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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 - 6 (MF, rom)
by cbratb@cyberhighway.net
*
A ROSE AMONG THORNS, A THORN AMONG JACKS.
With the immediate realization that the object nestled in the
small hollow in the back of her knee was the thorn of that beautiful
white rose, the flower of her breast, there was only a split second's
discomfort. For a fleeting gap in time, Jack remembered that
she didn't like pain...and thorns were painful. In that small
gap, her blood pressure shot up, and her temperature rose - quickly
but significantly.
Almost at once, even before her mind could register the thought
of discomfort, the soft throbbing thing between her thighs increased
it's own pulse rate. The slow pounding pulse which had never left
the tip of her clitoris increased at the same rate. Her mind was
instantly diverted from possible pain to inescapable pleasure,
as her one free leg, the one which Luke wasn't cradling softly
in his arms, moved away from it's captured twin. He reached out
and brought it back, firmly. The soft orchid flower covering and
massaging the entire outside of her soaking womanhood, with it's
own tactile life force, was driven deeper between her lips, and
this sudden movement slid it's stem slowly down between her ass
cheeks. Nothing but paper, water and washcloths (and the occasional
fumbling one-date finger) had ever touched the private place between
her full cheeks, its sensitivity was made greater by the rarity.
Jack rolled her head on her hands and moaned low into her fingers.
She knew now, for sure, that she was completely lost...that there
is indeed "no place like home"...since home was noplace
anymore. She was never going back on the air...never going to
finish journalism school....probably never going to do anything
else for her entire life except lay naked with her body open to
strangers and their every wish.
She was miles past shame and wantonness....she had left desire
way back in the dust. Her body had reached NEED, indescribable
horrifying need.
She could feel each pore on her body open and close with every
pulse of the magic flower that lay suckling and attacking the
tender inner walls of her heated lower lips. She could hear her
blood as it surged through her veins in a neverending circle though
her body and her heart.....her every muscle was relaxed to the
point of tension....her brain could follow the neurons through
the maze of her nervous system to their gathering spots. ....not
just the obvious ones...the ones that every schoolboy knew full
well - armed with the Armada of knowledge gleaned from a couple
of biology classes and years of memorizing the drawings on tampon
instructions. The obvious ones had never even regained simmering
status. They were one pussy hair shy of a rolling boil. Since
the obvious ones were doing just fine, the neurons raced onwards.
They might normally have fanned out...to the creases under the
toes and the softness under the rise of each eyebrow....to the
fattened mons where the inner thumb joins the hand....the fold
inside each elbow....to each place where stimulation is as natural
as longing but opportunity is rare.
But this night, in this careening explosion of electricity brought
on by the life at labia level, those tiny neurons all went to
the same place, one of their favorites. They raced headlong to
form one huge hot spot, and moving ever faster they entwined and
inbred in a seething questing demanding mass until the surface
of the skin which lay above, almost glowed in the dark. It was
a spot so alive in this one woman as to emit the force of a supernova.
She knew it, and waited...for whatever the tornado might bring.
She held her breath as if terrified to disturb the sense. "It's
true what they say", she thought to herself, "all the
senses do compensate for one another" She could not see the
fingers on which her face rested, nor could she hear any sound
outside of her own body, but she could hear all the sounds inside
- all at once, and she could see the inside of each hair on the
back of each knuckle.
Her entire life had suddenly fallen into line immediately before
this place....everything had led up to Jack, naked and exposed
and violated and half deranged with white lust, half demented
with red desire. She could remember nothing before this, nothing
prior to her very core being suddenly concentrated in the neurons,
dramatically drawing each blood cell and nerve ending to focus
where the neurons gathered, in the hollow at the back of her taut
knee.
In that low depression between the tendons that ran down each
side, the place that disappeared when the knee was bent at all....that's
where her life was now, that's where the fire burned silver.and
that's where Luke placed the thorn, touching it into the epicentre
of the white hot spot, leaving it motionless, barely resting on
the surface of the skin...ensuring that the neurons draw in even
tighter, move even faster ...burn even brighter.
Just when Jack felt about to pass out...or die...or fly....
Luke ran the rounded tip of the thorn straight down the crest
of her calf muscle, slipping off the crest when it reached the
heel tendon and circling the ankle bone, scraping it's surface
with the naturally sharp curve of the side of the thorn, before
racing it's pointed hysteria back to the point of origin behind
the knee.
Jack was launched. A low inhuman groan rattled up through her
throat and escaped her open mouth. Her pussy was alive and screaming,
gushing and spasming, twitching and clutching.....the soft thing
trapped throbbing between her lips was consumed in the liquid
flames which poured from deep inside her., melted by the fire
and flushed by the lava. She felt herself surely drench the seat
and heard her juices splash onto the floor.
