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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.                   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

My Friends the Allens -- Lips
by Mark Aster

= = =
Note: this story takes place in a fantasy world where
vaccines against AIDS and pregnancy are safe and common,
and casual sex with strangers is not suicidally stupid.
The real world, sadly, is not like this: so don't try
this at home.
= = =

Have you ever noticed women's mouths?  How soft and supple
the lips are, how quiet and shy the sharp muscular tongues?
How the lips gently kiss with every "p", how the tongue
teases with each "th"?  How moist and pink and welcoming
they are, how their smiles are at the same time inviting
and taunting?  One week awhile back, I was completely obsessed
by mouths and lips.

It first hit me at dinner at the Allen sisters', the night
of the spring office party.  Pat and Julie and I were
having dinner in their eat-in-kitchen, and as we sat
talking at the table, I felt myself becoming lost in their
lips.  Pat's mouth is soft and full, her lips lush and
her tongue strong and bold.  Julie, her younger sister,
has a small pert mouth with a tiny beauty spot above her
upper lip, and her tongue is quick and sharp.  I lost
all track of the conversation as I watched them talk,
and every time one of the girls wet her lips casually
with her tongue, my erection got one notch stiffer.  I
could feel sexual tension developing, like mist, between
my eyes and their mouths.

Pat noticed.  "I don't know what exactly the hell you're
doing with your eyes, mister, but you are getting me wet."
I smiled and walked over to her.  Bending down, I kissed
her mouth softly, brushing her lips with mine.  A spark
of desire passed between us, and she kissed me harder, her
lips crushed gently against me, her tongue caressing mine.
After a long time, we broke off, breathless.  "This isn't
at all fair," she breathed, "since you have to leave for
that damned office party just about now."  Which was, sadly,
quite true.

Most office parties are as exciting as yesterday's Ovaltine,
but I found myself enjoying this one very much, because of
the presence of so many women's lips.  Girls from the
secretarial pool with gaudily made-up mouths slick and
shiny with lipstick, managers more subtly decorated, lips
soft and pink and authoritative; enough female mouths to
keep me continuously hard as I mingled.  Then I met Rachel.

I had noticed her around the plant once or twice before,
although we worked in different areas.  She was a mildly
pretty girl, with an impressive ethnic nose, and a nice
girl-shaped body.  What I hadn't noticed before was that she
had the world's sexiest mouth.  She was talking with two
other women when I joined the group, and I was immediately
captivated.  Her lips were the shape of love, the color of
desire.  She wore very little makeup, but her mouth shone
moist and pink as she talked.  Her tongue was shy and lovely,
and when she licked her lips I almost groaned for wanting her.
I could feel the tension building up again, as it had at
the Allens'.  Eventually, she noticed.

Casually taking me aside, she asked quietly, "This is
probably very bold of me, but is something going on
here?"  And her tentative smile was exactly the right
shape.  I drew her gently toward me and took her in
my arms.  Surprised at first, she yielded quickly, and
we kissed softly, the same spark of desire passing between
us.  My tongue sank into her warm mouth, and her lips
pressed eagerly against mine.  She pulled her mouth away,
and then brushed my lips again, shuddering.  "This is
a little public, isn't it?" she whispered, although in
fact we were in a quiet corner.  She took my hand and
led me off to a deserted office.

We sat on the fake leather couch, our arms around each
other, and necked.  I felt like a highschool kid again,
with a hard aching erection straining at my pants as I
hugged and kissed a pretty young woman, with no thought
of anything beyond the feel of her lips and the texture
of her neck.  Our mouths pressed hungrily together,
our breaths mingled.  When we stopped to breathe, we
were both panting and gasping.  As I kissed Rachel's
soft neck, she whispered in my ear, "If you keep this up,
I'm going to come."  I bit her lightly, and replied,
"Me, too."

"Oh," she breathed, "that would be a terrible waste," and
she kissed me again, long and deeply.  Then she rose from
the couch and slipped off her panties.  "Come over here,"
she said, sitting on the edge of the desk with her legs
spread, and reaching out her arms.  I quickly got up and
struggled out of my pants and shorts.  I took her in my arms
on the edge of the desk and as our mouths met again she
slipped my throbbing cock inside her, between her pale
creamy thighs.  We were both already near coming, and our
bodies shuddered as we kissed.  Her tongue was like a feverish
animal, probing my mouth; her lips on mine were like the
fires of heaven.  When we came, our hips thrusting tenderly
and desperately at each other and my cum spurting deep inside
her body, it was as much from the sweet feel of our kisses as
from the earthier effects lower down.

