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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
Eyes of Fire - 4 (MF, rom)
by cbratb@cyberhighway.net
*
IF YA HAVETA ASK... I CAN'T EXPLAIN IT.
Any time you put a dozen or so women in the same room, someone
wants to leave, and that's the way it was.
The passengers that remained on board, except for those already
occupied, were a motley bunch.
All in all pretty subservient, herded at gunpoint into one of
the front carriages, actually a mere dozen feet from Jacks feet,
they sat, afraid and timid.
Except for one.
Hannah was a feisty little thing, dressed like a hooker and looked
like a nun, she had had about all she wanted to of being scared.
Poncho didn't really frighten her, gun or no gun...in a way he
was almost her type, although then again who wasn't, it was hard
to tell anymore. She'd just spent the last eleven months in the
peaks of the lower Rockies, with nothing but a camera and a vibrator
to entertain herself.
The camera wasn't worn out yet.
As soon as everyone had passed through with that strangely familiar
woman, she had simply got up from her seat and walked through
the train the other way. It's not like there was anywhere she
could go but, dammit she wasn't going to listen to one more tightassed
office girl tell her how worried her husband would be at the train
being late, and how mad they'd get.
Hannah had never liked that kind of talk.
After all, the only reason she had quit her shoot assignment early
was to get back to El P and see Sean, dear sweet straight ahead
hard Sean.
He'd better be waiting, no matter when she got in.
Hell the way her itch was going these days, she'd probably grab
the first male she saw. All those months of laptop cybersex was
the only thing that had saved her from attacking the bears, with
their huge erect dicks waving in the mating rutts. And even the
ether erotica had left her HUNGRIER. It didn't help that Sean
had a tendency to talk a lot about what HE wanted and it was obvious
that he was only typing with one hand. As soon as his keyboard
speed improved, ....he signed off.
Well, by god she would pay him back in town.
Her calf length, off the shoulder summer dress was so innocent
looking and that's what he'd see until the car pulled away from
the downtown Amtrak station.
Then, she figured she'd climb over the seat into the back, line
herself up with his rear view mirror and take his mind and eyes
off the road with a few choice views of her white satin underwear,
and matching garters and hose. She did feel a little silly in
such an outfit and god knows the hose were hot but, hey it's what
turned him on and she was taking no chances.
IN THE MEANTIME, SHE WANTED AWAY FROM THE GIRLS IN FEAR.
After a while she got to the bar car, deserted as it had been
since the train stopped. Never one to turn down a free drink,
after all - you meet a lot of men that way - she stepped behind
the counter and started to pour herself a bourbon blaster...three
small bottles of Jack and one of tequila. She had nothing but
time and a very hot crotch to cool. As she leaned on the bar,
looking out of the window, and drank first one and then another
of the vicious concoctions, the fan that the barkeep had placed
behind his workstation ruffled the light cotton dress, waving
it around her legs. If she leaned over even more, the cool draft
went straight up under the dress and cooled her thighs. She slumped
further down, as though to invite the breeze, to capture and play
with it, spreading her legs as far apart as they would go. The
liquor hit her hard and sudden, her vision blurred and her senses
roared, the hand without the glass in it slipped over the lip
of the counter and rubbed her garters through her dress.
"Maybe that's what guys saw in garter belts", she thought,
"Maybe they like the feel of that...not quite a garment -
not quite an accessory sort of thing".
She became aware that her hand was snapping the elastic garter
against her thigh, gently but insistently, through the dress.
She switched to the other side, only to be surprised at how eagerly
she awaited that first gentle snap and how suddenly much the other
leg missed the attention.
It wasn't long before her hand set the drink down, after she drained
the glass, and moved to the garter on her inner thigh. This time
she didn't snap it, but traced it's outline up into the line of
her panty leg. The dress was getting in the way, of the breeze
and of her fingers....
To accommodate the air flow she impudently lifted the back of
the dress over the fullness of her asscheeks and all the way to
her waist. As she looked over her shoulder at her reflection in
the window, she looked AMAZING. She'd never really liked her ass,
always thought it was too big or not tight enough or something,
but hotdam, it looked great in the window-mirror, with the tight
white satin panties stretched to the limit by how far apart her
legs were spread. The white garter line running over and down,
across the panties and over her full thighs, was just like a track
to the imagination.
