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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 The 'Bookshelf collection' offers a very wide variety of o
o stories. They have been submitted by people from all over the o
o world. Also from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no o
o particular order 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 o
o be typed therefore I don’t type things myself." I think it’s o
o a lot more fun to browse around and find 'little' surprises o
o that you might not have even thought of looking for. o
o Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult en- o
o tertainment and should not be read by minors. Kristen 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
Blind Heartbeat (MF, sleeping, rom)
By Amethyst NixPixer - 1993
*
A woman lies peacefully slumbering on her bed, clad in naught
but a twisted satin sheet of midnight blue. The sheer white curtain
ripples back and forth into the room, as so commanded by the
imperious summer breezes. The woman's silken locks spill over her
shoulders and fan out on the pillow, threaded through with strands
of silver which glint in the early morning light filtering through
the translucent fabric. Her pale skin seems to glow slightly in the
faint sunlight.
She utters an almost soundless sigh and turns restlessly in her
sleep, shifting the sheet so that it slips smoothly from her torso
down to her waist. Her full breasts, revealed by this movement, are
covered with tiny goosebumps in the chill morning air, and her
nipples are red and hard in the breeze from the window.
A man begins to stir now from the chair near her resting
place. He has been sitting there just watching her sleep for the
last twenty minutes and is smiling now at the sight which greets his
eyes. He is tall and strong, and the sunlight glints off his
reddish hair as it does off her silver. He strides purposefully
over to the bed and stops a moment to gaze at her peaceful rest for
one last time before he endeavors to awaken her.
He bends over the bed, slowly drawing the sheet down past her
hips, sliding its slippery smoothness over her legs and feet and
tossing it carelessly in a heap on the floor at the foot of the
bed. The woman stirs, shivering slightly and reaching out a
fumbling hand for her lost covering. The man sits on the edge of
the bed and catches her seeking hand in his. Holding it and turning
it gently palm upwards, he softly kisses the hollow of her hand and
then goes on to kiss each individual finger.
His lips continue their kissing trail along her wrist and up
her arm, pausing for a lingering salute to the inside of her elbow
and then resuming their advance upwards. She is still not awake,
but her eyelashes flutter ever so slightly and her lips curve up
into an almost imperceptible smile. But he know it is there, for he
knows every inch of her flesh and every gesture, expression, and
movement that she makes as well as he knows his own.
As he trails moisture-laden caresses over her shoulder and up
the side of her neck, she shivers again, but he does not think it is
from the cold now. He swings up on the bed and lies beside her,
balanced on one arm and his head next to hers. His roving lips now
pay homage to her ear. She moans quietly as a warm moist breeze
makes its way into her ear, a breeze that has nothing to do with the
one entering through her window. The man's tongue traces its way
from the top curve of her ear down around her ear to the earlobe,
leaving a wet glistening trail behind it. As his mouth reaches her
earlobe, he gently catches her lobe between his teeth.
She turns her head toward him and her eyes open a crack. As
her long dark lashes rise up further, he can see her golden
green/brown eyes questing fuzzily for consciousness. Her hand
reaches up and cups the back of his head, drawing it forward to her
parted lips. As their lips meet the kiss is first very gentle and
cautious, very sweet and very precious. As she becomes fully awake,
however, she begins to press herself and her lips more firmly
against him, seeking his tongue with hers and wrapping her arms and
legs around him.
An eternity passes while they furiously embrace, clasping one
another with strength and a fierce joy. Eventually, their lips draw
apart, and they smile at each other. The sparkle in her hazel eyes
finds a matching glint in his. She opens her mouth to speak, but he
stops her with but one finger on her mouth. She smiles widely and
begins to speak anyway, but her stubborn intent is frustrated by his
lips once again upon hers. As he draws away from her once more, he
places his finger against his own lips to indicate his desire for
her silence.
She begins to shiver once again, this time obviously from the
chill in the air on her nude flesh. He draws his hand lightly over
her goosebumps and carefully over and around her nipples. This, of
course, only intensifies her shaking. Out of consideration for her,
the man arises to step over to the window and shut it. Out of the
corner of his eye, he senses movement behind him. He turns his head
to view her attempting to sneak past him to the nearby chair where
her robe is draped. "Oh, no you don't, love," he murmurs as he
reaches out and grabs her around her waist. "I like you just the
way you are right now," he states, as he draws her back to him. "But
I have to get up; I have things to do," she protests. "Believe me,
this is infinitely more important than your trivial errands." "No,
I have to go!"
As she tries futilely to slip away from his grasp, he reaches
down and hoists her into his arms. Striding back over to the bed,
he dumps her unceremoniously upon it. Determined, she sits up and
tries to swing her feet over the edge of the bed to get off, but he
grabs them and then holds them down. "Come on, you can't hold all
of me down...I'm going to get away. You might as well accept it and
let me go and get my stuph done." "You only think you can get away,
my dear. I know different." And from underneath the mattress he
produces four strips of fabric, smooth but strong. You wouldn't
dare!" "I wouldn't? Anything you say dear," as he grabs first one
ankle and then the other with a firm grip, tying one of the strips
to each ankle and then tying the other end of each to an opposite
bedpost. "You can't do this to me!" "yes, dear." He straddles her
now, kneeling with one leg on each side of her. "Oh, no, I'm not
going to let you do this to me," and she put her hands behind her
back, thinking they'd be out of his reach. "You keep forgetting my
reach is longer than yours, love," as he easily reaches behind her
and imprisons both her wrists in one of his hands. Drawing her arms
forward over her head, he proceeds to lash her wrists to the
appropriate bedposts at the head of the bed. "Come on, this has
gone far enough. You're not going to get any response out of me if
I'm mad at you." "Yes, dear. That's why your nipples are hard...
because you don't like this." "Fuck you!" "I intend to, love...I
intend to."
