____________________________
| |
/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
/ )| DIRECTORIES |( \
__( (|____________________________|) )__
((( \ \ > /_) ( \ < / / )))
(\\\ \ \_/ / \ \_/ / ///)
\ / \ /
\ _/ \_ /
/ / \ \
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
o This part of my collection offers a very wide variety of stories. o
o They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also from o
o alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order to this o
o section of my collection, other than offering them to you in alpha- o
o betical directories. o
o I don't believe in categorizing things. "I don't want to be typed o
o therefore I don't type things myself." I think it's a lot more fun to o
o browse around and find 'little' surprises, and topics that you might o
o not have even thought of looking for. I hope you enjoy your time among o
o Kristen's book shelf directories. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors. Thank you, Kristen Becker o
o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o
Affair 1 The Beginning (MF, cheat)
by Anonymous (rickr@jumpnet.com)
(c) 1997
**
The profile was interesting, to say the least. Under hobbies, it had
listed, "tying cherry stems in a knot with my tongue..." Under
occupation it had, "seducing young college boys..." In short, it was a
profile that just begged to be responded to.
The message was simple: "What else do you do with your tongue?"
Little did Michael know how much that message would change his life. If
he had, he would wonder often, would he ever have sent it in the first
place? He ended up asking this question in his own mind hundreds of
times in the next three years. Each time, the answer was a resounding
yes.
His marriage was a joke, but neither of them were laughing. Instead,
they were tolerating each other, day by day by day. He worked in a
clinic by day, she was a nurse at night, which blessedly kept them apart
for most of the week. He had taken to getting on the computer at night
and scanning the profiles to see if anything interesting was in them.
Sometimes he would send a message and get a response, sometimes nothing,
but it was interesting to see who would respond and what they might say.
He never sent anything lewd...suggestive, maybe, but nothing lewd.
The message came back the following day. "i only tell that to my
friends..."
He answered, "How does someone get to be your friend?"
He was 39 years old. Ripe for a mid-life crisis, some of his friends
would eventually say. Why couldn't they realize that he had ALWAYS done
the "right" thing, just the way he was raised, and for it got nothing
back in return. Nobody seemed to understand that sometimes, you have to
do something for yourself, because nobody else seemed to be interested
in what was right for you.
The next day, a list of 10 questions came for him to answer. Everything
from "did he drink Diet Pepsi" to "did he like The Three Stooges."
Simplistic questions, but ones that intrigued him. Questions with a
deeper meaning if one cared to look into them. He answered them, as
honestly as he could...then sent his own list of 10 questions...which
she also answered.
For the next month, they wrote, sometimes as often as a short note every
hour to each other. They would spend hours on-line chatting together at
night. Her name was Sara and she was a 24 year old college student in
the South. He (said) he was a 27 year old college graduate in the
Northwest. Hell, they were never going to meet and she sure wouldn't
keep writing if she knew he was almost twice as old as she was and
married. The discussions they had fascinated him. No matter what topic
they picked, she could discuss it lucidly and intelligently. God, this
was so refreshing. His wife was like talking to a post most of the
time. This new companion interested him, excited him, intrigued him.
One night, she told him she was alone in a hotel room, miles from her
dorm and roommate, visiting an old friend and attending her friend's
wedding. He told her how much he wished he were with her and she
responded by telling him how much she wished he were there, touching
her, kissing her. They made love on-line for the first time that
night...the things he said to her, the way he wanted to touch her, run
his lips and tongue over every part of her body, slowly enter her and
climax with her, made her feel as no one ever had. Describing to her
how his tongue would feel against her clit, how his cock would feel
inside her as he slowly slid in and out of her moist pussy. The way she
would feel his cockhead expanding inside her as his own orgasm grew
closer. The way it would feel as he came inside her, filling her with
his hot liquid. She was quiet...nervous...unable to respond in kind,
but obviously overwhelmed. "My God, Michael...how is it possible for
you to do to me with words what no one has ever done to me with a
touch...? The effect you have on me terrifies me...and I think I'm
falling in love with you..." The terribly disconcerting thing was that
she had just echoed his own feelings. Things had gone too far and it
was time to set the record completely straight.
The next day, after spending most of the night composing it, he sent
Sara a letter telling her everything. His age, his marriage, his love
for her, and his apology for not being honest with her from the
beginning. How it had started as a game and grown into something
he...they...had never intended. When he clicked on the SEND command he
believed he would never hear from Sara again.
An hour later...."i don't care...it's okay...please contact me
tonight..."
