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Hardcore sex story for your enjoyment....

                                          Selectively Nearsighted
                  	It's me again... rather than continuing Three's Company right 
               now - reader response wasn't overwhelming - I'm posting a short piece 
                             of fluff I knocked out in an hour or two.
                  	This is fiction, of course, and is not intended to correspond 
               to anybody I know, or anybody _you_ may know. I retain all rights to 
                  this piece of work, and it may not be published in any form for 
               commercial purposes without my _express, written permission_. You may 
               keep a copy on disk or paper for your own pleasure, or to share; just 
                                     don't sell it to anybody!
                 	DESCRIPTION: This story is fairly mild; mostly masturbation and 
               fantasy. Pretty timid stuff, but hey... I'll stick with what I know! 
               Taking a guess that people didn't want to read a whole section of set-
                 up with no serious wanking material, I'll keep it short this time.
                                      	SELECTIVELY NEARSIGHTED
                  	Cheryl pushed the glasses back on her forehead. She had gotten 
              done with writing her e-mail for the day, and was getting ready to log 
                  off when a message flashed at the bottom of the screen. It read:
                                    "Talk request from: jester"
               She thought for a bit; no one she knew used a nickname like "jester". 
                                 Curious, she punched in the reply.
                                      [connection established]
                                        Hello. Are you busy?
                                  	She typed in "No, not really."
                   	"Good. I don't mean to bother you, but I've seen you around 
                campus and finally found out who you are. I'd seen your name on the 
                      list of users, so I thought we could chat for a while."
                  	Cheryl looked around the lab. There weren't many people around 
                  the lab, and most of them seemed absorbed in their own projects.
                              	"I have no problem with that, I guess."
                  	"Good. I want to ask you a few questions. Have you ever talked 
                          anybody on these machines who you didn't know?"
                              	"No," Cheryl typed, "you're the first."
                 	"I see. Do you think you could ever be attracted to someone you 
                                          met on the net?"
                   	Cheryl wondered for a minute. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
                  	"Well, I have an interesting proposition for you. Basically..."
                   	She waited; when Jester didn't finish, she typed "Basically 
                             	"Basically, I want to talk dirty to you."
                   	Cheryl typed "Not interested. Sorry." and began to log off, 
                         when Jester typed "Just a minute. Let me explain."
                        	Cheryl thought for a minute. "Why should I agree?"
                   	"Well, I'm a psychology major and I want to test a theory. I 
                 want to see if you could be aroused without having any visual or 
                                  audial cues. Only what I write."
                     	She looked around. The only guys in the lab still seemed 
                focused on whatever they were working on; however some of them were 
               facing her, and she couldn't tell what was on their terminal screens.
                   	Oddly enough, she was getting aroused. The thought of having 
                     some total stranger "talking" to her was getting her hot.
                                         	"Sure. Why not?"
                    	"Wonderful. First, imagine that I am sitting next to you."
                                	"What do you look like?" she typed.
                    	":) Sorry, but that would be telling. Just imagine someone 
                 tall, dark and handsome - someone whom you would be attracted to."
                 	Cheryl closed her eyes for a second. She pictured Jeff, the guy 
                who lived on the floor below her, and who she kept bumping into. He 
                had ruddy skin and short hair. He had a fairly athletic build. She 
                                          smiled; he'd do.
                    	"Now imagine that we're in a grassy field somewhere. We're 
               sitting there; you're sitting between my legs, and leaning against my 
                chest. Think of the feel of the grass underneath us; the feel of my 
                                     chest against your back."
                   	Cheryl felt Jeff's pectorals pressing against her back. The 
                     thought of that warmed her blood. She shifted in her seat.
                  	"Imagine that I reach around you and began to fondle your...do 
                        you mind if I talk dirty, or would you be offended?"
                              	"Go ahead; it's your game." she typed.
                  	":) Okay, I'm reaching around you and grabbing your tits. I'm 
               stroking them and rubbing and pinching your nipples. (Go ahead and do 
                                   so if you feel it'll help...)"
                    	Cheryl looked around; no one was watching. She slipped her 
               long, slender fingers over her breasts, and circled her nipples. The 
                feeling was exciting; even more so that she was sitting in the open.
                  	"I'm rubbing your tits. One of my hands slips down and begins 
                 to stroke your thigh. I'm rubbing with one hand and stroking your 
                                       thigh with the other."
                          	"(Are you wearing a skirt, pants, or shorts?)"
                              	Cheryl typed "You mean you don't know?"
                        	":) Sorry, but I don't. I didn't see you come in."
                              	Cheryl grinned. "I'm wearing a skirt."
                                     	"Tight, or fairly loose?"
                        	"Loose; it's pleated, like a cheerleader's skirt."
                  	":) Okay, I'm stroking your thigh with one hand. It traces its 
                way slowly up to your knee, and up to the hem of your skirt. (Feel 
                               free to use your hand if it'll help.)"
                   	Cheryl began idly sliding her hand up and down her leg. She 
                liked the feel of her smooth fingers on her skin; she traced little 
                                        circles on her legs.
                 	"Now I'm taking my other hand and rubbing your other thigh. I'm 
                spreading your legs a little, and sliding my hands up and down your 
                 	Cheryl spread her legs a little. She looked up; one of the guys 
               was getting ready to go. She put her hands back on the keyboard, and 
                                    looked attentive as he left.
                   	"A little.