Relaxing on the couch afterwards, arms around each other,
we talked for a long time.  I told her about my recent
obsession with lips, kissing hers several times to demonstrate,
and she talked about life in general.  I noticed she seemed
reluctant to talk about love or sex, and I pressed her slightly
on the subject.  Still in the lazy glow of post-coital intimacy,
she admitted, "It's sort of a sexual identity-crisis, I guess."
She hadn't had a male lover in two years, and she found herself
strongly attracted to one of her best female friends.  In fact,
she said, it had been her friend's lips that first made her
aware of her own sexual feelings toward her.  "I had just
about decided I was queer as an eight-dollar bill, when
you showed up and seduced me with your eyes, you horny
inconvenient male bastard," and she kissed me again with
that perfect mouth.  Before my brains could entirely melt
down and run out my ears, I managed to break off, and whisper,
"I have a couple of friends that you've GOT to meet."

We all had dinner at the Allens' a few nights later.  As
I'd hoped, Pat and Julie took Rachel immediately under
their wings, and the three got along beautifully.  I
went off to the bedroom, to escape the maddening sight of
those three incredible pairs of lips, and to give them a
chance to talk about private matters of female sexual
identity.  Pat and Julie are proudly and enthusiatically
bisexual, and I imagine they had a good deal of advice
and comfort for Rachel.  I was lying on the bed leafing
through Pat's back issues of Full Auto magazine, when
the lights went out.  Three shadowy fragrant female forms
slipped into the room, and joined me on the bed.

As small gentle hands turned me over on my back and
began undoing my clothes, Pat's voice came softly in my
ear.  "We were talking about your little mental problem,"
she breathed, unbuttoning my shirt, "and we realized that
we had the ideal team here to try and burn it out of you."
When I was naked, one of the girls (Pat?) kissed me ever
so lightly on the lips, and brushed my mouth with her soft
tongue, bringing me to an instant complete erection.
Then from all directions sweet silent mouths and lips
began to touch my body.  Tongues tickled my neck, lips
closed hot and wet on my nipples, mouths caressed my
upper thighs.  For a long time, the kisses avoided my mouth
and my erect cock, teasing and licking me into a state
of helpless gasping desire.  I longed to seize all three
girls at once, crush their mouths with mine, sink my
cock deeply into them, kiss them, make them come, empty
myself inside them.

As the hungry wet mouths brought me groaningly closer to
orgasm, the girls changed their attack.  Lush soft lips
(Rachel's?) closed ardently over mine, and a tongue slipped
into my mouth. Then two more hot kisses, one on each side
of my aching cock.  As my mouth was drowned in ecstasy,
the four lips on my cock began to slide up and down, kissing
and licking the thin skin and stroking and sucking the smooth
hard head.  Great waves of pleasure began to gather deep inside
me, and spread out through my muscles, and my back arched.
The girl beside me kissed and bit at my neck and chest,
and one of those below moved up to lick the skin of my
stomach.  The third (Julie?) moved her hot lips over the
head of my cock, and took me deeply into her mouth.

Now two mouths licked and kissed my nipples as the third
slid up and down my shaft, sucking me closer and closer to
the edge.  The cum gathered between my hips, and as I got
bigger and harder, the insistent softness of her lips slid
faster and faster over the roughness of my cock.  I groaned
loudly, almost screaming, as all the tension in my muscles
flowed through my groin, and I shot hot semen deep into her
eager mouth.  Then three lush naked bodies piled on top of
me, giggling and kissing my face, and eventually settling
down into a warm and friendly pile of naked exhausted flesh.

For whatever reason, that marvelous triple blow-job did
in fact cure my lip obsession.  While I still love to watch
women talking, and I can get hard watching shy tongues playing
behind moist pink lips, I'm once again able to carry on an
intelligent conversation without having to close my eyes.
Even with Rachel.  Which is quite an accomplishment.

My Friends the Allens -- Lips
by Mark Aster
The End

