From rdragon@ix.netcom.com Sun Jul 13 12:30:38 1997
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From: rdragon@ix.netcom.com(***)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: BROOK THE LEGAL MIND
Date: 13 Jul 1997 16:30:38 GMT
Organization: Netcom
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X-NETCOM-Date: Sun Jul 13 11:30:38 AM CDT 1997



     Brooke Price had one of the most incisive legal minds on
campus according to her academic advisor. Brooke was a straight A
student in this, her second year at law school. She was aiming to
graduate first in her class, a guarantee of her choice of offers
from the nation's best legal organizations.
     She worked hard, and then worked harder at keeping her grades
up. Late at night, any night, her tall, graceful form could be
found in the library, bent over obscure and complicated legal
problems in the old, dust covered leather records.
     Her crisp brown suit jacket would hang neatly on the back of
her chair, her crisply starched white blouse buttoned to the throat
and adorned by a thin tie, would puff outward as she bent forward
across the table to closely study the words on the decades old
pages.
     Beneath the table, her legs, encased in the sharply cut slacks
would sometimes fold around the legs of the chair she sat upon, the
plain, though well polished black shoes rubbing against the floor.
     Her hair was habitually tied into a pony tail down her back,
but after some hours at study, her perpetual, unconscious stroking
and twisting and combing would have undone the knot and her thick,
long, luxurious brown hair would cascade down around her shoulders,
back and chest, to be irritably shoved out of her face time and
time again.
     Then, at a warning of imminent closing from the librarian, the
young woman would stand up, carefully replace the books on the
shelves, even more carefully place her own books and notes within
her leather briefcase, then stand, draw on her jacket, and
gracefully walk down the long rows of books to the front door and
leave.
     Her dignified, straight backed form would walk quickly down
the long concrete paths that led to her dorm building, neither
pausing nor hesitating, then climb up the several floors of stairs,
for the exercise, before arriving at her room.
     Once there, she would hang up her jacket, and then sit down at
her own desk to study some more. Her mind, her complete attention,
was on her studies, and had been for several years. There was no
room, none, for socializing or entertainment. The room she lived in
had no television, nor even a radio.
     Her name was Brooke Price, and her father was a supreme court
judge. Her grandfather had been the chief justice of the
Massachusetts state court. Her great, great, great, great, great,
etc.,... grandfather had founded the state's court system, and
every generation in between had been occupied with various legal
affairs.
     Brooke was as certain to become a lawyer as the sun was to
rise in the morning. To her family, it was an hereditary
occupation. She had no friends, only acquaintances. She was a
virgin, and was likely to remain so. She did not date and did not
socialize.
     Her sole interaction with other students was for educational
purposes, in mock courts and study groups, in arguments over legal
ethics and principals. She did not reject this solitary
concentration. Indeed, she was almost unaware of it, and would have
been slightly surprised had it been drawn to her attention as odd.
     Late into the night her solitary light beamed out onto the
darkened courtyard below, as she continued to plumb the depths of
torts, common law, criminal law, and contracts. Finally, when her
eyes simply refused to focus, she undressed, carefully dressed in
a crisp pair of white silk pyjamas, and crept beneath the covers of
her bed.
     Dawn was already breaking as she fell instantly asleep, the
first rays brightening her dark curtains as her breathing evened
out in deeper and deeper sleep.  Four hours would elapse before she
rose again, to once more begin the day's round of lectures and
studies.
     Yet tonight, as on more and more nights of late, her sleep was
disturbed by troubling images and visions, none of which had
anything to do with her studies. When the alarm blared, bringing
her back to wakefulness, her pyjamas clung moistly to her sweating
body, as did her damp, tangled hair.
     Her eyes were wild and her breathing ragged as she came awake,
the visions not disappearing, still clear and precise, taunting
her, frightening her. She shook herself loose from their embrace
and jumped out of bed. She shoved the tangled folds of her hair out
of her face, going to the window and opening the blinds to stare
out at the new day.
     Then she turned away, pulling off her pyjamas and stretching
out on the floor, falling forward and beginning her pushups. She
did one hundred of them, followed by one hundred pushups, then one
hundred deep knee bends, then finally, ran in place for several
minutes.
     She used to jog, but no longer had the time. She used to work
out at the campus gym, but again, no longer could spare the time.
She finished, and went to the closet, pulling it open to draw out
her robe and bathtowel. She caught her image in the full length
mirror on the back of the door and hesitated.
