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From: "chaucer48@earthlink.net" <chaucer48@earthlink.net>
Subject: {ASSM} SUSAN, CHAPTER SEVEN
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Date: Thu, 19 Oct 2006 02:10:02 -0400
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Dear ASSTR-

   Here is chapter Seven of my novelette Susan.  I have been getting e
mails from fans who were in a hurry to get it so here it is.  Please post
it with the rest of my stories.

   Chaucer

  
***************************************************************************
**************





   VII

   Susan could not stand the small talk of her mother over dinner.  It was
all she could do to keep from screaming as the evening moved along.  She
could not concentrate on the TV shows that flickered across the screen and
finally told her mother that she was going to take a bath and go read a
book until she fell asleep.

   The bath was a torture.  She purposely kept her eyes turned away from
her reflection in the full length mirror.  She did not want to see herself
naked because she was afraid she her nakedness would make her fall to
frigging herself with her fingers.  She wanted the feeling of climaxing
again and again, but she was afraid she was losing her mind with desire. 
She slipped into the half filled tub thinking to wash quickly and get out,
but the slippery sensuality of the soap as she rubbed it over her breasts
defeated her.  She circled her soap-slippery fingers around and over her
small breasts then squeezed the rose pink nipple buds between her soapy
fingers.  The feeling caused a moan to rise from her throat as her nipples
hardened and grew, and the moan was loud enough that her mother, who
happened to have been passing the bathroom, heard it.

   "Susan?  Is everything alright in there?"

   Susan quickly slid under the water to rinse off the soap and surfaced
again to answer, "Yes.  I'm fine."

   "I thought I heard a noise."

   "It was just my butt sliding down the bottom of the tub.  It made this
moany noise really loud."

   "Oh, well then.  Be careful in there.  Falling in the bath tub can be
very dangerous."

   "Yes Ma'am.  I'll be out in a few minutes."

   Susan quickly finished her bath and still avoided looking at her
reflection as she dried herself.  She came out wrapped in a towel and found
her mother standing in the hall by her bedroom door.  "Are you alright,
Susan?  You seem...  distracted the last couple of days.  I know this place
is kinda out in the sticks and is maybe pretty boring but--"

   "No!  I like it here now!" Susan quickly answered.  "I mean I thought it
was boring at first, but I was wrong.  I love the woods and the swimming
pool and everything, and now I know some more people from the pool I'm not
lonesome any more."

   "Well, alright.  I'm glad you have made some friends.  And the woods are
beautiful, but you need to be a little bit careful going out alone.  I
heard that the guy who used to watch young girls at the pool is back."

   Susan felt a gush of excitement mixed with fear at the mention of the
stranger.  "I saw him," she said.  "I even talked to him a little.  He
seemed nice."

   Her mother gasped.  "Talked to him!  For God sakes, Susan!  You know
better than to talk to strangers.  Especially strange men that sit outside
the public pool so he can watch little girls like you!"

   "Mom!  All I did was say Hi to him.  I didn't get in the car with him or
anything.  I'm not an idiot!  He said hi and I answered him back, that's
all."

   Her mother cocked her head and examined Susan with a speculative look.
After a moment she said.  "Don't talk to him any more.  He might be a
pervert that likes little girls or something."

   "I'm not a little girl anymore, Mom."

   Her mother smiled and gave a little laugh at that.  "Well then, don't
talk to him anymore because he might be Ted Bundy that likes grownup young
women.  OK?"

   Susan answered the smile with one of her own and said, "OK.  I won't let
Ted Bundy get me."

   "Please don't."

   "Good night, mother," Susan said with a slight twist of resigned disgust
in her voice.

   "Good night."

   In her room Susan put on her shorty pajamas and climbed into bed.  She
took the romance book she had been reading from the bedside table and tried
to read but found that she couldn't concentrate.  He might be some murderer
or kidnapper that is going to catch me and sell me as a sex slave or
something, she thought, but even as she thought it she new he was not. 
This was something far stranger and more exciting--more frightening than
mundane murder or kidnapping.  There was such a power in the stranger--the
artist she began calling him in her mind.  She remembered how his eyes had
burned through his dark glasses to sweep over her naked body as she
dressed, and yet she also remembered his utter coolness as he watched her
reaction as the stallion snorted and drove his monstrous cock into the
receptive mares.  The thought of his eyes focused between her wide spread
legs as she lost her control of her body and mind with sexual ecstasy!  And
the thought caused the warm wetness to rise within her again as she tossed
and turned.

