Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ASS13764.TXT

Text File | 1994-03-27 | 18.5 KB | 287 lines

NOTE: This story is, of course, for adults only --  so don't read it if you
don't think you can be mature about it. Reading and writing these stories
should be acts of fantasy, and I hope that you can keep your notions of real
and fantasy life separate in your mind. I know I can. If you would like to
let me know what you think, or if you have a follow-up fantasy (which is
something that I REALLY like), you can reach me at [e-mail] ... but I
can't promise to return your emails... I do have some other things to do in
my real life! Incidentally, all of my stories are available through the
Louvre archive... check it out.
**********************************

@BEGIN_FILE_ID.DIZ
FUN WITH DICK AND JANE     part one of two
     by Sue@END_FILE_ID.DIZ


(this is the continuing adventures that were begun in "Gee Spot Run." In that
story, Jane and I meet in the park and talk about Jane's disappointing sex
life. We both end up at my home, where I teach Jane how to truly enjoy the
fine art of masturbation)

I didn't hear from Jane for a week, and I wasn't sure how to interpret her
silence: was she boggled and speechless by the turbulence of her newly
awakened lust;.... or was she beginning to think about publicly branding her
neighbor as a wicked witch. Perhaps the years of rigid, puritanical training
would win out over the libidinous thoughts that were welling out of her
subconsciousness. I worried about the risk I had taken in confiding in her,
but what's done is done, I thought.

Finally, almost a week after our afternoon walk and masturbation lessons, I
got a call from her, inviting me over for dinner on Saturday. After a
moment's hesitation -- was this a setup, so that she and Dick could "save" me
from my wickedness, or even worse, was I to be tied to the stake and burned
like Joan of Arc -- I agreed to come over. When I asked if she had read more
of my stories, she said "Oh yes, but I can't talk about it now...." and in
the background, I heard Dick speaking, so I let the subject drop, and asked
if I could bring over anything for dinner. Jane told me "No, I'll have all
the food ready, but it would be so nice if you could possibly bring over any
more of the stuff that you lent me last week." I hadn't ever given her
anything other than the stories, so I knew what she meant, and I was
reassured to some extent.

Saturday evening came, and I arrived at their doorstep with a few more of my
stories folded into a plain manila envelope. Since I had given her the more
tame ones the first time, I was now left with the ones that I had worried
were too explicit and unusual for her awakening tastes. But she had the
milder ones already, so this is what was left. When she and Dick opened the
door, I shook their hands, and Dick took my parka. While he wasn't paying
attention, I handed Jane the package, which she placed behind the lamp on a
sidetable. We went into the living room, and I was introduced to a friend of
theirs who was a professor at the local college. Charles was a tall and
handsome looking guy, but I knew right away that he was a little too smug and
pretentious for my tastes. He was smart, and he wanted us to know it. Every
subject that came up evoked an opinion from Charles that was carefully
constructed like a fortress, unable to be assaulted by anyone else's
perspective. Even a light-hearted disagreement with his dogmatic position
would be scoffed at, then destroyed by a condescending defense of his point
of view. I started to get more and more irritated by his attitude, but I held
my tongue and behaved like a good guest. Dick seemed enthralled by Charles's
great store of knowledge, admiring his conversational confidence. Jane
appeared preoccupied, and she said very little. I wanted so much to ask her
about what had been going on for her in the past week, but she certainly
wasn't offering to bring it up the subject in the presence of the men.

Eventually, Jane went into the kitchen to prepare dinner -- actually it was
already to go, and just needed to be put on serving platters. I joined her,
with the offer to help with the chores. When we were finally alone, I asked
her what was going on, and she quickly recounted her frustration at the fact
that Dick just didn't want to even talk about sex and her anxieties. He just
refused to discuss it, and Jane was afraid to push him further. As for the
stories and masturbation, she had been stealing moments throughout each day
to read and play. So at least that part of her life was improving. Yet in the
presence of her husband, she found herself reverting to the obedient little
girl, filled with the guilt of her dirty little secret.

