____________________________ | | /)| 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 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. 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 Locker Room Rammer (MM, school) by Anon NixPixer - 1993 I'd never been a real die-hard football fan. My buddy Jack worked for the pro team in town. He wasn't much more than a glorified water boy, but a couple of times I went with him to watch practice. I never confessed to Jack that I had a thing for one of the wide receivers. Blake was the only reason I watched football and was the only one my binoculars were aimed on when I was lucky enough to get a ticket to a game. Jack called up last week and asked if I wanted to come watch a practice on Wednesday. Without having to think, I said sure. As it turned out, it was pouring when Jack picked me up. I ran out and jumped in the little two-seater. "Great fucking day for a football game." "Hey, rain or no rain. This isn't baseball," Jack pointed out. Ten minutes after practice started, I was already caked in mud and drenched, even though I was wearing a slicker. But mostly my eyes, when they had time to watch, were on a guy named Blake. This man was the best built man I had ever seen... 6'2, 240 pounds, a real hunk if ever there was one. H ran faster and hit harder than anyone on the field. Suddenly a pass was thrown to Blake; he was hit and slammed into the helmet of another tackle. He went down and didn't get up for a long while. Coaches ran over, and in a minute, two of the players were helping him off the muddy field, heading toward me. "Hey, kid," a coach called, "when Marty and JD come out, go on in and keep an eye on Blake, Okay?" I got back into the locker room and Blake was lying on his back on a bench, his bare legs straddling each side. He was completely black with mud, and it dripped off his jersey onto the tile floor. "Here, lemme take your helmet off, Man," I said. I undid the chin strap and slid the helmet off his head. I grabbed a towel from on top of the lockers and wiped off his face. "You okay?" I asked. He grunted. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just got punched in the kidneys on both sides. Nothing a hot shower won't cure." I could see through his jock the size and the head of his cock. All I'd imagined, and more. I said, "Lemme help you sit up, and we'll get you into the shower." He grunted and grabbed my hands, and I pulled him up on the bench. "Hold your arms up," I said, and he did. I reached down and grabbed the bottom of his jersey and pulled it up over his head, and most of the mud came off on me. I faced him and straddled the bench and his legs, unlacing his shoulder pads as he looked up at me. I helped him up off the bench and walked by his side to the showers. My heart was racing. Here I was next to my football hero. I was caked in mud, and he was wearing nothing but a muddy jockstrap. I had the biggest urge to reach over and slap him on the ass, but I couldn't. He made it into the shower and stood in it until it started steaming and then he turned it down just a little. He was still wearing his jockstrap. Wet, it was transparent and hid nothing. The man had an amazingly long, thick dick with a nice fat head. I was getting hungry, but knew I couldn't do anything, so I went off to get some clean towels. It took me a while to find the place where the towels were kept, and that gave me a chance for my cock to simmer down in my pants a little. I decided I'd go back to the shower and just wait and look the other way. But when I got there, he had slipped out of his jockstrap and was leaning down, holding onto the spigots, letting steaming hot water run down over his lower back and over his smooth ass. He groaned a groan of pleasure or relief; I'm not sure which. He was the most beautiful man I'd ever seen. I wanted him and couldn't stop looking at him, even thought I had promised I would. After several minutes, and after my dick was good and hard again, Blake pumped out a handful of soap from a dispenser on the wall and rubbed it down his back, his ass and down his legs. When he finished with that he turned around. The water poured down his face and he grinned at me. "Feeling' better?" I called to him. "You bet." He pushed some soap into his face and shoot it under the water and pooped his head out. "Here," he said, turning on the shower next to him. "You're as dirty as I am. C'mon in." My heart raced. Sure. Just jump on in there with a hard-on and make a fucking fool of yourself. "Nah," I said. "I'm okay." Before I could even speak he was on me. His huge, powerful arms locked around me and lifted me off the floor. He was laughing like a kid. "you really need a bath, man." I