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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.   Kristen         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

Grey and Rainy Day (MF, rom)
by Lysander (c) 1991

*

      Look, I know I'm not supposed to pick up hitchers. 
It's not smart for me, and it's not smart for the hiker. 
But it was a rainy afternoon, and the guy up the road looked
really dejected.  He was somewhat small anyway, and his
shoulders slumped over as he slogged through the mud.  All
alone in the half-dark like that, he reminded me of my cat
when I had rescued him as a stray from a sudden downpour. 
The kid had a yellow poncho on and wasn't carrying any bag
or even a gas can.  I supposed he was just walking some
short distance, and I could drop him off and be on my way in
five minutes.
      I pulled over and lowered the passenger window. 
"Where you headed?"
      The guy leaned down and looked in through the opened
window.  Except it wasn't a guy.  She was maybe twenty or
twenty-one, and she was soaked like she wasn't wearing the
plastic poncho at all.  If there's anything that makes my
heart melt more than a kitten in a rainstorm, it's a
beautiful young woman in a rainstorm.  The look in her eyes
told me that she knew it wasn't smart taking rides on the
back roads, even if -- or maybe especially if -- the car's a
Lincoln.  But it also told me she wanted desperately to get
out of the rain.
      "I'm going west," she said.
      Nice and specific.  "I'm going cross-country to
California on business."
      She considered that for a moment.  I tried to look
non-threatening, without looking like I was trying to look
non-threatening, you know?  I was concerned about this girl,
with nothing but what she was wearing, trying to reach an
unknown destination.  But if I frightened her off, I wasn't
going to do any good.  She looked into my face, then back
down the road in both directions.  Visibly, she came to her
decision.  "Okay."
      I unlocked the passenger doors and told her to put her
poncho on the back floorboard.  She did and got in, putting
her purse between herself and the passenger door.
      She stared out the window at the passing countryside
and at the patterns the rain and wind made on the glass. 
She could also probably look at my reflection that way, too.
Checking me out.  Obviously, she didn't feel like talking. 
That was fine with me.
      For about half an hour we were like that, me trying
not to look at her, her trying to hide the fact that she was
looking at me. I had the radio turned down in case she
wanted to talk, but she didn't want to talk.  But you know
how it is when two people are in a car, you have to talk or
the silence grows oppressive.
      "So what's west?" I asked at last.
      She finally turned her head to me.  "What?"
      "I said, 'what's west.'"
      "Oh.  My parents.  They live in Seattle."
      "I see," I replied, knowingly, but still in the dark. 
She looked too old to be a runaway trying to get back home. 
And she didn't have that tired, wary look I had seen in news
documentaries.  Maybe she was just down on her luck, trying
to get to a support system on her own.  I shrugged inwardly
and concentrated on driving.
      She didn't seem inclined to volunteer more
information, so I turned the radio back up.  The local
public radio station was on, and I heard the last minute or
two of something by Bach, I don't know which piece, but he's
one of the few composers I can recognize without a program. 
They thanked the sponsors, and mentioned my company's name.
I pointed at the radio and said, "That's me.  Or my company,
at least.  My name's Mark Ferguson."
      "I'm Grace," she replied.
      "Nice to meet you, Grace."
      "No, not 'Grace.' G-R-E-Y.  Grey."
      "Grey?  That's an unusual name," I commented.  "At
least it is around here."
      "Yeah, well.  My parents were hippies, you know?  The
way they told me, they wanted to name me after whatever the
sky was when I was born.  But they happened to be in
Seattle, and I was early.  They couldn't really name me
'Overcast' or 'Gloomy,' so--"
      "Grey," I finished, grinning.
      "Exactly."  She glanced at me and I saw her smile for
the first time.  Her lips curled momentarily and I caught a
glimpse of her white, even teeth.  Then she turned back
toward the window, and all I saw was her hair and half an
ear.  Her neck was thin and graceful, the left tendon
standing out clear as her head was turned.  Her hair was
unstyled, hanging straight down her back.  It was brunette,
I suppose, when dry, with golden brown highlights.  What I
thought was a man's scrawny body was, instead, a young
woman's athletic body.  Her blue work shirt was tucked
tightly into baggy army fatigues -- the old olive drab kind,
not the camouflage that soldiers wear now -- and showed off
high, pointed breasts and a stomach without an ounce of fat.
      She saw me staring at her, and she turned her head to
stare back at me.  Her face was... beautiful, but that
doesn't begin to describe it.  She had a high forehead and
intelligent green eyes.  Her nose sloped down and out, and
flared outward in wide nostrils.  Her lips were neither full
nor thin, and always seemed to be slightly open.  Her face
still retained some baby fat, but her high cheekbones were
just discernible.  It was a face that would age well, going
from pretty to beautiful to striking to handsome as the
years passed.