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 I don't want to make it obvious what's going on."
                   	"I understand. Now, I was rubbing your thighs, and planting 
                  little baby kisses on the back of your neck. (Don't worry about 
                                     simulating that part...)"
                  	Cheryl giggled. One guy looked up; Cheryl blushed slightly and 
                                      went back to the screen.
                    	"I take one of my hands and slip it under your skirt. I'm 
                              tickling your inner thighs. (Go ahead.)"
                               	She typed "I'm going to get caught."
                 	"No you won't. No one is close enough to see, so long as you're 
                  	Cheryl flipped her skirt up and slid her left hand between her 
                   	"As I'm kissing your neck and stroking one thigh, I lightly 
                 trace the hem of your panties - you _are_ wearing panties, aren't 
                                        	Cheryl typed "Yes."
                     	"Okay, I'm tracing the hem of your panties with my index 
               finger. I slide up over your thigh, then back between your legs. (Do 
                  	She slid the fingernail along the hem. She was really getting 
                 turned on by this treatment! She hooked her finger under the hem 
                       between her legs; she could feel herself getting damp.
                  	"I reach up with my other hand and slide your panties off. (Go 
                                         ahead and do it.)"
                  	Cheryl stopped. She quickly typed, "No way. Feeling myself up 
                   is one thing, but I'm not doing a striptease in the damn lab!"
                  	Jester waited. Then, "If you really want to stop, we can. But 
              if you agree to continue, you _have_ to do _everything_ I tell you, no 
                                           matter what."
                    	Cheryl thought about it. If she stopped, she'd only leave 
               herself hanging; she was really starting to enjoy this. But the last 
              thing she needed was someone spotting her; she'd be suspended for sure 
                                         if she got caught.
                                           	She decided.
                                   	"Okay. Go ahead." she typed.
                  	":) Excellent. I was hoping you'd agree. Now take your panties 
                  	Cheryl sat up slightly and slowly squirmed out of her panties. 
               When they got around her knees, she spread her legs and let them drop 
                to the floor. She picked them up and tucked them into her backpack, 
                                          under her books.
                                       	"Okay. They're off."
                 	"Now, I'm stroking your tits again. I'm breathing into your ear 
                slowly. In... out. In...out. My left hand slides down between your 
              legs. My fingertip is tracing the slit of your pussy. (I don't have to 
                                         tell you, do I?)"
                    	She looked around. Another guy got up, along with a woman. 
              Cheryl stopped, but they went out the door at the far end of the room. 
                     She stroked her right nipple and began to finger herself.
                 	"Now spread your legs as far as your skirt will let you. I'm in 
                        front of you now, and I'm kissing you passionately."
                                      	Cheryl licked her lips.
                   	"I stop kissing you, and lean down. I kiss your right knee, 
               then your left. I slowly kiss my way inwards to your pussy. (Use your 
                        imagination; I'm there. Use your hands to pretend.)"
                 	"I slip my tongue along your slit. You need to spread your lips 
                                  so I can get further inside..."
                      	Cheryl complied; she held herself open and slipped her 
                                           fingertip in.
                  	"I'm switching to my hand; I slide my finger in, probing you."
                   	She began to squirm. Her finger began moving in and out. Her 
                other hand slid up to her nipples again, and she pinched them. The 
                                pain only added to her stimulation.
                    	"I'm beginning to stroke faster; I want to make you come."
                  	Cheryl smiled. Her finger wasn't doing enough, so she slipped 
               another finger in. The fit was tight, but the pressure felt wonderful.
                                     	"Faster now...faster..."
                   	Cheryl's hand was practically a blur. Her other hand went to 
                 rubbing her clit. Cheryl's mind was spinning; her she was, finger-
                                fucking herself in the computer lab!
                             	Suddenly she felt an orgasm building up.
                                	"Come on baby; make yourself come."
                  	Cheryl didn't care anymore; the feeling was too overpowering. 
               She leaned back, closed her eyes and moaned slightly as the waves of 
                 warmth washed over her. The intensity increased, and finally the 
               orgasm broke. She tried not to scream; it came out as a whining sigh, 
              with Cheryl gritting her teeth. She began gasping. She leaned over and 
                                  rested her head on the keyboard.
                 	When she looked up, there was a solitary message on the screen. 
                 She looked around, but the lab was empty. She never saw the last 
                 people leave. As she read the message, she felt the cold hand of 
                                    astonishment clear her mind.
                      	Well, I hope that was as fun for you as it was for me.
                      	Don't worry; I was the last one to leave. I don't think
                                	anyone ever knew what was going on.
                    	It seems like the mind is a powerful sex toy; I don't know
                             	what you pictured, but it seemed to work.
                     	Just goes to show you that love isn't necessarily blind,
                     	merely selectively nearsighted. Makes me believe a woman
                                	like me can find somebody to love.
                       	Don't act so surprised; I never said I was a man. And
                                  	besides, did it really matter?


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