Date: Fri, 24 Oct 97 11:56:57 UT
From: "Yvonne Richards" 
Subject: 1/2 Sated not Abated by Yvonne J Richards NC-17


DISCLAIMER:  All characters belong to Chris Carter, 1013 Productions and the 
Fox Network.  They also belong to  Gillian Anderson and David Duchovny, 
without whom, they would have life, but no soul.  No copyright infringement 
intended. All other characters bear no resemblance to anyone either living or 
dead.  No financial gain is made from this writing.  

ARCHIVE ANYWHERE except ATXC ON THESE CONDITIONS
1. 	I REMAIN AS AUTHOR along with my e-mail addy
2. 	MY DISCLAIMER AND LOGLINE REMAIN WITH THE STORY
3. 	YOU LET ME KNOW WHERE IT'S GOING

SATED BUT NOT ABATED (1/2)
Yvonne J Richards
Yvonne-Richards@classic.msn.com
Set ANYTIME 
RATING - NC-17
CONTENT WARNING - SOLITARY SEXUAL ACTS 
CLASSIFICATION -  S
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
This is NC-17 through and through, precipitated by the recent discussion re 
Mulder's hobby.  If you are in the least offended by solitary sexual acts or 
are UNDER AGE, then do not read further.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

1/1 Sated not Abated
by Yvonne J Richards
October 1997



*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Fox Mulder's Apartment
Time:  1.00 am

I'd fallen asleep on the couch and the video was still playing.  The latest 
temptress was a blonde with curves in all the right places.  She was making me 
feel hot under the collar, and other places too.  I could feel the heat 
through thin cotton and stiff denim.

I wish I didn't have these needs.  God Mulder you're a man I tell myself.  If 
I'm that much of a man then why do I need these goddamn videos then?  If I 
could pull a woman I wouldn't need to elicit these favors from myself.  I 
wonder sometimes if they afford me a release or whether I find them 
pleasurable.  Or both.

I like to think both.  Sometimes, when I can't sleep, I'll turn on the video 
and when I'm spent I curl up and sleep peacefully till morning.  Trouble is I 
wake up with no one with beside me, the ache still ever present in my groin.  
My need sated, but not abated, gratified but not diminished.

Slowly I pull the zipper down on my jeans and stroke myself through the thin 
cotton of my boxers.  My guilt makes me recoil at myself.  Physically, I know 
how much I'm going to enjoy this, but mentally I berate myself.  I don't know 
if that's because I think it's wrong, or whether I think that I shouldn't 
pleasure myself without pleasuring someone else.

Sometimes, it gets too much for me, the need is too great.  At those times I 
don't care, I just get on with it.  Is everyone's need of sexual pleasure this 
great.  Do women feel this way?  Do women masturbate as well?  I don't see why 
not.  But do they feel the same guilt as I feel?  Do you do these kinds of 
things when you are in a loving relationship or just when you're lonely? 

Like I am.

I'm not a pervert, I watch porn videos because I can't bring myself to act out 
the real thing with a real life woman.  Much as I want that, much as I need 
that.  I wonder sometimes if it's a selfishness on my part.  Getting all this 
pleasure without having to give anything for it.  But I do give for it.  I 
give up a little part of my soul, my self-respect each time I explode because 
of my own actions.

My self-respect has been eroded quite a bit just recently.  Too many late 
nights, too many videos, way too many explosions.  But I can't help it.  I 
need this release.  I need to feel the tension of my life slipping away, this 
is the only way I can relax.  I wish it wasn't but it is.

My hand has slipped down the waistband of my boxers now and I can feel the 
heat of my erection pressing against the soft cloth.  I touch myself, it feels 
good.  Oh so good.  I want more.  I want to feel my fingers pressed around me. 
 Want to feel myself move inside them, want to feel hotter and hotter and 
hotter.  I begin slowly at first, the thrill coursing through my body.  I 
wriggle around some to get comfortable and my sighs and moans are becoming 
audible.  It feels so good.

