____________________________
| |
/)| 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
Reading, Writing and A Rhythm (MF, school)
by Bobby Ray
***
"I'm a student," she told him. They're always students.
"I love to dance, but I only dance here for the money, really."
She adjusted her naked buttocks on his lap. The g-string they made her
wear was more a nuisance than a service to her modesty. It hardly
protected her shaved and quivering pussy from the leering interest of
the men in the club. It certainly wasn't designed to offer much of a
barrier against his hot and obviously healthy cock. The pulsing thing
strained against his shorts in a vain attempt to slide between her
asscheeks as she wiggled and giggled and generally teased his interest
to a fever pitch.
She was an experienced dancer, despite her youthful appearance.
At 21 she had already stripped in more Mississippi clubs than a bitch
has nipples. She knew what it takes to make the real money. Keep the
body tight. Keep the deeply tanned skin clean, fragrant and smooth.
Grow the blond hair long, the nails short. Wear only 5" heels to
lengthen the already long legs. Use only the nearly shear neon colored
g-strings to highlight the lack of tan lines and the fact that the pussy
was clean shaven. Dance fast on stage and slow on the couch. Smile at
everyone. Look him in the eye. Sit on his lap and giggle. If you want
him to tip big, or ask you for a $20 couch dance, sit on his lap and
giggle.
She also knew just how far to push any man. It was an art. It
was a gift. She could take the strongest man and with a little ass
wiggle, a little tit-nibbling, maybe a bite on the pecker through his
jeans, reduce him to a sweating, whimpering, begging little boy. It
was an old routine for her. The other girls sneered at her flouncy,
loud, little girl act, but they envied her freedom... and her money.
All this without ever breaking the cardinal rules of dancing. Don't
sleep with the clients and don't make them angry...No sex and no
violence.
Besides, the kind of pigs that come in here to oggle her would
never be good in a REAL bed.
"I'm a businessman. I travel a lot." They where all traveling
businessmen.
She preferred the young, hard-body, rebel-rocker type. They were
always desperate for the kind of attention she was skilled at giving.
They never wanted a commitment, and they knew the difference between
performing and real life. In bed, they always acted like they were
losing control; all screams and shaking red faces, clutching nails and
curling toes. It was like a really good game of backyard basketball,
with a little hustle and a little competition. Sure, it's fun...and the
athletics were pleasing to watch as well as play, but still... The
truth was she faked half of it with them and secretly thought some of
them were faking it too. The rockers weren't what she wanted for the
rest of her life, but then...she couldn't dance forever either.
She did love to dance. The power she had over the "businessmen"
made her feel sorry for the poor girls daydreaming behind desks or
slowly dying behind cash registers.
This one, though. This one was different. He stood out among
the others. Not because he was loud or quiet. It was because he was
quietly confident. Here was a man in control. Not of the world around
him, but of himself. He was courteous and respectful, but still openly
appreciated her charms. From a distance his clear, complimenting gaze
was gentle, yet unblinking and firm.
Every woman in the room could appreciate his powerful personality
and they all turned at his entrance. It was clear that he saw every one
of them, appreciated every beautiful detail, but he only looked at her.
His dark eyes spoke to her body as much as they listened. They spoke of
a deep, barely subdued animal lust in him. One that could overwhelm even
so powerful a control as his...or hers.
His eyes screamed at her and she blushed deeply while stroking
the stage pole with her legs and barely covered pussylips. His strength
was obvious, but it seemed he might lose control any moment. This man
dangerous. Sex with him would be like swimming with crocodiles. A
suddenly wet stage pole between her legs warned that she could be losing
control of the situation herself !
When he approached her at the stage, she was on her knees. She
quickly turned around to flash her little pink asshole at him. A little
ass-wiggle usually shut them up. She would have control of this yet.
But he kept his gray eyed gaze locked on her green eyes. When she
looked over her shoulder, she blushed again at his smile. He seemed
to know exactly who she was and what she was doing and it didn't matter.
Not since she had first danced for a room full of men on her
seventeenth birthday had her pussy become so wet so quickly. When he
offered a five. She tried to take control again by smiling and holding
out the bit of string about her hip. He lightly brushed the back of
his hand along the inside of her thigh, along the trail of juices, and
slipped the bill into the offered spot with his long fingers. Dammit,
he knew what she was feeling.