      I was getting uncomfortable, and looked away.  "The
airport's coming up in a while," I said.  "If you want, we
can call your folks.  I'm sure they'd be willing to wire you
a ticket to Seattle."
      Grey stretched out her arms.  "Thanks, Mark, but if
it's all right, I'll just tag along with you for a while."
      "Fine with me, but it's going to take about three
weeks for me to get to the coast."
      "What do you do, for a living, anyway?"
      "Oh, I own a small company that makes machine tools
for light manufacturers.  I make the machines that make the
machines that make the prizes in your cereal, is how I put
it."  She smiled at that.  "We just started writing software
for companies that want to network machines from different
manufacturers.  I'm not sure how that works, and my people
tell me that in a few years everything's going to be cross-
compatible, anyway.  I don't know what that means, either,
but it'll get a foot in the door for us."
      I looked at her and saw her staring out the
windshield, not listening anymore.  "Sorry.  I talk too
much, I know.  Just tired of the quiet."
      "Oh, yeah."  Then, for fifty or sixty miles, she told
me about her life.  How her parents had finally settled down
after she was born, settled down too much, in fact.  At
fifteen, she just got tired of her life, so she decided to
quit.  She hit the road, heading south and east.  She wasn't
a runaway, she said.  She just left home a little early. 
She knew the dangers, so she avoided big cities, where it
was hard to live and easy to get into serious trouble.  By
the time she was seventeen, she was in North Carolina and
had just sort of... stopped.  At least that was how she
phrased it.
      She floated around the state for a year or so, mostly
living with college students around the Triad and Triangle,
working in textile factories and restaurants.  Then she met
Randy.  She was in love, or thought she was, and moved in
with him.  He had a good job as an electrician, and they
were talking about getting married and starting a family. 
Then the recession hit.  People were afraid to build, and
Randy's jobs dried up.  There were bills to pay, more than
Grey could handle.  A friend of Randy's got him into selling
drugs.  It's the kind of thing that just happens.  Several
of my relatives had been busted for the same thing under the
same circumstances.  It's really not that big a step from
moonshine to marijuana to cocaine.
      Randy started using, and to pay for his own habit, he
had to sell more.  A way to make ends meet became a way to
make a living.  Grey was getting scared, and when Randy
started selling to kids, she got angry.  She decided to
clear out for good.  She took every penny Randy had, called
the sheriff and told where he kept the drugs, and left.  She
left her clothes behind and just walked out.  She hadn't
even decided to head back to Seattle until I stopped on the
road.
      Suddenly I thought of something.  "Grey, I'm
registered at some pretty expensive hotels for the next few
days.  I'd better stop and cancel those, and we can stay
someplace cheaper."
      "Don't worry," she smiled, as though at a private
joke.  "I got enough from Randy to pay for expense-account
hotels for a couple of weeks, and to buy some new clothes,
too."
      "You're sure?"
      "I'm sure.  Don't worry about me."
      We made small talk almost all the way to Knoxville. 
Grey turned out to be an intelligent, witty young woman. 
She was widely read as far as I could tell, history and art,
the sciences.  I never seem to have time to read more than
sales and R and D reports.  Once she opened up, despite her
name, she was very lively.
      As for me, she seemed impressed by my CD collection. 
She thought it was "cool" that "an older guy" like me (she
grinned widely when she said that; I'm only forty) would
like the Chili Peppers and the Hoodoo Gurus.  On the other
hand, I was amazed that she was able to sing along with
Battlefield Band.  I told her about my family, but she was
reticent to talk about hers, except to say that it had been
so long since she had seen them, that she wanted to work
herself up to going back home.
      When we got to my hotel, I escorted her to her room. 
I told her when my meeting was, and that I'd drop her off at
a mall so she could shop for whatever she needed while I was
busy.  She said goodnight, and I went on up to my own room.
      The next morning, we had a quiet breakfast in the
hotel restaurant (separate checks, she insisted) and left. 
I dropped her off at a shopping center off the interstate
and told her when I'd be back and where to meet me.  Then I
went to my meeting.  I don't like taking "fun" vacations, so
every year or two, I make the circuit of the company's
bigger out-of-state customers.  It's a policy that pays off
in repeat customers and a lot of word of mouth business, and
I can write off about a third of my vacation.  The meeting
went well, and I went back to the shopping center, only
half-expecting to see Grey there.