So, so good.  I have quickened my pace, I am panting just a little, a sheen of 
sweat appearing on my forehead.  My heart is beating just that little bit 
faster and my hand moves in rhythm with it.  I can smell myself, the musky, 
sexy smell that pervades sexual encounters.  I want it.  Now.  I can't get 
comfortable.   I need to take my jeans off but I don't want to stop the 
rhythm, I'll fall back down and I don't want that.

With one hand I continue stroking and pumping myself, while I struggle with 
the jeans with my other hand.  Lifting my ass off the couch, struggling to get 
the unpliable cloth down my long legs.  They're gone.  I relax a little.  The 
heat is searing through me now, my breathing has quickened considerably and 
now the boxers go, I'm completely naked on the couch, pumping up and down, up 
and down and I feel so good.  I want this release so much.

"Yesssssssssssss!"  I scream into the night air. "Dana."  I whisper.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A soft knock comes at my door.  I scrabble for my boxers.  I'm still wet, 
semen covering my groin.  I'm hopping toward the door tying to put one foot in 
the leg of the boxers and getting into a muddle.  They're on.  I peer through 
the peephole.  Shit.  It's Scully.

"Mulder, are you are okay?"

"Yes, yes - just coming."  Oh hell.  She's seen me in just my boxers before.  
She'll think I've just woken.  I let her in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I don't know what has brought me to his door at this unearthly hour.  Just 
some crazed need to be with him, near him.  I felt he needed me.  I woke up at 
Midnight feeling decidedly roused, in places where I definitely shouldn't be 
feeling roused with my partner. 

My thoughts turn increasingly to laying Mulder, literally.  I have this great 
need of him.  God only knows how I can assuage myself of it.  I could never 
look him in the face again if I did.

He's opened the door to me now and he's standing there looking tired, no 
sleepy.  His hair is messed up and he's naked except for his boxers.  I notice 
they are on inside out and they're wet.  A sad thought crosses my mind, he's 
way too old to be bedwetting.  His need is seemingly as great as mine.

"Mulder, I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't."  His face is so open and honest.  "I mean, well ---"
Suddenly he realizes that the video is still playing, he blushes and makes his 
way quickly to the tv set.  Turning it off he pulls on his jeans and zips them 
up, his back to me.  When he turns round I see a guilty little boy standing 
before me.  It takes all of my resolve not to encircle him in my arms, tell 
him everything is going to be all right and then rip those jeans and boxers 
off him and have my wicked way with him.

"You look tired Mulder."  He pushes a hand through his hair, I know he's 
trying to compose himself and I'm just making the whole situation worse.  "I 
shouldn't have come."

"No, no, no.  Don't go.  Stay.  Have a drink.  I'm not tired.  Really."  He 
goes toward the kitchen, I think he's afraid to look back in case I say no and 
get up to go.  I follow him to the doorway and stand watching him making 
herbal tea.  He's shivering in the cold air, I can see his sweatshirt on the 
couch and I go and retrieve it.  I slip it round his shoulders just before the 
kettle boils and he jumps ever so slightly, but doesn't turn round.  

The drinks are made and he hands me mine, wrapping his own slender fingers 
right around the mug, he's still shaking just a little.  I wonder if I got the 
scene wrong when I arrived?  I can still the sheen of sweat on his brow, is he 
ill?  My heart misses a beat and I look at him concerned.

"What's wrong Scully?"  He says, pulling his sweatshirt over his head.

"Are you sure you're okay?"  I ask again.

"Sure I'm sure Scully."  He smiles and touches my shoulder.  Now it's my turn 
to jump just a little and shake.  I smile inwardly.  He's not ill, by any 
stretch of the imagination.

