -
about a year ago.  Then, three months ago, I posted the other one - the
tease club - although I'd actually been working on that one quite a bit
longer.

   About a month after posting the tease club story, I got an email - fan
email, I guess.  I'd gotten two or three emails about the first truth or
dare story - nothing memorable, however.  But this was the only one I ever
received about the tease club story.

   It's possible I may have gotten others, for either of the stories, but
if I did, I must have deleted them, thinking they were spam.  I didn't
reply to the ones I got about the truth or dare one - they were pretty
generic, in the vein of: "hey, thanks for the story, good plot, good
writing, keep up the good work." But the email I got after my tease club
story was rather more compelling.

   For one thing, it was from a woman - at least, allegedly a woman - I'm
realistic enough to know, in this world of online kinks, that these things
are not always what they seem.  The email address also seemed one I
recognized, but I wasn't able to place a name or face with it, and supposed
it might have belonged to one of my many fleeting online friendships.

   But the note also contained a sort of invitation to reply.  I won't
quote it at length, but in summary, she said she liked the story, was
recently divorced, had played around a little bit with public sex and
"teasing games" with her ex, and had very much enjoyed it.  She said that
she found the idea of having tasks assigned to her "weirdly but strongly
appealing.  " At which point, she hinted how much she would love to find
someone who would step into that sort of role for her, "no strings
attached."

   Naturally, I was skeptical, but nevertheless decided to reply.  I stayed
very noncommittal, just saying that I appreciated the email and, adding
that I was a big fan of "delayed gratification" and task-based (as opposed
to physical, I guess) "discipline" - I don't know that "discipline" is even
the right word, since what I'm into is a sort of give-and-take, and is not
based on a simple, one-party-in-charge sort of game.

   I included an anecdote of how I had once played (ok, "cybered") with a
woman online, where I gave her things to do, and she described what she
did, and she gave me things to do, and I described what I did.  "Who knows
if she was really doing them..." I commented, but added, "it's more the
mind game anyway, I guess - so maybe it didn't really matter."

   Anyway, I rambled on a bit, on this riff...  but I carefully avoided
making any explicit offer to play a game.  And so I sent it off.

   Only after she replied to this email did I finally realize why her email
address had looked oddly familiar - literally.

   You see, I suddenly recognized her email address as one my sister had
once given me as an "alternate" address a few years back - not her "main
email," but one she gave me one time when she was having trouble with her
ISP.  It was one of those free, yahoo web-mail accounts.  You get the
picture.

   Oh my god, I thought - my sister was a fan of my dirty writing.  And to
be honest, as the content of my first story described above would hint, I'd
had my share of fantasies about my sister.  This was too weird to be
true... I was in shock and disbelief...  and, of course, highly intrigued,
too.

   I suppose, before going too much further, I should describe myself: I'm
mid 30's, white, middle class.  Not in great shape, but recently I've lost
a bunch of weight and started trying to jog a few times a week, so I was
feeling more in control of my life and happier with my physique than I had
in a long time.  I went through an unpleasant divorce about 6 years before,
and had no kids.

   My older sister was just past 40, and nothing like me in appearance,
since she was, in fact, adopted; she was African-American.

   Despite that (or because of it?), we'd been extremely close, as siblings
go, as children.  Inseparable playmates, despite the age difference.  Then,
we grew apart during the adolescent years, however.  High school was a
period of alienation and difficulty for both of us (wasn't it that way for
most teenagers?) and I'm sure the raging hormones didn't help.

   Since that time, nevertheless, we'd evolved a fairly easy-going and also
quite candorous friendship.  Nothing super close, as we lived in different
states and had very different lives, but it was cool.  I certainly have
harbored many fantasies about her.  Ironically, most of them were during
our adolescent years, when we were so noncommunicative.  I even vividly
remember several embarrassing attempts to "spy" on her, and one
not-so-successful effort to "flash" her, when I had been an awkward 13 and
she was a suave, 18-year-old, highly popular cheerleader.

   But nothing had ever led me to think they'd ever be more than fantasies.
Until now.