     She straightened, examining her form in the reflective glass.
She could be proud of her figure, hourglass perfect, with high,
round, firm breasts, a gracefully curving throat and a beautiful,
firm jawed face with piercing, intelligent green eyes and a small,
upturned nose.
     Her legs were exquisitely long and tapered, flawless and eye
catching, were eyes to catch sight of them. Her belly was flat and
firm, the ridges of her ribcage visible when she straightened fully
and held her breath. Turning, her behind was small and as softly
rounded as a child's.
     Her dreams returned, impossible to repulse, raw, carnal,
erotic dreams. Visions sped before her glazed eyes, visions of
herself in crude, passionate embraces, hands pawing her, male
organs piercing her body, penetrating her, using her, pleasureing
her.
     Other visions swept before her, chains and ropes, blonde women
with large breasts, dogs and horses and giant sexual instruments,
dildos and vibrators, whips and leather corsets like the ones she
saw in the window of the sex shop she passed each week when she
went to buy toiletries at the pharmacy. 
     She shook her head, fighting free of the visions, trying
desperately to ignore the heat in her loins, the swelling of her
breasts, the hardness of her pink nipples. She slammed the closet
door, drawing on her robe and almost running down the hallway to
the women's shower room.
     There were eight shower nozzles on the left side of the room,
all empty. Brooke hung up her towel and placed her soap and other
toilet articles on the counter by one of the sinks on the other
side of the room. She took off her robe and hung it on a hook, then
stepped up onto the elevated shower stall floor and turned on the
water.
     It poured down around her, soaking her, plastering her thick
hair to her head. She turned it off and began to soap herself up,
coating herself from throat to feet with a slick, soapy layer. 
     Again, the images flashed before her, images from the dreams
that assaulted her night after night, images of lust and sexual
promiscuity. She saw herself and other women naked, in each other's
arms, kissing, fondling each other, grinding their lush bodies
together.
     Then she was on her hands and knees as a muscular, though
faceless male took her from behind, his loins hammering into her
buttocks, his mighty organ thrusting again and again into her
tight, quaking vagina. Another man knelt before her and she took
his penis between her lips, running her tongue against the
underside of the head.
     Unconsciously, her hands began to stroke her slick young body,
cupping and caressing her proud breasts, skimming along her smooth
flat belly, down between her legs to her soft, pulpy cunt mound.
She rubbed a finger up and down her slit, pressing against her clit
as she leaned back against the wall beneath the dripping shower
head.
     Her legs eased further and further aside as her finger rubbed
harder, digging in between her cuntlips, mashing down against her
sensitive clitoris. Her head rolled against the wall, her ass
bouncing as she humped forward against her finger.
     A low groan escaped her lips, interrupting the panting flow of
hissing breath. She squeezed her breasts harder, digging her
fingers into the soft, soap covered mounds, twisting and pulling on
her nipples as her soap covered finger slowly twisted upward into
her vaginal sheath.
     "Oh God!" she moaned, her legs spreading further apart as she
finger fucked herself. Her head rolled slowly against the hard
tiles and her buttocks ground and mashed against them as she humped
her loins against her fingers.
     She felt the heat rising within her, pulsing up through her
body from the furnace between her legs. She felt the slickness of
her soap covered body, stroked her hands across it, caressing her
smooth belly as her ass cheeks slapped against the wall.
     She brought both hands up beneath her swollen breasts, cupping
them, then mashing upwards and back against her ribs. Breath hissed
out between clenched teeth as her rock hard nipples were ground
into her palms. Her fingers dug deep furrows in the malleable flesh
as she kneaded the firm meat.
     Her right hand slid back down her belly and in between parted
thighs, cupping her pussy mound, then dipping a finger into her
cleft. She rubbed two fingers up and down her slit, sawing them
between the wet, pulpy cunt lips, then her fingers curled and eased
into her twat tunnel.
     Her ass humped forward again as she slid the two fingers in to
the knuckles, then ground the knuckles against her clitty. 
     Her mind was screaming at her, warning of the danger. What are
you doing? What are you doing?! Are you mad? Any moment one of the
other girls could walk in on her. The door was only a few feet away
and only a small divider separated her from the entrance. 
     Nothing was as precious to her as her dignity and pride and
she could think of fewer ways of utterly losing both than to be
caught masturbating in the public shower room. She couldn't stop
herself. Her cunt burned to high. Her head was too full of sensuous
visions.
