Borders by Steve Mmmmm :: Sliptongue Magazine

Borders

by Steve Mmmmm

Sitting comfortably in his chair, Steven watched as Suzanne entered the crowded bookstore. She had a walk like no other woman, even at times like this. Every time he watched her walk, he thought of softness, curves and inside places. His primal brain disentangled itself from his civilized brain and made no apologies for the direction of its thoughts. Dark haired, dark eyed, dark shadows, dusky thighs. No amount of designer fabric could keep him from seeing her splayed and dew covered.

He saw her searching the store for him, using her peripheral vision, so as to not disobey the letter of his instruction. Saw her walk directly to the help desk, and knew exactly what she would be saying to the young man there:

Can you take me to the erotica section please?

The reaction on the part of the young employee was priceless. A gorgeous woman, a true force of nature, some small, but important, number of years older than he, had just looked him right in the eye and had asked him to take her to the "porno section." In his dreams he could not have concocted a more potent scenario. Steven watched as the young man stammered a meaningless reply and walked robotically toward the section of books that was directly in front of the chair in which he was sitting. A small placard on the end of the row read Self-Help/Sexuality.

Suzanne, eyes lowered so as not to acknowledge his presence, approached the aisle, and dismissed the flustered salesperson with a soft word. Then she sat down, back to Steven, on the two-person bench in front of the rows of books.

He resumed his frank admiration of God's good works. Long straight back, elegant shoulders leading to dancer's neck...or should he look down, to where flanks met bench, to the seat of her power, the place his fingers already needed to play. Either way, it never mattered where he looked, what angle or what line of sight: she was volcanic and he became molten. And she was his.

Just as he knew what Suzanne would ask the salesperson, he knew what she would do next.

The Velvet Glove, by Naomi Silver. Open to Chapter 7. Read through to the end of Chapter 9 without stopping. Unless instructed otherwise, do not look up from the book until you are through with your reading assignment.

Steven watched as Suzanne scanned the titles, and then, finding it at last, pulled it from the shelf. The cover photo was a stylish photograph of a leather clad nymph straddling a straight backed wooden chair. She had obscene red lips, the rest of her face mostly obscured by long jet black hair. Suzanne stared at the photo for a long minute before opening the book and leafing forward. A piece of parchment fell from between the pages, onto her lap.

Take out Small One, put it inside.

After a long, breathless moment, with shaking hands, Suzanne reached for her purse. Her long dark hair fell from her shoulders as she worked inside it. Steven heard sounds of plastic snapping, and the unmistakable soft sounds of thick liquid being squeezed from a tube.

Looking neither to her left nor her right, Suzanne removed a glistening-tipped plug from her purse. Carefully she began to bunch the light material of her skirt up higher on her taut thighs, until it was but a band of black. Then she lifted up a scant six inches from the bench, moved her hand underneath, and began setting Small One to its only home.

A flash in the corner of his eye, Steven saw a man idling his way down the aisle toward them. The man was making a show of studying the placards on the ends of passing bookshelves, but Steven saw that his gaze repeatedly came to rest on the erotica aisle. Looking quickly back to Suzanne, Steven noted that she was making tiny downward pressing movements. Just as the man stopped abreast of Self Help/Sexuality, Suzanne urged herself the last inch downward, smoothing her skirt out over her legs as she did, Velvet Glove once more in her hands.

_______________

Heart hammering, Suzanne was conscious of the man as he stood just a few feet away from her bench. Just as she was aware of Steven, watching her every move. She kept her eyes down, bringing them to focus on the pages of the book in her lap. Willing her pulse to slow, willing her mind to concentrate, she began to read.

Chapter 7. In Which Susannah Is Opened

Susannah heard the velvet gloves being removed. Though her cheeks were tracked with salty tears and her bottom on fire, she attempted to be still for him. The same stillness was not true of the insides of her still-pulsing center. She was awash in her own thick syrup, knew that it covered her inner thighs. In her head she replayed the sound of his mouth cleaning her there. The wanderer stood to her side, his large hands coating themselves with salve. Bending to his task, he softly stroked his slick palms over her cheeks, the sting abating immediately. The contrast between the rough-palmed spankings and the tender, almost reverent ministrations with which he now calmed her angry skin, was breathtaking. Susannah closed her eyes, lowered her face to the sheets, and gave herself over to his gently working fingers.