We sit on the couch in companionable silence, each sipping the hot liquid.  
Each lost in our own thoughts.  Mulder suddenly jumps up from the couch asking 
if I'd like a biscuit.  I nod.  I don't really want one, but I feel he needs 
to be doing something.  As he brushes against the small table a sliver of 
paper falls to the floor.  I pick it up, it's just a name and a telephone 
number.  Millie - 555-696969.  I replace it back from where it's fallen.  I 
think I know where the owner of that telephone number lives.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*



End of Part 1/2
Any comments to Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com



DISCLAIMER IN PART 1/2
Sated not Abated
by Yvonne J Richards


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
THIS IS NC-17 IF YOU ARE UNDER AGE DO NOT READ FURTHER
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*




I take a quick look round the street before entering the double doors that 
lead to an all too familiar reception area.  From the street, you wouldn't 
have known what kind of establishment it was.  The interior is very classy, 
glass, leather and mirrors.  It doesn't look in the least bit seedy.  Usually, 
I pay for the use of a private room for myself and other times I pay to go to 
someone else's private room.  Tonight, though I feel like a change.  I don't 
want to be alone.  I rarely am but tonight I want to be sure of being with 
someone.

I ring the bell and gaze through the glazed door.  From behind what, for all 
the world, looks just like a hotel reception desk, an elegant middle-aged 
woman comes to let me in.  She instantly recognizes me.

"Hello Mr Hale.  How are you this evening?"

"Fine Millie, just fine.  I don't want my usual room tonight."

She beams at me, "Oh you're in great demand."

I feel confused.  "I am?"

"Yes.  We have a lady who's taken a private room, and asked specifically for 
you."

"Oh."  I say, bemused.

"Looks like your reputation has gone before you."  She hands me a key.  "She's 
in Room 1013, she won't be there when you arrive, but she says that you're to 
wear the mask on the bed and then she'll come to you."

I furrow my brow, I'm not at all sure about this.  Oh well, what the hell, 
we're all here for the same thing aren't we?

I make my way up the long winding stairs and find the room I'm looking for on 
the right, just where Millie told me it would be.  I haven't been in this room 
before.  I don't actually come here all that often, even though Millie knows 
me well.  I just come when it gets too much for me.  When my sexual appetite 
isn't satisfied by my own actions and I need to release my tension into what 
God intended I release it into.

A woman.

Even though I know she won't be there I still knock.  I get no reply and 
slowly push open the door.  The room, like the rest of this establishment is 
very elegant, very suave, sophisticated.  This particular rooms is upholstered 
in pinks and creams.  I see the mask sitting ominously on the enormous bed.  
The lights are turned down low, there is soft music playing in the background 
and a few candles are lit.  I pick up the mask, realizing that the whole bed 
is covered in silk.  There are black silk boxers lying by the mask.  I assume 
these are meant for me.

Somehow, I feel a little exposed tonight.  But I shrug off the leather jacket, 
my top and unlace my boots.  I slip off my jeans and then my cotton boxers.  I 
put them all in a neat pile.  If Scully could see me now.  I fight down the 
pain that thought gives me.  If I could just confide in her I wouldn't be 
here.  I know that is a stupid thought really, what in God's name would she 
want with me anyway.  I'm no good for her.  If I can't pull her after five 
years.  I wince at the crassness of my statement.  I don't mean pull.  That 
makes me sound as if I'd pull anything that was female.  

God, what *would* Dana think of me if she knew I came to these sorts of 
places?  Paid for the elicit favors these women give me.  The pleasure I give 
them.  I hope.  What kind of a man am I?  Am I so unattractive that I can't 
find a woman outside of a place like this?  The women I've been with here seem 
to find me attractive.  But none have given up their lucrative pastime to be a 
permanent fixture in my life.  But then again, neither have I.  I come here to 
release the tension in my body, the same as they do.  For whatever reason we 
all serve the same 'God'.

Sex.

I can hear footsteps.  It must be her.  I quickly pull the silk of the boxers 
up over my manhood and hold the mask in my hand.  She can't be serious about 
this.  She must be ugly if she's asked for me anyway.

