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Message-ID: <28847asstr$981940208@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Shon Richards" <ShonRichardsHSD@earthlink.net>
NNTP-Posting-Date: Sat, 10 Feb 2001 00:29:04 PST
Subject: {ASSM} Stockings, Co-workers and Devotion {Shon Richards} (F/Mast, Voy, Stealing}
Date: Sun, 11 Feb 2001 20:10:08 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Just a little standard disclaimer: This story describe sexual activity, so
please don't read this if you're underage or very very sensitive. This is a
pure work of fiction, and any resemblance to actual people or events are
purely coincidental. keep on mind that the activites described will get you
in a lot of trouble if you try to act them out.  Plus, it's not right.
Please don't repost or archive any of my stories without specific permission
from the author. Feedback is encouraged, by email to
ShonRichardsHSD@earthlink.com

Stockings, Co-workers and Devotion
By Shon Richards

 I first fell in love with Diana Kobyoshi the day she wore red stockings to
the office.  It was St. Valentine's day, and her stockings were a pale red
that matched with her cherry colored dress.  I might never have fallen in
love with her if I was not sitting across from her during our overlap
meeting.  I had dropped a pencil, and when I bent under the table to
retrieve it I could see straight up her skirt.  I couldn't see her panties,
but I could see the top lacy part of her stocking.  The fragile red hose
covering her fit thigh was a vision that haunted me for the rest of the day.
Even when I went home and masturbated, I still kept fantasizing about red
stockings.  Not even Lauren, my regular stripper at the Bad Company Club,
could make me forget how lovely a Japanese woman could be in red lace.

 As you can understand, I knew it had to be love.  When Sherry wore a loose
blouse that revealed her nipples, I thought I was in love with her, but I
got over her as soon as she started dating Carl in Research.  I once thought
I was in love with Rhonda, because of that wonderful smell she has in the
mornings, but I got over that obsession when I found out her smell was just
Pert shampoo.  I had watched Diana every day for a month since St.
Valentine's day, and I was still masturbating about her.  It had to be for
real this time.

 One of the best hints I had that this was for real was Diana herself.  She
wasn't what we in the Repairs Department would call pretty.  She had Asian
brown eyes and shiny brown hair, but her nose was definitely American in
it's large size and her chest was almost non-existent.  I had never fallen
for a small-breasted woman before which must mean something.  She was also
quite shy, rarely engaging anyone in conversations.  Normally I like my
women to be outgoing, almost dominating, but her introvert personality
attracted me.  She had no other men around her ever, unlike some of the
sluts I've fallen in love with in the past.  There was one sexy quality she
had, and that was her habit of wearing stockings almost every day.  I would
have creamed myself in the office if she ever wore those red ones again.

 That first month in love was pure bliss. I had fantasized about her sucking
me, and I had fantasized about her riding me while I clutched her small
tits.  For a week, I had this one fantasy that she would just let me fuck
her stocking covered thighs.  For a month, she had dominated my erotic
thoughts, so I decided to take the next step.   A man just can't masturbate
into a sock forever.  That's why I started stealing her spoon.

 Many people eat out during their lunch break, but not Diana.  No, my pretty
woman ate at her desk.  It was almost perverse how she would sit in the
office all alone, eating quietly from her daily yogurt cup.  I started
working through my lunch break just so I could be in the same room while she
ate.  For thirty minutes each day, I would thrill to the sounds of her
slurping her plastic spoon.  I would steal glances of her pink tongue as it
reached out a split second before her small mouth would open.  Once, I could
have sworn her eyes darted to me, and that she knew I was watching her, but
she didn't say anything.  She just kept eating; driving me crazy as her
tongue kept licking cream from lips.

 It is only rational that I had to have her spoons.  She threw the plastic
spoons away each day, carelessly into the trash can.  Into the trash can!
Faithfully, and with quite a bit of cunning, I would retrieve that sacred
spoon from the garbage.  On some days, it would have a trace of her lipstick
still on it.  Other days, the spoon would be spotlessly clean after her lips
and tongue had given it one last suck job.

 I would carefully preserve these spoons until I got home, and then in the
safety of my house, I would suck on my daily spoon relic while I
masturbated.  I can't describe the thrill of touching the same plastic that
Diana's own tongue had touched.  My orgasms threatened to shatter my body,
and once or twice I would bite through the spoon in my mouth.  Those spoons
that would survive my lovemaking I faithfully kept in an empty jar.  I hid
this jar in my closet, and it became the central altar in my shrine to
Diana.

