The ASMRtist Ch. 01

//Author's Note: This story is part of a small collection of Lesbian stories I'll be uploading this week. This particular one is an edited resubmission of a story that was previously posted on Literotica. Apologies if you've already read this! It is not my intention to trick people into re-reading something.

This story assumes a little bit of knowledge on the part of the reader about the phenomenon known as ASMR (Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response). Although understanding the sensation and its nature helps, the most important thing to understand, before reading on, is the typical style of an ASMR video.

The ASMRtist will usually sit in front of a camera and interact with it, often times pretending that the camera is the viewer. They might carry on a conversation, sometimes acting is if the viewer is responding. The intended effect is to make the viewer feel like they are being addressed directly. Personal attention is one of the most common triggers of ASMR, and that is layered into a significant number of ASMR videos.

Some of the parts of this story are written to emulate that video style, and utilize a second-person narrative. This was largely an experiment to see if I could execute second-person at all, and I've left them intact because I enjoyed the results. Some readers even said that they experienced 'tingles' while reading this, which was incredibly rewarding to hear.

The majority of this story is written in third-person. I hope you'll give this oddball inclusion a chance.

Enjoy!//

The Tutor, Part 2

"Hey," the girl says quietly, as she sits down across from you. "Sorry I'm late!" She looks from side to side, making sure she's not disturbing anyone, and gently lays her bag on the table. Gentle rustling. "Got caught up in... you know what? Nevermind. Doesn't matter." She wraps her hand around the back of the chair and pulls it out, and then spends the next minute sitting down and making tiny adjustments to her posture. All the while, she never once makes eye contact. It almost feels like she's avoiding it, given the slight flush that starts in her cheeks and extends down to the pale skin of her chest. Her pink and purple striped v-neck shirt sits loosely on her shoulders, exposing a fair amount of cleavage. Book in hand, she finally settles in and looks up at you. "Now, where did we stop last time?"

After sex, you say.

"I know that," she groans harshly, looking back and forth to make sure no one else is in earshot. "I mean, where did we stop studying?"

No clue, you say. You'd stopped listening well before she stopped talking. She slumps a little in defeat, but the only real effect that has, from where you're sitting, is that it lowers her shoulders, which allows her shirt to droop a little more, which lets you see even more of her cleavage. Her beautiful, shapely cleavage.

"Come on," she pleads. "This is important! The test counts for what percentage of your grade again?"

A lot, you say.

"Exactly, so..." She reaches across the table and jabs her index finger into the middle of your open textbook. "Pay. Attention."

How am I supposed to do that when you look so good?

The girl sits up a little, suddenly realizing how much of herself she's exposing to you, and adjusts the way her shirt is sitting to be a little less provocative. "You're going to have to figure that one out on your own. Now..." She looks down, flipping a few pages forward and then back. The pages brush against each other, making tiny sounds of their own. "Oh. Right. Mustard Gas."

Her tongue runs slowly across her lips as her eyes dart back and forth, and then, just before she starts talking, she does that adorable thing where she bites her lip. She looks down, letting her long red-brown hair fall over her shoulder, and then looks back up again.

"So we talked about trench warfare last time, and how it was a... a no-win tactic." Her voice, low and respectful. Very softly spoken. "It helps prevent you from losing ground and protects your troops, but it also creates real problems trying to move forward. Traditional firepower and artillery were ineffective against trenches, so to try and combat th... Hey."

What?

"Don't you what me," she apes, glaring. "You're not paying attention."

It's hard to focus.

"Wh—" As soon she starts talking, it clicks in her head, and she immediately blushes. She reaches up with her left hand, scratching her nails across her scalp, starting at her temple, to gather her hair behind her ear. "Oh."

Don't pretend like you aren't thinking about it too.

"Of course I'm thinking about it," she whispers harshly. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Her eyes widen dramatically, realizing what she just said, and she looks around again.

Relax, you say. There's nobody else here.

"It's a library," she says, staring at you. "Anyone could walk in at any time."

We'd hear them coming.

"Ooooh," she says, smirking. "That's why you wanted to sit all the way back here."

Yup.

"Well, it's not happening again."

