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From: "Just An Admirer" <justanadmirer69@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Exploring Emptiness Pt3/final
Date: Tue, 13 Nov 2001 00:10:11 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Here is the last part to Exploring the Emptiness. I would really like to 
hear what you think of it. I think it stayed true to the original purpose of 
the story, exploration, but I wonder if it might be too much. Please, any 
comments email me, good or bad. Hope you enjoy!

UPL

                          Exploring the Emptiness pt3/final




Walking was interesting, to say the least. As my legs moved ahead, I could 
feel the neck of the bottle protruding between my legs, brushing against my 
thighs as I walked. When this happened, I could feel the bottle shift 
inside, pressing against the sides of my cavern. I found this quite funny 
and giggled as I made my way to the bedroom, finally walking with my legs 
farther apart than normal to keep from bumping the bottle.
It would have been quite a sight for someone to see I imagine; me bow legged 
traversing the living room, a few inches of clear beer bottle poking out in 
the center of legs, and me giggling the whole time.
In front of my bed I stopped and looked at my reflection, or part of my 
reflection. Because I had taken the mirror off the closet door and leaned it 
against the bed, I could only see just below my breasts and down of my body. 
I stared at the neck of the bottle, poking between the lightly flared pink 
lips of my sex, a small drip of my fluid dangling on the rim. I found it 
interesting and a little exciting to see myself impaled by this foreign 
object, lodged and held within my pussy. My clit stood proud, fully 
engorged, pushing its hood back.
I still felt very little, just a fullness. There was little to feel, even in 
my heightened state of arousal, the glass was just that, glass, smooth and 
perfect. I had gotten accustomed to the feeling now, the sense of completion 
within my body. I gently ran my hand across my stomach, feeling the 
tightness in its center where the bottle lay inside. This of all things 
turned me on, the fact that I could feel externally what I had internally. I 
lowered my hand, brought two fingers to my clit and brushed it lightly, 
savoring the tingles that shot up my spine. More pressure, and the feeling 
intensified until it became too much. With a beer bottle stretching my pussy 
as nothing ever had before, none of moisture could escape, and my bud was 
far to electrified to be touched without lubrication.
My fingers went to my mouth, and I sucked them in, swirling my tongue around 
them. My eye's closed, and again I thought of John, how this must feel to 
him when I took his cock in my mouth. Instead of withdrawing them, I pushed 
my two fingers a little deeper in, twirling my tongue in a circle around 
them, feeling the soft roughness of my tongue, its warmth and wetness. 
Pulling my finger out slightly, I flicked my tongue over the tips, again 
thinking how this must feel to him on his most sensitive parts. I have 
always given blowjobs, sucked his, or whoever's cock into my mouth, as deep 
as was comfortable and sucked. Like everything I was discovering, I had 
never really thought about what I was doing, I just did it, almost in a 
removed kind of way.
I didn't stick my fingers down my throat. I was feeling too good to try and 
stop gagging, that was something I will have to practice on John, find out 
what he likes; if he wants me to take all of him into me, down my throat to 
the base. I'm curious if I can do it, and I am pretty sure he won't mind me 
trying. But right now is about me, and the reverie I was in was broken by 
the bottle stuffed in my sex shifting. As I had "blown" my fingers, I had 
brought my legs together, and the neck of the bottle protruding from me had 
bumped my leg.
My now moistened fingers went back to my clit and rubbed circles across its 
peak, exploding from between my folds. Again my eyes closed as the tingles 
became a constant rush of energy up my spine to the center of my head. As I 
stood rubbing my fingers across my clit, I began to sway my hips, almost 
mimicking the circles of my fingers across my clit. The bottle deep inside 
my passage was just slightly out of synch with my other motions; the feeling 
of it moving within heightened the pleasure emanating from between my legs. 
I felt the not yet familiar but no longer unknown building from the center 
of my stomach. The feeling of need, indefinable but driving began to take 
over conscious thought, my mind clearing of all thought but urgency, until 
there was discomfort. Shit! My fingers had rubbed themselves dry against my 
clit, and I quickly moistened them from my mouth, a faint taste of my own 
secretions upon them, and resumed my attentions on my bud.
As I got closer, I felt my knees collapsing, squatting as I rubbed and 
swayed, my body opening itself in a primitive way that I was powerless over. 
