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/)| KRISTEN'S BOOKSHELF |(\
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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
Electronic Erotica - 3 (assorted stories)
*
Forty.
The number had been popping into Leslie's mind regularly for the last
two weeks or so. She kept telling herself that she was making too much
of it that it was a stupid symbol, the same way her thirtieth birthday
had been a symbol a decade ago. There were times when she cursed
Cosmopolitan, Vogue and the other constant reminders that the media
was interested in you only if you looked like Brooke Sheilds - the cult
of the teenager.
After all, she had nothing to be ashamed of. She had a good career as a
professional photographer, respected among her peers and material comfort
to boot. Good friends, a good head, accomplished in most of the things
that people seek in life.
Even in the terms of the youth cult she was doing well. She regularly was
mistaken as being at least five years younger than she was, her body was
strong, strong enough to allow her to enter and finish the New York
Marathon for the last two years. A terror on the tennis court.
Yet the divorce two years before still left its scars. The marriage had
started at a young age for both but by the time the kids left for college
they both had begun to wonder if the children were the only thing that
was keeping them together. When they both found themselves answering
'yes' to that question, that was it.
There had been other men, of course, both friends and lovers since the
marriage's demise, and she often wondered whether she should worry too
much about her living alone.
It's all a reminder of mortality, she thought, and that was best left
out of mind lest days and nights be spent worrying about something you
have no control over.
The successful intellectual exercise did not serve to entirely rest her
fears and she had second thoughts when Amy and Susan invited her out to
a birthday dinner. But it would be rude and inconsiderate to refuse two
good friends.
September was kind to New Haven. To the North, cool mornings and evenings
were already beginning to change the color of leaves from the greens of
summer growth to the hues of autumn's transition. The particular evening
was still warm, with a humid breeze blowing from the distant Sound as the
three walked the streets near Yale's gothic structures and turned into the
"Fisherman's Pub" - a strange name once one considered the fact that New
Haven is not on the water.
A few drinks later her tensions had eased, helped by Amy's constant
teasing. She was the sort of friend who knew you well enough to detect
what was eating at you and then would tease you about it until you, too,
saw the absurdity in the panic you had developed.
The talk went from business, to local politics and eventually to men. Amy
was staring at two men seated a couple of tables away and when Susan saw
where her gaze was aimed, she looked through her haze of three Tequila
Sunrises and made a suggestive remark about conducting an experiment to
find out how many different ways two tongues could.... well...you can
figure out the rest.
Leslie saw the stark contrast in the two men in the quiet bar. Both looked
to be in their early or mid twenties, perhaps graduate Yalies. But one was
black and heavily built, tall and dressed for success. The other was under
six feet, softer, blond with a beard, jeans and a flannel shirt. Urban
modernity and a flashback to the sixties. She wouldn't mind Susan's
experiment herself, she thought, and then her mind drifted to Roger, her
current squeeze, away at a conference for another week. When he returned
she'd have to have her womanly urges tended to.
The laughter continued until midnight but by that time the tensions built
up during the usual Friday rush earlier that day were taking their toll
and the three friends packed up for home after a semi-drunken rendition
of "Happy Birthday" and then an even more drunken attempt at the Beatles'
"When I'm Sixty-four."
Leslie was convinced that one of the nice things about her life was that
she no longer had to commute very much. Some of her jobs were in New York,
it being The Hub of the Universe for many, but she was able to call New
Haven home base for the most part and there was something nice about
leaving work at 5 PM and being home at 5:15. Or in this case, leaving
a bar somewhat stewed and being able to walk, OK, stumble, home.
They kissed goodnight and Susan gave her a funny wink as they parted.
The steps were slightly more of a task than they would have been without
the alcohol but she was soon on her landing and into the apartment.
Another nice thing about New Haven is that although the rents were not
cheap, the lodgings were not sleazy either. Victorian splendor might
cost $600/month, but in New York that would only get you a studio
apartment and maybe a slingshot to fight the rats off with.
The phone rang. Susan, giggling.