   Denise was a short, broad-shouldered woman, but in excellent shape. 
Some might call her stocky - she definitely did not possess an hourglass
figure.  She was a bit too thick in the middle, and was what is called
"big-boned." But I still thought her very attractive, and she frequented a
gym and was in pretty good shape.  At the least, she was definitely in
better shape than I was, anyway.

   Caffe latte skin, but clear complexioned, she had a lovely, almost regal
face, and despite having had two children, her apple-sized breasts were as
perky as I remembered from my teenage obsessions.  She'd described herself
fairly accurately in her email, although, interestingly, she skipped her
skin-tone.

   In her email, she'd said she was recently divorced.  In fact, my
sister's husband had committed suicide the year before, after their 10
year-old son had died tragically in an automobile accident.  This untruth
didn't really bother me or seem inconsistent - I thought it a very
understandable white lie, as those are not the kind of tragedies one
conveys to newly-met internet strangers, especially as a part of a
"getting-to-know-you" prelude to sexual play.  Most notably, hoever, she
signed the email "Denise N." (Her husband's last name was Nguyen - did I
mention that this African-American woman, raised in white suburbia, had
married a manic-depressive Vietnamese physicist?).

   Over all, the remembered email address, combined with the convergence of
most of the details she'd given in her email, had me convinced it really
was my sister I was corresponding with.

   How strange, then.

   So...  what did her reply say?  I saw in this second email from her that
she had managed to read into my reply that I was volunteering to "play" a
game with her.  She seemed to imagine I'd give her "tasks," just like in my
tease club story, via email.  Or anyway, she pretended to misunderstand my
rambling email as such, in hopes I would take the bait.

   I'm not sure I would have gone along with it, except for one thing: the
realization it was my sister, and the way this fact converged so tightly
with certain long-abandoned fantasies of my own.  Given that secret and
tantalizing bit of knowledge, combined with my lifelong crush on my sister,
however - how could I resist?

   So I wrote back again, very friendly, if a little bit breathless, and
gave her a simple task: go pantiless for a day.  The email I sent was brief
and to-the-point - I couldn't believe this was happening, but I wanted to
be careful and not turn her off.  It was too promising.

   The next day came her long-winded reply - she'd done it, and as she'd
expected, it was a blast.  She was "so glad" I wanted to play along, since
she evidently found it easier with someone "directing" her, than to get up
the gumption to do such things on her own.

   I wrote back and asked if she wanted to take turns, with her giving me
tasks as well, or if she preferred just receiving.  The slowness of the
email medium was frustrating, as I was used to hot-and-heavy instant
messages, and had never had an ongoing erotic email correspondence.  But it
was actually remarkably well-adapted to this task-oriented approach she was
seeking, I supposed.

   Denise wrote back that she was happy just receiving tasks for now, but
that if she thought of something she wanted me to do, she'd send it along
to me.  And of course, she added, "you can tell me if you want me to think
of something for you."

   She also mentioned and reminded me of something I'd stated in the tease
club story, which was that tasks for men and woman tend to have different
requirements and constraints.  For example, you can give a woman a task to
flash a guy, or even another woman, and expect it to be received as
relatively harmless, or at worst, as a come-on - whereas to ask a man to
flash a woman is to ask him to risk scandal and possibly arrest.  So you
have to "design" his and hers tasks differently.

   So I sent her another task: masturbate to the point of orgasm before
getting out of bed for the morning, but not allow herself to finish.  Then
not do anything about it, until the next task.

   She wrote back about how she'd done that, and described her actions in
much more detail than I could have hoped for.  It was at this point that
she finally revealed her ethnicity, and she gave a fabulous, erotic
description of herself naked, telling me exactly what she did to herself
with her fingers.

   I was so aroused.

   My god, I masturbated to orgasm upon reading it, and, devoid of
compunctions at this point, wrote her back a detailed description of
exactly that act - although I carefully neglected to mention that it was a
glace at a small, framed picture of my sister's smiling face on my desk
that sent me over the edge.

   I was trying to follow along with the plot of the story I'd written, at
least to the extent of the gradual build up and severity of the dares. 
This was what she'd implied she wanted.  More than implied, really - she'd
expressed that it was the gradualism and delayed gratification that I had
described in the story that she liked best.  For this reason, I wanted to
stick to that mode as much as I could.  Not to mention, it was such a turn
on, knowing I was making my sister (my sister!) do erotic and
exhibitionistic things, and that she was loving it.