      But she was waiting for me, bags in hand, wearing a 
white blouse and knee-length dark red skirt, and medium
heels instead of sneakers.  She looked much nicer than she
did in the work shirt and fatigues and maybe a couple of
years older.  She stepped off the sidewalk and we put her
purchases in the trunk.  I complimented her on her new
clothes.  When she thanked me, she reached up to loosen my
tie a bit and said, "If I'm going to be traveling with you,
I think I ought to look the part."
      Okay, this was probably a perfectly innocent remark. 
But at the time, I wasn't sure how to take it.  On the drive
into Tennessee, I had certainly noticed how attractive she
was, and had wondered what she would be like as a bed
partner.  But then, almost every man thinks that about
almost every pretty woman he meets.  The fact that my
long-time lover and I had split up not long before didn't
make matters any easier.  But this girl was not even quite
twenty yet, half my age.  So I tried to put her eyes and
legs and the perfume she was wearing out of my mind.
      The next day was nothing but relaxation.  When I
vacation, I like to do absolutely nothing.  I'm not a work
hard/play hard kind of guy.  No golf or tennis, just sitting
by the hotel pool, reading a book.  As I said, these
meetings I had scheduled for the next couple of weeks were
mostly just to make sure everything was running smoothly, so
I didn't have any paperwork to wade through.
      At any rate, I was sitting by the pool, trying to
finish "The Creators" so I could move on to something
lighter, when Grey stepped up beside me.  "Are you nearly
through with that?" she asked.  I looked up to see her
standing above me, wearing a soft pink one-piece bathing
suit and matching knee-length wrap.
      I thumbed through the remainder of the book.  "About a
hundred more pages, I think."
      "Can I borrow it when you're through?  I left my copy
at Randy's about half-read."
      "Sure.  This won't take long."
      She dropped the wrap and sat on the lounge chair
beside mine.  She reclined and tilted her head back,
enjoying the warmth of the late spring sun.  Her eyes were
closed, so I took the opportunity to look closely at her. 
The suit was cut low front and back, and high along her
hips.  Her skin was smooth and just barely tanned on all the
parts I could see.  Her legs were well-toned, not too
muscular.  Her arms were the same.  Her fingers were
delicately crossed beneath her breasts and a smile played
across her lips.  I then noticed that her eyes were cracked
open.  I think I may have blushed as I turned my attention,
but not my concentration, back to my book.
      I had gotten through about half a page when Grey spoke
again five minutes later.  "Do you think it's warm enough
for a swim?"
      I considered.  She was probably quite beautiful when
wet but not moping.  "I think so."
      She stood and untied her wrap, facing me.  I looked at
her out of the corner of my eye while pretending to read my
book.  She turned and I saw the rest of her suit, what
little of it that there was.  It was one of those "thong"
suits.  I could see faint, almost invisible, tan lines
across her buttocks where she had worn a more respectable
bikini the previous summer.  She dove cleanly into the
water, feet and legs together, and for a split second, that
exquisite posterior was pointing skyward, filling my vision.
      I didn't burn with passion for her, I didn't want to
possess her body; nothing so cliché.  Part of me sexually
appreciated the display of her body, but for another part,
there was an aesthetic appreciation of the grace of her
movements, of the proportions of her form.  I found myself
to be tantalized more than anything else.  She swam possibly
a dozen laps, using different strokes.  I watched her the
entire time, and she saw me watching her, but I didn't turn
away, this time.
      When she came to the edge of the pool after her final
lap, I was waiting for her, towel in hand.  I helped her out
like a gentleman and handed her the towel.  "You swim
beautifully," I said, more softly than I meant to.
      "Thank you.  I--"
      "Excuse me, Miss."
      We turned to find that we had been joined by the
manager of the hotel.  When he had our attention, he
continued.  "Some of our patrons have requested that I ask
you to change into a less revealing swimsuit, or to not use
the pool."  I noticed two women, about sixty years old but
trying to look forty, sit down and begin talking and looking
in our direction.  Despite the sun hats and dark glasses,
they looked like they had just come from a DAR function.  It
was obvious that the manager approved of Grey's attire about
as much as they did.
      For a moment, I thought Grey was going to protest, and
I was eager to see it.  But she didn't.  "All right.  I was
going to have lunch anyway.  Would you join me, Mark?"  I
said I would join her shortly.  I wanted to stay and tell
this glorified desk clerk that I would be checking out and
not patronizing his hotel ever again.  But Grey's actions
made me forget what I was going to say.
