The Vantage Point by Kneeling Icon (wi.5403@n7kbt.rain.com) Sharon was putting away her laundry when she heard Stan come home. Rather, she reminded herself upon later reflection, when she heard Stan and his friend come home. The small apartment they shared had very few luxuries, but one of them was a huge walk-in closet in the master bedroom. She was inside it, in the middle of folding a shirt when the sounds of the front door closing reached her. Ordinarily she would have gone out to greet him, but she wanted to finish the shirt. She had folded the shirt and was about to leave the closet when she heard Stan's voice, softly. "I wonder if she's home," he said to whoever was with him. Sharon was on the verge of speaking up, but some strange impulse made her hold her silence. Moments later she heard a female voice reply with a slight giggle, "I hope not..." The sound of a kiss followed. Sharon felt a dull but strong ache settle in her guts. She could not decide between crashing their party and seeing just what they had in mind. She stood motionless, while she tried to sort out the melange of emotions which washed through her, until she heard Stan call out. "Sharon? It's me! Are you home?" With no decision to do so, Sharon strode quickly forward to the closet door, pulling it until it was almost closed. She reached up to the chain which controlled the ceiling light in the closet and tugged, bringing darkness to cloak her. She maintained her silence. Stan repeated his question. "Anyone home?" When a few more seconds of silence elapsed, Stan's friend seemed satisfied. "Great...we're alone. It still feels kind of weird, coming here. But if you don't mind, I suppose I can deal with it. Mmmmmmmm" More kissing sounds reached Sharon's ears. The hollowness in her stomach deepened. A round of giggles ensued, followed by a female exclamation of surprise. Seconds later the door between the bedrooom and the living room swung open, its handle knocking heedlessly against the closet door. Sharon stood close to the crack which allowed her to view most of the bedroom, including the queen-sized bed against the far wall to the left of the closet. Stan's body filled the view. He was carrying a woman in his arms, her arms hanging loosely around his neck. Sharon's view was excellent; the afternoon light pouring in through the bedroom window provided an even, coldly white glow throughout the room. Stan walked slowly to stand in front of the bed, where he gently lowered the girl's legs until she could stand upright. Her arms never relinquished their hold on his neck. She pulled him into a deep kiss once she had found her footing. Despite Sharon's irrational expectation that he would resist, he bent willingly to the embrace. Sharon's heart fell. After a while, Stan pulled away from the kiss. Sharon wondered if he was having second thoughts about his actions, but Stan stood back from the girl only to start pulling at the sash around her waist. Sharon watched in amazed horror as the blue silk strip uncoiled its knot and slid from the girl's waist. She couldn't believe that Stan was doing this. She couldn't believe she was watching. When the sash had fallen to the floor, Stan leaned forward and started unbuttoning the girl's dress. One by one, starting from the top, Stan deftly slipped each button through its eye, leaving a widening gap in the fabric behind his progressing hands. Sharon felt the tension between Stan and the girl grow, just as the tension within herself grew. Finally Stan reached the bottom button, situated at about the girl's navel. He slid his right hand back upwards, pushing the opening apart to run his hand over her skin. The girl's eyes were locked on Stan's. When Stan reached her shoulders, he pushed outward with both hands, slipping the dress from her shoulders. He accelerated the slow slide of the dress from her torso by pulling downward on the sleeves. In moments the girl's chest and stomach were exposed. She's not wearing a bra...The slut! The thought came unbidden to Sharon. I can't believe this bitch comes to *my* home with *my* man and comes without a bra! Without conscious volition. Sharon started to remove her own blouse, her hands pulling it over her neck. When it was removed, Sharon unfastened her bra, and dropped it to the floor next to her blouse. Sharon watched silently as Stan pulled the girl's dress from her hips, leaving her standing in just her panties. Sharon's hands removed her own denim skirt moments later. Her hands were in almost perfect synchronization in removing her panties while Stan finished undressing the girl. Sharon stood naked, assessing her rival from her hidden vantage point while Stan did so from his overt one. I can't believe he prefers her to me, Sharon thought. Look at her! She's got bigger tits than I do, but they sag more, and she pays for that size in extra fat all over her. Her ass is HUGE! She's got pretty blonde hair, but Stan always said her preferred brunettes like me...and he said he liked shorter hair like mine than...And I *know* he likes blue eyes, but hers are brown or hazel or whatever they are. And her lips are too full and her eyes are too small and her nose has that upturn, and... And *I've got better legs!