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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
Catharsis (MF)
by Paditha (paditha@hubcap.clemson.edu)
(c) 1996
**
This is not the first time I'm putting my fantasy into words but the first
time I'm actually letting anyone else read it. Blending a plot into a story
with explicit sex is something which doesn't come naturally or with ease,
so constructive comments are always welcome.
Catharsis
It was a remarkable turn of events, and a pleasant one, in retrospect.
Sheela was petite, lively in a childlike way, and really smart. I always
noticed a beautiful girl, but it was always the combination of beauty and
brains which attracted me to a girl. I wasn't against the occasional roll
in the hay or the company of a beautiful girl, but they were at best
pleasant diversions for me. Being a psychology major, this was subject to
intensive analysis, including my reactions to almost anything, but I also
realised that some things were just beyond analysis. God gives everyone a
conscience, but in my case I think he gave me a psychiatrist or at least a
conscience which spoke in psychological jargon. Fortunately it was not
intrusive and did not really dictate my actions. It actually helped me
learn from my mistakes, and, in the long run, I believe, made me more
mature and sensitive to people.
Well, she wasn't a classical beauty, but that actually worked in her favor.
I think it was her sharp features and her smile which first attracted me to
her. Her smile really lit up her eyes with a twinkle and reminded me of a
lost childhood. I don't know if she attracted the child or the parent in me
(there was actually a prolonged and unresolved psychoanalytic session on
this) but there was no doubt that the attraction was doubly strong and I
knew this was not going to be just another acquaintance.
The first date was almost a disaster, because I was nervous as hell and it
was only towards late evening that I could salvage the situation by
loosening up and making her smile and laugh. What made the second date
possible was the fact that we shared the same tastes in books (I was an
avid reader) and, surprisingly, also had similar interests.
On the second date, I was more confident and was my normal witty self. She
seemed to like my subtle brand of humor. I soon found out that she was
equally comfortable conversing on a serious topic and did have some
interesting viewpoints. I really liked talking to her and, surprisingly, I
had this strange urge to tell her things about myself which I had never
told anyone before. Was that a sign? I wondered. Well, there was no time
for much analysis, as I concentrated on just being myself.
The weather was quite warm and she had worn a silk blouse which was not
sheer, but was thin enough to see through it when there was some light
behind her. The fabric outlined the lace bra underneath and the rise of her
firm, round breasts. It was difficult trying to maintain a discussion with
her, because looking into her dark, beautiful eyes was too distracting, and
if my eyes drifted lower down there was a more distracting sight. She
perhaps noticed my discomfort because I saw a trace of a smile once, when I
looked up suddenly. To be fair, I too caught her looking at me rather
dreamily and could sense a strong attraction. I tried not to get my
expectations too high, because this was, after all, the second date and I
really didn't want to screw up by being presumptuous.
We had an excellent dinner and later made ourselves comfortable in the
theater. The choice of the movie seemed to be a really bad one. Though I've
learned to vary my involvement with the characters, I couldn't help getting
immersed in the story of a single mother raising two lovely kids after
ditching her abusive husband. The screenplay did not portray her as a
victim worthy of pity but more as a strong character worthy of admiration
for her lone fight against heavy odds. Sheela was very silent throughout,
her eyes fixed on the screen, and there were tears in her eyes. She wasn't
sobbing like I have seen some women do (including my mother) when they are
overcome with feelings. Tears were streaming down Sheela's face and she
made no effort to wipe them. I thought of taking her hand and trying to
break the effect the movie seemed to be having on her, but both hands were
in her lap, tightly clasped together.
She was still tense after the movie was over and didn't seem focused. There
was a look of such touching vulnerability on her that I longed to take her
in my arms and comfort her. I was still scared of doing or saying the wrong
thing and, frankly, this was not a situation I was prepared to face. On one
hand, I was really concerned about her sudden change of spirits, and on the
other I was cursing myself for going to a movie I didn't know anything
about. Well, the choice of the movie was hers and so I decided to allow her
to regain her composure. I asked her if she was okay, and she just shook
her head, which didn't tell me anything. Questions raged through my mind...
did she have an unhappy past? An abusive father? Or was she just overly
sensitive?
I dropped her at her apartment and finally said, "I'm sorry the evening had
to end like this... Is there anything I can do... to cheer you up?"
She stared at me for a moment and saw the look of genuine concern in my
eyes. For the first time I saw the pain in her eyes and it was like a
shock. She placed her hand on my arm and said, rather softly, "Don't
leave." Her voice was very calm, and that scared me the most, because I
could see the struggle she was going through, and in spite of her
remarkable self-control, I could sense that she was right there on the
edge.
I definitely didn't intend leaving her in that state and was glad that I
could be with her. I drew her closer and she hugged me, while I reassured
her that I would leave only if she wanted me to. I looked around and was
glad to see that I could leave my car parked as it was, as her apartment
was the last one on the street.