"Jeez, Leslie, we forgot to tell you. We got you a suprise birthday
present to help you deal with turning forty. It's being delivered. Have
fun, kiddo."
Click.
Crazy lady, she thought. The morning will tell.
Then the downstairs buzzer sounded. This is getting pretty intense for Friday
midnight she thought. She pushed the wall button and asked, "Who is it?".
"Delivery for Leslie Burrows", came the reply. If Susan had not just called
there is no way I would open the door to a male voice, she thought. But she
pushed the release buzzer and heard footsteps ascend the stairs.
Opening the door she found to her suprise the two men who the trio had been
eyeing at the bar. This made no sense and the continuing haze spawned by the
alcohol made things no clearer.
"Who are you two, what's going on?", she slurred. The two men were giggling,
obvious for the same reason her reactions were slowed.
"People tend to have a problem with this part", said the black man.
"We're your birthday present from your friends", continued the blonde. He
produced a large card from his pocket which he offered to her. She opened the
fine weave but plain card and read, in Amy's unmistakeable calligraphy:
HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESLIE!
The bearers of this card are "professionals" who are under
contract (don't you just love that phrase in this context?) until
you can't take it anymore. Don't worry love, one of them is Sue's
cousin who made this startling confession about where his money
comes from during their last family reunion.
Enjoy kiddo! Like begins at Forty!
Don't be afraid to do anything we wouldn't.
Love (signed)
Amy and Susan
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
A RIDE IN A CAB
The cab driver tried to keep his eyes away from the rear view mirror, but the
woman's moaning made it difficult for him. He found himself looking back and
tilting the mirror down to get a better look.
Bob had told the cabbie to drive slowly so they wouldn't make the traffic
lights on Sixth Avenue as the cab headed North.
His tongue moved slowly up and down Barbara's juicy cunt. She had wrapped her
legs tightly around his head and the pressure on his ears had made his cock
swell up even larger.
Now Bob moved lower with his tongue, licking the skin below her cunt. He
licked the tip of her asshole. Now he was moving his tongue into her hot
tight hole. Spreading her ass cheeks with his fingers. Barbara gasped and
tightened her legs around his head. She reached down and pulled his head
closer to her forcing his tongue deeper into her.
He moved around into a sixty-nine position. Barbara wasn't aware that Bob's
cock was touching the side of her cheek. He moved it even closer as she
gasped for air. And then instinctively she took the cock into her mouth.
Deeply. Rather than move up and down on his cock, she just sucked it like a
vacuum cleaner. She was coming.
He knew it wouldn't take him long to come. He pulled away from her and turned
her over onto her stomach. He lifted her skirt higher and moved behind her
and pressed his swollen dick into the cheeks of her lovely ass.
She knew what he wanted. Her ass was ready-- well-lubricated from his tongue.
"Easy," she said as he slowly moved closer to her. His cock hurt as it found
the hole and slowly entered. He paused, knowing she would involuntarily
relax if he didn't force her hole to open. Slowly Bob entered her tight
tunnel.
"Oh my God!" she moaned as she felt the sensation. She moaned louder. And
her body started moving backward to take him deeper.
"Oh yes. Come in my ass," she whispered.
He knew he couldn't hold back much longer as his cock seemed to swell even
larger. He began to pound into her. Pound and pound. He was becoming short
of breath. He felt as if they were suddenly moving in slow motion, and he knew
it was time. He felt his cock swell once more and then he felt the great
release as he came in her.
"Oh, yes, yes" she sobbed as she too exploded with orgasm.
He was still lying on top of her, feeling her warm and soft ass cheeks against
his cock when he heard the cab driver turn off the car engine.
The cabbie opened his door, slipped out of the car and opened the back door.
He bent down and looking directly at Barbara said, "Are you ready for some
more?"
Bob couldn't see her face, but heard her say, "Oh yes."
She lifted her knees and pushed Bob back. The cabbie had unzipped his pants
and taken out his cock. He saw Barbara move towards the cabbie and take his
cock into her mouth.
"Move over, buddy" the cabbie said, closing the car door behind him as he
pushed Barbara closer to Bob.