 Not surprisingly, around this time my work began to suffer.  I misplaced my
screwdriver and couldn't find the damn thing anywhere.  I wasted thirty
minutes looking for it before I had to give up and borrow one from Jason.  I
don't normally loose things but I took it as a good sign.  Obviously, my
devotion for Diana was beginning to play tricks with my memory.  Since I had
spent the better part of the day ingeniously figuring out how to better
preserve her spoon, I knew exactly why I had lost such an important tool.
In a way, I was proud of loosing my screwdriver; it was almost like a battle
scar of my relationship.

 One hot summer day, I was walking into my house when I noticed a white car
go by.  Driving the car was Diana!  My heart tried to leap out of my chest.
Could she possibly live near by?  I had never even dared to imagine!  If she
lived close by, I could run into her at the grocery store.  I could possibly
see her walking a dog or something.  Maybe one day her car could break down
and I could give her a ride home every day.  These new possibilities fueled
my fantasies, and my love for her surged to new heights.  Now, I had to find
out where she lived.

 Finding out where Diana lived was easy.  I could have just looked her up in
the phone book but that wouldn't have been worthy of the quest, would it?
Instead, I pulled her file from Human Resources.  I ran a slight risk of
being fired, but it wasn't much of a risk considering how poorly our
company's files are kept.  Besides, the danger of being fired gave my
endeavor an extra element of excitement.  Not only was I discovering where
Diana lived, but also I was braving the possibility of losing the job that
brought me in contact with her.  By the time I did find out her address, I
knew the perils I had faced made me worthier of her.

 It turned out she lived across town from me.  I guess the time I saw her
must have just been a lucky break.  Or maybe it was some other Asian beauty
I had seen.  Wherever I turn, Fate kept dropping hints like that and it
convinced me even more that Diana and I were meant for each other.  With her
address finally known, it was time our relationship went to the next level.
It was time to start seeing her at her home.

 I brought a camera of course.  It's interesting to me how so many cameras
have the features I need.  It makes me wonder how many other lovers were
capturing their loved ones on film.  The camera I had could operate without
a flash, possessed a telescopic lens and had a superb auto focus.  The
clever thing didn't really even need me to operate it, which was good
considering I might be too awe-struck by Diana to be competent.

 Diana lived in a modest house sheltered by towering trees and overgrown
shrubs.  The neighborhood was quiet with a convenient park only two blocks
away.  Her front shades were pulled; denying me a chance to really observe
Diana in her living room.  All I could see of her was shadows and
silhouettes.  Adapting my quest's plan to this development, I parked my car
at the park and walked to Diana's house.  I thought perhaps that I would get
a better view from her back yard.

 The back of her house was dark, but that was all right, it gave me time to
set up.  I found a nice safe spot in some shrubs.  I know, it seems like a
clich , but things become clich s by being true.  The shrubs were high
enough to conceal me if I sat down, and with some careful branch movement I
could see clearly through one of Diana's windows.  I readied my telescopic
lens and prepared to catch a glimpse of my true love.

 Two hours passed before a light illuminated the window I was watching.  My
heart raced as I saw Diana walk by the window, cracking it slightly.  Behind
her, I could see her bed!  I readied my camera, and snapped a picture of her
as she stood in front of the window.  The soft light of bedside lamp gave my
angel a heavenly glow, hugging her small frame.  Somehow, I managed to keep
my hands steady as she began to undress.

 Her back was to me as she whipped off her shirt.  She did it so quickly, so
casually, and yet my throat was dry in an instant at the sight of her bare
back.  She didn't have a bra to remove and when she turned around, I could
see why.  Her breasts were small contours that flowed seamlessly with the
rest of her body.  They would never look great in a bikini, but I
nonetheless dreamed of one day fondling them.  Her nipples were tiny as
well, brown spots on her yellow skin.  My camera zoomed and took little
bites of her nipples, capturing them forever.

 My goddess unbuttoned her pants and let them drop to the floor.  Wearing
only a pair of white panties she stepped out of her fallen pants.  Diana
walked briefly out of sight from the window, and I held my breath.  Oh God,
her legs were even more perfect bare!  I only saw her smooth toned thighs
for a few seconds, but I was shaken by how long and sensual they were.  As
Diana's absence from the window continued, I began to doubt my eyes.  Could
her legs have really been that perfect?  Did I really see those perfect
objects that had previously been concealed in a rainbow of stockings?  I
clutched my camera harder, knowing that it contained the proof of my
goddesses' beauty.