struggled, but it was useless against his iron grip. He pulled me under the hot pulsating shower head. "There now, don't you feel better?" "Tons," I said, undressing, as the shower head above me sprayed down. Blake got out of the shower before I ever got my jeans off. When I finally finished showering and got my clothes wrung out, I found there was not towel to dry off with. I was headed to the towel counter when Blake called, "Hey!" I looked off to the left,a nd there he was again, lying on a massage table in a small room with a glass window in the door. I opened the door and noticed the heat. There were infrared lamps all over the ceiling, and there were steam jets spewing steam out of the walls. Luckily my dick had gone down. This up- and-down stuff was getting to me. Blake turned over on his side and looked up at me. His big cock flopped over half-hard and growing. He reached out and tugged on my dick. "Listen," he said, lock the door and close the latch on the window, okay?" I did, and by the time I turned around from the door he was lying on his stomach again, displaying that V-shaped torso and that smooth round ass. My cock sprang up and poked me in the navel. "Look over there," he pointed to a bench. "There's a quart of mineral oil. Do me a favor and rub my back." He moaned as I rubbed the oil across his back and shoulders. He looked like a greased pig except for his ass which was still untouched. "Mmmm," Blake moaned. "You've missed some parts. I'm not greasy enough." He reached down and grabbed my thigh. "And you're still dry." I poured out the mineral oil all over his ass, and up his back, over his head and jumped on the table and on top of him. I rubbed my belly and chest up and down his back, like a friction machine. My dick ran up and down the crack of his ass until I sensed I was about ready to cum. I grasped for air, and Blake suddenly flipped over, and I nearly got knocked off the table. He chuckled again. Steam and sweat covered his face and he smiled. "You weren't about to finish, were you?" We've only done one side." He grabbed the bottle of mineral oil and dumped it down on his chest, and he and I rubbed it down his belly, onto his cock, down onto his thighs, up onto his shoulders and arms, across his face and through his hair. I was on top of him, sliding and rubbing ferociously, clamping onto his shoulders as our hard greasy cocks rubbed up against each other. Our pelvises, our groins, all our muscles were so tight and moving, and then he said, "Kiss me." All I did was stick my tongue down his throat while still pumping up and down, his dick against mine. In a second we both came, sending our sperm up into our locked-together bellies. "Looks like we're gonna both need another shower," he said, and I followed him out of the steam room and back to the showers. It took forever to get all the oil off our skin. I looked over at Blake as he was soaping up his cock, beating off in the suds. He turned his ass to me and rinsed off and said, "Know what?" "What?" "I'd like to have some more, would you?" "Sure" He turned around, and his cock was pointing straight out at me. "Wanna suck on this a while?" I slid over, got down on my knees and took the whole thing in my throat until his bush was up in my eyes. I sucked on his big thick meat. He started banging the thing down my throat. Suddenly he pushed me away and started jerking off. He spread his legs, and I got up underneath him and took one, then both of his balls into my mouth. My nose was up at his asshole, and Blake was pounding hard at his cock and panting. "Oh man, damn! Fuck!" And suddenly he stopped and pulled his nutsac out of my mouth. "Shit, I nearly came." I laughed a second. "That's what you're supposed to do." "Huh-uuuh," he groaned. "Not until you bend over and pick up the bar of soap." I stood up and held onto the spigots, and he slipped his dick into me, holding me by my waist and began to pump. It was still oily enough to go in but dry enough to hurt just right. The floor was still slippery, though, and I kept sliding down. "Wait a minute," he said, and went over and grabbed his wet, soiled jockstrap. He knotted it around my wrists and lifted me up and looped the jock over the pipe that the shower head was attached to. I could just barely touch the floor. He slammed his dick back up my ass and started plowing away. My own cock was rock hard and slapping up against my belly with each of his thrusts. He rammed into me with brute force and it didn't take long for both of us to spew out a hot load of creamy cum. After we dressed and dried off he tossed me his famous number jersey. "All right!" I said grinning. "Be seein' you," he called and walked back out onto the field.