"If you're ready, be my guest" Bob said as he watched the cab driver pound his
dick into Barbara's mouth.
He reached around and pulled Barbara's sweater up and grabbed her bare
breasts. His cock swelled as he pulled her towards him. He moved his hands
down to her waist. Barbara's mouth still engulfed the cab driver's dick as Bob
sat her ass down on his cock and filled her cunt. The cabbie now was
massaging her tits and she was moaning again.
For several minutes Bob pounded away with no fear of coming. Barbara was
giving the cabbie what had to be the best blowjob of his life.
Bob heard the cabbie's breathing become quicker. He knew the cabbie was
coming in Barbara's mouth. She was taking it all, not missing a drop. When
the cabbie finished Barbara kept sucking him until he got big again. Then she
released him and started whispering to Bob, "Finish me too. Fuck me hard,
now. Make me come again."
He spread her legs on the seat even further as she sat on him and he knew he
was very deep inside her. Then he started bouncing and pounding into her
until she gasped, "Yes," and he knew she was coming again.
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CONTACT: sadie
WHILE YOU WERE OUT
I was feeling pretty frumpy this morning and decided to perk myself up
with a perm. I took a warm sudsy shower and dried myself all over...
feeling better already. Then I opened the bottle of home perm. It
happened. Something in that bottle blended in with my chemistry
producing a slow burn throughout my entire body. As my towel fell
off my shoulders my nipples exposed themselves erect and pink. A shudder
ran up my spine as the towel brushed past these tender buds. I had
to caress them and feel their firmness...and I was shocked as I watched
my wanton behavior in the mirror. This was not me...I never had touched
myself like this before...and my eyes were glazed. It must be something
in that bottle I opened! I knew I should stop. I pulled the towel
back up and wrapped it tightly denying the sensations I felt.
I was not going to give in to my desires...you have taught me the
wonders of your fingers and tongue...and I have promised not to
let any one touch my body this way...but darling...does this
include me too???
I applied the solution to my hair and quickly combed it thru.
As I wrapped each tress of hair in a rod I watched in the mirror.
The towel, I knew, was slipping again. My hands began to roam in the
curves of my sensitive neck...still I denied my tits their pleasures as
I rolled the final tresses.
I stood back to survey my work...I saw all the sweet little rods
wound with my wet curls...I thought of your larger rod...and how I was
wont to wrap my wet curls around it! I picked up a pink rod from my set
and licked the perm juices from its tip...hoping it would grow.
I rubbed the rod against my breasts. They hungered for a firm hand
and tongue. By arching my neck I was able to tongue each hard nipple
in turn but I could not effect the sucking sensation I craved. I took
a rod and clamped it over my right breast...so tight and firm..it felt
like you pinching and nibbling...I had to do likewise to the other tit.
[I just put the rods on again...as I write this for you...feeling you
sucking and clawing at my nipples!!.......mmmmm....yes!!!
As I type my arms brush against the rods twisting my tits....and causing
me to moan in delight!!!!!!!! I think about you sucking on them and
cry out your name.]
Again I see myself naked in the mirror, rods in my hair,pink rods
on my nipples. My groin aches for you. I reach down and rub my
hands thru my lower tresses...moist in their desire for you...
I wrap these tressses too in the little blue rods I have, leaving my lips
and cunt totally exposed to the mirror. I rub a large yellow rod against
my clit...its knobbed surface exciting me further...I can stand it no
longer!!! I search the room for something resembling your manhood as my
fingers wander over my breasts and then probe into my aching tunnel.
AHHH!! The perm bottle is handy...I am now writhing on the floor as
I begin to satisfy myself with the bottle...screaming out your name...
The bottle is too large for my tight cunt but by rubbing it against my
clit I find myself growing closer ...thrusting harder and firmer...
I feel you fucking me....I want you cumming with me...faster, firmer
deeper..aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh************************#######!!!