 Diana reentered from off window, and to my delight, shock, and supreme
bliss, she was carrying a white dildo in her hand!  She passed by the window
and lay down in her bed.  The bed was lower than the window; completely out
of my sight.  I knew I should stay under the cover of the shrubs but I also
knew that Diana was getting ready to masturbate right now!  I shivered in
the cold night debating the risks versus the wonderful awards.  It was no
debate at all.

 I stood up and, after climbing onto a flowerpot, I was able to peek
straight through into Diana's window.  Diana was lying on her bed, her
panties down around one ankle and her perfect thighs spread wide.  She was
making the white dildo disappear, inch by inch, ever so slowly into her
pussy.  The noise of my camera zooming seemed to be deafening as I tried to
look closer at her private sex.  There were thick curls of hair concealing
most of her pussy but it couldn't conceal how easily it accepted the girth
of her sex toy.  Diana's body was trembling from the slow penetration, but I
was trembling from pure desire.

 The dildo finally penetrated Diana fully and she paused.  After a few slow,
sensual seconds, Diana began to fuck herself with her dildo.  She did this
with one hand while her other hand went to her small breasts.  I was torn,
but I quickly decided to shift the camera to watch her breast fondling.
Diana's tit was small, but she cupped her breast with a surprising savagery.
The way her back arched when she pulled her nipple was uncharacteristic of
the quiet girl, which just made it all the sexier.  I snapped a few photos
of the incredible moment, enraptured by the way her mouth hung open during
her rough breast play.  Even from my distance, I could see the red marks
forming on her chest from her self-mauling.

 Diana's hips began to undulate like an ocean in a storm.  My camera turned
back to her sex and caught the blurry motion of her dildo.  Her hand was so
fast and the toy moved so easily, I couldn't begin to imagine how lubricated
she must be.  Those perfect knees rose, obscuring my sight of her sex.  I
contented myself with pictures of her legs, bent up and shifting constantly
as her passion increased.  Even her toes were sexy, clutching the top bed
sheet as she clenched.

 I pulled my focus to her face.  I wanted to capture the exact moment she
had her climax.  Her bangs were falling in front of her shut eyes.  Her
nostrils were flaring and for the first time, I actually found a nose
erotic.  I watched her mouth open and I could almost hear her moans from
outside.  Once, she bit down hard on her bottom lip, and I suddenly knew the
source of her chapped lips at work.  Diana's Asian features were beautiful
by lamplight and divine when in ecstasy.

 My own cock was so hard in my pants, but I was helpless.  To give myself
release would have endangered my steady camera work.  I suffered as Diana
tilted her head back and screamed soundlessly.  My cock was throbbing
potently in my underwear, but I could do nothing but watch.

 Diana's small chest rose and fell faster and I knew she was close.  I bit
my lip as Diana bit harder on hers.  She abandoned her breast and used both
hands to give herself deep, penetrating thrusts.  Curiously, I saw Diana
turn her head towards something beside the window and her eyes were aflame
with lust.  I snapped a few pictures of those round eyes, a little taken
back by the intensity of her desire.  There was something there that
attracted her and I would have done anything to know what it was.  I was so
distracted; I almost didn't catch her orgasm.  Diana's back arched again and
she used a hand to prop herself up as she gave herself the final thrusts.
Half sitting up, Diana's face contorted with sweet pleasure and her mouth
broke into a smile.  I snapped a picture of her smile, capturing her
blissful cherub face as her orgasm exploded.

 Later, when I got home, I couldn't find either my two special cotton socks.
I had bought these socks especially for their softness and there was nothing
better to masturbate with.  It didn't matter; I bet I could have jerked off
with gravel after what I had seen.  The photos were locked in my camera,
waiting to be developed but my memory of the beautiful Diana was enough for
me to spurt twice within twenty minutes using just my hand.  That's love.

  I called in sick the next day.  I just couldn't go to work after such a
wonderful night.  I wanted to savor my relationship, one that no one at work
could possibly understand.  I also wanted to develop the film and add the
pictures to my growing altar to Diana.  After an unfortunate interview with
the police a few years ago, I had learned to develop my own film.  It was
one of the more enjoyable mornings I had spent.

Within a few hours, I had almost a hundred pictures to mount.  My bedroom
closet was a walk-in with double doors, so I decided to post them inside the
doors.  It was an impressive display.  Opening the doors revealed all of the
pictures of that night, leaping out with my love.  Diana stripping, Diana
masturbating, Diana clutching her breasts and Diana climaxing all looked
back at me.  I set the jar of spoons on a box, in the dead center of the
closet.