I hear a soft knock at the door.

"Hello.  Come in."

"Do you ave your mask on?"  She's French.  Omigod, she's French.

I clear my throat and stutter, "Yes.  Yes.  I do."

"I will come to you then Cherie."

This is so weird.  I feel so totally naked and exposed.  I hear her pad across 
the room to me and then the bed depresses and she is by my side.  She smells 
beautiful, expensive soaps and perfumes.

"Do I have to wear this."  I touch the mask.

"Oh yes."  Her accent rolls off the tongue.  "I'm so sorry.  But I need this 
for the first time.  I am a little, how do you say, shy?"

I'm feeling bolder by now and I turn on my side, my hand propping up my head.  
"You don't have to be shy with me.  What's your name?"

"Aimee."

"That's a nice name."

"And what is yours.  I know you are Monsieur Hale, but what shall I call you 
tonight?"

"David."  I feel her weight lift off the bed. "Where are you going?"

"I turn off the lights, blow out the candles."

Within minutes she is back with me, lying by my side.  Stroking my hair and 
face.  It feels so warm and comfortable.  Nothing like any of the other women 
I've had here.  She's pulling the mask off now.  I squint, but I can't see 
*anything*.  The room is pitch black.  I can see the outline of her face as 
she straddles me.  I rest my hands on her shoulders, feeling the soft 
creaminess of her skin.  Suddenly she's on top of me, peppering my neck with 
kisses, her hands exploring my chest.  I feel the warmth of her skin next to 
mine.  Feel the lace of her bra, the silk of her stockings, the annoying stab 
of her suspenders as she writhes across me.

I turn her over onto her back and kiss her neck  feeling the softness of her 
hair.  It's piled up on top of her head, little ringlets falling at the nape 
of her neck.  I play with these, still kissing her neck, her face and then I 
go lower and place kisses in the valley between her breasts.  She moans.  My 
hand travels to the lace mounds that hold her delicate breasts and I feel her 
writhe against my touch.  I unclip the fastening and reach inside to touch and 
taste the delights which await me.  I hear her breathing quicken as I pull my 
thumb across her hardened nipple.

Pulling the soft fabric away from her, I slide down her body and kiss the soft 
round breasts I find there.  Nibbling and nuzzling as I go, tracing a sensual 
finger from her navel down to the lace triangle that covers her sexuality.  
She bucks at my touch.  I apologize, she seems not to bother.  I kiss where my 
finger has traced and then I'm removing the stockings from the suspenders and 
sliding them down her legs.  Kissing the insides of them as I go.  More moans, 
more sighs.  My own need is increasing but not yet. I want to give this woman 
pleasure.  

She is different.

Grasping her round the waist I feel for the fasteners at the back of the 
suspender belt and soon it lies on the floor with the stockings.  I gently 
kiss the hair where her legs part, gently moving them apart so that I can kiss 
the insides of her thighs.  Her movement is increasing now and she offers 
herself up to me like a sacrifice.

I move back up her and begin to kiss her again, fondling her breast and moving 
down to her warm velvety folds.  She is wet, so wet.  I feel myself stiffen a 
little more, pushing the silk of the boxer shorts against her soft abdomen.

"You like?"  she asks.

"I like."  I reply.

I don't want to wait another moment before burying myself in her but I feel 
this intense need to pleasure her.  I find her warm, wet folds once again and 
stroke her with my fingers.  Her hands are clasped around my neck, pulling on 
me, kissing me.  Her moans and sighs are turning me on so much that I don't 
know how much longer I can keep this up.  My own shaft aches to be in her.  I 
bite my lip.  I can do this.  I can control this.

I thought I could.

Her soft, slender fingers are pulling on the waistband of my boxers and my 
breathing quickens.  I close my eyes, wondering what she's about to do.  She 
has me on my back and she's pulling them down, down my legs, they brush and 
tantalize my inner thighs.  My head is going to explode at any minute.  That 
and some other part of my body that I'd rather not think about.  Oh yes, it 
feels so good.  Her tiny fingers are gripping me with one hand, my boxers are 
sliding down my legs and she releases me for a moment.  I keen the loss and 
then the boxers hit the floor and she has me in her grip again.