* While Sharon was surveying the girl's body visually, Stan was doing it tactilely. His hands started by flanking her head, caressing her cheeks. They slid back and then down her neck, to spread out along the lines of her collarbones, and then gripped her shoulders gently. They started downward and towards each other then, each coming to pass lightly over a breast. When they were each centered on a breast, they started down in unison, following the curve of the flesh until they met the torso, where each hand cupped and slightly lifted a breast. The girl's eyes were closed, her head tilted back slightly in rapture. Sharon's hands were not dormant, though. Spontaneously they mirrored the motions of Stan's hands, following the same path over her body. She felt her own collarbones traced, her own shoulders gripped, her own breasts cupped and then lifted. Sharon felt the same seductive surge in desire that the girl felt; she felt the same moisture and heat build between her legs. Sharon *knew* what the other was experiencing. As Stan passed over the girl's stomach, so Sharon passed over her own. For the first time she became aware of a difference between them. Her rival's stomach showed a small bulge of fat, where Sharon's did not. Sharon was very proud of her athletically trim body, maintained by diet and exercise. What is his problem, She thought. I've got a *much* better body. But still her hands mimicked Stan's as they descended past the waist and headed toward the crotch. The girl stood quitely with her hips swaying slightly from side to side while Stan ran his fingertips over the skin between her pelvic bones. With each pass of Stan's fingers, his hands dropped a little lower. When he reached the girl's pubic hair, he dropped his left hand to his side and continued to play with the hair. His fingers twined it around themselves and ran it between themselves and teased it outwards. Sharon felt her own pubic hair twined and tousled and teased. She watched with growing excitement and terror as Stan turned his hand to press his palm against the girl's body and moved it downward until his ring finger could part her lips. As his finger slid between the girl's flesh, Sharon's flesh was pushed aside by hers. Stan pushed farther down and then curled his finger upward slightly, sliding it into the girl. Sharon let a small moan escape her lips, a distant echo of the sounds of pleasure which the girl emitted. Sharon stifled her lips and let the girl make sounds for both of them; continued secrecy was what would serve best. Stan continued to probe the inside of the girl; Sharon felt herself being probed, and once again lost herself in the illusion that she was the focus of Stan's attention. Stan added a second finger to his efforts, and Sharon felt her opening being forced a bit wider. She felt the grip of her muscles around his fingers. She felt the extra wave of pleasure at accepting the additional flesh, but the sighs that accompanied it came from the other side of the door. She closed her eyes, slowly, lost in the gentle rythm of the stimulation. Sharon built her way towards orgasm under Stan's hands. "Don't stop..." came the teasing, pleading whine of a female voice. Sharon's eyes opened with a start. She saw that Stan had pulled his hand away from the girl and was starting to undress itself. Sharon's hand pulled from inside her of its own volition. The girl watched Stan in mute appreciation. For the first time since Sharon had started watching the couple, she lost her sense of identity with their actions; the girl had a different view than Sharon did. Sharon could see only the back side of Stan. She could see only his hips and his butt as his pants were pulled down his legs. She could not see his penis or his balls, nor could she touch them, as the girl reached to do. Stan turned his hips slightly to give the girl better access, and Sharon could finally see his penis, erect and waiting for attention. Feelings of rage welled in Sharon's heart, as she watched the girl caress Stan's dick, as she watched the girl kneel before him and tease him with her tongue. She wanted to storm out into the room and interrupt them while the girl drew one of Stan's testicles into her mouth. She wanted to slap Stan across his face, wiping out the grin of ecstasy he always wore while his balls were being licked. She looked at herself, though, and knew she wouldn't. She knew that it would force Stan to make a choice. She knew that she didn't