   So, for her next task, I simply gave her the same task again.  Let her
build up, and stew a bit.  That evening, her reply email contained a
confession - she'd lost control.

   That's when she introduced an element that hadn't been a part of the
tease club story she'd read - she asked if I had a "punishment" for her. 
In the story, if someone failed at a task, they simply had to do it again.
There hadn't been any "punishment" in the story.  Actually, I realized,
given the tone of her approach, it seemed a logical extension.

   I thought about it for a while, though, and concluded she wasn't fishing
for a real "punishment" - which is to say, I doubted she was looking for
anything S&M.

   I suspected she just meant she wanted some kind of compensatory task. 
That was my guess, anyway.  And in retrospect, I had read it right. 
Therefore, in the spirit of the tasks up to that point, I told her
"punishment" was only that from now on, she wasn't allowed to touch herself
at all - at least, not intimately (meaning no touching her nipples or
pussy) - until I gave her a task that specifically allowed her to do so. 
Except as minimally necessary to stay clean, of course.

   And, for her next task, I told her to go braless to work, with a silk
blouse.

   She's not large-breasted - about a B cup, or C cup at the most, I guess.
Nice half-spheres though, that had been fodder for lots of daydreams when I
was younger.  I'd never seen them naked, or even braless, that I knew - and
so her reply contained new information: she has quite large, darkly
colored, cone-shaped areolae (what are called in porn-lingo "puffies," she
admitted to knowing), capped with prominent, "highly responsive" (her
words) nipples, that are pretty obvious, even when not erect, due to their
size and positioning.

   In her latest task, she dealt with the coloration issue by wearing a
dark colored blouse (since I hadn't specified), but the prominence was
something she couldn't hide, though she wore a blazer - which actually left
her more "stimulated" as she put it, as the edge of the blazer would rub
against her nips through the blouse.

   She went on to describe how the AC in the building where she worked was
set too low, and as a result her nips were hard all day.  She described the
surreptitious stares she'd gotten from her male coworkers - and even a few
female ones too.

   She also explained how frustrated she'd become, at this point - having
not cum in over 3 days, and with too much stimulation.  I told her in my
next note to be patient, and to "behave," and I'd get her there eventually.

   Her next task was to go pantiless again, but this time no "cheating" by
wearing pants (as she'd done the first time, since I hadn't specified) - I
told her to wear a skirt, as professional as necessary for work, but not
too long.  And no pantyhose either.  Bare to the world.

   The next evening when I got home from work, there was no email waiting
for me from her.  Her first lapse.  Normally, I got her evening emails when
I got home from work, since she was a few time zones east of me.  But, lo
and behold, there was a phone message from my sister.  For the first time,
it occurred to me to wonder if she knew who she was corresponding with.

   My conclusion was: no way.  Still, there was something tantalizing and
awkward about hearing her voice, in light of the new information I had
about her lifestyle and interests, and the input I'd had to her recent
behavior.  It was a very typical short message from her: hi bro, hope
things are good, and hey, are you thinking of coming out for thanksgiving?

   This was nothing unusual - I'd spent several thanksgivings with her and
David and Melissa (Melissa was their exotic-looking, half-Asian,
half-African American daughter) - but not since David had died.  I thought,
in a moment of normalcy, that it was good she was getting back into a
regular life - getting over the stress and mourning of his death and their
son's, etc.

   But then, of course, I thought...  how eerie and wild it would be to see
her again, after what had been transpiring, semi-anonymously, between us.
Still, I procrastinated on returning her call, obviously feeling a bit
strange about it, and not wanting to screw it up by revealing an
unaccustomed eagerness that would have been totally at odds with my
typically laconic character, which was all-too-well-known to Denise.

   Right before bed, I checked my email again.  Finally, there was a note
from her - saying she'd been busy all evening and that she had managed to
complete the dare that day, but "with complications," as she put it.  She
went on to say she'd explain tomorrow, as she was very tired and was going
to bed.
   Hmm, complications?

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