      She had gathered up her wrap and tanning lotion.  The
wrap and towel were draped over her arm, and she swung the
lotion back and forth in the other hand.  Her route took her
right past the Daughters, but she didn't acknowledge their
presence.  But then the bottle of lotion flew out of her
hand to land directly in front of the women.  So Grey bent
to pick it up.  From the waist.  Facing away from the women.
She gave her hips a little shake, and the look on their
faces as she did that made me laugh out loud.  Grey winked
at me and continued on inside the hotel with the most
arrogant walk I have ever seen a non-feline do.
      I went up to my room, half-hoping that Grey would be
waiting in the hall for me, wearing that suit.  She wasn't,
of course.  I hopped in the shower to wash off the
sunscreen, dried off, dressed, and was out the door in
fifteen minutes.
      I went down two floors to Grey's room.  I could hear a
blow dryer running in her room, so I knocked harder on the
door than usual.  It hadn't been completely shut, so it
swung open smoothly.  I looked around the open door and saw
Grey staring at me in the mirror above the sink outside the
bathroom.  She was completely naked.  All I could see,
however, were those eyes, looking out of the mirror at me. 
The rest was just an impression.  I stammered some sort of
an apology and stepped back into the hall.
      Grey came out not long after.  Again, she was dressed
conservatively, but her dress highlighted her figure. 
Neither of us said anything about what I might have seen.  I
wanted to tell her that she looked beautiful ÄÄ and she did,
in a belted navy dress and white half-jacket ÄÄ but I feared
she would take it as a reference to my view of her naked. 
If I had had more confidence, I would have, but I was
looking for a clear, a very clear signal for her.  Mainly
because I didn't want to look foolish before her.
      Lunch was filled with wonderful conversation.  I
suppose the food was delicious, at least Grey said it was. 
But all my senses were concentrated on her.  Sure, it sounds
hackneyed, but it's the truth.  I was terribly fascinated by
her.  It wasn't really love, though the physical and
emotional attraction was there.  No, I was interested in the
totality of Grey.  Her laugh and wit, the way she whispered
when she thought she might be overheard even though all we
were talking about was my itinerary.
      I realize I haven't mentioned much about Grey's part
of our conversations.  That is because I find it impossible
to isolate a short fragment for illustration.  I could
relate her explanation of why she both loved and hated the
rain.  About taking her general equivalency diploma and
taking a semester of college just because people might
otherwise think she had quit high school because she
couldn't handle it.  About her theories on the cyclic nature
of history -- I think we argued that one the whole time we
were on the road.  Which do I pick and which do I ignore?  I
can't, so all I can do is give an overall impression of
Grey, which built up slowly, evolved over the weeks, until I
had this complete picture of a woman I was happy to call my
friend, and possibly more.
      The next week went much like this.  Little Rock and
New Orleans.  Scintillating conversations.  More probably-
innocent remarks from Grey, and ambiguous feelings on my
part.  I found myself staring at her more and more.  A few
times I think I caught her staring at me.  One day, out of
the blue, she brought up our relationship, if I can call it
that.  We were watching a pay-per-view movie in my room when
she just asked me flat out, "Mark, how come you haven't made
a pass at me?"
      This was making me uncomfortable for some reason. 
Maybe I thought my sexuality was being questioned.  I tried
to joke my way out of it.  "Just never got around to it I
guess.  Would you like me to make one now?"
      But Grey was having none of that.  "I'm serious.  I've
been with you for ten days now, and not once have you asked
me to spend the night in your room.  Hell, you haven't even
put your hand on my knee in the car."
      If she wanted a serious answer, I would give her a
serious answer.  Of course, I had been wondering myself why
I hadn't tried anything.  "Look, Grey, first of all, I'm
twice your age."
      "That hasn't stopped other men."
      "Then there's the fact that, when we first met, I
thought I might be taking advantage of your vulnerability."
      She was actually indignant for a second.  "I am not
some helpless puppy who needs your protection."
      I held up my hands in a conciliatory gesture.  "I know
that now.  But by the time I figured that out, I thought we
were more friends than anything else.  I just didn't want to
damage that by making some kind of unwanted advance."  Yeah.
When was the last time you heard a guy say "we can still be
friends?"
      The conversation just seemed to die after that.  The
movie ended and Grey went to her own room.  Idiot!  I yelled
at myself inside my head.  I couldn't have asked for a
clearer signal than that, and I had blown it.  I didn't
think that Grey was the type of woman who would throw
herself at a man after even such a half-hearted rebuff as I
had given her.  So I resolved to stop thinking of our
relationship as anything more than friendship.  I had just
talked myself out of a potential lover, I thought. 
Naturally, my ambiguity resolves itself right after I shoot
myself in the foot.