want to gamble that he'd stay before she could talk to him alone, before she could take him to bed and make him forget this intruder. Sharon *knew* that Stan couldn't really prefer this girl; Stan had just forgotten how great sex could be with the woman he already possessed. As Sharon watched the tramp blow her man, she felt a deepening, intensifying emotional pain. She wanted to have some physical way of understanding what was occurring before her eyes, but there was no such option available to her. She started to cry, silently, when Stan rested his hands lightly on the girl's head and leaned his head back in the same manner that the girl had done earlier. Tears surrendered to gravity's pull, running across her high cheekbones to dangle ignored from her chin until their grip failed and they dropped to the floor. A thought came to Sharon. Perhaps it would be possible to drown out the terrible mental agony by introducing some physical pain. She turned with some relief from watching the girl work on Stan and looked about the closet in the dim light admitted by the slight opening of the door. She saw mostly the things people usually cache in a closet: brooms and mops, a vacuum cleaner, clothes in varied arrays of colors and shapes and sizes. Shoes by the dozen lined the floor, books were piled in one corner, and boxes of all dimensions rested on wire shelves which stood out from the wall, slightly taller than Sharon herself. She looked silently, trying to imagine anything she could do which would hurt but not make noise. Her eyes finally rested on a row of skirts which were dangling from hangers. Each skirt was held in place by two laundry pins. Some were wood, some plastic. She removed the pins from several of the hangers, allowing the skirts to fall to the floor. When she stopped she looked at the handful of clamps she held, and started testing them for stiffness. The plastic ones were uniformly stiffer than the wooden ones. Sharon walked back to her viewing spot to check on the progress of her two performers. The girl was giving Stan what had to be the best blowjob of his life. Sharon marvelled, admiring the depth to which the girl swallowed Stan's dick. She seemed to be able to descend until her teeth hit his pubic bone. Sharon resolved to start practicing as soon as she could. She watched intently as the girl plunged and then disgorged, all the while her cheeks showing inward bulges from suction. The skin of Stan's dick was left glistening with moisture behind each withdrawal. The girl's eyes were always turned upward, watching Stan's reactions and hoping to catch a glimpse of eye contact with him. She radiated pleasure with what she was doing. Stan's soft moans and sighs made his pleasure known in return. With some trepidation, Sharon squeezed the first clothes-pin open, trying to decide where to put it for maximum effect. She settled on a breast, pinching almost an inch of flesh from the outside of her left breast in the device. Immediately she felt a dull throb start from where she had placed it. She repeated the action on her right breast, and then placed a third pin hanging down from the bottom of her right breast. A fourth went in symmetric opposition. She had two plastic pins left, so she placed one on each nipple. The last two hurt the most. The pain started to build as the affected spots on her breasts begain to send complaint messages along her nerves. It was not enough. She watched the little bitch sucking Stan's dick and still felt sexual desire coupled with emotional panic. Sharon tried to think of ways to increase her physical pain, and turned back to the interior of her small prison. She looked frm item to item until her eyes lit on a small cardboard box perched on the shelf above her, about four feet back on the left side. It was Stan's hobby box, filled with random bits of technical goodies. She inched her way to it, and gently lifted it from the shelf before lowering it to the ground. There on top she found the perfect item: the magnifying glass with the gripper hands that Stan used when he was painting models or soldering electrical components. It took Sharon only moments to unscrew and remove the alligator clips from the thing's two arms. She knew intuitively where they would go. She returned to her vantage point just in time to watch Stan come. He began to rock his hips back and forth uncontrollably, thrusting his dick into the girl's mouth. She seemed comfortable with his motions, withdrawing only slightly to avoid having Stan smash her face with his hips. His hands slid down a bit to clasp either side of her head. Sharon wondered if he would impede the girl's attempts to avoid a bloody nose. Idly, Sharon wished that small torture on the girl. With a great heave, Stan thrust his hips forward and pulled the girl's head toward him. She cooperated, swallowing