The building continued my motions of both fingers and hips increasing tempo 
as the need increased. My thighs began to spasm or contract and I felt 
myself thrusting my ass up and down, as if trying to ride the bottle inside 
me.
My orgasm was like being overtaken by a wave in the ocean, swept under and 
engulfed, not by water but of physical pleasure. All of my muscles fluxed 
between tense and complete relaxation in immeasurable flicks of time, relief 
from an unknown pressure surging through my arteries as I stood contracting.
Somehow, in the middle of this orgasm that swept over me, I heard and felt 
my pussy. As with all the sensations I had felt, I noticed all this in a 
fraction of a second. I heard a whoosh of air, like a door being thrown 
open, followed by a dull thud and a pattering, like water spilling on a 
counter. My sex felt empty, clutching at nothing, spasming with its new 
found strength, but catching only emptiness, not even itself.
While intense, and quite pleasurable, this orgasm still paled in comparison 
to my first of the evening. It also was much quicker, I found the world in 
only a few seconds as I stopped the ministrations to my clit and opened my 
eyes.
I stared back myself in the mirror, and saw the flush of my cheeks, the 
fullness of my lips and flared nostrils as I regained normal breathing. 
Between my legs, I saw the bottle lying on the ground in a darkening patch 
of rug. Moving my gaze from the mirror, I looked below, and caught a flicker 
of light, like rain in the headlights of a car. The rug was dark, and I 
realized damp! The bottle had plugged me so completely that none of moisture 
could escape, and had instead built up inside, and when my hole contracted, 
pushing the bottle out, all the fluid I had generated had rushed out behind 
it. And I was still dripping. Every 3 seconds, a fresh drop fell from 
between my legs, hitting the side of the bottle and rolling down it to the 
floor.
It was amazing, the knowledge that I could do such a thing. I admit to being 
somewhat mesmerized by the sight, my juice glinting in the light as it fell 
from me. My amazement increased when I brought a hand between my legs, and 
found my lips spread, almost obscenely wide, as if I was penetrated by 
something, but knowing I was not. I moved a finger between the flared folds, 
and pressed in waiting to feel the slick sides of my hole grasp my invading 
finger, but I found only space. My hole was dilated to the point that it 
would not close! Panic rushed through my head, and I willed myself to flex, 
to close myself up, my finger still pointed inside. With undeniable and 
admittedly ridiculous relief, I felt my cavern collapse around my finger, 
and in fact apply pressure as great as I had been able to a short time 
earlier when I discovered these muscles. Sense finally overtook my still 
lingering panic as I remembered that besides providing all this pleasure to 
myself and those I choose to share this dark passage with, it also was the 
way a child entered the world, and the bottle on the ground below me in no 
way compared to a baby.
I sank to the floor, and propped my knees up, feet on the floor and leaning 
back on my hands. I was still in front of the mirror, and I looked at the 
reflection before me, my pussy looking back at me. My inner folds were still 
spread open, like welcoming doors to a party, but also drooping slightly, as 
though tired. My inner thighs glistened from the secretions leaking out, and 
my clit had gone back under the cover of its hood.
I felt contentment, and also a little tired. I had been going at myself for 
almost two hours now, and had taught so much that I needed to relax and just 
let it all sink in. A cigarette and a bath were next, but my curiosity, was 
peaked. I pulled one arm from behind me and slid my hand to my pussy, 
pinching the inner folds of se between fore and index fingers, marveling at 
how full they were, bulging out from fingers almost and inch. At least, I 
think it was an inch, I didn't measure. Releasing my folds, I just rubbed 
over entire crotch, not focusing any attention, just pressuring it, like a 
massage.
Reaching forward, I picked up the bottle from the damp carpet, and looked at 
it. I couldn't believe I had had this inside me, and came around it. It 
seemed so strange, but also exciting, like stealing cookies from grand-ma's 
cookie jar. I spun the bottle in my hand and placed the top of it between my 
lips, which had fallen open again, and pushed just the tip into me. It was 
like moving your fingers through a bath or puddle, just the barest of 
resistance. I let go and just looked the bottle nestled into my opening in 
the mirror.
I flexed, working the new muscles I had found and watched. Nothing happened. 