      Dallas was covered in conventioneers.  We were late
getting to the hotel and discovered my reserved room had
been rented.  Naturally there was nothing for Grey.  An
hour's search found one hotel room (in Dallas!), so I gave
them my credit card number and we followed the directions. 
It was a small motel that the interstate had ignored, but
there were double beds and the room was clean.  Grey seemed
to take the change in accommodations well.  I, however, was
worried.  Here I finally had her in the same room with me
for the entire night, and I had as much as told her I wasn't
interested.  How was I going to act calm?  How could I
broach the subject?  You know, Grey, I've changed my mind:
I'd give my left arm to sleep with you.  Sure.
      So I told her I was going to look up an old friend and
would probably be out late and she should just go to bed
without waiting up.  Of course, I didn't have a friend; I
just didn't want to face the next couple of hours with Grey.
After cruising around and getting lost, I found myself in
the parking lot of one of those big strip clubs that cater
to businessmen.  Big mistake.  The last thing I needed to
calm my nerves was to be in the middle of a big room filled
with horny convention-goers and twenty to thirty naked
women.  The shriners or plumbers or whatever the hell they
were crude and obnoxious, but they had lots of cash, so
these tanned, bare-breasted beauties kept parading past me.
      They grow 'em big in Texas, and if they don't grow
'em, they can make 'em big.  But there was this one girl. 
She had straight brunette hair and comparatively small
breasts.  Other than that, she didn't look much like Grey. 
But I had her do a lap dance anyway.  Great invention, lap
dancing.  You can't touch her, but she'll touch you, except
where you want her to touch you.  But that was okay, because
I was thinking of Grey.  I imagined Grey's hands on my face
and chest.  I looked at my watch and saw it was midnight. 
Grey would probably be asleep, so I gave the dancer a
generous tip and left.  I could at least be in the same room
with Grey, watch her sleep, listen to her breathe.  I'll bet
she's beautiful when she's asleep, I thought.  Of course,
she's beautiful when she's awake.
      She was beautiful.  And she was awake.
      She was watching something on television, a movie, I
think.  She was wearing a floor-length dressing gown of pure
white, and her hair shone.  "Did you see your friend?" she
asked me.
      "Uh, yeah, I saw him."
      She stood to turn the television off.  "I can't seem
to go to sleep.  I'll just go in the bathroom and read, so
you can go to bed."  For some reason, she was more stunning
than ever, standing there in the dim light.
      "No need.  I can handle a few more hours awake."
      "Oh.  Okay."  She sat back in her chair, and I sat on
the bed.  We just sat there, saying nothing for the longest
time.  I thought she might be as tense as I was.
      "Mark," she said at last.  I sat up, doing my best to
look attentive.  "I know how you feel about me.  But I'm
afraid I don't feel the same way.  So I think it's best that
I go on alone."
      Jeez.  The only thing worse than having Grey beside me
and being afraid to touch her would be not having her beside
me at all.  "Grey, you don't have to... I mean, I can
control my feelings for you."
      She stared back at me, dumfounded.  "But you said you
weren't interested in me.  Didn't you?"
      She was attracted to me, too.
      The weight on my chest disappeared.
      "Yes, I did.  No, I...  I mean, I did, but I didn't
mean it.  That is, I wasn't sure how I felt, or how you felt
about me.  So I took the safe way out."
      Like in an old melodrama, we were in each other's
arms.  We just held each other.  I was relieved more than
anything else, because the self-torture was over.  The
passion could come later.  Right now it was enough just to
know that I had her, that my feelings were reciprocated.
      But the passion couldn't wait for Grey.  Her mouth
sought mine, and, finding it, clamped tightly to my lips. 
The morose young woman I had picked up in the rain, the
vivacious young woman who had captivated my imagination, had
become the passionate young woman who was crushing me in her
arms.  How many more Greys were there?  I was eager to find
out.
      I returned her kisses with equal fervor.  We nibbled
on each other's lips and exploring tongue.  I inhaled her
perfume.  Perfume?  I gently pried Grey's delicious body
away from mine.  I looked at the dressing gown in a new
light.  With trembling fingers, I untied her belt.  The
satin robe fell open to reveal Grey, dressed for seduction
in a camisole and panties, garters and stockings, all white.
      "I wasn't sure if I wanted to seduce you or not," she
explained, somewhat bashfully.  "I wanted to, but I wasn't
sure if it was what you really wanted.  You know?"
      "I know.  I know exactly.  When did you get these?"
      She actually blushed, the first time I'd ever seen her
do that, and she was heartbreakingly beautiful.  "That first
day in Knoxville.  I had an idea."