After her gig on the stage, she thought of ducking back into
the dressing room before anyone noticed. Her pussy wouldn't allow it.
Neither would her legs and arms. Oh sure, they could imagine being
wrapped around him in the back alley like ivy on a tree. But she
could still get control over this thing. They just wanted to talk
with him.
"What do you study?"
"Nursing. I'm doing pretty good too. Except the courses
require a lot of writing," She little-girl pouted briefly. "
"What do you do for fun?"
"I love to dance..." (Damn! He knows that. He knows too
much. Got to get control of this. He's just another business pig.
Watch, he'll slip.)
"I love to fuck!" That got the raised eyebrows of surprise
she expected. But he didn't ask for a chance to do it with him. She
grew even wetter with the thought that she would fuck him if he didn't
push it. If it was her choice. ("As if you have a choice!" Her
pussy laughed in her head.)
"What do you do for fun?"
"Sports, travel, ... I like to write. I like to dance, but
I don't do it very well. ... I like to fuck too," He grinned mostly
to himself.
"If you don't dance well, you're not fucking right," she teased.
Now she had him. Typical man.
"If you're not writing well, you're not fucking right," He
countered with a chuckle. He knew she would take the challenge by
the lightning in her eyes.
Neither remembered later how they wound up at her apartment.
It was late, they must have stayed together at the club until her shift
ended. It didn't really matter. What mattered was that after hours of
softly caressing under the semi-dark, watchful rules of Mississippi's
strip bar codes, they were free to do whatever. Just as soon as the
wheels of her mustang left the parking lot, his fingers slipped under
her skirt, wrapped themselves around her drenched panties and ripped
them off, to toss out the window. The wolf was lose and she wasn't
about to fight it. Not any more!
She lowered the window and lifted her left leg to allow the foot
to dangle outside...driving with her right foot and his head buried
between her legs.
He fucked her sopping pussy with his stiff tongue. Two fingers
from his right hand deftly tickled her asshole. The mustang squirmed
almost as much as she did.
At the door, she stopped kissing him long enough to unlock the
door and step across the threshold. Suddenly she could wait no more
than he could and dropped to her knees. There she yanked his shorts
down roughly and swallowed his huge erection in one smooth movement.
The sudden pleasure so shocked him, that he swayed on his feet. Her
strong sucking on his tool was the only thing that seemed to keep him
upright at all. The moans from both mouths filled the room.
Finally, when they were making love for the third time in her
bed, she had a moment to analyze his movements. (The first two times
had been in front of the doorway and from behind on the stairway. He
had allowed her to remove her clothes only after they had actually
reached the bedroom which had been the target the whole time.)
He'd allowed himself to cum only during the second coupling
while he had encouraged an almost continuous orgasm from her body.
He changed positions and motions often, constantly attentive to her
reactions. If they did something that pleased her, he kept at it.
(That thing where he leaned against her just enough to rub her clit
on the stair banister while he slipped his cock into her slowly from
behind... that was a good!)
he was a good lover. Good body, gentle touch, nice smell,
better-than-average-size cock. He was just a little too controlled.
She realized that it wasn't his control that had attracted her
before. It was the beast. The wolf that constanty lurked behind his
eyes. It wasn't so much that he kept it in check, but that he could
if he needed to. Well now he had to learn to let it go.
"Ready for your dance lesson?" she whispered into his ear.
"Sure," he smiled back. "Are you sure you wanna stop this
right now?" He was slowly pumping just the head of his cock in and
out of her slippery slit.
"Mmm, that's nice, but I have something in mind that you'll
like." Giggling, she grabbed his upper arms and rolled him to his
side. A little cooperation and they managed to switch positions,
with her on top, without losing contact of cock to pussy.
"Now hold very still," she ordered. He held still as she ever
so slowly sank down the full length of his now raging member. With a
satisfied sigh she sat back with her full weight resting her asscheeks
on his balls. Then looking into his eyes began to undulate the muscles
in her abdomen as she spoke.
"Dancing has two parts that you have to know about. The first
is the belly. That's where all the rhythm comes from." She held his
large hands against her own soft, wriggling belly, "If you can't
feel the rhythm in here, you won't dance." Her movement changed from
a slow circular motion to a faster forward and back action. Her clit
rubbed deliciously on his pubic bone as she leaned forward to rest her
elbows on his chest.