When he got on-line that night, he got the surprise of his life. Her
letter was long...longer, in fact, than his. She explained to him how
she was older, though not by much (5 years as it turned out), than he
was. How she had been married for 24 years and hadn't been in love for
the last 20 of them, if indeed she had ever been. How she had two
children, grown now and no longer needing her, but God, how she needed
him. It was signed, "I Love You...*** Sara"
For the next two months, they were constantly in touch. He couldn't
work, couldn't eat, couldn't sleep without thinking of her. She really
was in the South and he really was in the Northwest...that much they had
been honest about. They called each other at work just to say, "I Love
You." Sometimes when he would call her, and knew there was someone
sitting across her desk from her, he would say, "I wish I were under
your desk right now...your legs spread, your thighs over my shoulders,
my tongue running up and down your pussy, circling your clit, pressing
against it, harder...faster...feeling you getting wetter and wetter for
me." He could hear her breathing getting heavier and always wondered
how she was explaining this reaction to a phone call when she finally
was able to hang up.
They tossed around the idea of running away together. Never seriously,
but just a, "Wouldn't it be nice," kind of an idea. Until one day they
typed simultaneously...Denver. Seems they had both been looking at a
map that day and determined the major city that would be just about half
way between them would be Denver. It was amazing how often this
happened between them. Both thinking exactly the same thing at the same
time.
Michael just brushed it off. He had always played things safe, never in
his life taken a risk. Sara kept trying to convince him to take a risk
for his, and by extension, her, happiness.
Then he heard it. She had convinced him to buy the cassette of Michael
Bolton's "The One Thing" ...someone he could never stand in the past.
On this cassette, however, every song spoke to him, to them. "I Said I
Loved You, But I Lied" was their song...the first they had shared
together, but one song in particular determined their fate..."In The
Arms Of Love". In it, he was told that, "In the arms of love, heaven's
just a heartbeat away," and he knew, as well as he knew his own name,
that the arms of love were in Sara's arms, and that was where his heaven
would be. Did he do the "right" thing, as defined by society, or did he
do what he knew was the right thing for his happiness? He had always
erred on the side of caution...not this time. He was not going to spend
the rest of his life, wondering, "what if?"
The next day he quit his job...well, he tried to, but his boss wouldn't
let him. Instead, he was given a leave of absence, to start in three
weeks. That night, he went home and told his wife that he was leaving.
He told her how unhappy he had been and that he needed to just go away
for awhile, to sort things out...and no, he wasn't sure if he was coming
back or not.
She wept, he wept...he never wanted to hurt her, but should he spend the
rest of his life in a marriage he was miserable in just because society
said he should? How could a marriage survive living like that? Was it
selfish? Absolutely. Should he stay and once again make everybody but
himself happy? Absolutely not, he told himself.
For the next three weeks, as for the past three months, his mind was
only on Sara. They continued to write, almost hourly, with such passion
it was almost impossible to control themselves. They wished they could
just leave now, and find their happiness In the Arms of Love.
When he left, he left everything behind. He didn't care about
possessions, never really had actually. That was one of the big
differences between he and his wife. That would always be one of the
big differences between them and one that would never be resolved.
When Sara left, it was without notice. She left her daughter a note,
her job a note. Her husband she left nothing...the same he had given to
her over the years. "And good riddance to him," she thought as she
entered the west bound expressway.
Three days later...
The drive had been a strain. The thought of her had been on his mind
the entire time, which made the time pass both quickly and slowly, as
odd as that sounds. His first night he had spent in Missoula, Montana,
staying with his uncle that had always been a big influence on him. He
had shared some of his feelings...not all, but more than he had with
anyone else. The feedback had been nonjudgemental, only supportive.
The second night had been at a hotel in Sheridan, Wyoming. There had
been snow on the ground the next morning, but that was not about to stop
him. He would have driven through anything to keep his appointment with
destiny. He was now within sight of Denver and his heart was beating
with such a rhythm he thought it would surely burst from his chest.
He pulled into the parking lot of the Sheraton Hotel. They had
reservations for a week. Enough time to look for a permanent place to
stay, and to look for work. All of this had been planned out in detail
over the last month. As he walked into the lobby, he glanced around to
see if she was there. A futile effort since he had never even seen a
picture of her.
He checked in and made his way up to his room...their room.
Ten minutes later, the phone rang. "Hello?" he said into the receiver,
his heart now in his throat.
"Are you looking for a redhead from Arkansas?" she purred into the
phone.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"In the lobby," she replied.
"Are you as nervous as I am?" he asked.
"Probably more," she responded, "but I'm on my way up anyway."
A minute later, he opened the door and looked down the hallway.