 As I looked at my shrine, I realized what was missing.  What I needed were
her red stockings.  They were the cause of our romance, and it would be
insane not to include them in my shrine.  I considered buying a pair just
like she wore, but that would be false.  Nothing else would do except the
actual stockings.  They were the true artifacts; they had actually touched
my Diana.

 Since I had called in sick, I realized I had the perfect opportunity.  It
would be another three hours before she got home which was plenty of time.
My pulse raced and my cock stirred to life.  Diana's stockings had to be
mine!  I would be a coward and unworthy of love if I did not try.

 Breaking into a house is quite simple.  Okay, it's simple if you're guided
by love.  Actually picking a lock is hard if you've only done it three of
four times a year but when you're in love, it doesn't matter how long you
take.  Your love just pushes you to keep trying until you get it.  Working
on the back door, I finally got it free.

 There was electricity in my steps as I entered Diana's home.  This was the
most intimate place I could be.  Here was the chair where she watched
television.  There, in the kitchen were perhaps dozens of pieces of
silverware that touched her mouth every day.  Diana's presence was
everywhere, an erotic feeling that clung to the walls and furniture.  I
wanted to touch everything, just to make that connection with Diana.

 I skipped the bathroom.  Touching anything in there would just be sick.
I'm not some sort of pervert.

 Diana's bedroom was just as I had seen it last night.  In a basket by the
door was the shirt she had removed for my pleasure.  The bed wasn't made,
and I spent several long minutes with my face in her pillow.  Her smell was
stronger there, and to my delight, I found several strands of her hair.
Those brown, delicate strands went into a bag in my pocket.

 In her closet I found the stockings.  God, I almost froze with reverence
when I saw them.  They were hanging from a hanger, tempting me with the hint
of how they looked on Diana's legs.  Red, lacy and just as sexy as I
remembered them, I had to resist the urge to masturbate in them right there.
I took them down from the hanger and carefully folded them into my coat
pocket.  I was sweating yet giddy.  I had the ultimate piece of my love.

 As I turned to leave, I saw a small cabinet beside her window.  I
remembered how she had looked there in the throes of passion and I debated
finding out why.  What if it contained a poster of some shit head like Brad
Pitt?  What if it was a collection of photos dedicated to a past boyfriend?
I had had my heart broken so many times in past when I discovered a love of
mine was seeing someone else; I couldn't stand to discover that my shy,
private Diana longed for another.

 I tried to leave but I only made it as far as the door.  What if she was in
love with someone?  It would just trivialize everything I had done.  It
would make a mockery of my bravery today.  The stockings in my coat dragged
at me, questioning me with their authenticity.  How could I ever enjoy the
sight of those red stockings again unless I knew for sure?

 The cabinet was locked, which confirmed my worst fears.  Pushing aside
subtlety, I used a kitchen knife to lever the doors open.  The sounds of the
panel ripping mirrored the betrayed anger I was feeling in my chest.  I had
to know whom Diana loved more than me.

 My breath caught as the doors swung open.  Pictures decorated the inside of
the doors, and all of the pictures were of me!  Pictures of me walking
inside my house, pictures of me watching television and pictures of me
masturbating in silent prayer were spread out in vivid detail on the doors.
I was stunned, and I looked to every picture, looking for some clue that
would tell on what particular day each picture was taken.  I looked in
horror as her camera caught my face shuddering in pleasure.

 That wasn't all.  In the center of the shrine was my lost screwdriver.  It
was pointing up, positioned carefully on what looked like a homemade base.
Lipstick covered my screwdriver as well as one or two tiny hairs that could
only have come from Diana's most sacred place.  Surrounding the erect
screwdriver, lying around it like a wreath, were my two missing socks.  New
stains covered the tips of my socks, and my jaw dropped as I understood how
Diana could have used my socks as mittens.

 I backed away from the shrine, unable to tear my eyes from the raw
dedication.  Sitting on the bed, I just stared in wide-eyed amazement.
Questions flooded my mind, and I knew only one person could have the answer.

 Using Diana's bedroom telephone I called work.

 "Diana called in sick today, just like you," a concerned coworker told me.
"You think you guys caught something?" he joked.

 Oh, we both caught something I mused.

 I called my house, and left a message on my answering machine.  I wasn't
too surprised when Diana picked up.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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