It was then that I became conscious of her firm bosom digging into my chest
and it was such a great feeling that I could feel my body instantly
reacting. I felt guilty of feeling the way I did, but I knew, that this
like hunger was a primal instinct and could only be controlled with great
determination. Time for evasive tactics, I thought, as I turned slightly at
the hips, hoping she would not notice the sudden hardness in my trousers
and quickly unlocked the door with her keys.
It was a nice cosy little apartment and apparently her roommate wasn't in
town, because I noticed a stack of unopened mail in a corner. I sat down on
the couch and she snuggled up beside me, her arms gripping me a bit tightly
like that of a frightened child. It was a great feeling to hold her so
close to my body, and she smelled really good, but I was still worried
about the effect the movie seemed to have had on her. Perhaps I should have
persuaded her to walk out earlier itself, I thought.
"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked her, trying to break the silence,
which was getting a bit uncomfortable.
"No," she said and later, after what seemed like a long time, she murmured,
"I want to forget about it."
Sensible girl, I thought, but then again, I was left with no idea as to
what to do next. More instinctively than deliberately, I stroked her head
resting on my shoulder, loving the feel of her thick, silky, jet black
hair. Her body was still tense, so I started slowly massaging the nape of
her neck. Her body relaxed slightly and she raised her head, nuzzling my
neck. I became bolder and kissed her forehead. What happened next took me
completely by surprise. She took my hand, kissed the fingers and placed it
on her breast. I heard her soft voice say, "Jay, make me forget." Again,
the voice was composed but a bit shaky and I had the distinct feeling it
was a desperate plea.
In some kind of a daze, I took her face in both my hands and couldn't help
noticing how beautiful she looked, despite all those tears. The pain was
still there, but there was something else which I couldn't figure out. I
kissed her gently, but when she parted her lips and her tongue touched my
lips, I responded with the same intensity. It was as though I had unleashed
a tigress from a cage, because the way she was kissing me, it was I who
felt breathless and who had to come up for a breather.
She continued showering kisses on my face. My hands dropped down and
unbuttoned her blouse to reveal her lace bra, cradling what I could see
were real beauties. I longed to feel her bare breasts against my chest, but
I usually to heighten the excitement by taking things slowly. However, she
had different ideas, because she tugged the blouse out from her shorts and
undid her bra. I was greeted by the sight of her beautiful, full and very
firm breasts, crowned by areolae which were a dark shade of brown, almost
chocolate-colored. "Wow," I said spontaneously. It's amazing how the sight
of a bosom never ceases to bring out the child in me.
She blushed a bit and hurriedly drew my head down to her bosom. As my mouth
surrounded one semi-erect brown nipple with its warm moistness, my hand
cupped the other breast, revelling in the feel of the firm flesh. She was
moaning now, her fingers ruffling through my hair and applying a gentle
pressure as my tongue playfully swiped at her distended nipple. I
transferred my attention to the other breast licking, sucking and blowing
on the nipple. She was really aroused and was unknowingly, pressing my head
down hard, smothering me between her breasts in the process.
I freed my head from her clasp and again it was she who decided the next
course of action, which was a pleasant change, because the intensity of her
involvement was a big turn on and was enough to compensate for my loss of
control. She got up from the couch and quickly undid her shorts to reveal a
matching lace panty. She didn't have a very narrow waist, but I loved the
lush symmetry of her hips and thighs. There was little time to admire her
body however, as she seemed intent on the task of undressing as fast as
possible.
She turned on me and unzipped my trousers before I knew what was happening.
My briefs were pulled down next and she hesitated momentarily before
grabbing my member which was yet to become fully erect. She stroked me, but
her grip was too tight and I groaned. My penis became painfully erect, but
she didn't relax her grip and I realised that unless I stopped her I was
done for. She stopped however and pulled her panty down revealing a dark,
triangular patch of curly pubic hair, glistening with moisture. After
seeing so many of them trimmed to just a thick line this was a welcome
change. Next minute, she was straddling me, her thighs astride mine, her
outer labia opening slightly, letting her delicate pink folds come into
view. It was like a flower in blossom and I would have loved going down on
her if she hadn't had different ideas.
This time, however, I reacted more quickly and stopped her.
"Hold on..... take it easy," I said, trying to speak calmly.
First of all, my legs were still trapped by my trousers and briefs.
Secondly, I had to put on a condom and, more importantly, I liked this
position, but I knew I had to be careful. My penis is not perfectly
straight (a common occurrence, I understand) and I didn't want it to be
bent out of shape. I untangled my legs from my trousers, got a condom from
my back pocket and put it on as quickly as possible. I had a loose shirt so
I just undid the top button and slipped it over my head like a T-shirt. She
didn't waste any time in resuming her initial position, but this time my
hands on her hips guided her. I slid forward in the couch a bit so that her
knees rested on the couch and I could also use my hips to get a little
leverage.
