____________________________
                     |                            |
                   /)|     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  The Bookshelf Directories offer a very wide variety of stories.  o
o  They have been submitted by people from all over the world. Also o
o  from alt.sex.stories (Newsgroups). There is no particular order  o
o  other than offering them to you in alphabetical directories.     o
o                                                                   o
o  All works are copyrighted to the author and may not be used for  o
o  profit without obtaining the author's permission in advance.     o
o                                                                   o
o  Lest we forget!!! This story was produced as adult entertainment o
o and should not be read by minors.                                 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

Cum - Bet You can't eat it Just Once! (MM, mast, oral)
by Anonymous Author (c) 1987


**


Mark was one of the most popular boys in the eighth grade - 
a tall, dark-skinned blond with a sexy, sinuous body and 
beautiful blue eyes. His father was a Navy man, a real hunk, 
and you could tell that Mark would look like him one day.

One afternoon, Mark and I jerked each other off, and after 
he shot his load, the head of his dick glistened with a few 
precious drops of cum. I bent down and licked them off his 
glans. His cum tasted sweet, delicious. My tongue curled 
around the head of his spent cock, and I relished the 
remaining semen dripping from his piss-slit.

That was it, I was hooked.

He soon learned that I would do almost anything for a taste 
of his cum, I let him explore my ass with his fingers, and 
inevitably my asshole lost its virginity to his stiff prick. 
I tongued his balls and ass. I serviced his cock and a few 
of his buddies' cocks as well. The first time I had to take 
Mark's hot load directly down my throat, I was so fucking 
turned on I came in my jeans without ever once touching my 
prick. I loved the feeling of his cream shooting against my 
tonsils.

Sometimes, he stood in front of me and jerked off. After 
orgasming, he held his cum-drenched hand a few inches from 
my nose and mouth, and I could smell his sap. I slurped it 
off his fingers. He didn't share my enthusiasm for cum. One 
time, he tasted mine, grimaced, spat it out, and declared, 
'It tastes like shit.'

Unfortunately, our relationship was brief. In the middle of 
our freshman year of high school, Mark moved away. For a 
long time, I felt sad - I'd begun to love him in a very 
physical, though somewhat adolescent way.

My first three years in high school were pretty lean. Young, 
hot studs surrounded me and I was so constantly fucking 
horny that my gut felt like it was going to bust. At night, 
I had graphic dreams of lying naked on my back in the 
showers with a dozen of the best looking studs in the school 
beating their meat over me and shooting their wads in unison 
until I was sopping with their fuck sauce.

Then in my senior year, I discovered public restrooms, and 
for many months I happily drowned in the cum of several 
dozen different men. There was the tall, strapping Texan who 
- true to his state's reputation for the biggest, the best, 
and the most - crammed my mouth full of more cum than I had 
ever seen from one dick. There was Bob, a diabetic whose cum 
tasted incredibly sweet like a piece of candy. 

There was Matt from San Francisco. He tied my wrists with 
his heavy leather belt and made me lick his cum off his 
black boots. There was a rigging engineer, Tom who I sucked 
off through his underwear and whose cum I then ate off the 
inside of his jockey shorts.

There were fat dicks, skinny dicks, short ones, awesomely 
long ones, beautiful ones, not-so-beautiful ones. There was 
cum that tasted of various foods, sour cum, sweet cum, 
tasteless cum, cum that burned my mouth, cum that shot six 
feet in the air, cum that oozed out slowly, cum that spurted 
in heavy gobs, and cum that sprayed in a fine shower.
I loved all different kinds of cum for all different kinds 
of reasons, but just as a gourmet becomes more 
discriminating the more he eats, I too became more 
particular, I avoided men who were heavy drinkers or who 
were unusually tense all the time or who were taking certain 
kinds of medication like antibiotics or tranquilizers - 
their cum was always bitter, sometimes completely inedible. 

I learned that Italians and Jews have the best tasting cum, 
and that contrary to popular mythology, the taste of a man's 
cum has absolutely nothing to do with his age. I learned 
that men who are relaxed and happy have larger loads than 
men who are uptight or really depressed, and men who have 
inhibitions about their sexuality don't shoot their loads 
very far. Latin's have the thickest, creamiest (and warmest) 
cum; blacks have more cum than anyone; Orientals have the 
saltiest cum; and the cum of most Scandinavians has a mellow 
and refreshing flavor.

During these months, I become a true connoisseur of cum, 
able to tell how much of a load a guy had, what it tasted 
like, and how it shot out - just my looking at him.

By now I was in college and my roommate was a twenty year-
old, blond, six-foot-two, Rocky Mountain boy named Jack. It 
was about six weeks before we got our signals straight and 
realized we were both hot for one another. As it turned out, 
he was as cum-obsessed as I was - but where I was obsessed 
with other guy's cum, Jack was obsessed with his own, seeing 
it as some kind of liquid essence of his soul.

He liked taking his half-ton pickup out into the woods 
outside of town and, once there, smoking a few joints and 
drinking a couple of six packs. He was a quiet but intense 
man, giving but also demanding. His favorite turn-on was to 
order me to get out of the truck, strip down and beat off in 
the truck's headlights. He'd sit behind the wheel, working 
his own piece of meat, and once he had gotten off, he'd call 
me back to the truck and push my head down to his crotch 
where the fly of his jeans shimmered with cum. My tongue 
would search out every drop between the hard, steel buttons 
of his fly.

Two of his other favorite turn-ons were: jerking off and 
then smearing his cum all over his asshole and making me 
suck it out from between his butt cheeks, or fucking me with 
a condom over his cock and then turning the jism-filled 
rubber inside out and teasing my mouth with it.

I was very happy with our relationship, even though I didn't 
love him or anything like that, and I was disappointed when, 
after six months, he quit school and moved back to Colorado 
to manage his parents ranch.

About a month after he left, I received a card from him 
postmarked Greeley Colorado. 

On it, he had written: "What can a jelly bean do that you 
can't?" And then, a few inches below that: "Cum in different 
colors."

Take care,

Your friend
        Jack.