As I rise to my feet, I hear you entering. I quickly remove the
rods from my tender tits and my bush. I slip into the shower and rinse
the solution away. I am still in the shower removing the last rod when
you enter and see the red tits and my face flushes as I remember the
fun I've just had. I confess to you all that I have done...and
you ask if I was really able to satisfy myself without you......
well.......it could have been better.........
You insist upon reinacting the scene and place the little pink
rods tightly on my tits...............then wrap my love nest
onto the small blue rods...exposing my wet desire...and your rod.........
you thrust deeply into my warmth....ah yes...it IS better with YOU !!!!
Thrust it harder and deeper ...FUCK ME !!! YES!! FUCK ME!!!!
[I'm now naked at the computer feeling your hot dick as you pump
faster and harder into my moist box.] God you feel so good!!!
Cum with me NOW!!!!!!!***********AAAAHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Where's my g-spot??? My whole body's a g-spot!!!! -sadie
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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RADIO INTERN
For five years, from April of 1979 until this last April, I worked part- time
at this funky non-commercial radio station in New York. Non-commercial, by the
way, means you do it for love and not for money. I was part of the public
affairs department and I produced programs on nuclear weapons, South Africa,
utilities, alternate energy, housing, all sorts of things.
During the time I worked at this station I occasionally supervised two
interns, Caroline and Eve, who worked on a couple of programs, turned out to
be very nice folks, but who did not realize that producing a regular radio
program takes a shitload of work. Eight to ten hours sometimes for one hour of
finished product, and that does not count travelling to and from wherever the
person you're interviewing is
located. So after some much needed help, Caroline and Eve sort of faded off
into other things. I once met Caroline briefly in Penn Station and said hello,
but I never saw Eve again until yesterday.
When they were working with me, I was at least somewhat attracted to both of
them. I was in a long running relationship which was sometimes monogamous (on
both our parts) and sometimes not. At that time, I was in a monogamous mood so
I would not allow myself to interpret the interns' smiles and warmth as
anything other than friendliness. I also had a certain misgiving about getting
involved with station interns. Some of the long time "famous" personalities at
the station were often surrounded (figuratively) with women and they would
take advantage of the psychological situation by getting laid. Now it's not
that these events were involuntary, by any means, its just that I want people
to like me or be attracted to me for who I am and not for whatever image they
may have of me. It's also not as if this occasional groupie phenomenon was
something of the level of teenyboppers standing on line to get at Mick Jagger.
Although there were real fans of many of the station's live radio producers,
this station only has maybe 30,000 or so regular listeners, so there are
limits to the social importance of this phenomenon. And in the case of
Caroline and Eve, it certainly was not a case of my dealing with teenagers.
Both were very mature, very bright women in their mid twenties while I was in
my late twenties at that time.
All of this is just introduction. The real start of this story begins with the
fact that our little station gets 80% of its money from fundraisers and
listener subscriptions. Every December we hold our annual Holiday Crafts Fair,
which features lots of really high class craftspeople from the Northeast and
Midwest. I made one of my vists to the Fair last night. I still get in free as
a "retirement benefit" from the station.
Weekday evenings are much easier than Saturday and Sunday afternoons, which
are totally packed. I was walking through the main hall when my eye caught
something from a distance. I wasn't sure but it looked a lot like the fedora
hat that Eve always used to wear and the head and form underneath the hat
likewise looked familiar. I eased my way through the crowd to get closer, and
yes, it was Eve. I came up to her side and caught her eye.
"hey, it's good to see you."
She looked happy but a bit sheepish. I suspected she felt a bit guilty about
leaving the intern position two and one-half years ago.
"You know, I never harbored expectations about people who come in as interns.
No one really seems to realize that producing radio is much more time
consuming than whatever preconceptions you arrive with."
We walked into the snack bar that was adjacent to the main exhibition hall,
sat down and had a bite. We talked for over half an hour and my original im-
pression of her was only being reinforced. Degree in biology (like me), worked
in a couple of medical labs, travelled around, worked as a telephone company
repair technician (very impressive to me, not having any idea how the phones
work) and now she was still in the same job she'd been in when she interned,
the enforcement division of NYC's environmental protection agency. On one
level this was all a friendly conversation. On another, that of eye and body
laguage, it was flirtation. She maintained eye contact with me almost
constant- ly, something I find very attractive. She was interested in my life
in the last couple of years, why I'd left the station, what sort of stuff I'd
been writing about transmission lines, nuclear waste and depressing stuff like
that.