The wanderer, too, was awestruck at the magnificence of his hands on her. Two thoughts had come unbidden to his head when he first saw her, and he had made good on one of them. He had made her first pink and then red, his hand rising and falling, her sharp cries in his ears. A metronome could not have been more steady, a paddle more firm. He felt he came to know her as he changed her color.

The second notion was minutes away from coming true, but in this there was no rush. He let all ten of his skillful digits invade the deeply shadowed cleft between. Pulling in opposite directions, he bared the scented valley. As a magician would magic things out of thin air, so did the wanderer find himself with two round rubber balls in his hand. Carefully, he inserted them, pushing them down, carefully wedging them at the top and bottom of her deep cleft. The balls would keep her apart. He needed both hands for what he was going to do to her, and he wanted to be able to see.

Susannah felt herself being slowly pried apart, and then she felt something pressed firmly down to the base of her divide. And then another. And she realized she was being held apart, her most private place, private no longer. She was exposed, and she would remain that way. The soup that had become of her core as his hands had made her cheeks his canvas began to heat once more.

She felt it on the outside as she heard his low soft words begin again.

"I want you to take in what I touch to you. We will start with my finger. I will not push or press. I want you to take it in yourself. And I don't want you to push back on it...I want you to pull it in. With your muscle."

She felt a jolt as a warm fingertip touched down in her tiny indented opening. His words, with their carefully modulated pace, continued. "Imagine your ass is like your mouth. You want to pull something inside it...you open your lips, close them, pull inward...open, close...pull inward...good...that's right...take it, bit by bit...take your time, nibble, tease, eat, take my finger into your heat...open, close, pull..open, close, pull...mmmmmmsweet Susannah your muscle is shaking but that's okay...that feels just right, doesn't it..."

With a jolt, Suzanne realized that she was audibly moaning. She was rocking, squeezing her muscles, and moaning. And her ass, around the plug, was working, just as her namesake in the book was working her ass. All forgotten: Steven, the man standing so close, the book store...she had forgotten everything except Susannah, the wanderer, his finger. But now, as her rim coaxed at the base of her plug, she was suddenly overcome by the power of the predicament that Steven had orchestrated. He knew her too well, she thought, her tastes, her body...the entirety of her sexuality. Steven knew it and was manipulating everything, down to the choice of book, of character and chapter.

With the smallest of sounds she became aware that the deepest craving had started. Steven had been the one to reveal to her the deep craving. It began where Small One ended. It began there and reached up inside her. Once recognized, it spread quickly, goosebumping her body in a rush of inner tension that connected all her places. She had no real control once this craving began.

_______________

Steven watched as Suzanne read and rocked. He was thrilled at the way her body gave itself away. He was a length of iron, uncomfortably bent within the confines of his pants, as he imagined himself trading places with the plug. It had been a week since he had been at the center of one of Suzanne's hip storms, holding on to a thread of control as she lost it all around him, calling his name, biting, nails embedded...and then letting that thread snap...

The man was moving slowly closer to Suzanne's bench, and with a sudden stiff motion he lowered himself onto the seat beside her. Steven tensed, ready to intercede, wondering how Suzanne would handle the unwanted intimacy of the man's intrusion. Clearly her new benchmate was aware of her arousal, for he had stood just feet away watching her out of the corner of his eye as she read. Steven knew too, that were it not for his explicit instructions not to look up from the book, Suzanne would have fixed the man with one of her patented looks, and the man would have scampered for cover. As it was she remained with her head bowed, her fingers turning the pages. After no more than a minute, Steven saw her body resume its high tension grind. The man was evidently forgotten or somehow incorporated into his lover's wicked thoughts. Steven relaxed back into his chair.

He wondered where she was in book. Had Susannah taken in the first finger, or was she in the process of pulling in the second. Or was she up to the point where the wanderer had taken all of his fingers away, left her slightly open, and in serious need. He knew Suzanne would, as she read, be able to empathize with the protagonist. She knew that very same need.

Steven had spent fevered hours training Suzanne's ass. He taught her how to use it, in the same way that the wanderer was teaching Susannah. Hours spent deliberately controlling the intensity of his lover's experience, giving to her, and especially taking away. Taking away, leaving Suzanne gasping as her hands clawed the sheets, with nothing...not even the smallest finger...for her muscle to work against. How is it, Suzanne would ask him after, that not having something inside can make me scream louder than having your cock inside me?

