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Message-ID: <36984asstr$1024744205@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Dryad <gbbjg@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest] The Price of Seduction By Dryad (Rom, cheat,  oral, trag)
Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2002 07:10:05 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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(I think i sent it to you the first time in the wrong format.  If
i didn't sorry for the extra mail:)

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<1st attachment, "Thepriceofseduction.txt" begin>

The Price of Seduction By Dryad (Rom, oral, cheat, trag)

God, he felt good she thought.  Her body lay on top of his,
swaying with the force of his thrusts, relishing the emotion
poured into it.  She felt his hands caress her sides, her back,
her thighs. She leaned forward, her breasts brushing his chest. 
They kissed wildly, passionately, as people who know they will
not have a second chance.  She loved him intensely, innately
knowing the kindred spirit that he was.  They felt each other's
thoughts, feelings.  Words were unnecessary.  They rolled around
on her bed, until he was looking down at her intently, his eyes
glazed with passion, his breathing quickened.  She whispered I
love you between her heated moans and wild screeches. 

Her tears flowed as they both came.

It wasn't like her.  No one would believe it if you'd told them.
If there was one thing that she believed in, it was integrity. 
You keep your promises, or don't make them.  Marriage is a
promise, you don't break it and it's forever. You do your best
not to lie; don't cheat, steal, or break the rules.  To look at
her, you'd see the picture perfect Donna Reid.

But inside, she seethed. Yes, her husband loved her...in his own
way.  He never let the walls down, always maintained that safe
distance; never entirely trusted her.  Even after 5 years and a
child. People who love each other don't try to knock each other
down, but raise them up.  The years of putdowns were wearing out
her ideals, even though she still struggled to keep them. 

Then, she met Him.

It was summer.  She walked to a friend's house one balmy evening
to play some cards when they'd been introduced. The attraction
was there immediately, though they both tiptoed around it.  Her
friend never liked her husband; she wouldn't put it past her to
try to set her up. When cards became blas , they made plans to go
out.  They spent the evening walking around town, comparing
notes, talking about everything.  It was after dark when they
arrived at the park's playground. You could hear the crickets
singing over the passing cars, and the fireflies fluttered like
fallen stars around the children's toys.  Her friend raced for
the swings, and she was close behind.  It felt good to laugh like
a child. She jumped on the swing, and felt him push her.

It was like a jolt of lightening.  Nothing else could describe
it. The simple touch of his hand on her back, and she shivered. 
She took a deep breath, and she knew she would never forget the
smell of dew-laden air with the green smell of summer. She blamed
the shiver on the damp night, as he noticed it (noticed
everything about her comfort), insisting afterward that she wear
his jacket. 

But she was Donna Reid.  She made no pretenses about her
marriage.  They all knew she was married, and not always happy
about it. But she didn't touch him, though her body was screaming
out for her to do so; to snake against his body, wrap her arms
around his neck.  To press up against him and feel the heat she
knew his body would generate if she did such a thing.  To
practice the wiles that lay dormant due to her subdued
relationship. She wanted to watch him shiver and quake and have
him at her mercy.  But, while her mind went wild, her body stayed
put.  She sat in the swing, chatting with her friends, no one
really having any knowledge of her inner turmoil.

Her friend knew it, of course, and  kept pushing her in his
direction.  He's so much better for you, she'd say. You have so
much in common.  And while everything she said was true, she knew
what she shared with her husband really was more important.  Even
if there were days, and perhaps even weeks where she couldn't
stand his attitude, they had a life together, had a family
together.  So what if he couldn't be her rock? That is what
friends are for, right?

Perhaps against her better judgment, they stayed in contact.  She
felt it was safe, as he lived so far away.  But then, her friend
decided to move.  And friends being friends, he came up to help.
She watched him circumspectly, so dreadfully careful to not give
the wrong impression.  She found herself falling in love, but
unable or unwilling to change her situation.