She asked if I was in a hurry or would I like to share a bottle of champagne
with her back at her place in Brooklyn. People in NYC may wear jeans and
sneakers but a lot of us seem to like expensive wine.
The subway ride from the upper west side of manhattan to the Park Slope
section of Brooklyn takes about 45 minutes. You can't talk much during most of
the ride because subway brakes are too noisy. Lots of people in New York stick
their fingers in their ears while a subway is screeching because of the
decibel level. It actually hurts at times.
Exiting the relatively warm subway into the 25 degree cold on December 22 at
7Pm was a bit of a shock. It's been raining and the combined effect of cold
rain and cold air meant for a less than leisurely walk to her house. Even
today I still am a bit shy with women, especially initially, so when I reached
out and touched and then held her hand as we walked, I felt much better and
warmer when she smiled broadly.
Apartments in New York are generally heated by steam, which is nice but as a
rule they are usually too cold or downright hot, with little in between. Hers
was the latter and despite the fact that it was just below freezing outside,
we were greeted at the front door by Eve's roomate, Helen, who was wearing a
T-shirt. Helen had heard of me thru Eve and was very friendly, asking about
her favorite talk show hosts at the station, some of whom I told her I did not
know beyond saying 'hello' in the hallways.
The champagne was nice, bubbles tickling our throats and noses and sliding
right up into our heads. Helen went off to her room to get dressed to go out.
She began taking off her shirt just before she got to her room and the flash
of firm back muscles and breast I got before she disappeared gave me a bit of
a rush.
We went into Eve's room, sitting on the floor over a backgammon board. I play
only once every so often so I usually have to relearn a bit each time. Eve, on
the other hand, played like a grand master, as a Charlie Parker album
played in the background.
After an hour or so of play I was reaching for the dice, looking down at the
board when Eve's hand came forward and stopped me. I looked up at her, she
looked at me, took my hand and kissed my on the palm. I leaned over, pulled
her slightly closer and kissed her, one hand moving onto her shoulder and
rubbing her there. Her hand went behind my head, ran through my hair and then
to my neck, finally fingers brushing me behind the ears. Her lips were very
full strong and warm. Wonderfully responsive, as kissing should be: both
loving and erotic.
We paused, she hesitated and then said, "Are you going to freak out if I tell
you that I've wanted to fuck you for the last two years?"
I smiled , she did likewise and then motioned with her head in the direction
of her bed.
We undressed slowly, stopping to kiss again, feeling a bit uncomfortable about
removing our attention from each other to deal with something as mundane as
taking off our clothes. We undressed ourselves and each other. We lay on the
bed in the warm apartment, the radiator hissing in the background, the Charlie
Parker tape still supplying a soundtrack. We lay on our sides, facing each
other and separated by only three or four inches. One set of hands near the
bed were held, fingers entwined, the other pair stroked each other's back and
sides, slowly, learning new bodies and their uniqueness.
My free hand slid down her stomach and began very gently brushing her pubic
hair, first above her vagina and then lower, but still out side. The backs of
my fingers slowly moved through the silky fur. She parted her legs by sliding
her upper leg over mine. Her hand moved down and fingers gently encirled by
cock, which was beginning to harden in a serious way. For fifteen minutes we
lay there, her fingers holding my cock while her thumb slowly rubbed the
sensitive part below the underside of the tip. The backs of my fingers to
lightly brush the outside of her vagina, feeling her start to moisten. We
maintained almost constant eye contact.
As I felt wetness I let my middle finger protrude between her lips. Not
actualy inside, but between the edges of her lips, up to the edge of her clit.
She moved closer, and we began to kiss. Our mouths and tongues were more
insistant now, passionate rather than just friendly, reflecting what was
occurring below. Entwined fingers held each other tight as did tongues.