Soon after they first met, Suzanne had tried to shock him by proclaiming over dinner that she was "an incredibly oral person." "That's nice," he had said,"...but I am going to make you an incredibly anal person." And he had held her gaze upon saying that, locked eyes until the trace of a smile had left her face. Later that night, he had worked on her there for the first time, and she had been his ever since.

Some ten months later, she was as voracious as he. Her way of dressing, of walking, of being out in public and of being with him alone, had changed. She coveted his attention there. She would do anything to have his hands there. She would find her back arching when he came near...a purely animal response to his male proximity. And when they made love she was always a second from making her new found sounds. The noises she made when he began on her back there were unlike anything she had heard from herself before. And they started right away, the moment he would peel her thong from her tight crease...she was so ready to make her sounds for him.

Steven watched her hips press in tight circles into the bench. He wished he could see the place between, where her thighs crossed. The buildup of heat and moisture there. Pressing, compacting herself with steady, strong tensings. He wished he could run the tip of his index finger around the base of the plug, the ring white in its stretch. He was as crazy as she, and he too did not know if he could wait until that last piece of parchment fell onto her lap at the end of chapter nine.

_______________

By the start of chapter nine, Suzanne was almost completely undone. She took in breath through partially clenched teeth, the muscles in her thighs and hips were jumping, and her slender fingers held much too tightly to the pages of Velvet Glove.

Suzanne was now completely immersed in Susannah's world. It was as if she were right there beside the girl as the wanderer widened her aperture. As his fingers slid, rubbed and widened, Suzanne floated above them, jealous and craving. When the wanderer milked his cock, pulling to the surface a slick ribbon of precome, and carefully palmed it onto his shaft, Suzanne let out a low sound of want. When he moved behind, and made ready to touch the oiled tip to her opening, Suzanne pressed her ass down hard, working it side to side into the bench, trying in vain to part herself. When he urged his strong hips forward, easing his cap against the girl's grabbing rim, Suzanne's eyes closed as she felt the sweet spread begin within her lower body, knowing that if he pushed, if he entered, if he filled, she would come despite Steven's instructions. Her body rocked forward and her head rolled as she turned the last page, resigned to her inability to prevent herself from coming should the wanderer begin his slow progress through Susannah's clutching walls...

The piece of parchment landed softly in her lap, almost unnoticed at first as she came back to herself, to her bench, to the man beside her and Steven somewhere behind her. She could barely will her fingers to let go of the book so that she could pick it up.

Put Big One in.

The man beside her saw the piece of paper fall out of the book and land in the woman's lap. His hand in his pocket stopped its jerky motions, the fabric which he had been gently scraping against his leaking tip became still. Under her breath the woman murmured something that sounded like "thankyousteven" and then she reached between them to pick up her heavy leather purse. Reaching inside, her hands busied themselves with something, her lips puffing air to clear hair from her face so she could better see.

From out of the purse, the woman pulled a long, fat plug. The man knew exactly what it was. She set it down, shiny with some kind of thick liquid, on the bench between them; her purse she put on the floor. The was no chance the plug would tip over, so wide was its base. And then, incredibly, she was lifting herself from the bench, wetness apparent on the vinyl for an instant, before the back of her skirt fell to spoil his view of her hand...disappearing beneath her.

He saw her eyes flutter shut and her lower lip taken between her teeth's sudden bite. Her head fell all the way forward, the muscles in her arm flexed, a sound like a wet suck came from somewhere under, and then her hand again at the bench between them, and this time it held something moist. Another plug. But this one half the size of the other, still sitting like a threat between them. When she set the smaller plug down, he looked up.

Her eyes were there, waiting. Locking. He couldn't speak. She didn't speak. She just looked at him, her dark lust crazed eyes sparking at him. Then she said, "It's okay to touch..." and with a half smile, she released him, her attention drawn back to the larger plug.

He almost came right then, reeling from the sudden unexpected connection between them. He tried to decipher her meaning. Okay to keep touching himself? Okay to touch the plug? His hand didn't wait for his mind to decide, but resumed its jerky attentions through the semen-dampened cloth of his pocket.