Arching her back as another louder moan escaped from her mouth,
her head raised off her fingers and caught Luke's reflection in
the window just above her head. He was watching the flood from
her loins as it continued to pour her climax down her stretched
thighs, leaving them gleaming and polished in the carriage light
The thorn remained in the back of her knee, as the rose rested
above on the flat at the back of her thigh. His right hand moved
to the thigh on her right leg, the one hanging off the seat, almost
touching the floor. As she continued to orgasm, he pushed the
thigh upwards to form a right angle at her foaming pussy lips.
She was gaping now, as open as she had ever been to any man or
woman or even doctor. Her heat filled the carriage and, with it,
the smell of her sex. His hands left her thigh and, after a moment,
she felt pressure at her pussy lips, increasing pressure, and
then something fat and smooth burst through. It didn't enter her
deep, just big, and then stopped.
She raised back and stared down between her own ass cheeks over
her shoulder, She could see the glittering silver nail file in
the clenched fingers between her legs , and she saw his hands
rotating the flat blade. The fat black handle twirled inside her
pussy lips and massaged her engorged clit. The slight calm, since
her last shuddering orgasm left her, vanished as he twirled the
handle.Then, with a move of his index finger, and a slight click...
he turned it on....
LITTLE GIRLS FEAR THE THUNDER...
BUT BIG GIRLS LIKE THE NOISE.
It's amazing what thoughts suddenly come to your mind at the oddest
of times...things that had been long buried by years and seas
in the mind suddenly turned out to be right there, just below
the surface all along, waiting their turn in the light.
And that's why, as SHE found herself lost in lust...with her nose
between the cheeks of some strange womans ass and her tongue about
to be buried teeth deep in her fragrant pussy.... SHE was surprised
to remember the picnic days.
They came flooding back in a rush of lost time and twisted memories
......the images were blurred but the senses weren't.
KIDSISTER always won the games, even then...and KIDSISTER always
wrote the rules even then. It was KIDSISTER that told her about
the popsickle game, first with Dirk, who lived next door and then
with Uncle Luke.
It was a fun game, although a little weird, and it got weirder
when mom remarried. That fire and brimstone stepdad never hit
a lick o' work in the entire time he was at home, and he found
out about the games....KIDSISTER kept him quiet for a while, and
even got herself a new bike, but then it was HER turn.
SHE told mom.
In that long night of tears and tragedy SHE was yelled at and
told how SHE musta done SOMETHING to start all of this. SHE tried
ratting on KIDSISTER but Mom never did believe that precious little
KIDSISTER could do any wrong. For a while the house wasn't very
pleasant to be around, but SHE figured it would get better with
time....
Well time made it worse..Mom started drinking more and the stepdad
came back around...first to KIDSISTER (she got a new dress out
of that) and then back to HER.
At first SHE went along with it but the hatred boiled inside of
her, seething and twisting until it was an ugly thing, a vicious,
cruel and meaningless thing that lived deep inside her and fucked
up her entire life.
As SHE grew older, SHE stopped the games, but they never really
went away. All through her teen years and into her early twenties,
SHE would sometimes have the dreams and sometimes the nightmares.
Long after the stepdad died, long after her first miscarriage
caused her to pack it up and get out of town....long years of
corporate climbing, drunken meat bar pickups and interoffice quickies
...long past the two marriages and the two divorces....into her present
day, SHE never forgot the picnic days....that's what Uncle Luke
always called them.
When SHE and KIDSISTER went back for Mom's funeral, Uncle Luke
was there.....he had money now, he had power.
And once again, KIDSISTER played the game and wrote the rules...and
once again SHE got involved ....but this time SHE was harder..
this time SHE'd dreamed the dream and lived the nightmare enough
times, and SHE'd seen the end...SHE knew how the story came out.
And when KIDSISTER and Uncle Luke said they needed a hard bitch
to run a game, SHE knew that that's exactly what SHE'd become.....SHE'd
started with the first popsickle game and piled layer upon ugly,
rotting layer between her and the world.
SHE didn't know exactly what the game was this time, but so what
else is new...
This game SHE could play blindfolded...and meanwhile SHE could
play her own game, with KIDSISTER and Uncle Luke. Meanwhile it
was getting close to the time when the dream would be wiped clean,
when the nightmare would finally end.
This time, while SHE played their game, they were also playing
hers.
And this time there were only HER rules...
This time the picnic was in HER field....
This time it was HER game...
When it was over it would be over for good.
But meanwhile there was pussy to be eaten , tits to tear at, and
twist, asscheeks to redden, cocks to torment, there was punishment
to be enjoyed, and enjoyment to be punished for.
As the ripe open pussy in front of her gushed over her tongue
SHE glanced up to see the stud getting loose,
and circled her tongue in the pussy, and gripped the asscheeks
with her fingernails, and heard the woman in pearls say "Thank
you"
It was the last thing SHE would hear for a long time.
If you'd like more of this story, please send a little note of
encouragement to: cbratb@cyberhighway.net