     Her fingers pumped in and out, grinding over her mashed clitty
on each pass. Her free hand roved across her slick body, cupping
and squeezing her breasts, caressing her belly, sliding behind to
fondle her buttocks, then easing up through the wet strands of her
hair as her back arched in pleasure.
     Her feet slithered apart on the wet floor and her body slowly
slid down the wall until she was squatting against it, her fingers
still pumping in and out of her moist cunt tunnel. Her buttocks
grinding on her heels.
     Her eyes were glazed, yet suddenly they focused. There on the
counter, directly across from her, was her toothpaste. It was one
of those new "pump" types, that she had dismissed as obviously
phallic in nature, yet purchased for the convenience of their use.
     The tube was a cylindrical tube with a softly rounded top. She
groaned and rose to her feet, then shakily moved across the floor
to the counter and grabbed the tube off the counter. Almost, she
stopped, showered off and went back to her room, but her excitement
was too much.
     She raced down the room to a stall and ran inside. Still soapy
and soaking, she sat on the stall and raised her feet, placing them
on the seat beside her, then slowly eased the cock-like tube into
her cunt slit. She whimpered a little in pain, her cunt unused to
anything more than a finger, and even that seldom.
     Brooke was a virgin. It wasn't fear that kept her that way,
well, perhaps it was, but not of the usual sort. She wasn't afraid
of sex itself, instead it was her pride and dignity that she feared
for. All during high school she had been propositioned by handsome
young boys, and always she had rejected them out of fear of them
telling.
     Tails of her and some boy in bed would have devastated her.
She had something of a reputation of a prude. She was, after all,
hall monitor, a straight A student, and President of the Science,
Chess, and Business clubs.
     She never wore revealing clothing, not even at the beach,
which she seldom got near anyway. She could be counted on to always
take whatever view point was the more conservative in any argument,
which included her being against pre-marital sex, birth-control,
abortion, and sex education.
     Nevertheless, she had educated herself about sex, at least, to
a degree. She never would have dreamed of asking her parents, and
her friends, such as they were, would have been little help.
Instead, she'd watched late at night, on the family's satellite
dish, as lewd and obscene visions had been displayed for her
disbelieving eyes.
     She'd seen the women there, seen them on their hands and knees
getting fucked and sodomized. She'd seen them avidly sucking cocks,
seen them with their legs pinned back against their chest, or
worse, their ankles pinned up behind their ears. They all looked
so, so, degraded, so shamed and demeaned.
     How could any man ever respect her if he were to see her from
behind, with her on her knees, presenting her sex organs to him as
though she were a bitch dog in heat. How could he not deem himself
smugly superior as he rode her like that, or shoved her legs back
and apart to pierce her belly with his organ?
     She was the daughter of J. Smithers Price the fifth. She had
her dignity to uphold. She could neither have talk bandied about
concerning her sex life, nor tolerate the demeaning positions she
must assume for some boy or man to mount her.
     And yet these visions persisted. Most were variations of the
pornographic movies she'd seen as a teenage girl, usually with
other faces attached to the bodies, hers in place of the woman, her
Torts Professor for the man.
     She forced more and more of the thick tube up into her body,
wincing a little, but unable to repress a shudder of delight,
either. A superb horsewoman, her hymen had disappeared some time
ago, yet still there was pain, for her unused tunnel was very
tight.
     In her mind, she was a whore, bar hopping, picking up complete
strangers, all of them handsome and debonair. No. That was not
right. Some of them were filthy beasts, arrogant, macho men with
sneering grins who gladly used her body and then left.
     She saw herself taken by a procession of men, each more crude
and cruel than the other. She saw herself chained hand and foot,
repeatedly violated by muscular men. Now almost the entire length
of the tube was up inside her cunt. She held on to the bottom with
two fingers as she rubbed her clitty with her other hand.
     She slowly began to pump the tube in and out of her crotch
hole. It wasn't easy. The tube fit in there like a cork in a
bottle. She had to pull very hard on the plastic to slide it back
out of her body, despite the moistness within herself.
     It felt so hard up in her gut like that, and she groaned each
time she pushed it fully into her gash. Her legs, bent tightly at
the knees, fell apart to either side of the toilet. Her thigh
muscles and tendons sent little signals of aching pain as they were
stretched and strained.
     Her breathing was coming in harsh little gasps and pants, and
soft little sobs of excitement and dazed pleasure. She was working
the tube in and out with some speed now, even approaching the
forceful stroking she'd seen in the porno movies. 