      I chuckled and pulled her back to me.  I let my hands
roam over her.  Soft satin and silk, soft skin.  I felt warm
fingers unbutton my shirt, soft moist lips against my chest.
"I suppose the swimsuit was for my benefit also?"
      I felt her head nod against my shoulder.  "And the
open door afterward.  But you were a perfect gentleman, damn
you."  She nipped at my chest with her teeth.
      I laughed in surprise.  I took her tightly by the
waist and threw her on the bed.  I landed on top of her,
hands and knees on either side of her, my weight just barely
pressing down on her.  "I suppose you want some kind of
barbarian, hmm?"  I growled menacingly and ripped at her
robe.  Of course, all I did was pull it off her shoulders. 
She just giggled.
      Then she gave me the most serious look she had ever
given me.  "I just want you."
      We kissed again, long and deep.  Grey pulled my shirt
off my back and tossed it away.  She ran her hands up and
down my arms, touching nothing but the hairs.  I never knew
my arms could be an erogenous zone, and maybe they're not,
except with Grey.  She explored every curve of my torso
while I kissed her.  My shoulder blades and the crook of my
neck, every vertebra, even my "love handles" and short ribs.
I was uncomfortable but still highly aroused by the whole
thing.
      She unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and I kicked off
my shoes.  Awkwardly, because I didn't want to break our
kiss, I slid my trousers and underwear off.  Now I wanted to
do her.  While I find sexy underwear erotically and
aesthetically pleasing, it's much more fun to take them off.
I sat on the bed and she stood between my legs, her
nylon-clad legs just barely brushing against my erect
member.  Her dressing gown floated to the floor, forming a
small cloud around her feet.  I untied the fastenings of her
camisole from the bottom up, to prolong the delicious
waiting before I finally saw her breasts.
      Ah.  They were everything I imagined them to be.  They
stood straight out from her chest, two rounded-over cones
not large enough to sag even a millimeter.  The slopes
formed two pink nipples that were extensions of the breasts
more than separate features.  I placed my mouth over the
left one and sucked on it.  Her skin tasted like spring, of
some soap other than the antiseptic kind in the motel
shower.  Sweat was just beginning to form along her sternum,
and I licked the moisture up on the way to her right breast.
I twirled my finger around the aureole of the one I had
abandoned while I nibbled on the one in my mouth.  Grey
moved her hands up to my head and rubbed circles through my
hair.
      Then, taking my hands in hers, she moved them down to
her hips.  The garters had tiny ruffles on them, something I
hadn't noticed in the poor lighting.  Her panties were on
the outside of her garters, but I wanted to save them for
last.  I unclipped the garters from each stocking.  It took
a nice bit of feeling around since my eyes were closed so I
could concentrate on the taste of her skin and the sound of
her heavy breaths.  When the stockings were no longer
attached, I worked the clasp on the back of the belt and
pulled the garters through the waistband of her panties.
      Again, I took her by the hips and laid her on the bed.
I pulled the low-heeled slippers off her feet and placed her
stockinged right foot on my shoulder.  I ran my hands down
her leg until I reached her stocking top.  I willed myself
to go no further.  Using my palms, I rolled the stocking up
her leg, while weaving long patterns with my fingertips
along the wondrously smooth flesh of her leg.  When one leg
was bare, I repeated the process on the other leg, and it
was even harder to stop my hands from moving up beyond her
stocking top.
      All this time, Grey had been playing with her breasts,
cupping them and rubbing her hands along the undersides,
tweaking the nipples.  Her hands made a few abortive
movements down to her pelvis, but she was apparently forcing
herself to wait like I was.  But I would wait no longer.  I
took the waistband of her panties in the hooked fingers of
each hand and pulled them down her thighs.  I kept my eyes
on the stark white silk.  I wanted no half-glimpses of her
sex.  I wanted to see all of her at once.
      Grey was not so patient.  As the panties passed her
knees, she groaned in frustration and tried to kick out of
them.  Unfortunately, I was bringing my face down to kiss
her leg at the same time.
      "Oh, my God.  Ohmygodohmygod!"  Suddenly Grey was like
a little girl who has just broken on of her mother's crystal
glasses.  My nose was numb, but I felt a trickle of warmth
on my upper lip.  I couldn't help myself.  I burst out
laughing.  I laughed so hard I couldn't sit up.  I collapsed
on my back, still laughing.  My nose wasn't numb anymore; in
fact, it hurt like hell, but I laughed.