Slowly, so very slowly she strokes me.  She seems to sense the imminence of my 
arousal, she bends and places kisses on my abdomen and kisses my lips again.  
She is on top of me now, my erection pressing against her soft folds.  My 
breathing must tell her how close I am, how much I need this.

"I cannot wait Cherie." 

God, am I glad to hear that. I'm about to burst out of this shaft at any 
second.  Before I have chance to turn her over she has me firmly gripped, I 
feel the cool of the condom sliding over the heat of my flesh.  And then---  
Omigod.  She's lowering herself onto me.  Omigod.  I never knew it could feel 
this good.  Stars seem to fall from heaven and place themselves before my 
eyes.  

"It is good, no?"

"Oh it is *good*.  *So* good."

Suddenly I'm buried to the hilt in the warmth of her and I want to explode.  
My body tenses and I tremble just a little.  She makes no move, just kisses my 
lips lightly.  She gives me time to settle down, I feel tender and I don't 
want to shoot yet.  Not yet.  She kisses me, forcefully this time, I think her 
desire is increasing.  Mine sure is.  Our hands explore each other's bodies, 
but still she makes no move on me.  

"Are you ready Cherie?"

"Yes."  The reply sounds strangled.

Slowly, so slowly she eases herself up and then down, not quickly but 
rhythmically, all the time she checks with me to see if I like.  Like?  I've 
never felt better.  I can't remember a time when I've let a woman do this to 
me.  I'm usually on top and the stars are shooting before the sun's gone down. 
 I tell myself that my sexual inadequacy comes from not having sex that often. 
 I feel so aroused when I do that I just come automatically.  Not tonight 
though.  This is different.  I feel safe and warm and so relaxed.  I'm just 
letting it all drift over my head.

She's picked up the pace now and I can hear her heavy breathing.  I thrust 
with her now knowing that her body feels tired, we have been making love for 
half an hour and I've never felt so good about myself.  Ever.  I turn her over 
on her back.  I want to take over and she doesn't seem to mind.

I feel so warm and so does she.   I can tell that she's close to orgasm and I 
am too.  I bury myself deeper and deeper into her and she willingly opens 
herself up to me.  We gasp at the new sensations, our hands are entwined, 
pulling each others hair, our passion has increased.

I can feel the waves beginning inside her and my own desire begins to ripple 
along my shaft.  I burst inside her, all the pent up tension long gone.  What 
I feel tonight is pure sexual delight.

There is no need to turn on the light.

We know each other.

We've always known each other.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

THE END




So, who do you think the mystery lady was? 



 

  

"A beautiful and ineffectual angel, beating in the void his luminous wings in 
vain."  
 From 'Shelley' by Matthew Arnold

Doesn't that just sum up Mulder's quest beautifully? 


Thank you for reading thus far.  Any comments to 
Yvonne_Richards@classic.msn.com

If you enjoyed this and want more, my other stories are archived on Gossamer 
and  this
and future stories are also available on XFCreative  and XFF.

Adrift - Poem
A Desperate Search - Poem
Believe the Lie 1/1
Bring Him Home 1/1
Butterfly Kisses 1/1
Casting Out Demons 1/3
Do I Have a Choice Mulder? 1/1
Ghosts 1/5
Her Last Gift 1/1
La Rechechre du temps Perdu 1/8
(The Remembrance of Things Past)
Lean on Me 1/1
Only on My Own 1/1
Sated not Abated 1/2 NC-17
Silence of the Lamb 1/1
The Long Hard Road 1/1
The Unspoken Truth 1/5
Through Your Eyes 1/5
Twister 1/1
Who'll Stand Up for Me Now? 1/1

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