It was a sad time, as her friend was moving out of state.  Her
husband didn't care, as he was out on yet another road trip.  She
helped wrap up breakables, putting them in boxes, labeling them
with wide black markers.  There really wasn't much, but they'd
needed help driving, and unloading.  Her friend, worse than fate
herself, assigned her to the vehicle he was to drive, since to go
home, he would have to drive back that direction anyway.

The tension was there. Stiff, restrained conversation.  They had
discussed the attraction many times in their correspondence. 
They acknowledged it, studied it. But one of the things she found
herself loving about him was his own moral code.  He didn't want
her to cheat any more than she wanted to. But that was discussed
in distance. He was here, now, and they were alone.  Part of her
hated it; hated to feel so foreign to someone who knew her like
he knew his own heart.

The other part is what took over, though.  The part that gloried
in the tension, knowing what it stood for, knowing what the
tension really proved.  He wanted her as surely as she wanted
him. Donna Reid was a cardboard person, with no real depth of
character.  And she didn't want to be that person anymore -- she
was unsure if she ever truly existed, or if it was just the ideal
her husband put into her mind early on.

The battle took her through the trip there.  Her friend looked
sad that they had reached their destination on time. They
unloaded, helped with set up, made sure at least the bed was set
up.  They gave each other hugs, promising to stay in touch, and
visit soon. Then they both got back in the car and left forhome.

She watched his hands on the wheel, his long fingers capable of
such gentleness, yet such strength. She knew he could sense her
watching him.  He glanced over as if to ask why, but she never
answered the look.  Finally, she laid her head in his lap.  She
didn't ask, he didn't mind.  She snoozed a bit, (it was a long
drive).  When she woke, she noticed much more.  Her breathing
still regular, his hand was on her side, caressing her arm, her
waist, her hip.  Stolen touches, forbidden touches- touches that
stirred her soul.  She wanted more of him.  She didn't care
anymore.  She moved slightly, attempting to turn.  His hand
jerked back onto the wheel, his knuckles white from the strain. 
She smiled as she rolled slightly, her face toward him now as she
nuzzled him.  She smiled at the low moan and the sudden hardness
beneath his jeans. 

She looked up at him, watched him stare doggedly at the road
ahead.  She let him pretend that she was still sleeping, but they
both knew she wasn't.  The hand that had been under her head
while she slept moved toward his belt.  He shifted his body,
sliding forward a bit in his seat.

Then she had it.  His cock through his jeans crushed her will;
his cock out of his jeans molded her will to its own.   She
nuzzled it with her nose, flicking the ridge of its head with her
tongue.  She felt his thigh tense beneath her.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered raggedly.

Instead of answering, she took his head into her mouth, swirling
her tongue around it, sliding her mouth lower.  She poured her
attention onto his cock, frantically moving her mouth over him. 
She reached low, grasping his balls, squeezing them gently.   One
of his hands came gently down to her hair, stroking it so
tenderly.  She was desperate for this moment, desperate for
connection, to become something bigger than she was alone.  For
even married, she was alone; her husband made sure of that.  The
moment drew out, nearly close to infinity.  She threw her
desperation into her attention, sucking ferociously, realizing as
she did, she was truly in love with this man and the desperation
grew, for she knew she could never leave her husband.

He came moaning her name, his hand white knuckled on the wheel,
squeezing a fistful of hair and shoulder. She kept him in her
mouth, continuing to suck until he was clean. She smiled warmly,
lovingly at him and set his lap to rights.

A few moments later, he pulled into a rest area.

"Why did we stop?" she asked.

"Because I couldn't drive and do this."

