____________________________ | | /)| 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 Religious Experience (MM) by Mushroom ((((()))))) This is an attempt to paint a picture with words, to deliberately arouse images and feelings in the reader. If you don't like it, delete it. If you don't understand it, don't worry about it - it's just my own, personal, paltry attempt to capture the essence of the beast with two backs. I don't know what it is, but it's not literature and I don't think it's pornography - maybe it's poetry. If you like it, if it strikes a chord in your mind, then shut off this damned machine and go live it! A RELIGIOUS EXPERIENCE by MUSHROOM "The closest thing I ever had to a religious experience was in the arms of a woman...", I said to my sister as she finally over tried my patience while trying to convince me to give up my wicked ways and find GOD. She shut up, and I remained convinced. A woman's body is smoother than a man's, soft and warm. Fingertips skim lightly over contours that please first the eye and then the touch. Lips soften and open to allow exploration of taste and texture in another mouth, while breathing becomes a shared experience. Hairy skin rasps over smooth as communion becomes imminent. Breasts have their own taste and texture, and the allure of their purpose - the source of nourishment for new generations, eye magnets for the male of the species, the wondrous otherness and endless variations of form. The tongue slides effortlessly over the silky flesh, delighting in contrast between the smooth surface and pebbled, extended tips. The navel is ticklish, muscles bunching and sliding under the skin as I lave attention on it on my way past. I linger a while, but grow impatient to press on. Ah, the goal and the source. The first whiff of ammoniac scent, the surprisingly harsh feel of hair on the otherwise smooth body, the slightly salt and slightly chalk taste of that first, tentative probe into feminine mystery that can only be shared but never experienced. The inner thigh is the smoothest and softest place on the female body, sleek against my ear and warm to my cheek. I can feel goose bumps erupt as I taste the folds of flesh where legs meet torso, using my tongue to outline and define my triangular target. Guardians of the portal begin to unfurl, coaxed patiently by lips and tongue. Small, sucking kisses help reveal that most fascinating altar, humanities gateway to the imperfect world. Convoluted, warm, and wet, its secrets waiting to be read by lingual braille. Slippery secretions await the questing tongue, to be spread reverently over newly exposed surfaces as tension slowly winds through the muscles and sinews of the supine body. The small knot of nerves near the triangle's apex deserves, and gets, special attention. Tremors begin to occur, radiating from the center with increasing frequency until the body convulses, synapses discharging singing sheets of fire along nervous pathways unused to such high levels of excitation. Before the storm has died, while calm is still only something that might be reached, I begin my journey back up the body, dragging my own aroused and engorged center up the bed in the sure and certain expectation of release. Natures miracle has made flaccid flesh into rigid anticipation, nudging blindly toward a lubricious welcoming clasp. Muscles strain toward an ever closer, tighter union. Liquid friction becomes unbearable, and the world shatters as half of life bursts from one to the other. As breathing slows, heartbeats drop, and the world comes back into focus, it is here that I find . . . peace.