Standing before him was absolutely the most beautiful woman he had ever
seen. She had such an incredibly shy look on her lovely face, her red
hair cascading down over her shoulders, ending just above the slope of
her breasts. She was wearing black jeans and a beige silk blouse that
accentuated her features perfectly. God, she was lovely and he wanted
to engulf her in his arms forever.
She entered the room and he closed the door. They stood looking at each
other a moment then melted into each other's arms, holding each other
for several minutes. Nothing else, just holding each other tightly.
They had waited for this moment for so long and didn't want it to ever
end. His mouth and nose were in her hair, taking in her scent,
imprinting her essence upon his memory for all time. He had never felt
such love for another person in his life, and her feelings for him were
the same. His hands went to her head, his fingers running through her
hair, raising her face to his and sharing their first kiss. The most
gentle kiss he could ever recall, her lips pressing against his, softly,
then more urgently as their passion swept over them.
Standing her against the wall of the hotel room, he began unbuttoning
her blouse slowly, one button at a time. As each button was released he
gradually saw more and more of her wonderful breasts. The creamy white
skin being ever more exposed until her blouse was open and loosely
flowing over them, still covering her nipples but fully exposing her
cleavage. His mouth went to them, gently kissing them all over, finally
taking her nipple into his mouth, her head leaning back as a gasp came
from her mouth. He ran his tongue in circles around her nipples, then
along the underside of her breasts. He knelt and kissed her abdomen as
his hands went to her belt, unbuckling it, unsnapping her jeans,
lowering her zipper and sliding them down around her feet as she stepped
out of them. Hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties he
slowly slipped them off from her, exposing her completely to him.
Her scent was incredible and his mouth went to her already moist pussy.
Supporting herself against the wall, she raised one leg so that her
thigh rested on his shoulder, opening herself to him. His tongue snaked
through her folds, sliding in and out of her lips, working his way up to
her clit. "I love the way you taste, Lover...I love your aroma...I
could do this with you for hours, Baby."
As the tip of his tongue pressed, circled and fluttered against her
clit, she moaned, thrusting her hips toward him. "Oh, God,
Michael...that feels sooo good," she said, encouraging him farther. His
mouth encircled her clit and his teeth gently nibbled on her, sending
her over the edge of her first orgasm, so intense her legs buckled and
she slowly slid down along the wall.
Reaching for his jeans, she said, "Now I want to taste you...I've wanted
to have you in my mouth since that first night we made love on-line."
Unbuckling him, she tugged his jeans down until they were around his
thighs, trapping him. He wore no underwear and his cock sprang free
from it's confinement. Grasping it in her hand, she engulfed him with
her mouth. He had never had anyone that 'wanted' to suck him off
before. Oh, enough begging had gotten his wife to go down on him, but
obviously only because he wanted it and not because she enjoyed it.
Sara obviously loved going down on him as much as he loved going down on
her. The way her tongue circled his head, slid down the sensitive
triangle and along the vein on the underside, circling his balls and
working her way back up. Jesus, he thought, I'm in heaven.
His hips rocked under her ministrations and she could tell he was
getting close. Stopping, she said, "I want you to cum the first time
inside of me..." Taking him by the hand and leading him to the bed, she
lay on it, legs spread wide, touching her pussy and telling him she
wanted him inside her. He knelt between her legs and she took his cock
in her hand, guiding the head to her opening. She was so well
lubricated he easily slid into her, burying his cock into her treasure
chest, feeling his balls nestle against her ass. She raised her legs,
placing her ankles on his shoulders, looking into his eyes. "Cum in me
baby, I want you to fill me...I want to feel you shooting deep into my
pussy." His excitement by her words was incredible and ultimately
uncontrollable. He released himself into her, reaching down and
touching her clit with his thumb, sending her spiraling into another
orgasm of her own. "Oh, God, Michael...oh, Baby, I've wanted this for
so long..." she said as tears began rolling down her cheeks, so filled
with emotion was she. His tears flowed as well. For the first time in
as long as he could remember he was happy. Strange, because what was
that other emotion that was slowly materializing in his mind? Guilt,
perhaps?
Rather than falling off to sleep, he lay there with Sara in his arms.
Their eyes rarely left each other and their hands kept up continual
caresses on each other. Not sexual caressing at first, just a brush of
the arm with a hand...a removal of strands of hair from the face...a
gentle kiss upon the forehead, but continual and constant motion. They
were both wired...with anticipation, with passion and with compassion.
This was to be the beginning of their lives together, the beginning of a
great new life, one in which they could both find the happiness that had
eluded them for so many years.