She frantically tries to pull her hands through, but his knots
are stronger than her struggles. As she fights against her fate, he
just sits there and watches, grinning at her. "O.K., you win. What
now?" "For now, my dear, you must be quiet, or I will confine your
pretty mouth as I did your luscious flesh." And he reaches down
under the edge of the mattress once more and produces a blindfold.
It is evident that he has prepared for this in advance, and she
shivers in anticipation, hoping he won't see. Vain hope indeed, for
he does see and smiles again. Gently drawing her head up, he fastens
the blindfold over her eyes and ties it behind her head. It is soft
and not uncomfortable, but the whole idea and the situation is
making her excited and nervous at the same time. She is not in
control of the situation, and this throws her off balance. Which
is, of course, precisely his intent.
She lies in her enforced darkness, feeling even more keenly the
weight of his body on hers. With her sight obstructed, every touch
and every sound impresses itself on her senses with shattering
effect. As she feels his weight leave her, she shivers again. The
worst thing about being blindfolded is that she has no idea where he
is going to strike next. It seems she has waited hours, but it is
only seconds, when she senses movement near her crotch.
And then this exquisitely cruel master of her fate begins to
slowly and carefully run his tongue up one side and down the other
on the insides of her thighs. As he finishes each run he blows
across her moistened skin with a sadistic deliberation. She cannot
see him but she can hear him chuckle amusedly at each involuntary
shudder. A quiet moan escapes her lips before she can stop it; she
doesn't want to give him the satisfaction but she can no longer help
herself. Her body belongs to him, just as it has since she mat him,
although she didn't know it then. She has no control over her
reactions to him, but she still tries vainly to ignore his touch.
The most frustrating thing is that each trip up her leg stops
short before it reaches her genitals...she keeps expecting him to
kiss and lick her there and he doesn't. He just keeps on licking,
blowing and chuckling his way up and down her thighs. Now he starts
doing it the entire length of her leg, all the while running his
hands over her hips and down the outside of her legs. So while his
mouth is caressing the insides of her legs, his hands are caressing
the outside, and he chuckles now more than ever, as she strains away
from him and the tension builds inside her. He knows that if he
were to remove the blindfold she would be glaring at a face that she
can no longer see, because at this point he knows that she would not
be able to see her own hand in front of her face.
Her body, though confined at wrists and ankles, still has
enough freedom of movement to move up, down, and side to side,
trying to escape him, but she cannot do it. Her head turns back and
forth and her breathing is starting to become quick and harsh.
Judging correctly that she is in the most pleasurable agony, he
decides that he should make it worse. Oh, cruel, cruel man...he now
moves to her wet and waiting aperture and traces his tongue ever so
gently around and over, kissing once and then drawing away. A
murmur of disappointment escapes her as his lips leave her lower
ones. But softly and surely, he brings his hand and fingers and oh
so lightly touches her, barely even letting his fingers brush one
spot then he is at another. He draws his fingers inside her and
then out again, in and then out again, over and over again feeling
her wetness and readiness for him. She is squeezing around him,
welcoming his hand, and her breath is labored. Carefully observing
her, he can see that she is incoherent and near the breaking point.
At this time, he takes his hand out and straddles her once
again, this time letting his weight on her even more as he prepares
himself to enter her. He is hard and ready, and he knows she is
ready to receive him. Carefully, he lets himself be surrounded by
her moist warmth and begins to rock back and forth upon her.
Forward, back, forward, back...he can feel her tighten around him.
He thrusts harder and harder, faster and faster, pushing her body
into the mattress. As he comes closer to his own release, he
retains enough reason to start touching her again in his rocking,
readying her for the end so they can experience it as one. His
panting is as hard as hers, as the strenuous movements and the
feeling of her flesh welcoming him have their effects on his
breathing and his heartrate. Closer and closer they come, faster
and faster they move. She has no thoughts in her head except the
tension and the feeling that she's going to explode and melt at the
same time. Suddenly, she does, gripping him even more tightly as
the world goes black around her; as she loses all control and spasms
and shudders in his arms; as he releases himself and holds her
closely to him; as her mind spins in a circle and multicolored
starbursts flash behind her eyelids; as he grips her shoulders
fiercely and pushes against her one last time. As she lies back on
the bed motionless, her breathing still rough but slowing; as he
collapses on top of her, his heaviness welcome to her wet body; as
they hold each other in a body hug that is not two bodies but
one--not two souls but one; as their wet flesh rubs together and
they lie there on the bed.
And their lips meet again, not passionately but sweetly,
drinking of each other's sweetness, sharing their joy and their
happiness to be alive and in love, to be with the other forever in
mind, body and soul.
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