Posted 07/00 ____________________________
| |
/)| 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
God Bless America (cons, satire)
by Spoonbender (Theodore@Spoonbender.demon.co.uk)
Date: Dec 29, 1998 2
************************************************
(c) 1998 Spoonbender. A short story of an adult nature. Not to be read by minors.
If you don't like this sort of stuff or you are underage then don't read. Contains
allusions to naughty, erotic goings on. Can be freely distributed as long as it is not
changed, including this heading. If it is to be archived on a fee paying archive then
please email me first for permission. Note that the characterisations are mine. I do
not like people stealing them for inclusion in their own efforts. Please email me
with comments, constructive criticism, fantasies you want put into words etc. Don't
flame me if you don't like the content or you don't like my style.
I do hope you like satire.
*************************************************
It was precisely 11:00 pm and the whole nation went quiet as Wendy opened the
book.
"Delores melted into Michael's strong arms and their lips meshed like they had
been designed for each other. As indeed they both believed they had..."
In a biker bar in Southern California a boisterous Hell's Angel was felled with a
single blow of the barman's Louisville Slugger. The rest of the gang gratefully
turned back to the TV as their comrade subsided in a welter of gore on the filthy
floor.
".......Michael's power overwhelmed her as his tongue fenced with hers. She could
feel his heart pounding in his chest as his passion for her soared like a bird. She
threw her arms around him and pulled him tighter onto the yearning warmth of her
breasts......"
The two teenaged car thieves couldn't believe their luck as they barrelled along at
well over 100 hundred miles per hour. Normally this stretch of freeway in South
Carolina was notorious for its highway patrols. Indeed whole townships were built
on the prosecution of moving traffic violations. Now the roads were empty. So no-
one saw their passing as the Trans-am skidded on the loose gravel and smashed
headlong into the tree.
Wendy was now licking her lips until they shone like gloss. Her breath started to
assume its trademark catch and her face blushed prettily under the studio lights.
The drug addict smashed through the doors of the all-night liquor store only to be
shot by an irate shopper who was peering, crook-necked, at the store owner's tiny
portable TV. Then he went back to the TV. After all, there was no point in calling
the police for at least half an hour.
"....Michael heaved her bodily from the floor, their lips never losing their contact,
as he carried her, effortlessly, towards the bedroom..."
The irate wife screamed at her husband informing him that he thought more about
that TV than he did about her. She then, for emphasis, threw a large brass ashtray
through the screen. He got off with a community service order. The judge called it
justifiable homicide.
".....His lips closed gently over her nipple which surged strongly as his tongue drew
complex patterns over its surface. Dolores moaned luxuriantly..."
Wendy was now flushed and her eyes were bright and sparkling under the harsh
studio lights. A thin sheen of perspiration mottled her brow as she continued to
breathlessly recite the prose.
"....Michael's fingers drummed gently on her torso as his hand moved across the
soft expanse of her lower belly. Then his fingers started to ascend her love mount,
catching briefly in her tangle of wild hair, until at last it sought her ultimate
prize..."
Bookings had never been better at the sleazy backwater Motel. The less than
salubrious owner grudgingly admitted his wife was right to subscribe to the
channel, but he still thought his WANK TO WENDY - FREE IN ALL ROOMS,
sign was the key to their new found success.
".....The sweet shock as his fingers touched her love button caused her to arch her
back in exquisite agony. Then it moved on to explore her gaping wetness..."
"Come on, guys," shouted the precinct captain. "Ain't you guys got any hookers to
bust?"
One of the vice squad detectives looked up briefly from the screen. "Naw, Captain,
the streets are empty."
"The hell you say," spluttered the Captain. He then plumped his ample buttocks on
the corner of the desk as he peered at the screen. Enthralled.
Wendy was now breathing heavily and occasionally a soft moan interjected between
her husky recitations.
'Slim' Sam grunted happily as his 'top girl' engulfed him in her expert mouth.