When we moved to the dining room, Charles was seated across from me around a
round butcher block table. Not surprisingly, the table was set meticulously
with fine linens and polished silver. After Jane had served the soup, Charles
asked me how I knew Dick and Jane, and I explained that I lived down the
street, and that Jane and I had enjoyed a particularly nice walk in the park
the other day. Dick remarked that he hadn't heard about that encounter. Jane
responded sheepishly by casting her gaze down at her plate, and I could see
her twisting her napkin nervously. Her discomfort was obvious to all, and I
wanted to draw attention away from her. When Jane explained that she and I
had just met for a few moments that day, Dick wanted to know more, and he
persisted in asking about what we had done that day, what we had talked
about. Typical of so many men, he wanted to know everything, and he surely
sensed an opportunity to exercise his manly dominance and power. Jane offered
very little in response, and eventually, she looked up at me and our eyes
locked. I gave her a totally reassuring and warm smile, trying to give her
the strength to stand up for herself. Charles laughed, and said "these girls
are up to something, Dick, and if I were you, I'd get to the bottom of it."

Calling us "girls" was the last straw (after all, we were all in our early
forties), so I responded quickly, "For someone who knows so much, you know so
little."

Well, I was off and running now, and any ideas of maintaining my social
graces had flown out the window. When Charles came back with "So what is it
that I am failing to grasp," I just had to let him know. I told him that
"Jane, and many other women, are living their lives as slaves to an image of
sanctimonious womanhood that just misses the mark completely. Can't you see
that Jane is not a happy person, that she is yearning for more excitement and
more freedom."

I went on for a bit more, and then took a look over at Dick. He was
shell-shocked, I think, for he had no idea the feelings that Jane was
struggling with. He said to her "Jane, what's going on? I know you're happy
with your life. We have so much to be grateful for. Tell Sue to shut up, tell
them all that she doesn't know what she is talking about...."

As he spoke, Jane shook herself out of her trance, and she looked back at me
for another spoonful of courage before interrupting Dick with a long and
spirited explanation of what was really going on in her life. At first, she
talked haltingly and in generalities, about her discontent with their
predictable and rigid existence. But eventually, Jane let the word "sex" pass
by her lips, and then a floodgate opened up within her, and she spoke
emotionally about the emptiness of their sex lives, and the need she had for
stimulation and excitement. Dick's face was expressionless, and his mouth
hung open. Charles listened attentively, with a little smirk. This was none
of his business, but Jane could care less if he eavesdropped on her
confession. She was staring holes through Dick's head, as she finally got
around to mentioning my stories, and how they opened up a brave new world for
Jane that included fantasies and concepts that turned her on, liberating her
from the confines of her straight-laced lifestyle.

At the reference to the fact that I had provided Jane with some of my
stories, Charles pricked up his ears. "Isn't that interesting," he said, "
our little friend here has it in her head that she is an author of erotica. I
suppose that may be true, if you include the silly musings that pass for
sexuality in romance novels. I'm sure that it is nothing that really gets at
the nitty-gritty stuff about sex that interests real men."

Boy, did that man know how to push my buttons. I had something to prove to
him. Dick voiced his stuttering objections -- he wanted everyone to shut up
and talk about something else. Fat chance! Jane had finally opened up her
"hope chest," Charles was gloating over his attempted put-down, and I was
ready to prove him wrong.

"OK, Charles, why don't I read something of mine, and you see if you can
remain disinterested. You can guess what the test will be. If my story
excites you, we'll all know it." And with that, I let my focus drop to his
lap, where his napkin lay limply. I stood up and walked out to the hallway
and recovered the manila envelope. When I returned, they all sat silently. In
particular, I noticed Jane's eyes flashing around from person to person....
and I also saw the jutting nubs of her incredible nipples pushing against the
white fabric of her blouse. Perhaps I was mistaken, but it seemed like she
wasn't wearing a bra. What a change from the plain Jane of a week ago! Her
breathing was becoming labored, reminding me of how energetic she got about
masturbating for me. Once unchained, she was a wild sexual animal.

