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Message-ID: <33447asstr$1005664205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Just An Admirer" <justanadmirer69@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Exploring The Emptiness pt3/final REVISED (F-solo)
Date: Tue, 13 Nov 2001 10:10:05 -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

Hello all, I re-read this part this morning, and needed to make some 
changes. The story and subject haven't changed, just some editing. The 
language was a little rough, I just re-did some sentences. If that sort of 
thing doesn't bother you, then skip this if read the first post of it. 
Otherwise, I think this one works a little better. Please email me your 
comments!!

Thanks, 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. It was 
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. Even in my heightened state of 
arousal, the glass was just that; glass, smooth and perfect My body 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 rushed 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  my moisture could escape, and my bud was far too 
electrified to be manipulated without lubrication.

My fingers went to my mouth, and I sucked them in, swirling my tongue around 
them. My eye's closed, and John came to the forefront of my thoughts, 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 them out slightly, I flicked my tongue over the 
tips, imagining how this must feel to him on his most sensitive parts. I 
have always given blowjobs, taken 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, mimicking 
the motions of my fingers. The bottle deep inside my passage was just 
slightly out of synch with my other actions; 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, the motions of both fingers and hips increasing 
tempo as the need increased. My thighs began to spasm or contract and my 
body began thrusting 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 at 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 my 
moisture could escape, instead had built up inside, and when my hole 
contracted, expelling the bottle, 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 its 
side 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, knowing I was not. I moved a finger between the flared folds, and 
pressed in, waiting to feel the slick sides of my tunnel grasp my invading 
finger, but 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 pleasure to myself 
and those I choose to share my dark passage with, it is also the way a child 
enters the world; the bottle on the ground below me in no way comparable to 
a baby.

I sank to the floor, and propped my knees up, feet on the floor, 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 French doors thrown open, welcoming you to a party, but 
also drooping slightly, as though tired. My inner thighs glistened from the 
secretions leaking out, and my button had returned to the cover of its hood.
I felt contentment, as well as a little tired. I had been going at myself 
for almost two hours now, and had been 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 still aroused. Pulling one arm from behind me and sliding my 
hand to my dampness, I captured the inner folds between fore and index 
fingers, marveling at how full they were, bulging out pink and swollen from 
between my digits. They looked almost twice their normal size, elongated and 
full. Releasing them, I just rubbed my palm over my 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 cum 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 at the bottle nestled into my opening 
in the mirror.

I flexed, working the new muscles I had found and watched. Nothing happened. 
Moving my hand from my thigh, I pushed a little more of the neck inside, and 
flexed again, waiting to see it slide back out. Just the opposite happened, 
releasing the contraction, my stomach rippling, the bottle actually moved 
upwards, or inwards a fraction of an inch! Like a little girl who's just 
discovered that a boy liked her, tt 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 I 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, observing in the mirror. With a little 
pressure, my pussy flared; 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. The clear glass penetrated me until my opening closed 
around the neck as it had before, and savored the fullness in my belly. I 
didn't feel any tingling, so I pulled, pushing 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. I moved to hover over it, and squatted, 
spreading my still moist folds as I did. Aiming, I lowered myself until the 
neck began pushing up into me. When I had fully impaled myself on the neck, 
thighs 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 hadn't thought 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.

The bottle went 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 
pack, 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 my 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.

I tried to organize my thoughts 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, 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,or better yet show him. I couldn't wait to see him; there was a 
longing for him in a way I hadn't felt before. 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 flexing. A new thought began to form in my head. It shocked 
me that I even thought it, but my 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 tunnel. Pushing until 
the entire filter was in, thank god 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; not  hot, but warmth. I held the flex as long as I could, then 
withdrew the cigarette from my folds. Instead of pushing immediately, I 
brought the burning stick 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 the contraction, 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, 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, 
then the other, sinking myself under 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 
earlier. My hands wandered across my body, feeling the skin; my nipples, no 
longer erect, and my shaved bare sex. My hair floated around my head, 
clinging to my face. Even my toes seemed to be comfortable; I hadn't 
realized they were getting cold. Grabbing a bar of soap I began to cleanse 
myself, enjoying the slippery feel of myhands 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 rationalizing that 
it needed to be cleaned, so why not? I flexed the tired muscles of my hole 
and concentrated.

As I dillated myself, I could feel myself filling; 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 hose against a wall. Giving 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. Into the 
living room, I laid down on the couch. For the first time in hours I looked 
at the clock. 4:27 a.m.! 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, of 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 repeated the biggest lesson I had taught myself,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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