She moaned loudly as my member was slowly enveloped by her soft, tight
sheath of flesh. The feeling was indescribable. She leaned forward and we
kissed. I pulled her towards me, aching for the feel of her firm breasts
against my chest. Her body was soft and considerably less tense than
before. Her nipples felt wonderful rubbing against my chest.
She started rocking slowly at first and quickly building up the pace. Her
breasts were fascinating to watch as they jiggled slightly. Her eyes were
closed tight and that seemed to contort her features a bit as though she
was concentrating very hard. Perhaps she was. I masturbated to relax
sometimes, and it does take your mind off things, but this was the first
time I was personally witnessing such emotion and passion being channeled
into sex. There was nothing much for me to do and I knew if I tried
anything I'd come in no time. In fact, that's what I like about this
position: things gradually build up till the desire to let go is
overwhelming.
I could tell Sheela was close to having her first orgasm because she was
getting louder and gripping my shoulders tightly. Instead of rocking back
and forth like before, she was now raising and lowering her hips,
increasing the depth of penetration. Each time she raised her hips she
seemed to pull me up along with her, and each downward thrust plunged me
into the very depth of her being. Her pace increased, and suddenly she
cried out, her whole body tensed for a moment, as she crashed into me. I
would have almost come with her, because the look of sheer ecstasy on her
face was enough to put me over the edge, but thanks to some practised
self-control, I only came very close.
We kissed and it was a wonderfully slow, passionate kiss which I had no
intention of breaking this time. My tongue ran along the front of her
teeth, along the inside of her cheeks, playfully exploring as her tongue
sparred with mine and reciprocated. Perhaps realising that I hadn't come,
she started rocking again at a more leisurely pace this time. She soon
switched to the up and down motion, but this time her eyes were not shut
tight and she looked into my eyes from time to time. I found myself meeting
her thrusts with my hips, loving the way she groaned each time our hips
crashed into each other. She had a firm, compact butt which tensed each
time she came down on me, as though bracing herself in anticipation of the
delightful contact of bodies. My hands, freed of the task of restraining
her hips, played with her breasts and squeezed her nipples, and I watched
as she gasped and involuntarily tensed her grip on my cock. I could feel
myself approaching the point of no return, and the feeling was so intensely
overwhelming that I made no effort to stop.
I was doing most of the thrusting now, as she held on tightly with her
hands on my shoulders. She was half moaning, half screaming and it was
really getting to me. She cried out and collapsed on me as I felt the
contractions of her second orgasm hastening my own. I gave her a moment to
recover and resumed with fast shallow thrusts. Her insides were so hot and
wet that it was like dipping into liquid fire. She was just holding on now;
I could feel her weight almost entirely on my hips and that made every
thrust seem almost like the last. I slowed down to prolong the ecstasy
which was really building up. Each time my hips left the couch and slammed
into her, I expected to erupt within her. As I went over the edge, my hips
went off the edge of the couch and stayed that way for what seemed to be a
deliciously long moment. The orgasm hit me with such force that I felt all
my sensations resonating with the pulsations of my cock. I pulled her body
down with me as I sank into the couch, overcome with a sudden desire to be
part of that tremendous flow of ecstasy. That somehow seemed to bring her
off again and I was pleasantly surprised.
She rolled off me after a while and again snuggled up beside me. "Sheela,"
I said, "You might try to forget what happened tonight, but I don't think I
can.... I don't think I want to."
She was silent for a while and then I heard, softly, "Me, too." There was a
sense of relief in hearing that, because I didn't want this to be something
like a "right-guy-who-happened-to-be-there-at-
the-right-time-but-nothing-more" affair.
I don't remember what happened next, because when I woke up again, it was
just past two and I had a slightly stiff neck. I couldn't believe that I
had dozed off for over two hours and that too with a gorgeous girl like
Sheela beside me. I looked at her and there was the most serene expression
I have seen on anybody. Sexual therapy might not be a very bad idea after
all, I thought. I saw the totally forgotten condom, hanging precariously on
my limp member, and all I could think of was the sticky mess it had
avoided. I could not explain the reason for my lightheartedness, and I
really didn't care. Then it struck me with such clarity, though I wasn't
sure that the reason could be so simple. Had I fallen in love without
realising it? I didn't have time to ponder the question, because Sheela
woke up just then, perhaps sensing the change of my breathing pattern.
"It's a little after two," I said, trying to help her get reoriented.
Perhaps she misunderstood why I said that, because she asked, "You are not
leaving, are you?"
For once, she wasn't calm and the thought that I might leave did seem to
trouble her. I pulled her closer to me and said, "No, silly... I just
wanted you to know there's still time for some more ... unforgettable
stuff."
I could see her smile and was pleased... pleased that things had turned out
to be better than expected. Well, we did avoid the narrow confines of the
couch and moved into her bedroom, again dozing off to sleep without knowing
it, but that's a story for next time perhaps.
P.S: I never really found out what had troubled her that evening. Well, I
wasn't very curious, because the sex remained as intense as ever.