_______________

Steven noticed the increasingly jerky motions of the man beside Suzanne, as he stared at her purposeful movements. She had picked up Big One, sliding her hips forward to the edge of the bench. Not for the first time, he marveled at his exhibitionist lover's ability to focus on the task at hand, ignoring when she had to her surroundings -- even when there was a man, obviously close to losing it in his Dockers, not twelve inches away. Even when a lively book store hummed all around her.

Whereas she had opted to reach behind and under herself to insert Small One, Suzanne had obviously decided to use a different approach to taking in Big One. She scooted all the way forward, until her tight ass was barely resting against the edge of the bench, and angled her pelvis upward. She brought the fat plug between her thighs, and up against herself, her hand cupping the base. She looked down between her legs, as the top of it disappeared from her view, and inhaled sharply as the cool lube made delicious wet contact with her slightly dilated opening. She seemed oblivious to the sudden full body spasms taking over her benchmate as he flooded himself with hot ejaculate and his frenzied motions gradually subsided.

From his vantage point behind the bench, Steven could not see the plug; only the tensings of the muscles of her arm. He wanted to see. He crossed the space between seat and bench and put his big hand firmly on the slumping man's shoulder. He looked up like a boy caught touching himself. "Time for you to go," Steven said, and the man hobbled stiffly away, as one does when one has come running down the inside of one's thigh.

Steven took his place next to Suzanne, who had not, even for a moment, stopped pushing at herself with Big One. She looked like a woman does when she is beyond rational thought, in a world of pure sensation. She met Steven's gaze, her eyes fogged with sex. Her lips were parted and wet from breathy exertion. "All the way?" she barely asked. "All the way," Steven replied. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement, and resumed her consumption of the serious toy.

"Here...let me help" said Steven going to one knee in front of her, and placing his larger hand over her smaller one at the underside of the base. Then, as naturally as her walls took the invading plug, so did she give control of its movement over to Steven, the moment his hand engulfed hers. She let out a sigh that was half deep physical bliss and half her grateful thanks to him for taking over. She knew he would make the waves come soon. Very soon...God, so very soon...her free hand digging hard now at the vinyl seat, nails curling under the front of it, seeking some anchor against the approaching violence of her come.

Steven's eyes did not leave Suzanne's face as he push-pulled, turned, rolled and rocked the plug into her once tiny opening. He knew just how to take something very big and fit it into someplace very small; in fact he had been doing it for years. But the way it was with Suzanne...was something else. Her body actively worked with him to get every inch of the plug.

It was a true partnership between the muscles of his arm and the inside of her body. This part of her was like this, and her sweet core was as well. At times like this, her body switched to autopilot, and began a constant sinuous motion in a downward direction, not stopping, incapable of stopping until it had swallowed up all it was due. Her pussy had taken his cock this way the very first time they had made love, changing forever the way he would think of the act of penetration.

And now she was almost down, all the way. He waited a moment until she was really seeing him, rather than looking into some inner space, and told her "Suz, when you feel my fingers against your skin, I want you to come."

Suzanne's eyes shut tight, and with sudden abandon she threw herself the rest of the way down onto the plug, some final space way up inside finally opening and allowing her ass to have its treat. She exploded the instant she felt his fingertips against her widened place, curling up over Big One's base. "nnnnnnnnNNNNNNNUUU" Steven clapped a hand over her mouth as she was swept away, or surely her scream would have filled the store. Even as he did so, he was rolling the plug inside her, giving each part of her insides some of the plug to push against, sending the rocket on which she was hurtling further into space. She bit heavily into his palm, her body jumping on the bench, her heels tattooing the floor, her ass making as if to grind the hard rubber to nothingness. Long long seconds, tears spilling, pleasured sobs, and Steven right there with her, holding her in it until he knew it was just short of too much.

Steven rose to the bench beside her. Taking off his sport coat and covering her still quaking form. His mouth was at her ear, at her neck, his enfolding arm taking her in to him, letting the after-tremors work their way through her, as she held the plug gently in place.

After a time, when she was back on earth with him, he said, "Come love, I'll walk with you to the lady's...and then we can buy this book. I can't wait to read chapters ten to twelve to you tonight..."

_______________

Steven is a psychologist living and working near New York City. He writes strictly for the fun and excitement of it. He reads far more erotica than he writes, in fact some might say he's (healthily) addicted to it. He appreciates any and all feedback, and can be reached at stevmmmmmm@hotmail.com.