GoFuckYourself.com - Adult Webmaster Forum - A BRIDGE from one Thread (Dying) to another Thread (Ambitious to get OFF)

This post originally appeared HERE.

People over there were posting pictures of asses. I posted some, then got bored of that. So, I thought I'd start something new. I found the picture below while looking for ass pics, but then liked it alot.

It suggested a story to me... or, the beginning of a story, anyway.

I'd love it if you picked up the story where I left it and expressed yourself sexually, vicariously through the characters -- the two characters I sketched, or new ones might you might see fit to introduce.

http://www.rockstargames.com/kentpau...llerskater.jpg

A little story...

"By the time I caught up with her, she was already undressed and slipping into the shower. I'd been beaten, no doubt about it. But, Sabine wasn't taking the usual pleasure in my moment of self-doubt and sexual insecurity. She was, instead, which was much, MUCH worse, being aloof. Why?

I took my own clothes off in the bathroom and made lots of noise, so she'd know I was coming. She made a gesture of suddenly thrusting her fingers into her hair and lathering furiously with her back turned. I became confused. Did she want me to force my way into the shower stall and take her with dumb aggression? Did she want me to cower my way in and play subject to some brand-new, queasy-making dominion based on roller-blading prowess? Or was she just abstracting genuine disdain and sexual disinterest in my direction?

I decided to go for it, and, for hesitating at the last moment (the shower stall door was open, and she's staring at me: 'WTF?') it came out like (oh, dread of dreads) something Major Healey might have said.

But, WTF, I'm into the situation now, right. Nothing's worse than backing out. I put my hand on her pussy and hold it there, right on the surface, and try to convey an impression of ownership, even as I'm realizing that to hold my hand on the surface was weak. Damn.

She's not responding to the warmth of my hand. I play it off, like I always try to do when an advance gets rebuffed. I think I'm only fooling myself with those. She turns her back to me and starts to rinse the shampoo from her hair.

The suds are running down her neck and back, and then it's as if they slow down going around her hips. It reminds me of Kennedy's convertible making that final, achingly slow left turn in Dealey Plaza, before the shots rang out. The curve her ass makes against her back is like a mountain of perfect, tanned-Scandinavian flesh -- but on the horizontal plane. Her ass *sticks* out so far, it has its own little gravity, against which the slick rivers of shampoo-runoff struggle to flow 'round.

My boner is in that strange and not-oft-seen stage of erection that makes it hum like a light saber in front of me. The blood is all gone from my head, and her back is getting blurrier and blurrier. The shower stall is full of steam. It's suddenly oppressive, like a sauna. I realize there is a window of opportunity. If I can keep from passing out, my extreme horniness will lead me into *transcendental action*. I'll be able to reach for something new, or for something familiar in a new way. And because the effort of this will be so great, if I fail or am bested (again), I know that I will immediately crumple down, releasing my body from having to bear any longer the burden of so loathsome and amoral a jockey as my soul has been..."

TO BE COUNTIUNED
BY THE NEXT POSTER FEELING HIMSELF INTERESTED IN A BIT LITERARY DUELING AND VERBAL FUN.