Oh come on!

"Don't give me that." She leans back in her chair, folding her arms beneath her breasts and pushing them up. Causing the tops of them to swell above the neckline of her shirt. The fabric-on-fabric scratching sounds so loud in the otherwise-silent library. "This is serious. You need to pass this test!"

Okay. Fine.

She looks at you dubiously, one eyebrow arched for another few seconds, before planting her arms on the table again beside her book. She squints, trying to get the measure of you, and finally leans forward again so she can read from the book. The low cut of her tee slips all the way down, exposing the top of her blue lace bra. "Okay. Okay, so... trench warfare was developed as a response to... to advances in firepower." Her voice, just barely above a whisper, caresses your ears. "Everything in World War I was a response to something else, like an international game of one-upmanship, and Chemical Weapons were the first big response to the stalemate of trenches."

Uh-huh.

She looks up, scrutinizing your attention level for a moment, before continuing. As soon as she looks back down at her book, though, your eyes are right back on her cleavage. "You know the old phrase 'All's fair in love and war?' Well, that phrase dates from a time when war meant you picked up a sword and a dagger. The weapon was only a weapon for as long as it was in your hand, and once you put it down it stopped being dangerous. For the most part. Mustard gas, however, and land mines, were a whole new—"

Hey.

"What?" she whispers, a little peeved at being interrupted.

I can't focus.

"Oh my god. Really?"

I can't help it! You look really good today.

She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but there's the tiniest hint of an upturn at the corner of her lips. "You have a problem."

I know, but...

"But what?"

But I need to get off first.

"No," she says, shaking her head even more emphatically, and looks around again to make sure the two of you are still alone. "No. Last time was a One. Time. Thing."

Didn't you like it?

"Of course I liked it," she whispers, leaning in conspiratorially. Her hair falls over her shoulders on either side, framing her cleavage. "I... came."

Then why not?

"Because we're in public!" she whispers sharply. "We could get caught!"

That's what makes it fun!

She squirms in her chair, raising and lowering her head as she looks to her left to see through the gaps in the stacks of books. "What if I just... like... went down on you?"

Ok!

She hesitates again, looking around nervously, and licks her lips. "And after that, you'll be able to focus?"

Yup!

"Fine." she whispers, taking a deep breath through her nose. "But you owe me for this."

Absolutely.

"Bigtime." She waits for you to nod, but the way she grabs her lower lip between her teeth is a dead giveaway that she wants to do this as much as you do. She takes one last look around while she summons her courage, and slides her chair backward. Her arm moves slowly toward the edge of the table, pushing two of her pens ahead of it, and gasps lightly when they tumble to the ground. "Ooops," she giggles. Then, just like that, she's under the table. Soft rustling, as she crawls across the floor on her hands and knees.

"Spread your legs a little," she whispers. "No, don't look down. You've gotta keep watch to make sure no one is coming." After a few seconds, the button on your jeans pops open, and the zipper pulls apart very, very slowly. "Lift up a little." She tugs on your jeans, pulling them down and away to give her some room to work. "There we go."

Wet. So, so, wet. The sound of her tongue, working up and down. Licking, with tiny whimpers every time she exhales. Tiny whimpers in her high pitched voice. Her tongue runs in circles, teasing the frantic cluster of nerves. Her voice switches from high to low, moaning as she takes your flesh into her mouth and suckles.

"Ooh fuck," she moans softly. "I forgot how good you taste. Fuck." Every breath is vocalized, rising and lowering in pitch as she licks. As she wraps her lips tightly around you. The cracking of saliva bubbles. "Mmmmmmfffuck fuck."

"Mmmmmmmmmm-cum for me," she moans. "Fuck. Fuck, I need it." Her fingers join in, working in glorious concert with her lips and tongue. You scan the empty space around you as much as you can, but the gorgeous girl moaning underneath the table, between your legs, is too much.

"I need to feel you cumming again," she whispers. "I need to taste it. I need it on my tongue." As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she wraps her lips tight again and moans softly. You can feel the sound waves passing through you, triggering something instinctive. "Cum for me."