Leaving her dress lewdly thrown up over her waist, she made herself
another drink, and chugged it...thinking that this was a mistake....she
was horny enough to fuck a goat right now, and it was still several
hours before El P.
The alcohol rushed directly to the warmth between her legs and
to the very tip of her breasts.
Since Sean liked underwear, she had worn a bra, for the first
time since she left home, but now she remembered why she didn't
like them...what's the point of wearing a loose dress if the undergarments
are so fucking tight that the air can't get inside to the flesh.
After she put the empty glass back down, her hand was so close
to the neckline of the dress that she simple reached up and ran
her fingers down, inside that horrible, tight sports bra and moved
the cups down to free her breasts....aaahhh that felt so much
better.
Now with the bra down around her rib cage, it wasn't hardly tight
at all.
and the low, loose scoop neck dress felt so good against her hard
nipples. It was a rough, yet soft material and as she swayed back
and forth in front of the fan her breasts hung into the dress
neckline. The alcohol, and several months of pent up physical
loneliness, suggested that she pull it down just enough further
that she was completely exposed in the front.
Across from her, she could see her reflection clearly in the window
across the carriage...the Texas darkness outside turning the glass
into a clear mirror.
Her half closed eyes appreciated the look of her breasts, her
large deep brown nipples and the cleft of her cleavage. Inevitably
her fingers were drawn to her aching nipples, damn Sean, and damn
them fucking bears too.
As her fingers caressed her breasts her eyes closed entirely,
lost in lust and longing.
She didn't see the door to the service closet at the end of the
bar open, just a crack.
She didn't see the face peek out, and the tall muscular man emerge,
quietly.
He stepped forward until he was standing in front of her, across
the bar counter, his bartender uniform open at his chest, the
better to stand the heat in his confined hiding spot.
He watched her fingers, agitated now, flicking and pinching at
her nipples, and he saw her heaving chest rise and fall with each
sharp breath. Over her shoulders he could see her white clad asscheeks
moving sinuously in time to her fingers, and knew that her sex
was open and hot.
He reached out both his hands, large hands...soft and strong and
supple from years of cradling wine glasses and tearing off beer
caps. They hung, just above her shoulders, and moved inward towards
her neck. Gently, with the very tips of his fingers he moved her
auburn hair back off her ears....she sensed his presence but kept
her eyes closed...to Hannah it was all a waking dream...something
in her head.
His trimmed fingernails ran down the outer edge of each ear, coming
to hold each lobe gently between the fingertips, where he began
his massage, caressing and rubbing, softer....then firmer.
He felt the soft spot, the hidden place behind each ear, where
the nerve endings of the brain gathered to meet after work, and
drew his hands down each side of her long neck, moving back and
forth from the nape to the base of her throat. Her fingers were
now simply holding her breasts, stroking their warmth, teasing
the sensitive skin around each nipple.
He moved to her temples and traced small circles on each one,
smoothing aside the whisps of hair that the cooling fan blew back
almost immediately. with each movement of his fingers, her lower
cheeks followed, thighs now spread wide to the air, and to the
reflection. He could see that her upper legs were glistening,
even in the window-mirrow.
Continuing to move his hand around the side of her head, and neck,
he moved around the bar to her side and lowered his lips to the
nape, to the end of her hairline.
His tongue darted quickly out and back and Hannah felt a jolt
of electricity shoot from that spot directly to the waiting womanhood
between her legs. Her eyes half opened, as if to confirm her reality.
"This wasn't no damn bear", she thought before his tongue
moved up and around to the hollow behind her right ear.
He pushed it's hardness into the depths between the back of the
earlobe and the side of her neck, and then back to the front of
the ear itself.
His soft lips traced the line of her entire ear, while his left
hand moved, down her back...over the sundress gathered at her
waist and onto the swell of her ass. He slipped his fingers under
the waistline of the fragile bikini panties, and caressed and
lightly scratched the cheeks inside.
He was moving behind her now, using both hands to squeeze and
tickle her ass. Her eyelids lifted, to see his face, next to hers
in the window opposite. Her mouth was open and her tongue licked
her lips.