every bit of flesh she could manage. Stan stood quietly, but Sharon could see signs of his ecstasy in the way his arms bulged and the blood vessels on his forearms stood out, pulsing. After a few seconds, he released the girl, who withdrew from him slowly, teasingly, sucking the last drops of semen from his dick as she pulled back. She retained her kneeling position, although she transferred her weight back so that her knees were bent and she rested her rear on her heels. She looked up at Stan with supreme satisfaction. Sharon could wait no longer. She snatched the two clothes pins from her nipples. She hardly noticed the slight lessening of pain with their removal. She glanced down at the first of the alligator clips and squeezed it open before she turned her attention back the the couple she had been watching. Her right hand slowly made its way, unerring, to her right breast, where the opened clip toyed with her nipple. Sharon kept her eyes locked on the scene in the bedroom while the mouth of the alligator clip found her nipple. She released her hold on the clip, as slowly as she could. As the clip closed, the pain lanced through Sharon's breast as is someone were burning her breasts with lighted cigarettes. She felt every millimeter of the closing of the clip, convincing herself with each passing second that the pain would stop increasing, that the clip would find its equilibrium. The pain ramped up steadily until Sharon felt sure that the alligator would bite her nipple completely free of her breast. When she finally let go of the clip completely, the agony drove her eyes away from watching the events in the bedroom. She turned to bury her head in a thick coat winter which hung by her left shoulder. When her head was covered completely she opened the remaining alligator clip and situated it to bite her other nipple. With one swift leap of bold desire, Sharon released it entirely. She could maintain her total silence no longer. She moaned deeply into the folds of cloth surrounding her head, then hissed in agony. She tried to silence herself, but the rivers of pain flowing from her chest were to mighty for her suppress the sounds of their passage. She whimpered, wishing for a release from her torture. Gradually the acuteness of the sensations ebbed, and Sharon was able to remove her head from within the coat. She stood unsteadily, her balance undermined by her physical distress. Feebly she raised herself back to her watching position, where she found her vision slightly blurred. The scene in the other room seemed brighter to her, but there were uncountable small sparkles floating across her field of view. It was as if her pain had increased her sensitivity to light until it, too, became a source of discomfort. Sharon realized that perhaps this was what she had sought. She slowly took notice of what was occurring on the bed. The girl was again on her knees, but this time she was facing away from Stan, and away from Sharon. The view was of her backside. Sharon initially thought that the couple were merely employing a kneeling position, but upon more intent inspection, she saw that Stan was not entering the girl's vagina; he was penetrating her anus! A wave of revulsion swept through Sharon, making her shudder. This was her personal phobia, her sexual nemesis. Stan knew that the very thought was unacceptable to Sharon, and had long since stopped trying to convince her to try it. Sharon also knew that he had some unusual fascination with the idea. The doubts slowly crept in on her again. Maybe *this* was why Stan was doing this girl! Maybe this form of contact was so important to him that he felt it necessary to seek elsewhere for it! Sharon watched in fascination as Stan's dick slid slowly into the girl's butt. A tight, narrow ring of bright pink flesh marked the depths of his penetration into the girl. Sharon searched for signs of discomfort or pain in the girl, but it seemed as if the girl didn't mind, or as if she actually liked it. The blonde head turned slightly to smile at Stan. He responded with some inaudible words of encouragement, and slid his hands briefy away from his grip on her hips, to run them tenderly over the girl's shoulders. He replaced them, and began again his steady, rythmic thrusts into her. The total travel of each thrust was not great, but with each one he seemed to sink a little deeper into her. Panic raced through Sharon. Is this what it would take to evict this little whore from our bed, she thought. Is this enough? She wondered if she could bring herself to do it. Her mind began to seek ways to condition herself to accept it. She finally imagined a way she might start; she remembered that all of the necessary items were in the closet with her. Sharon turned to start collecting what she wanted. Almost forgotten despite the intensity of pain they