I slipped my middle finger inside and as soon as I did so her grip on my cock
tightened noticably in response. I stiffened and so did she. I slid the finger
in as far as it could go, sliding it slowly up and down the walls of her cunt,
turning the finger, moving it up to reach her clit. Wet finger against wet
clitoris.
I'm not sure if I pulled her over on top of me or whether she rolled over on
top, but that's how we ended up. She planted her slit right on top of my now
hard dick and lay with her weight on top of me kissing deeply and moving
against me. Her arms crooked under my shoulders and mine curled around her
back. I wasn't inside her but it was a missionary position in reverse.
Eve lifted herself off me ,straddling my body with one leg on each side. She
took my cock in her hand but did not impale herself. She held it and began to
slide her wet vagina up and down its length. She repositioned herself so that
my cock was lying flat against my stomach and her slit was right on top of it,
sliding up and down. I never realized how truly sensitive a cock is until I
realized how conscious I was of the lips of her vagina draped over my cock,
her inner lips pressing on the top. I looked up at her and saw that she was
thoroughly enjoying this, obviously getting some very effective clitoral
rushes from having the head and shaft of my cock rubbing her almost
constantly.
She bit her lip , her eyes half closed and was taken with what she was doing
to both of us. It was a very special feeling and I wondered whether I was
going to lose control and spurt all over my stomach.
Finally she raised herself up a bit, held my cock and placed the tip just
where she began. She looked down at me, stared into my eyes with a look only
people in this condition have, and, very, very, very slowly impaled herself.
I always find this sensation exquisate and this time it was even more so. I
felt that I could detect and warmth and contour of every fold inside her
vagina. When she reached bottom she paused and I felt consumed, firmly and
warmly held.
She began to move, slowly at first. Sometimes it was up and down drawing me in
and almost letting me slip out, then she rotated her hips for a while or
leaned forward a bit to wantonly rub her clit against my pubic bone. We went
on like this for a long time, slowly moving together.
Years ago I took mescaline and one of the interesting effects was the fact
that in the initial stages my entire body felt the way my cock does when it's
hard and hot. I was lying on my bed and concentrated on my arms, my legs, my
torso, my neck and head. My entire body felt like a hard penis onits way to
orgasm.
Eve was placing me in the same state without drugs.
I lay there moving up aagainst her, drinking in the feeling and watching her
She was very high, now, breathing heavily, her hands on my chest supporting
her self, arms beginning to shiver slightly from the strain and the passion.
The muscles in her stomach were flexed, her ass was beginning to quiver and
her body in the candlelight was flushed pink.
I had been running my hands over her back and sides and rubbing her ass. Now I
reached up to cup her breasts, her nipples already very hard. I moistened my
fingers and held them against the sides of her nipples, gently rubbing, and
then lightly held the palms of my hands against them as they brushed as she
moved up and down.
She began to move faster and whispered to me to keep it up. I could feel
myself building in my balls. She was giving herslef extra impact on her
downstrokes and her breathing was labored. She began whispering my name over
and over again and her fingers on my chest dug themselves in slightly, a bit
of pain mixing with the pleasure. I felt her muscles grab my cock tightly, her
back stiffened and she came, head shaking side to side. She tried to catch a
scream but didn't succeed.
I didn't even try. Two more strokes in her suddenly tightened cunt and I
followed her over the edge, tumbling down, just missing unconsciousness. When
she was finished she slumped on top of me kissing, licking whispering promises
of love and satisfaction. I kissed back and held her tight.
When we finallycame down, lying there in the glow of lovemaking and the
hissing radiator, we looked out the window into the night. It had begun
snowing. Large beautiful flakes drifting slowly down to earth amidst the haze
of the streetlights. A wonder that can make even the dirty, deadly streets of
New York, new and beautiful. The blood and grime covered by the white cold
shining snow. Peace.
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End of "Electronic Erotica", volume 1, number 3.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
[]
Daryl VanHorne, editor, "Electronic Erotica" (eEros)
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