   At last she turned onto her back and lifted her knees.  Her fingers
found their way beneath the elastic waistband of her pajamas and she began
circling her throbbing clit with the tip of her index finger.  Every few
strokes she would move her finger down to the opening of her vagina and dip
the tip in to lubricate it with her sex honey then return to the circular
massage around her swelling clitoris.  Mental pictures of the stallion's
huge curved erection flashed but they were soon replaced with pictures of
Berk's swollen cock and the crystalline drop of liquid that had formed on
its tip.  If I had licked that drop off it would have been salty sweet, she
thought.  If I had taken his cock into my mouth and licked the tip all his
cum would have squirted into my mouth.  It was so much!  It might have
gagged me, it was so much.  But the thought of Berk's cock in her mouth and
his pearly cum squirting made her sex honey flow increase so much that she
could feel it oozing down between the flexed globes of her bottom to wet
the back of her pajamas.

   How would it feel to have his dick in my pussy?  She thought as she slid
her finger down into the puddle of wetness that had formed just inside the
opening between the swollen inner lips of her pussy.  She pushed her finger
up inside the opening as far as she could trying to simulate what Berk's
cock would feel like but she knew it would be different.  Her finger was
too small; not long enough or big enough around.  When she had taken his
cock in her hand it had been thick as a, as a--her mind flew to the
flashlight in the drawer of the bedside table.

   Susan sat up, opened the drawer and found the silver flashlight.  She
picked it up and held it in her hand.  It was about ten inches long with a
swelling at the lens end.  The barrel was about eight inches long and
ridged.  Berk's cock had been as thick as the barrel of the light but his
cock had been warm and covered with velvety skin not cold and metallic like
the light, but without another thought she pulled off her pajama bottoms
and dropped them on the floor beside the bed.  She scooted back down on the
bed, lifted her knees high, even picking her feet up so that her pussy
lips, both outer and inner, were spread open.  The hood which covered her
clitoris was pulled back exposing the super-sensitive pearl beneath.  She
took hold of the lens end of the light and began rubbing the ridged butt
end of the light up and down between her legs.  The ridges bumped like a
gentle file over her engorged inner lips and down between the globes of her
bottom.  The vibrations of the ridges rubbing over her tender flesh drilled
into the very pit of her stomach and sent electric shocks up between her
breasts like a fountain of sparks.

   The barrel of the flashlight grew warm from her body heat and slick from
her sex honey and after a few moments of rubbing the light up and down she
turned the length of it out and began slowly working the barrel into her
vagina.  Though she was flooding with lubricating honey the fit was still
very tight.  Nothing larger than her own fingers had ever been pushed into
her, but, though the light barrel fit tightly, her sexual canal opened more
and more to take it in as she pushed it.

   Susan's mouth hung open and her breath came in short bursts.  A moan
escaped her throat and when it dawned on her that the sound had been her
own she quickly pulled a pillow from beneath her head and put it over her
face so that her mother would not here her moaning with sexual arousal.

   More than six inches of the flashlight barrel was inside her now and
without conscious thought her hips began to hunch against the resistance of
the hand holding the light.  Throwing her hips against that resistance
drove the light the last two inches into her and, again without conscious
thought, she pulled the length of the flashlight barrel out, leaving only
an inch or so still inside her before driving it back into her.  She added
her other hand to the hold on the swollen end of the light and shoved the
light in and pulled it out with increasing speed.  Her fists that held the
light bumped against her pelvic bone squeezing her clitoris with each
thrust and each bump caused more electric sparks to fountain through her
belly and up between her tits.  The ridges of the flashlight barrel
vibrated the sensitive sugar walls of her pussy and added an incandescent
heat to Susan's growing excitement.  She was panting and moaning into the
pillow covering her face and her breaths grew shorter and faster in
sympathy with the increasing speed which she thrust the flashlight barrel
into herself.

   Susan's orgasm began as a tiny dot of fire between her tits.  The flame
of it spread from the center up into her brain and down into her belly and
when it had filled her whole body it exploded into clenching, shaking,
straining, frenzied climax.

   #

   A tiny breeze flapped the window curtains and the sound caused Susan to
come awake with a gasp.  It was light outside.  The sun was all the way up
and shafts of sunlight speared through the window.  She found that the
flashlight barrel was still deep inside her.  Climax had brought an
avalanche of sleep crashing down upon her and she had been unconscious for
hours.