You feel it building, surging, inside of you. You try to hold on, dragging out the beautiful haze for a second more before it finally overwhelms you, and as soon as it does, the sound of her voice changes completely. Her moaning gets louder, more desperate, and you realize she's fingering herself. You can hear the folds parting. You can hear how wet she is. She keeps her lips wrapped tightly around you, tongue working furiously to keep you cumming, but she's on auto-pilot. All of her focus is on herself.

"Mmmfuck. Mmmfuck. Mmmfuck." Panic grips you as she gets louder and louder, for thirty straight seconds. "Oh God." Moaning. "Oh God. Oh god." Heavy, labored breathing. "Oooh God!" Her lips come away from you as your orgasm winds down, but she keeps her head buried in your lap, voice muffled by your thigh, "Fuuuuuu-huuuuuuck!" as she finishes herself in grand fashion. "Fuckfuckfuuuuuuuuuu-uuuuuuuuu-uuuuuuuuuuuuuck!"

Her spiralling moans get softer as she hits the downside of her climax, becoming more intimate. Sighing happily with every breath. After nearly a minute of cooing and sighing happily, she grabs your jeans and helps work them slowly back up around your hips, and then carefully pulls up your zipper. You manage one last look around the library before she crawls back up into her chair and turns back around toward you. She pauses, looking around as well, while she composes herself.

Hey.

"Hmm? Oh!" She swipes her index finger at the corner of her mouth, collecting a drop of crystal fluid, and then slides the first two knuckles of her finger into her mouth. The corner of her lips come up in a small smile. "Mmmmm. Thank you. Now... Are we ready?"

***

Stephanie sat back in her desk chair and sighed happily. Another video in the can. There were still some tricks with lighting that she hadn't quite mastered to match herself up with the picture she'd taken of a library for the green screen, but she was proud of the finished product. Proud of how far she'd come on her own with so little outside help. Proud of how much she'd learned. There'd been no slip ups with invisible pens this time. Every video felt more professional, and that kind of progress was good enough for her.

"And it gave me tingles," she said to herself, nodding.

She always got an incredible thrill when she was ready to upload new content, and she knew this was one she could upload to Youtube as well as it contained no actual nudity. It might get taken down if it got enough complaints, like some of her content did from time to time, but not before it reached thousands of viewers. She copied and pasted the video description she'd written up, with a meticulous list of triggers, and began the uploading process. Then she opened up another window so she could do the same on other sites. Her following on the latter two was smaller, but more likely to pay. A few clicks, and a bit more copy and paste with all the keywords she thought might be remotely relevant, and her one-point-four gigabyte high definition video file raced off through the tubes. She'd follow up with her other social media outlets before she went to bed , tweeting and cross-promoting herself as much as she could, but that was hours away and there were more immediate concerns.

She slumped in her chair, succumbing to her needs. Already nude for exactly this reason. Submitting content gave her a small wave of pleasure, an exhibitionistic thrill, but it wasn't enough on its own. She rotated her chair toward her second monitor, where she had some porn paused from a cum break earlier in the evening, and reclined. The back of the chair tipped away as she lifted her right foot up into the air and planted the ball on the very edge of her desk. The glass felt cool against her toes, and she slouched even lower. Un-pause.

"Suck on it, bitch," the man onscreen snarled. Tall and built, with a chin that could cut boulders. He grabbed his pretty little blonde plaything by the hair, and pulled her down on his cock until she gagged. Her face reddened, racing toward purple, and Stephanie moaned loudly as she watched. She had no roommates to worry about. No one to bother while she played with herself to her heart's content.

She reached to her left and grabbed her ribbed vibrator from the edge of her desk. Her pussy was easily wet enough to make insertion a simple task, and she groaned as she pushed it deep. In, in, in, until the flat, black plastic end was flush with her moist lips. She squeezed her hips tightly, enjoying the full, swollen feeling, and held it there with her left hand while she attacked her clit with her right. Her toes flexed, gripping the rounded edge of the glass, and she squealed as she felt the first note. The first ray of light. It was coming. She looked back, for a second, to her main monitor, and saw that her Youtube upload was nearly complete. 88%. Viewers across the world were going to be getting off watching her.