They made love five times that night. Sometimes he was the initiator,
sometimes she was, but always the pleasure was better than the last time
and the exploration of each other's bodies was beyond anything they had
ever experienced before. When they awoke, Sara rolled over to Michael
and whispered into his ear, "I love you..."
His response was hesitant. "I love you, too..." but even he could feel
the hesitation and both could hear the ominous yet unspoken "but" that
hung in the air.
A three day drive halfway across the country can produce many things.
The one thing it produces more than anything else is an opportunity to
think. To think about the choices a person makes...and how those
choices effect not only yourself, but all of the others in your life.
Michael had tried to push these thoughts away. It's not as though he
had taken this step lightly. He had already weighed all the pros and
cons weeks ago, but distance and time make all bad things seem less
consequential somehow. Now, as he lay next to the most beautiful,
sensual and loving woman he had ever met, those thoughts and his own
Catholic schoolboy guilt was gnawing at his insides. He rolled over and
kissed her, saying, "I'm going to go down to the hot tub for awhile. Do
you want to come along?"
"No," she replied. "I'm going to shower and get dressed." She was
concerned, hopeful yet confused by his initial hesitation this morning.
While in the hot tub, his mind went back to his family. What the hell
was he doing here, he asked himself. I have a wife at home who loves me
and I'm here in Denver with another woman. What he constantly forgot to
add to these self analysis sessions was the fact that no matter how much
his wife loved him, he didn't love her and he was extremely unhappy with
his life. But he had always been raised with a sense of 'duty' beyond
'self', and that, in the final analysis was what had always tipped the
scales in his long term decisions, and indeed it would be what tipped
the scales in this decision, as well.
Drying himself off, he slowly returned to the room. His heart was
breaking, both for himself and for Sara. He was cursing his upbringing,
cursing himself for breaking away from it momentarily, but cursing
himself even harder for not being able to break away from it forever.
He knew he was about to hurt the most incredible woman he had ever
known, yet knowing if he didn't give his marriage one more chance the
guilt would fester and rot within him until it destroyed the
relationship he wanted to have with Sara.
When he entered the room, Sara was dressed and sipping on a cup of
coffee. He went to her, taking her in his arms and holding her close.
"What's wrong?" she asked softly, not really wanting to know the answer.
Taking a deep breath he replied, "I can't stay...I'm sorry, but if I do
it will destroy 'us' and I don't want to do that."
She didn't understand.
He tried to explain.
She misunderstood..."You saw me and decided I wasn't what you wanted,
you bastard!" she spat.
"God, no! My God, Sara, you are everything I ever wanted, everything
I've ever dreamed of having, but that makes no difference..." He knew
none of this made any sense...hell, it didn't make any sense to him, how
was he supposed to explain it to somebody else?? But he also knew it
was true. Anybody who had never been raised like him, or been in this
position could not possibly understand, but he knew as well as he knew
he loved this woman that he was now hurting tremendously that it was
true and he cursed himself again.
The phone call came two hours after she had left the hotel. "Hello?" he
answered.
"It's me," she said, haltingly. He could tell she had been crying for
the last two hours.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"Two hours out of Denver, heading to I don't know where..." she replied.
"Tell me you have changed your mind and I will turn around right here,
right now," she nearly implored.
"I wish with all my heart that I could...but I can't," he whispered into
the phone, the tears welling up in his eyes.
"Just know, I will always love you. Also know, anytime you want to
call, anytime you want to change your mind, I am here," she replied, her
voice wavering.
"I can't believe that you would really want me back after what I have
done to you," he returned.
Silence on the other end...then, "I love you, Michael..."
"I truly love you, too, Sara..."
Click...dead air...
Three days on the road can go quickly...if you are driving toward your
dreams. Three days on the road can go slowly if you are driving away
from everything you have ever wanted. He pushed in the tape to pass
away the time...Michael Bolton, soulfully assuring, "In the arms of
love, heaven's just a heartbeat away..."
The tears came...heavily...blinding him to the road, the traffic, his
life. Pushing the eject button, the tape popped out of the player.
Pushing down the button for the electric window, it slid down, the wind
loudly rushing in. Grasping the tape, he pitched it out the window,
onto the freeway. In the rearview mirror, he could see it bounce, then
shatter on the roadway...along with all of his dreams...
Author's note: This is not the end of the story...this is actually the
first three months of a nearly three year relationship that, as of this
writing, is still tenuously viable. This is also a true narrative. I
would appreciate comments, either pro or con on the main character's
choices and whether you are interested in how this relationship
progresses.
Comments can be emailed to: rickr@jumpnet.com