Published in:
Sex Toy Tales, 1998

JUST READING NEWS

	I choose the clothing carefully.  Cream silk shirt and black 
lace bra.  Nothing else.  After a long day in tailored suit and itchy 
hose, the temptation to just walk around naked is strong, but this 
will work better.

	The computer's already on -- I never turned it off this 
morning.  My nosy roommate won't be home from work for 
another hour.  An hour should enough.

	I've been waiting for this all day.  Just one of those days 
when you can't stop thinking about it -- when you want to lock 
your married, overweight boss in his office and tear his expensive 
clothes off.  Thank god I'm not a horny teenage male -- my poor 
boss wouldn't survive that.  He'd die of embarrassment.

	I'm damp already.  My breasts are sore, heavy.  As I sit 
down at the computer, I run a quick hand across a nipple, unable to 
resist that indescribable twinge.  Then I quickly turn on the 
modem, dial in. Rec.arts.erotica is empty again, but there's a never-
ending stream in alt.sex.stories, and literary quality isn't terribly 
important right now. 

	"He thrust his nine-inch rod into her steamy love tunnel."  
Not this one.  Some things are just unacceptable.

	As I select a string of likely-sounding stories and start 
spacing through, I thank whatever benevolent diety invented the 
net.  So much cheaper than buying real erotica.  So much more 
comfortable than trying to hold open _The Story of O_, or _The 
Claiming of Sleeping Beauty_, while the pages are slipping from 
sweaty fingers.  It only takes one intermittent finger to press the 
spacebar.

	"He looked, horrified, at the four men holding down his 
little daughter.  The marks of their whips were clear against her 
pale body.  She cried out, 'Please, daddy!  They'll hurt me 
again....don't let them hurt me.  I want you, daddy...'  He slowly 
lowered himself onto her, promising himself that nobody would 
hurt his little girl again..."

	I continue to caress my nipples as I read, squeezing and 
occasionally pinching, rolling the skin through the silk and lace.  
I've tried just silk, but there's a delicious roughness in lace on 
sensitive skin.  The silk slides across my back and shoulders as I 
rock slowly.  I cross my legs, first one way, then the other.  This 
chair is too hard, but there's no time to stop now.

	I'm ready so quickly this time.  Like the unlikely child in 
the story, wanting something.  I slide a hand across the silk, 
rubbing it against my breast, my stomach.  "She undressed in front 
of the window every evening.  After everyone else had left the 
office, she slipped into a co-worker's office, and slowly stripped 
off her clothes.  She leaned against the 67th floor windows in the 
Amoco building, looking out over the lake, almost positive that 
nobody could see her.  She rubbed her naked, taunting body 
against the cold glass."

	Scattered around the computer are my paraphernalia...more 
silk shirts, candles, a bowl of lukewarm water that was full of ice 
yesterday.  I pick up a shirt from the floor, and run it between my 
legs, pausing between stories to use both hands to pull it back and 
forth against my clit.  It's pleasant, but frustrating.  I remind
myself once again to buy a vibrator.  Then I start reading again.  
This one is marked 'nc'.

	Three men have broken in and are taking turns pounding 
into a screaming woman.  It's unclear who's doing what, but it 
doesn't really matter.  My pulse is racing now, and while I'm not 
quite moaning, I'm no longer silent.  I cross my legs again, 
tightening the muscles against the bunched silk.  Rocking once 
more, fingers tightening on my right nipple through the lace.  The 
big construction worker flips her over and enters her again, his 
hard chest slamming into her back.  I squeeze harder, and oh, this 
will hurt later, but it doesn't matter.

	My leg muscles are clenched so tight that pins and needles 
are racing up and down them.  Somehow, that only makes it better, 
the tension building and building as I rock back and forth with silk 
rubbing against my clit.  The woman is screaming and I am 
whimpering now, climbing higher and higher until I think I cannot 
do this anymore, I have to relax my muscles, I just can't....

	And then it's suddenly here, and I don't know if I'm 
screaming too, or silent, as my orgasm grabs me and all my 
muscles convulse at once and relax so slowly and the world just 
blanks out around me, dissolving into haze.

	Eventually, I can see again.  I let go of my poor, maltreated 
nipple, and uncross my legs for a moment, letting the silk shirt fall 
to the floor.  It's 5:18 by the computer clock, and I have over forty 
minutes before my roommate is likely to arrive.  I stretch, pause to 
pet the cat that has somehow climbed onto the monitor, shift and 
settle again in the hard chair.

	I select a new set of stories, and start reading again...

*****
M.A. Mohanraj
1994