"Now I want you to hold very still, close your eyes and just
feel the rhythm with your belly. If you really feel it, you'll hear
the music in your head." Her pace changed again as she leaned back
to rotate her hips in a figure eight motion. One that brought an
unintentional groan from him.
"You shouldn't do that very long. It' ll make me come." He
whispered, eyes closed.
"It's OK. You won't come until you start to feel your own
rhythm anyway. Just enjoy this. It's my rhythm."
For what seemed to him like hours she kept up the movement.
Sometimes changing from an eight to a circle or back to the thrusting
motion. In time he realized, no matter what motion she used, it was
the same rhythm. In fact he could imagine a song ... a soft country
tune he'd heard on the radio just before seeing her for the first
time. It was speeding up though. Soon it was driving straight into
his spine. It was good that he had come once already 'cause he
didn't think he could take much more of this leson.
She could see his eyes grow wide, his breath became almost a
pant. She knew what would happen soon. An excitement almost like
fear drove her belly just a little faster until finally she groaned,
"Awww fuck it!" She simply threw control to the wind, it was time
to COME! Rubbing her firm, tanned breasts on his chest she thrust
his cock as deeply and quickly into her pussy as she could. He had
no choice...no control. It was no longer an issue. The beast knew
its match and responded from its own level. Meeting her every thrust
with one of his own, his left hand tangled in her long blond hair
and pulled her head back. His right arm wrapped both of hers in a
vise-grip behind her back. Her body arched like a taunt bow, never
losing its rythm and thrust her heaving breasts towards his greedy
mouth. His teeth locked savagely on her nipple . Her joyous scream
was his trigger.
After some rest, some OJ, and a tickly shower that involved a
lot of shampoo and a huge sponge, the naked lovers sat entangled on
the couch.
"What's the other part of dancing?" he asked.
"The message. That's the music. The part that you do with
your head."
"I don't think I understand."
"See, you're like a lot of guys. You think the rhythm is the
message. So you think about it all the time. You try to swing your
hips just in time, or step right on the beat. That's not it. The
rhythm is in the belly. You feel it. The message is what you want
to say about the music. That's how you choose what part of the body
to move."
"I still don't get it."
"OK, wait here." She left the room briefly. Returning, the
sounds of dance music began to fill the room. "Now stand up and dance
for me." She ordered.
Dutifully he stood before her,seated on the couch, and began
to step and sway just as he always did. Feeling more and more foolish
with every moment, he blushed at her critical gaze. (He blushes!)
"Close your eyes. Stop moving your legs and just move your
belly to the beat." He did as ordered. "Come on, baby. Remember
me riding on your cock? Move for me like I was riding on your cock
now." As if to encourage the image, her hand gently reached out
and fondled his rising member. He pumped it in and out of her fist.
At first just straight forward, but as his rod grew, so did his
memory of the savage fuck they'd shared. His belly began to vary
the pattern. A figure eight, a circle, a slide, a pump. His arms
and feet moved of their own accord. Not to be a dance, but to keep
the belly moving. The rhythm began to feel easy.
With each passing moment his cock grew larger and her grip
grew tighter. He thought he heard her breathing grow faster too.
Opening his eyes, he saw her free hand between her legs, rapidly
massaging her own clit. The sight stopped him dead in his tracks.
Just the sight almost made him come in her hand. Had HE turned HER
on like that?
"Baby, do you want me to suck your beautiful cock?"
"YES!"
"Show me. Don't tell me, show me. Move like you want your
cock deep in my throat."
Suddenly he seemed to understand what 'the message' is.
Staring straight into her eyes, his movements became more pelvic.
His hands slid along his chest and belly, reached for her, then ran
through his hair. Stepping right up to her face, his legs spread
wide and his now enormously hard cock bobbed before her like bait
before a hungry catfish.
"Yes baby! Dance for me! Dance for me!" She purred. Her
own hands were a blur as they rubbed and stretched her twat. Falling
to her knees she engulfed his cock. Her saliva coated his pole,
covered her lips, and drooled down her chin. After only a moment he
slowed his pumping.
"Don't hold back, baby!"
"But, I'll come right away."
"Good. Let it come. You should come when you dance. Don't
ever hold back when you dance. Fuck my mouth, baby. Fuck it like
you mean it!"
With both of his hands holding her head and both of her hands
frigging her clit, it actually took quite a while for him to dance to
an orgasm. (Having come several times already that night.) All of
which was just fine by both lovers.