provided, Sharon accidentally brushed one of the alligator clips against the coat which had so recently been her solace. The sharp burst of agony that erupted from her right breast knocked her to the floor. She started an audible whimper, but quickly remembered her situation. She choked it off while tears fountained anew from her eyes. She but her lip to keep from crying out. A few words of conversation made it to her through her veil of over- stimulation. A female voice asked, "What was that? It sounded like someone in the other room!" Stan offered the girl reassurance. "No...We'd have heard the door open, or for sure we would have heard it close. We're still alone, sweetie." The girl sounded worried. "Still, I feel kinda weird doing this with you here, you know? I mean, it's *her* bed, too! It just feels wrong." Sharon bit back her vocal reply, subverting it to a mental one. Like it isn't wrong for you to screw my guy somewhere else, you cunt? Good, I'm glad you're worried. I hope it makes you frigid until you leave! Sharon's wishes went unanswered by the gods. Stan's only reply to the girl's concerns must have been physical, for the sounds of mutual pleasure resumed. Sharon raised herself from her knees, and proceeded carefully to the back of the closet, where she found what she was after: one of the brooms stored among a small heap of cleaning supplies. She silently extracted it, feeling like she was playing "pick up sticks." When it was free of the jumble she returned to the front of the closet. She opened the top drawer of a small chest that sat to her right as quietly as possible, just enough to get her hand in it. She knew what she would find there; she and Stan had switched to AstroGlide several months before, so the half-used tube of K-Y jelly had been relegated to the closet. After fishing around for a few seconds, Sharon's fingers passed over the tube, which she then removed from the drawer. She lowered herself slowly to her knees, where she drew the broom handle between her legs to lie on the floor beneath her. She looked up to verify that her view was not obstructed, and discovered that only the vertical angle had changed. She was satisfied. She lifted the end of the broom handle and looked it over. It was smooth wood, about an inch in diameter, painted a cheery, bright blue. Sharon didn't really feel cheery as she squeezed a dollop of K-Y into her right palm and began to smear it over the broom handle. When she felt that the entire surface of the wood was covered, she dropped the tube of jelly and pushed the broom backwards. She bent to her hands and knees, supporting herself with her left hand while she manipulated the broom with her right. When she felt the pressure of the wood against her anus, she looked out the door again, regaining her visual contact with Stan. She blew a silent kiss to him, and pulled the broom handle towards her. The pressure she felt increased, but not uncomfortably so, until she felt her muscles give in to it. She felt herself open, and felt the tip of the wood sink into her. It was not nearly as horrible as she had expected. She withdrew it slightly, and felt a strange cooling sensation returned to her. She pulled again, and felt the shaft sink inward once more, this time to a greater depth. She repeated the withdrawal and reinsertion until she was comfortable with it, and began a steady thrusting. She tried to take in a little more each time, but she had no idea of how much material was actually entering her. She watched Stan again, and watched the way the little pink ring surrounding his dick would roll inwards, almost disappearing as he thrust in, and then would roll outwards, showing itself clearly when he withdrew. She knew her own muscle was doing the same thing. Soon she fell into synchronization with Stan, once again mimicking his motions. She felt a strange buzz begin in her, as if there were some external source of electrical current flowing through her. Unconsciously, her body rocked back against the broom as her arm drew it forward. The clothespins on her breast began to sway as well, twisting her flesh and reminding her that they were there through small jolts of pain. The buzz grew stronger. Stan was increasing the pace and urgency of his thrusts. Sharon knew he was close to orgasm. She wondered about the girl, and herself as well. As Stan sped up, so did Sharon. She watched with greater attention as Stan built. Earlier, the girl had thrust her hips back against Stan, much as Sharon had done in her hidden spot. But now, as Stan increased the violence with which he moved, the girl seemed to try to draw her body away from him. Sharon drew great pleasure from imagining that Stan was actually hurting the girl. Sharon watched the final few thrusts of Stan's hips, knowing he was already over the edge, and merely moving on momentum of