Despite his feelings of overwhelming lust he couldn't help but smile happily as he
thought of all of his girls being thus gainfully employed. At premium rates too.
Even sixty year old Mathilda had her toothless gums mashing around the prick of a
teenage football Jock. Life was good. God bless America, God bless Wendy.
"....Her legs opened as he shifted his weight across her body. He humped himself
over her, teasing her with the plumhead of his prick as he stroked it gently up and
down her velvet slit. She pushed her hips upwards to try and engulf him as her
inner desperation forced itself upon her conciousness. He smiled as her lust flew
like an eagle, then he relented and slipped forcefully into her warm succulence..."
The firebomb exploded shortly after eleven and quickly engulfed the TV repair
store. The fire brigade might have saved it if they had been there earlier. The Fire
Chief was heard to comment about the fact that the culprit probably had an
unrepaired TV and so there was just cause.
Wendy was now bouncing on her seat, her eyes closing and her fingers had
problems holding onto the book as her lust evidently took hold. Heroically she
carried on trying to read.
".....His hard insistence..ahhhh....pounded into her delicate body
like....a..a..a..piston.....uhhhh...."
"It's coming through on the wire that the King of some Middle Eastern country has
been assassinated. Given the instability in the region it could lead to all out war.
Shall we cut in on The Story?"
The News executive, collar open, tie awry looked wild-eyed at his ambitious
assistant. "Are you fucking mad?" he blurted, as his eyes strayed back to the screen.
"...Oh god...oh god...Give it to me....harder..yes, yes, YES....That's so fucking
good.."
Advertisers across the country ground their teeth in frustration at not being
allocated a ten second slot before, or better still after, the Wendy slot. They'd tried a
commercial break during the story once but gave it up after the mob attacked the
studio. RJR Nabisco won the battle in the end. The slot cost more than the national
debt of a moderately wealthy nation, but it was deemed to be worth it. After all,
what was better than a post-Wendy smoke?
By now Wendy was thrashing around on her chair, hair flailing as she screamed
her way through the foothills of her impending orgasm. All pretence at story telling
was now gone as she writhed sinuously as her libido took over the control of her
whole body.
"Mr President, the British Prime Minister is on the hotline. He wants to discuss the
middle east."
"Don't the goddammed Limeys get Wendy?" he asked in incredulity before gasping
in lust as Hillary sucked hard at his burgeoning prick. 'I wonder what David Starr
will make of this?' he thought as he unleashed himself into her furiously sucking
maw.
Her screaming became a long drawn out wail as her orgasm hit her head on.
Fifty million cocks spurted in sympathy.
Her body was rigid for long seconds as the more compus mentis members of her
audience held their breath in sympathy.
A seventy-eight year old man's heart gave out with the strain. His wife, sitting at
his side, never even noticed.
Finally she slumped down on the seat, drained.
The camera drew back to take in the chintzy Victorian style furniture and the
blazing log fire as the plummy voice of the continuity announcer smoothly
announced the highlights of the following evening, before the inevitable word from
the sponsors.
The scene cut to a cigarette packet and a happily exhausted couple in bed together
as the studio hands clapped and cheered.
In the control room the technician keyed the mike button.
"You ready for withdrawal yet, Wendy?"
"Hmmmm. Oh yeah. Wait a sec, hey?" she whispered. She appeared to compose
herself for several seconds before saying, "Ok do it but slowly, huh? I'm a bit sore
down there."
"I'm not surprised," Muttered the technician as he slowly moved the slider that
controlled the large vibrator that was thrust deeply inside the storyteller.
"The show's certainly got better since we fitted her with the breast fondlers," The
producer mouthed to his assistant who in turn was idly wondering if she could get
the props department to make her a set.
Traffic started to move on the Freeway again.
And John Logie Baird spun in his grave.
**********************************************************
Happy new year and all that from theodore@spoonbender.demon.co.uk