   The artist came into her mind a moment later as she pulled the
flashlight out from between her legs.  At first she thought, I'm not going
to meet him.  He really might be a bad guy, but almost as she thought it
she hurried to dress.  She took clean panties and bra from the drawer and a
clean tee shirt with "Property of Cook County Jail" stenciled on it but
then stopped.  After a second's thought she threw the underclothes and T
shirt on the unmade bed and took a bright yellow sun dress with buttons up
the front from the closet.  She put it on with nothing underneath.  The
thought of going out in a dress with no under clothes on lit the fuse in
her middle and caused the warm wetness begin to well up between her legs.
She stood before the dresser mirror and brushed her gleaming blond hair
into a smooth cascade then turned for the door.  She was so distracted that
she didn't even think that she had dropped her pajamas with their still wet
crotch on the floor, nor that her sheet was still wet with her love honey.
She did remember to throw the flashlight back into the bedside drawer but
did not wipe off the drying love honey that hazed its shiny surface.  In
moments she ran quickly but quietly down the stairs.  She didn't want to
meet her mother and she didn't.  Outside she breathed in the warm sweet
morning air and felt a tiny curl of breeze run its fingers underneath her
dress to ruffle the silky fuzz of her delta of Venus.  Susan shivered with
excited anticipation and headed toward the little girls fountain.

   When she reached the squatting stone child with the arch of water
spurting from between its legs she looked around had heaved a sigh of
relief that she was not late.  She half leaned half sat on the rim of the
fountain bowl listening to the trickly patter of the water splashing into
the pool behind her and felt the breeze's fingers still stroking her inner
thighs.  It took moments for the thought to occur to her that perhaps the
Artist had come earlier and gotten tired of waiting.  That thought made a
catch of worry come into her throat.

   "You take my breath away Susan," the baritone voice of the Artist said
from behind her.

   Susan, startled, jumped to her feet and turned to see the Artist
standing beside the fountain.  "I was afraid I was late," she said at last.

   He smiled.  "You could never be late, my dear.  You are always where I
want you to be when I want you to be there.  Your dress is lovely." He
dropped into a campfire squat never taking his sunglass shaded eyes off
her. "Turn slowly for me, please," he said.

   Susan felt the heat of a blush rise up her neck but she did as he asked
and turned slowly feeling the shifting heat of the still morning low sun
caress her body.  In a moment she lifted her arms like a ballerina twirling
which lifted the hem of her dress up from her knees to her thighs.

   "Your silhouette is wonderfully slim and inviting through your lovely
dress.  You make my mouth water."

   "My mother told me to be careful of you.  She said you might be a mad
rapist or serial killer."

   The Artist clapped his hands and laughed.  "Very suspicious woman, your
mother."

   "You're not are you?"

   "As if you could trust me no matter what I said," he laughed.  "But no,
I am not a destroyer of beauty.  I am a creator." He stood and turned. 
"Come along let me show you some more of my creations."

   Susan hurried to walk beside him and without thinking when she reached
his side she took his right hand in her left hand.  He turned his head and
looked down at her for a moment then lifted her hand to his lips and kissed
it.  They continued walking through the woods in silence for a long while.
Susan was so content just walk hand in hand with this man that she did not
notice that the path they followed had begun to climb toward the mountains
where the quarry pool was.

   After a while Susan glanced up to see a house set against a mountain
cliff.  It seemed to be all glass and stone and it was in such a position
that it commanded a view of the whole valley below.  A stream ran beside
the house and she wondered if it was the same stream that ran into the
quarry.

   On the porch of the house the artist stopped and turned to look out over
the valley.  It was a green and gold patchwork of trees and cleared fields
with a crisscross of roads and paths which was breath-takingly beautiful
but as Susan looked she felt that there was something peculiar in the view.
It took her a moment to realize that all the paths and road seemed to run
toward her, toward the house where she and the artist were standing, yet
there was apparent end to the roads.  At the house there only seemed to be
one path that ended at the porch steps.  It ran back into the trees through
which they had walked earlier and was lost in the depths of the forest.

   A cool breeze crossed the porch and ruffled Susan's hair.  It blew her
dress tight against her body and caused her dress tail to do a gentle curl
and flap.  The material of the bodice moved with the movement of the breeze
and the friction of the material over her nipples caused them to harden and
crinkle.

   "Come in," The artist said, glancing down at the top of the blond head.
"I want to get started."

   "Started?  Doing what?" Susan's throat was suddenly dry with
anticipation, but there was anticipatory wetness between her legs.

   "Painting you, of course.  I am going to paint pictures of you that will
make me the envy of everyone who ever sees them.  People, men and women,
will look at the paintings of you and curse my luck at having been able to
see you in reality, not at one remove as they are by seeing the painting."














   chaucer48@earthlink.net EarthLink Revolves Around You.

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