action. The buzz in her ears displaced almost all sounds as she watched Stan heave his hips forward while pulling back on the girl's hips. Again his arms revealed the strength of his grasp. Sharon felt her body surge backward and her arm pull forward with the same effort she saw in Stan. Her vision faded as a sheet of impossible brilliance occluded her view of the bedroom. She heard a great scream from somewhere, from a female voice. She could not tell if was hers or the girl's. She could not decide whether it was pain or pleasure that drove the throaty howl. She lost consciousness. When Sharon recovered, she found herself supported on knees and shoulders, still in the camouflaging darkness of the closet. Her breasts were afire from the alligator clips. The broom handle still rested in her anus. She drew herself up onto her left hand again, and reached to remove the broom with her right. She felt it slide from her body easily. She enjoyed the feeling, much to her surprise. She raised her torso upright, and then rested her weight on heels, reaching for the clamps on her breasts. First she removed all of the clothespins. Each brought an void of sensation that carried a new kind of pain, one of absence. She found herself left with only the two metal alligator clamps, and was almost afraid to remove them. She forced her right hand to her left breast, and gingerly grasped the end of the clip between thumb and forefinger. Squeezing released the pressure on her nipple, but it did not release Sharon from her pain. A wave of dizziness passed over her, leaving a sharp tingling emanating from her nipple, much like the tingling from trying to wake up a sleeping limb. She drew her hand to her right nipple, terrorized by the first removal. Squeezing again released the pressure. The last source of continuing pain was removed from her body, and Sharon was left with nothing but the glowing reminder of what had been. The dizziness descended upon her again and she felt various muscles across her adbomen contract. She wondered if she could drive herself to another, different, orgasm this way. She remained in her position for a few moments, savoring the strange pleasure to which her pain had driven her. Slowly, unsteadily, she got to her feet and looked out the door. Stan was lying in the bed on his back, looking upwards toward the foot of the bed. He was saying something that Sharon could not hear. He stopped speaking, and Sharon leaned a little closer to the door, straining to hear whatever was said in reply. "Stan, ummm...look. I don't think we should see each other for a while, OK?" "Why not?" He sounded angry, but perhaps a little relieved. Sharon couldn't decide whether that was wishful thinking on her part or not. "Today was kind of too much for me, you know? I mean, I really got freaked out by doing it here, towards the end. I don't know if I want to sneak araound anymore. I also don't think I want to take it that way again." "You mean from behind?" "Yeah." Sharon could hear the discomfot in the girl's voice. "Why not?" "I know you didn't mean to, but you lost control at the end, and it *hurt!* It was OK before then, but....Next time you might really hurt me!" Ahaaaa, Sharon thought. So that was *her* scream I heard back there. I guess they would have found me if had been mine... "I'm sorry...I...." "I know. Look, I think it would be easier this way. I really like you, but..." "Hey...can I call you sometime?" "I don't know. Like I said, I don't want to sneak around any more." Resolve strengthened in the girl's voice. "Stan, if you're willing to leave her, then maybe you can call. Just don't expect me to keep running around like this. I mean...Does she even know I exist?" "No. I don't think so." "I didn't think so, either. Look, it's not fair to anyone. Everyone loses, except maybe you. If you really want me, you're going to have to make a decision. If not...well...it's been great, Stan." A quiet rustling ensued, and Sharon saw the girl, dressed again in her white dress and the blue sash. She leaned over Stan's reclined form, and kissed him briefly on his right cheek. Stan reached up to embrace her, but she nimbly stepped away. Stan's eyes were locked on her as she left the room. "See ya'," she said as she passed the closet door. Moments later, Sharon heard the front door open and then shut. Stan turned on his side, facing towards Sharon's hideout, and closed his eyes. A short time later, Sharon heard the deep rythms of sleep in his breathing. As Sharon stepped from her hidden vantage point, she regarded Stan's sleeping form. She thought over Stan's last exchange with the girl. You'll never get him back, bitch. He's mine again, and I know I can keep him this time. Sharon walked towards the kitchen to get herself a glass of iced tea. The question is, she pondered as she walked, do I still want him?