The activity of her hands on her breasts refocused to the nipples,
clutching and flicking and rubbing the very ends until they were
as hard as the fullness that was resting on her hot ass from behind.
His hands, in order to gain better access to her cheeks, had moved
the panties down, and were opening her up to him. They moved deep,
down between her open thighs, moving them even further aside.
She could no longer feel the air from the fan, but she could certainly
feel his man strength as it probed and prodded the fullness of
her naked rear.
The fingers behind her paused, left her ass, and then returned
to her hips where they began to slide around and down..
down into her heat...down into where only her vibrator and her
fingers had been for far too long now.
He drew her back towards him and she felt his hardness
his naked hardness.
It slid easily between her cheeks, and moved slowly up and down
the cleft of her bottom.
She pushed back against him, now more desperate with her nipples.
His hands found her depths in the wet front crotch of her pretty
underthings.
and opened her, like a beautiful book.
The mane between her thighs, that had seemed so woodsy in the
mountains now seemed like the thick foliage in front of Alladin's
cave, concealing the treasures inside and yet not preventing their
acquisition.
Her secrets were being laid bare.
As his stiffness moved down, between her legs and into his hands,
she felt a shudder from deep in her being
move from her eyes to her toes.
With one hard driving stroke he was inside her...deep inside her
filling her long time emptiness with his sudden fullness. She
wanted to close the cave entrance, and tried with her legs...so
that he may never leave, and her tight, wet pussy began to move
and milk him.
His lips, hot on the back of her neck, slid to take her tender
lobe between them where she could feel the sharpness of his teeth
softly settle around it.
His breath blew gently into the inner ear and onto her naked neck.
She wondered whose face that was that she could see reflected
back at her across the bar car.
That gentle face with beauty and longing etched into it, like
blown glass.
She wondered whose tits those were in her fingers, alive with
fire...
she wondered where this stranger came from and how she could keep
him inside her forever....
But she sure knew one thing...she knew whose pussy was getting
fucked.
TOMMY, CAN YA HEAR ME...
Marie Callender had been an achiever, all of her life. She was
damn good and tired of it....I mean how many committees can you
belong to, how much time can you give before you don't have any
left?
After Michael left her with two kids, a mortgage and the memory
of he and his boyfriend driving away in their high end flash car,
she sucked it up and went on with her life...or actually someone
else's life...anyone else's....!
The kids grew, and left. The other lives went on by themselves
and now, she was just ....well ...in charge of no-one but herself.
It was her tramp friend Mary that told her to take this trip.
Over coffee one day, in the middle of her normal bitch and rant
about having nothing but work, no-one but her and nowhere but...well,
wherever the hell she was, Marie suddenly turned to her and said...
"habit....that's all Marie, just habit. That's what's makin' you
crazy..you need to break the cycle..go do something, fuck someone,
skydive, spend too much - just fuckin' be alive for one fuckin'
moment in your life."
The waitress in the Sheraton dining-room was pretty shocked at
someone using that sort of language in front of Marie, but poured
the coffee anyway.
The proper socialite scoffed at her old friend but she was already
planning the trip. "Now don't you tell me no, first you're
going to get on a plane, and fly...."
"I can't get on a plane Mary, I've never been on one in my
life, although I suppose there's a first time for everyth..." her
voice trailed off.
Something in her had woken up, something repulsive was brought
to life by that ugly word..."habit"
"Damit, - actually FUCKIT.... I just won't do this shit anymore"
Mary looked stunned, but smiled.
The waitress dropped the carafe.
Marie bought the tickets that afternoon.
First a train ride since she'd never been on one...then a plane
to Monte Carlo.
Next she went to the finest store in town and bought every tramp-
underthing that she could find. She took them home and put them in
the suitcase. She didn't even want to try them on until she left
town.
She slept like a hypnotized child.
She didn't dream normally but this night she dreamed enough for
a lifetime.
The next day, in the sunlight she was tempted to take it all back.