I sat down again, and pulled out my story entitled "Louvre Love." I chose it
because it was reasonably short, and the build up got around to the really
juicy stuff. Without any introduction, I began reading. "Across the wide
marble floor of the art museum, I think I see your face again...." I kept my
attention firmly locked on the printed words, until I got to the first real
sex scene of the story: "You almost seem to be in a trance as I purse my lips
over the tip of your cock and gently milk your balls. When I take one hand
and press the tips of my fingers up behind your balls and press upwards and
forwards right in front of your asshole, I push a dollop of precome up
through your rigid cock, and it drools out onto my lips." At that point, I
glance quickly around the table. Charles is somewhat inscrutable, but at
least he has shut up for a few minutes. Perhaps that is victory enough.
Jane's eyes are wide, and her I can hear the faint rasping of her breathing.
Dick has his fingertips pressed to his temples, and he has pushed his hair up
into disarray. He avoids looking at me, or for that matter, anyone else.

Back to the reading of my story. I didn't look up again, even when I
described about how I impaled myself on the great bronze god-cock of the
sculpture... or how my partner and I fucked each other in the embrace of the
marble sculpture. I eventually get to the last paragraph:

"I can hear the squishing sounds as your fingers probes around, and I
describe to you where my G spot is. After a few attempts, you find it and I
encourage you to rub it firmly with a circular motion. I reach behind me and
pull my ass cheeks apart so that you can have total free access. Your thumb
lightly caresses my asshole. My clitoris, my cunt, and my asshole are all
being stimulated at once, and I add to this by massaging my breasts into the
stone woman's thigh. I stare ahead into the joining of the woman's cunt with
the man's balls. As I stretch my tongue out to lick at the cold juncture
between the two of them, you nibble down hard on my clitoris and suck my
labia up into your mouth. That's perfect, and I immediately go over the edge
and into an incredible orgasm. I'm coming and coming. I squeeze down hard on
my ass cheeks with my hands. Wave after wave washes over me, and your fingers
vibrates over my g spot. I gulp in air between the electric pulses of each
pounding wave, and my cunt clenches down on your fingers. I feel my asshole
palpitating around the tip of your thumb. My orgasm lasts for so
long,......... until finally it subsides, and I take a moment to get my wits
about me...."

As I finished the last words, I let the silence of the moment linger, then I
turned to Charles and demanded that he stand up. When he refused, I slid out
of my chair and stood behind his. Reaching around the back, I abruptly jabbed
my fingers into his sides. I guessed correctly that he was ticklish, and he
was so startled that he jumped to his feet so that he could defend himself.
And there was the evidence of his reaction to my story. His slacks were
plainly tented with his erection, and the khaki material had small dark stain
of spreading moisture. He was embarrassed, perhaps not so much to have his
aroused cock made visible, but even more to have lost my challenge. He was a
proud man, and being shown up by me was an unwanted sign of his fallibility.
He sat back down in his chair with a leaden thunk.

I too sat down again. I'd had my victory, and it was time to be magnanimous.
"Charles, earlier I said that for someone who knows so much, you know so
little. Well, I suppose that this is to be expected when your IQ tops the
charts, and you spend too much time in libraries, lecture halls, and Mensa
meetings. Probably all your girlfriends have been fawning little coeds and
the like. So here's a deal for you. How would you like to expand your
horizons tonight? I'd like for you to discover what a real, hot-blooded woman
is like, and how you can satisfy her, and yourself at the same time. Come
into the bedroom with me right now, and you can start your re-education. I'm
not even going to ask you if you will do this. Just join me in the bedroom,
or not. It would be your loss if you don't. All this talk has made me very
hungry... but not for the good food that Jane has prepared.

As I stood up and started to walk out of the room, Jane spoke up. "Can I
watch?" I said "Well of course, Jane. I'd like that very much. And if Charles
doesn't show up, we can watch each other again."