Reaching down, I pushed a little more of the neck of the bottle inside, and 
flexed again, waiting to see it slide back out. Just the opposite happened, 
when I let go the contraction, my stomach taught, the bottle actually moved 
upwards, or inwards a fraction of an inch! I felt like little girl who'd 
just discovered that a boy liked me. It was just cool. I tried again, and 
the bottle receded a little bit more inside. A few more times and I had 
sucked the neck of the bottle up to where it flared into my pussy. I guess 
it can't be all that stretched out I remember thinking to myself. 
Concentrating, I pushed, and this time was rewarded with the bottle sliding 
back out my hole.
When it reached the end of my tunnel, it popped free, and dropped to the 
ground. My pussy farted! A little squishy noise erupted from my hole and I 
turned around instinctively to make sure no one heard me. Ridiculous of 
course, but I did it just the same. Assured that I was alone in my apartment 
in the middle of a snowstorm, I flexed again, as if trying to draw the 
bottle in, and saw my opening do just that, open just slightly, and close 
when I relaxed. I pushed, and was rewarded, with the same noise again. 
Giggles. Wait till John lets one rip in bed again, I'll show him!
For some reason, I had to know if the bottle would fit inside me again. I 
wasn't really horny, just curious. Grasping it by the neck, I aimed its flat 
blunt end at my opening and pushed, watching in the mirror. With a little 
pressure, I watched my pussy flare; darkness appearing in the center as the 
bottle began to slide in. It was much easier, I had no need to squat over it 
and force myself down. I pushed until my hole closed around the neck as it 
had before, and savored the fullness in my belly. I didn't feel any 
tingling, so I pulled, and pushed with my pussy at the same time, the clear 
glass emerging from within me. When it was half way out, I pushed it back 
in, and out, and back in, fucking myself with it. It was nice, but not 
exciting. Extracting it from my tired pussy. I set it upright on the floor 
and stood.
The bath and cigarette were starting to feel like a need instead of desire, 
so I turned for the door to the living room. Remembering the bottle I bent 
to pick it up, but changed my mind. Instead, I stood over it and squatted, 
spreading my still moist folds as I did. Aiming, I lowered myself until I 
felt the neck of the bottle pushing up into me. When I had the entire neck 
penetrated and my thighs were parallel to the floor, I squeezed, and stood. 
I couldn't believe that the bottle came with me! I was beginning to 
understand that my pussy was strong, surprisingly strong, like my tongue, 
but with my hole being as used as it was and wet, I didn't think I could 
actually lift something with it. I started to walk to the door, but the 
effort of keeping myself contracted was too much, and the bottle fell from 
the grasp of my pussy. I bent, picked it up and went to the kitchen.
Placing the bottle next to the sink, I went to the sofa, and the fire. It 
had died down again, so I threw a few logs on it, thinking that it would be 
nice to dry off by after my bath. Picking up my box of smokes, I sagged to 
the floor and leaned back against the couch, feet on the floor, legs spread 
and arms draped on top of my knees. I was tired, and achy, inside. I opened 
the box, not moving my arms from their resting-place on top of my knees and 
pulled out a smoke.
Dropping the box, I bent forward to take the cigarette instead of moving my 
arms, and lit it with the lighter in the other hand. Leaning back, I inhaled 
the first gulp of smoke and let it fill my lungs. Tipping my head back, 
mouth pointed to the ceiling, I exhaled.
My mind wandered as I stared at the smoke curling lazily towards the 
ceiling, dissipating before reaching it. I couldn't fully grasp all that had 
happened. I felt a new sense of power or something, a new awareness. My body 
ached, like after a good soccer game, but in places it never did before. I 
didn't hurt, I felt like I had done something, a satisfaction from 
accomplishment. The idea made me smile. Who would think that masturbating 
for 2 and half-hours would give me the same feeling as achieving at work or 
school did? I tried to force myself to think of a list of all I learned, to 
tell John, and then show john. I couldn't wait to see him. I longed for him 
in a way I couldn't reason. I just needed him. I wanted nothing more than to 
feel him next to me, to hear him breathing as he dozed in the light of the 
night creeping in the window.
I took another drag, and concentrated on my sex, how it felt. Used. That was 
the only way to describe it. I felt like I had run a marathon, or had a 
marathon run over me. Almost unconsciously, I twitched, inside, and felt my 
newfound muscles. A new thought began to form in my head. It shocked me that 
I even thought it, but my newfound curiosity seemed to have more pull than 
sense. Slowly, I lowered my hand with the cigarette in it between my legs. 
Was this a good idea? Was it safe? I didn't know, but I needed to know. 