"Fuck," she moaned, throwing her head back. "Fuck!" It was just a matter of time until men and women all over would be cumming. Because of her.

"Because of me," she cried, as she climaxed. Her fingers swiped quickly, and wetly, back and forth over her clit, stroking and massaging it in a flurry of motion.

91%

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine how much cum that would be if it was all gathered in once place, and orgasmed again.

And again.

And again.

***

"Hey!"

"Hey!" Stephanie fired back brightly, smiling as she punched her employee ID into the computer. "Whoa, you beat me here?"

"Don't make a big deal out of it." Olivia looked sideways, making sure they were alone. Her straight expression gave away nothing. "I've got a rep to uphold."

Stephanie giggled and shook her head. "So, what do we have today?"

"New planogram for the pens and pencils."

She groaned and rolled her head to the side. "How bad is it?"

"Complete redesign."

Stephanie groaned louder, slumping, and dragged her feet as she followed Olivia back to the drawing supplies aisle. "Fuuuuck!" she cried, when Olivia showed her the new layout. "This is going to take, like, most of the day."

"Oh, it'll take all day," Olivia corrected. "One way or another, this is the only work-related thing we're doing."

"You got it, Boss," she said, nodding, and together they began the process of tearing apart the aisle.

***

"So how's... um..." Olivia paused in the middle of inserting new hooks into the pegboard, and frowned. "Ooo. Is it... Daniel?"

"Yeah," Stephanie said, turning away. "Danny, and I don't think it's going to work out."

"What's wrong with this one?" Olivia asked, with an unsurprised smirk.

"Nothing specific. The sex is alright, but he's... um." She sighed, looking up and to the right. "He's not very funny."

"Well, I heard Yakov Smirnoff, like, just divorced his wife sixteen years ago, so, you know..." She nodded, eyebrows raised. "Might want to get in on that."

Stephanie rolled her eyes. "He just... He tries too hard. He has to force everything into a punchline."

"I can see how that would get old quick."

"It did." Stephanie surreptitiously watched her boss bend over while she herself started unpacking a fresh box. "I'm hoping he'll get the hint, because I've been kind of hiding from him."

"Very mature," said Olivia.

"Trust me. Even if I tried to have a conversation about breaking up, he would still try to cram some catchphrases into it, so I'm just gonna try to avoid that altogether."

"How's that working out so far?"

"Our last date was on Friday. So far, this morning, he's only texted me..." Stephanie pulled out her phone and frowned. "Twice."

"I know where I'm going the next time I need relationship advice."

"Shut up," Stephanie laughed, and Olivia cracked her first smile of the day. It was just a tiny raising of the right corner of her lips, but that was huge. "Is it lunchtime yet?"

Olivia scoffed. "No."

"Could we take a break then?"

Olivia turned and leveled her gaze at the the younger woman. It was in moments like this, odd moments, when Stephanie found herself most attracted to her boss. Olivia was not a classically beautiful woman. She had a large, hooked nose with broad cheeks that made her mouth look very small. It was hard to tell whether she had small eyes or if that was a byproduct of her constant near-scowl. She wore her black hair very short. Stephanie thought she was beautiful, but the real attraction was in the way she carried herself, and in the way Olivia looked at her.

"Warehouse."

Stephanie shivered. "I'm gonna grab a bottle of water first."

Olivia nodded and bent over to pack up a few things so that the aisle wasn't completely cluttered, while Stephanie scurried away. She fished out the dollar bill from her back pocket and made her pass through the break room as inconspicuous as possible. As soon as she had the bottle in hand, she took a circuitous route through the back of the store to Olivia's small office in the warehouse. The shipping and receiving manager was already gone for the day, but Stephanie was careful anyway.

Olivia's office was tiny because it wasn't designed to be an office at all. It was really only a short hallway but the door at the other end was locked; an anachronistic opening that went to an empty office space upstairs that hadn't been used since Martel Crafts bought the building. Or at least, that's what everyone was told. Olivia had found the key years before. A few small pieces of office furniture, easily moved, sat in front of the door to keep everyone under the impression that it was a dead end.