Dick was finally shaken out of his lethargy. I was standing right next to
him, and looking down, I could see his erection showing through his pants. So
much for self-control. But in this moment of truth, he fell back on his
timeworn thinking. "JANE! How could you? You can't possibly want to join them
in this wickedness. And anyway, what did Sue mean by 'again?' I am going to
throw this cunning temptress out of the house right this minute."

Jane responded immediately. "Don't you dare. Sue is my guest, and my friend.
She is giving me the keys to my happiness. Don't you interfere. I won't tell
you what to do with yourself right now, but you had better not try to stop
me, or I'll leave tonight and never come back." Dick was struck dumb as Jane
smiled broadly at her new-found power, and I laughed softly to myself as I
strode though the door into the hallway and found my way to Dick and Jane's
bedroom. It was decorated in sort of a "colonial quaint" style, with Currier
and Ives prints on the wall, ruffled white curtains, and a thick maroon
comforter on the pencil-post bed. Kicking off my shoes, I jumped up onto that
bed and propped up the floral print pillows behind my back. When I looked
back at the door, there was Jane, leaning against the jamb with her the
fingers of one hand pulling and twirling her short bangs. I was just about to
speak to her so that I could find out how she was handling the stormy
discussion in her dining room, when Charles pushed past her and stood next to
the bed. His eyes were now fiery with lust, and his erection still press at
the fly of his pants. He reached over to turn off the table lamp, when I
stopped him, saying "Leave it on. Jane wants to watch. And so do I. So take
off your clothes for me." He seemed taken aback by the firmness in my voice,
as he was clearly not accustomed to a woman in the bedroom who did anything
but mewl like a kitten in the dark.

Nevertheless, he was driven to continue, and I'm not sure what it would have
taken to stop him at this point. He stepped back from me and yanked his
sweater over his head. When he started to unbutton his shirt as fast as a
fireman getting on his uniform for a fire, I commanded him to slow down.
"Don't you think you could put on a little show for us? Show us what you've
got hidden under all those starched duds, but do it slow and easy." I winked
mischievously, hoping that it would help relax him, and he did calm down a
bit. When his button-down shirt was gone, he left on his ribbed sleeveless
undershirt. He unbuckled his khaki slacks and pushed them down to his ankles.
but he had neglected to take off his shoes, so he struggled awkwardly to
untangle the knot of clothes while he remained jackknifed at the waist.
Eventually, the snarl came off of his feet, and he straightened up, showing
us his underwear, which was uncharacteristic, I thought, for he was wearing a
pair of those teeny, tight bikini briefs. Through the thin black cotton, Jane
and I could see his erect cock clearly outlined and pointing straight up
towards his belly button. Bushy black hair overflowed all around the edges of
his briefs, and filled the V-neck of his undershirt. Little clumps of hair
also sprouted on his shoulders and upper back. All-in-all, not a bad looking
body, and I made the assumption that he had taken advantage of the facilities
at the College sports center. He didn't get that physique by only exercising
his ego.

As both Jane and I admired him, Charles stood silent and still, with his
hands on his hips. He wasn't volunteering to go further with his strip-tease,
so I got up from the bed and stood close to him, with my back facing his
chest. I asked him to undress me. He unzipped my dress and I shrugged off the
shoulder straps and let the bodice fall enough so that my entire upper body
was revealed. The dress caught on my hips, but Charles pushed it further down
so that it fell into a pile around my feet. I kicked it away, and stood there
in only my shiny blue satin panties, as skimpy as his own underwear. I pushed
my ass backwards so that it collided with his groin, and I slid it around,
feeling his rock-hard erection pressing into and between my cheeks. Raising
my hands up toward the ceiling, I asked him to play with my breasts. His
hands immediately enveloped my tits, and he started squeezing hard, too hard.
"I don't want to be mauled! Be sensitive, and concentrate on my nipples and
the flesh right under the surface." And he was a fast learner, for his
technique improved radically, and tendrils of pleasure raced around my body.

(continued in part 2)