She got on the train, almost embarrassed. She was back to her
old self, right down to the pearls and the sensible shoes. The
red spike heels were buried in one of the cases with her crotchless
panties and peekaboo bra,
The only sign of her new life was the stunning red underwear that
she decided to wear. No-one else knew they were there but they
were enough to get her on the train.
As the night rolled by she fought the battle between the old and
the new...laughing at herself, she drank too much, but was about
to sleep it off when the train stopped and that horrible man in
the poncho had waved a gun at everyone. He made the men and most
of the women get off and herded those left up to the front of
the train.
She was cursed to still look like the perfect socialite, that's
why she was picked to go back and get fucked, she guessed. It
was maximum humiliation for that Karla woman to get off on, she
supposed.
And that's the way it had seemed to her too. She had sobered up
completely at the thought of being used, of being defiled by this
or any stranger. She had been the old Marie again.
When the gun went off, the same thing snapped that did when Mary
said the word Habit....times a wastin' girl.
The guy hadn't been bad looking, and he had no way of knowing
that it was her first time with a man in years. And it had felt
so good to have his mouth on her other mouth, she had wanted it
for ever to go on and on, his hands on her curly hair, holding
her pussy open as his tongue poked and licked and prodded, opening
her up to her pleasure.
And that's the lesson that she had learned up there. That he wasn't
using and defiling her at all....they were using each other. She
was sorry that she had bitten the cowgirl, Mary had tried to get
her to try women for years....hell she tried to get her to try
anything but that's the way Mary was.
Later, when he had told her what to do, when she couldn't see
his face as he commanded her to open herself to his eyes, and
then her mouth to his hard full cock, all she knew was that Marie
was gone forever...the old Marie anyway. This new Marie LIKED
having her pussy eaten, liked being told what to do, liked being
a slut to be used, wanted to try and be everything...it's all
about time, after all. That's what Mary had been trying to tell
her...it's about being alive...about knowing instead of guessing
and guessing when you don't know...so that even if you guessed
wrong...at least you still fuckin' guessed. It's about freedom,
the freedom of having no walls even if , in fact particularly
if, you built them yourself.
It's about finding out who you are, where you're going, where
you CAN go and then enjoying the going...even if you end up
somewhere else...that's what it's about...and knowing that ya
only have so much time to find out.
When that first thundercrack beltsting torched her clit, she
wondered for a moment who it was, and then it didn't matter...
who it was, was her...,
If she could have, she'd have wielded the belt herself. And as,
with each successive crack of the belt and fire between her thighs,
more and more of who she had pretended to be....who she truly
and honestly felt she was, who she had, in fact, been, just fell
away. Washed out of her loins with her liquids. Pushed out of
her head by the stiffness of strangers. The Marie that she was
now was a much cleaner person, even in her apparent degradation.
Even on her hands and knees, swallowing all that steaming manjuice,
as her own fires roared in her ears and out of her pussy, even
now when she could feel soft lips on her ass and a probing tongue
working it's way into her open asshole, in fact....absolutely
now...it was her who was really in control.
For the first time in her life there was no more ugly memories
of uncles who put things in her mouth, of parents who told her
she lied, of schoolfriends who paid her to show herself to boys....even
Michael's fumbling attempts to have her be with he and his boyfriends...
All the time she had given them the power - all that time she
had carried their guilt and paid for it with her own self. All
that time she had been the one who pretended. I mean she still
didn't like most of what they did, but at least they knew what
they wanted and tried it, and went after it...and she didn't.
She never meant "Thank You" so much in her life.
As the shrinking cock fell from between her lips, and her attentions
and fingers moved back to her ass and pussy, they felt that warm
face between her thighs, the long curly hair as it gently washed
her back. She knew who it was now, and she wanted that cowgirl
between her legs, wanted to taste her PUSSY, wanted womancum on
her chin and on her tits, Wanted to feel her carefully painted
fingernails, wrist deep in another steaming wet pussy besides
her own. What she wanted was everything....new for the first time
...she wanted to find out and she wanted to hurry up.
"Time's a wastin' Marie" she heard herself say, "Thank
You Mary"
The next thing she heard was the side of the train screeching
across the steel tracks and desert rocks.
If you'd like more of this story, please send a little note of
encouragement to: cbratb@cyberhighway.net