     Her eyes were closed and in her mind she lay on her bed, legs
apart, a muscular man, chest hairless, face a mixture of Professor
Landis and Rob Lowe, was thrusting into her body. Her head slid
backwards onto the tank and rolled from side to side.
     Her breasts thrust outward, straining against the tight skin
as she arched her back. Her cunt gave a powerful shudder and then
sent a bolt of pure electric excitement deep into her belly. She
gave a little cry of pleasure and slid her left hand up her body,
caressing her flesh as it followed the contours of her body and
eased up over the full round hillock of her left breast.
     Then there were voices in the room. Her eyes opened wide and
her lips closed tightly against a gasp of shock. Two girls had come
into the room. They were chatting about some date one of them had
had the other night. Brooke didn't know either by the voice.
     A long minute passed as she slumped unmoving, then the sound
of the water coming on from a pair of showerheads filled the room
with its steady hissing patter.
     Brooke's pussy was so hot, she wondered it wasn't melting the
tube, which was half buried in her crotch. She pulled it a little
ways out, then thrust back into herself. She grunted in pained
pleasure, her loins spewing fire as an orgasm approached.
     She pumped the tube in and out of her hole, increasingly
heedless of being found. Her body shuddered and trembled as she
flew upward and was caught in an orgasmic hurricane, her body
jerking and humping and shaking on the toilet as she skewered her
box with the toothpaste tube.
     Even if a crowd that included both her parents, her
grandparents, her brothers and uncles and half the student body
were to crowd into the stall with her and stare in shock, she
couldn't have stopped the furious pumping motions of her hands as
she soared through an incredibly powerful, prolonged orgasm.
     The tube pistoned in and out of her tight slit, her ass
jerking and humping back up at it, her head thrashing from side to
side as she whimpered and whined and grunted in ecstasy. Ferocious
starbursts of white and yellow and red burst before her eyes as her
body convulsed in orgasmic pleasure.
     She didn't hear the showers go off, or rather, her ears heard,
but her mind was occupied elsewhere. Her cries, soft and almost
inaudible before, were now quite audible in the quiet room. She
didn't know or care. Her orgasm was consuming her.
     She pulled her legs back, slumping even further in the toilet
seat, drawing her knees back to her chest as she savagely pounded
the tube into her boiling, fleshy cunt slit. She didn't notice the
feet under the door, nor the shapes that appeared before the
cracks.
     She arched her back again, her legs straightening, shooting
out into the air to fall against the corners of the stall before
her.
     Air puffed out between her lips, her cheeks bulging outward,
then another shocking bolt of pure, white hot pleasure seared her
body. She cried out, her legs bending and drawing back again, her
hand still desperately punching the makeshift dildo into her cunt.
     Two heads pressed themselves against the crack of the door in
front of her. Giggles could be heard above her groans and sighs of
pleasure. A pair of eyeballs stared through the crack as she jammed
the dildo into her cunt and shook violently.
     Her knees were again drawn up against her and she had slumped
down to such an extent that she was practically lying on the seat,
her knees up above her head. For this, she would later be thankful
for. The orgasm gave her body another harsh shake, then spit it
out.
     She slowly began to come down to earth, now hearing the
giggles of the two girls outside the stall and noticing as they
hurried out of the room. Her mind began to coalesce into one piece
and her body stopped its twitching and shaking.
     Oh God!! What have I done?!
     Her bleary eyes focused after several attempts and she looked
around her, now remembering all her ears and eyes had seen,
including the faces pressed against the crack of the stall door.
She closed her eyes against tears of humiliation, her skin flushing
a terrible beet red.
     She got to her feet and opened the door, then peeked out.
There was nobody else there. She rushed across to the rack where
her robe was hanging and threw it on, heedless of the soap still
coating her body. She grabbed her towel and other things and went
to the door, listening for any sound.
     She could hear nothing. She put the towel around her hair and
head, then opened the door a crack. She could see two girls down
the hallway, hanging around an open door. Surely they had seen her?
Surely those were the ones. What were they waiting for?
     She gulped fearfully, then covered as much of her face and
head as she could with the big towel, and still see, and jerked the
door open, running down the hall in the opposite direction.
     "Wait!" she heard.
     "Hey! When's the next show!"
     "Who was the guy?"
     There was a lot of giggling as well as she turned the corner
and arrived at her door. She fumbled with the keys, then opened the
door and hurried inside, closing it behind her.