Gently, very gently so I didn't burn myself in the absolute wrong place, I 
turned the cigarette away from me, and brought the filter to my receding, 
but still swollen lips. Wiggling it back and forth, I slowly inserted the 
filter between the folds, right at the entrance to my hole. Pushing until 
the entire filter was in, thank good I smoked 100's and there was still a 
lot left, I relaxed and flexed myself.
I felt my insides opening, like when I had sucked in the bottle, as well as 
heat. It wasn't hot, but there was warmth. I held the flex as long as I 
could, then withdrew the cigarette from my folds. Instead of pushing 
immediately, I brought the smoke to my lips and inhaled a drag into my 
lungs, tasting myself on the filter. When my lungs had filled, I moved my 
hand away, and looked down, As I began to exhale, I squeezed, and smoke 
began to flow out of my mouth, but from between my legs as well, curling up 
towards my head lazily.
I relaxed, and just let the smoke drain from inside. It was like a fog, 
creeping out and obscuring my sex from the fire in the fireplace. For about 
5 seconds, tendrils of gray whispered from my pussy, until I gave a finally 
squeeze, and was rewarded with a quiet little exhalation of air, faint with 
smoke.
I smiled, thinking that perhaps my pussy needed that as badly as I had, and 
flicked the remainder of the butt into the fire. Bath-time, enough playing 
around. In the bathroom, I turned on the water to hot, and cleaned up some 
of the mess from shaving. As the tub filled, I washed my face and sat on the 
toilet, letting myself pee, realizing that I had needed to for awhile. I 
guess I had gotten distracted. I sat there, letting myself drip dry, waiting 
for the tub to fill, watching the steam rise from the water. Rising from the 
toilet, I stepped one foot into the tub, savoring the warmth of the water 
and then the other, sinking myself under it until only my head was above.
The water immediately began to sooth the aches of my body. It caressed my 
skin with warmth and washed the aches away. I lay still, just letting the 
gentle lapping of the water move around me. Its warmth felt delicious 
between my legs, a different heat from the fire that I had enjoyed so much. 
My hands wandered across my body, feeling the skin, my nipples no longer 
erect my shaved bare sex. I saw my hair floating around my head, felt it 
clinging to my face. Even toes seemed to be comfortable; I hadn't realized 
they were getting cold. Grabbing a bar of soap I began to clean myself, 
enjoying the slippery feel of hands as they moved across my legs, and arms, 
and chest. Satisfied that I was clean, I began to get out of the tub, but 
stopped.
I had smoked with my pussy, and pulled a bottle into it. I wondered if I 
could suck water in. I felt exasperated with myself. When was enough enough? 
I settled back onto the bottom of the tub and laid back. I rationalized that 
it needed to be cleaned, so why not? I flexed the tired muscles of my hole 
and concentrated.
I could feel myself filling up; water seemed to be pouring into me, between 
my legs, like taking a drink from an upturned glass. I relaxed and pushed, 
feeling the liquid ejecting out of me. It was pleasant, like the carpeting 
had felt on my ass when I first sat naked on the floor. I willed myself open 
again and felt the water rush inwards. Instead of pushing it out again, I 
raised my hips, bringing my lower body out of the water.
I watched this time as a stream of water erupted from me, splashing onto the 
tile above the tub. It was remarkable how powerfully it came out, not just 
dribbling but like a stream. When I had given a few more squeezes to make 
sure I was empty, I collected myself and pulled the stopper on the tub.
My robe was on the door, and I wrapped a towel around my wet hair. I went 
into the living room and lay down on the couch. For the first time in hours 
I looked at the clock. 4:27! In the morning, I was exhausted, but relaxed. 
As I lay before the fire, my mind told me to go to bed, but I was 
comfortable, and didn't want to move. I thought of John, and the things I 
had to tell him, and felt hope that at least some of the difficulties we 
were having could be fixed. As my eye's closed, I thought I just need to be 
open to try new things.

That's my story. Its noon the next morning, I'm drinking coffee and writing 
this down so I don't forget. I said at the beginning that I would try 
something's again, and others I probably wouldn't. Some, I want to try with 
John. But not today. My pussy is sore! I still can't believe that I'm even 
using that word. Anyway, the city is still closed, and John can't get here, 
but I told him to come over as soon as he can. I hope he does, we have a lot 
to talk about.



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