This was the most gentle, tender kiss.  He leaned into her, as
she did unto him. His fingers stroked her cheeks, as his lips
brushed hers, teasingly gentle, as though afraid. Her arms stole
up around his neck.  She let her fingers run through his hair,
softly sighing into the kiss.  It was al the encouragement he
needed.  The kiss continued on, warmer, heating her entire body,
his tongue, soft and searching in her mouth, as though it was the
entrance to her soul.  And in some ways, it was.  If she felt
desperation before, it was nothing compared to know that he
wanted her the same way.  They nuzzled and nipped at each other's
lips and tongues, smiling into the kiss.  When the time started
again, they each took a deep breath and looked at the other with
new eyes.  They knew they had just crossed some line, a line both
of them had no idea how to deal with. 

She knew.  She knew she'd always be with her husband.  This once,
this time, she would take something she desperately
needed...something only for her.  Part of her wanted to cry for
her lost ideals, part of her wanted to sing for joy at the
freedom, at the joy of finally finding what she had always been
looking for, her other half...even if it was too late.

He watched her for those moments.  As easily as if she had told
him, he knew.  But, like her, he was torn.  He knew she deserved
better, deserved him. Knew her ideals would never let her leave
and break the promise she made. He also knew as surely as he
breathed that even if they were never together again, neither
would they ever be apart. He nodded almost imperceptibly,
silently taking what she silently offered, and leaned in for
another kiss. Slowly they separated, buckled back in as he took
her home.

It was late when they reached her house.  Without a word, he
followed her as she led him to her bedroom.  The kissing started
again , kisses that made time slow down.  Slowly she undressed,
as his lips worshipped each inch of flesh as it was revealed. He
lovingly stroked her curves, seemingly memorizing the feel of her
skin. Then, she repaid the favor, her fingers following her mouth
along his lanky body. She relished the feel of his fevered skin,
the feel of the humidity of the night like silk against it.  He
lifted her into his arms, holding her as though she were the most
precious thing he could ever hope to touch. Then laid her softly
onto the bed.

"Now, its my turn." He whispered.

He kneeled on the floor, and licked a line up her calf, making
her shiver. His tongue teased the back of her knee, then her
inner thigh.  He blew lightly on her center, until her hips
bucked up, begging for the pressure of his tongue, his finger,
anything. He knew, and flicked at her with the tip of his tongue.
She moaned low and hard.  Her body shivering, his arms came up to
support her, his tongue running circles around her clit until she
thought she'd scream.  Her body tensed, about to explode, she
cried out to him.

"I don't want to come without you inside me." She panted.

His answer was a moan against her clit as he shifted upright. 
The vibration of the moan had her on the edge, and the moment his
head entered her body, the dam broke and she began screaming his
name.

He plunged into her, moaning himself at the strength of her
orgasm around him. He continued to make love with her slowly,
drawing out her pleasure, until her body was once again slack and
relaxed before he picked up the tempo.  Without any words she
flipped him on his back.  They both knew they only had tonight,
and weren't going to ruin it by saying the words.  But she wanted
him every way imaginable.  She slid down over him, her hands
resting on his chest. God, he felt good, she thought.  Her body
on top of his, swaying with the force of his thrusts, relishing
the emotion poured into it...

He wiped the tears away, held her gently, as they fell asleep.

It was still dark out when he woke her.

"I need to leave." He looked at her like a lost soul.

"I know."

"I won't make it harder for you by asking you to come with me. 
You know I'd take you and your son in a second."

The fact that he included her son made her tears well.

"We still have time...he won't be home for another day."

He looked at her like a wounded animal. "I need to leave now, or
I won't leave at all. I HAVE to go."

She nodded mutely, knowing he was right, hating herself right now
for letting him go, pulling herself back from screaming to him to
stay, and damn the consequences.  She helped him collect his
clothes, touching him gently.  She led him to the door.

"I won't see you again, will I?" She already knew.

"No," he whispered.  He gave her a soft kiss, then walked away.

She got an email a few days later:

"I will always be yours. The deepest corners of my heart, where
secrets are hidden even from me, will always find your name
carved on their walls. Your mark is on my soul, and the mark will
never disappear."


Copyright Dryad 2002 (gbbjg@yahoo.com)
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Dryad/www 

<1st attachment end>


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