      Grey had gone into the bathroom and now returned with
a damp cloth.  She tried to wash the blood off, but I
couldn't stop my head from moving as I laughed.  Now, I feel
like a jerk over the whole thing, but at the time, the
incongruity of events had me in hysterics.
      Grey stood over me, hands on hips like a frustrated
mother hen.  "What's so funny?" she demanded.
      I had finally been able to catch my breath.  "It's
just that... the first time in my... life... I've ever had
someone bloody... my nose... and it's the woman I love." 
Then I burst out again.
      But Grey didn't see the humor in it.  She pushed
against my forehead to hold me still.  I was now completely
out of breath, so I didn't resist much.  She wiped away the
blood.  She touched my nose gingerly.  "Not broken," she
muttered.  It wasn't bad at all.  Already the blood was
clotting in one nostril, and the pain was almost completely
gone.
      In all the confusion, I had gone soft.  But looking at
Grey's nude body, seeing her completely for the first time,
was causing things to stir again.  Grey saw the process, and
decided to help it along.  She took my cock in her cool
fingers and stroked the underside.  Her fingertips felt like
silk as they roamed over my lengthening shaft and wandered
down to my heavy scrotum.  Grey looked into my eyes as she
masturbated me.  She got on the bed.  She spread my thighs
and lay on her stomach between them.  Propped on her elbows,
she moved her head closer to my erection and flicked her
tongue out.  My cock jumped in response, making Grey smile
playfully.
      Still fondling my balls, Grey moved her opened mouth
slowly to the head of my cock.  Then, even more slowly, she
moved her wet lips over the crown.  Heaven.  Her tongue
performed wonders on my flesh as her head went down on my
cock.  And down, and down.  She didn't take me into her
throat, she just moved so slowly that it seemed like she
did.  What she could not cover with her mouth, she stroked
with her hand.  And all the time, her tongue moved around
and around the head of my cock, and down an obscenely long
stretch of the shaft.
      I could do nothing but lie there and moan.  My thighs
twitched a few times, and my cock flexed in Grey's talented
mouth, but other than that, I was paralyzed, fearful that
Grey's mouth on me was a dream I could not recapture if I
woke myself by moving.  Faster than I am used to, my cock
began to get that particular pre-orgasmic rigidity.  My cock
became so sensitive I imagined I could feel each individual
taste bud on Grey's twirling tongue.
      Confession time.  It had been a long time since I had
been able to go more than two rounds in a night.  Time and
familiarity had taken their toll in my last relationship.  I
ran my fingers through Grey's hair and told her that, if I
came now, I would probably only be able to get it up once
more that night.
      Grey removed me from her mouth.  Still lightly
stroking with her hand, she said, "That's all right.  We'll
have tomorrow night."  And she kissed the seeping head of my
cock.  "And the night after."  Kiss.  "And the night after."
Kiss.  "And the night after that."  Then she did swallow me
completely.  For a second at least.  I felt her begin to
gag, and she quickly backed off.  She sucked harder and
stroked faster, with more pressure.  Harder and faster,
harder and faster.  Now only the head was in her mouth, and
her hand was a blur on my shaft.  I was in sweet agony as
all my senses focused on the cubic inch of my cock head.
      Then I exploded.  Literally.  All the sexual tension I
had felt the previous week, all the self-torment, left me as
the semen fired from the head of my cock into Grey's mouth.
Grey let out a muffled sound of surprise, and, bless her,
made a valiant effort to swallow everything I had.  But I
suppose I surprised her, for the first spurts ran out from
between her lips and dripped down to my balls.  In a second,
she was back in control and was able to swallow, and then to
suck the dregs out of my rapidly softening cock.  Lastly,
she moved down to lick up most of what she had missed.
      For a few minutes, she tried to get me back up, but
was only half successful.  So I got up from the bed and
motioned her forward.  When she was lying where I had been,
I moved between her own thighs.  Her sex was lightly covered
in dark hairs, straight, not curly.  Her labia were slightly
open and glistening with moisture, smooth and pinkish brown.
 Her clitoris was exposed and slightly larger than average,
based on my own experience.  Like everything else about her,
it was beautiful.
      I moved in closer to her pussy.  I blew gently on her
and heard her giggle lightly.  Sensitive, good.  The only
regret I had was that I was unable to smell her musk
clearly.  Her scent was mingled with that of my own dried
blood.  But, as Grey had said, there was tomorrow night.  I
moved my tongue down to her inner thigh, just where it
joined her pelvis.  I licked up and down the crease a few
times before I moved further inward.  As I moved closer to
her pussy, I lingered longer at each portion of her flesh.
      At last, I was at my goal, what I had been dreaming
about for the past nights.  I flipped my tongue over the
left labia, making it move in and out.  Then I traced it's
length downward, then up the right side, stopping just short
of the clitoris.  Then back down again, and up the other
side.  Several times I did this, always avoiding the
engorged bud.  Grey's hands were again in my hair trying to
pull me up.  I didn't resist.  Now, I was at her clit, and I
attacked it with my tongue.  I lashed out at it from all
sides.  I brought lips and teeth into play, sucking on the
organ and scraping it with my teeth.  Each new element
brought a new and louder gasp from Grey, who was otherwise
non-vocal.
      I stayed down there, licking and sucking on her pussy
the entire time it took my cock to recuperate without any
other stimulation.  Fortunately -- or unfortunately,
depending on your point of view -- this took about half an
hour, and two or maybe three orgasms.  My hands were busy on
Grey.  I had one to three fingers inside her pussy, stroking
in and out at differing speeds.  The other hand roamed over
her breasts and along her stomach and thighs.  I even
managed to work a finger between her clenched buttocks and
into her tight anus.
      When I was finally fully hard again, I raised myself
above Grey.  I kissed her lips and her tongue darted into my
mouth.  "Put it in," she whispered.
      "You do it," I answered.
      I felt her raise her legs until her knees were against
my ribs.  Her hand sought and found my cock and placed it at
the entrance to her opening.  I let myself sink into her in
one smooth movement.  At last.  We both moaned.  Slowly, I
withdrew, leaving only the head inside her.  Then I eased my
hips forward until our pelvises touched again.  Slowly, but
inexorably, I built up speed.  Her walls gripped me like I
had never felt another woman do.  God, she was tight.  And
wet.  And hot.  And wonderful.
      Grey wrapped her arms around my back and her legs
around my waist.  She pulled me tight against her, almost
like she was trying to pull me completely inside her.  Her
little nipples bored into my chest and her heels ground into
my lower back.  I actually had to fight her to withdraw
again, so I could enter her again.  I worked my arms under
her and pulled her to me.  I let my weight rest upon her,
and she seemed all right like that.  Now only my hips and
head were moving as I rhythmically fucked her and kissed her
entire face.  We didn't say a word as we lay there, as much
of us touching the other as possible, but our kisses said it
all.  Grey's hands and feet, her quivering stomach, told me
all I needed to know.
      It was happening.  Much sooner than I wanted.  I could
feel myself getting closer to climax, but I couldn't stop
myself.  I pushed my feet into the bed and thrust up into
Grey with my whole body.  Our mingled sweat let me move
smoothly along Grey's body as I felt lust take control of
me.  Faster and still faster I pounded into Grey.  Part of
my brain realized I might be hurting her, but the lizard
brain, the visceral instinctual part didn't give a damn, it
only wanted orgasmic release.  Grey let out a little cry,
not in pain but in passion.  The lizard was taking over her,
too.  So I stopped resisting myself, and thrust madly into
her.
      The room was filled with animal grunts and squeals. 
Absently I noticed that my nose was bleeding again, dotting
Grey's cheeks with my blood.  I licked it up, the bitter
taste driving me ever harder forward.  I couldn't keep this
up much longer; something had to give, eventually. 
Something did.  My cock had reached that point where it's
painful to touch and painful not to touch.  It was so
sensitive even Grey's wet pussy felt somewhat abrasive. 
Less than half a dozen strokes and I was gone.  The cum
poured out of my cock into Grey.  It was, quite literally,
the best orgasm of my entire life.
      I held still on top of Grey as all my energy drained
out of me into her.  I couldn't move; my arms and legs were
dead.  I rolled off of Grey, but still held onto her, so
that were on our sides facing each other.  My head was
between hers and the pillow and her hair was in my mouth and
nostrils, but I didn't care.  The French don't call it "the
little death" for nothing.  Grey and I panted across each
other's neck as the sweat cooled on our bodies.  My cock
shrank and fell out of her.  I knew I was finished for the
night.
      I don't know how long we lay there, holding each
other, not speaking, but eventually I rolled away from her. 
I was exhausted, but Grey got up on one shoulder and looked
down at me.  She rubbed a little blood off my upper lip with
her thumb.  I didn't feel any more leak out, so there was no
need to get up and clean my face up.  "Mark?"
      "Yeah?"
      "Did you mean what you said before?"
      "What's that?"
      "That you loved me?"
      I thought back.  Yeah, I had called her "the woman I
love," hadn't I?  Had I stepped in it again?  Would I
frighten her off if I told the truth?  Would I drive her
away if I lied?  Nothing for it but to hope.
      "Yes, I meant it."

END
