                      ____________________________
                     |                            |
                   /)|     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

A Memory of Three (MFF, threesome)
By Anonymous Author (c) 1991


***


  It's an old, old fantasy: two women, one man, making love in
joyful abandon. I can't remember how long ago the potent picture
entered my mind: one woman straddling my cock, a second woman
straddling my mouth, and all three of us consumed by pleasure.

  But I'll never forget the stormy summer evening when that
lingering fantasy at last became a delightful reality -- or the
love with which Lois and Monica gave me, and themselves, that
memory.

  Lois has an old-fashioned name, but her outlook is
thoroughly modern. Her warm, bright spirit draws people of like
temperament to her, and she has built a large circle of dear
friends, all fiercely protective and loyal. Though no advocate of
"free love," she loves freely, and gives herself permission to
embrace her friends with more than her heart. Over the years
many, including several of the women, have shared her bed and
attentions.

  And yet no one who knows her would for a moment think her
promiscuous or predatory, for she blends discretion and honesty
so well that ruffled feathers are rare. It's clear that these
encounters are a bonding between friends, a physical affirmation
of the trust and affection which already exist. When I met Lois
and was invited into that circle, I had to throw out some of my
own old-fashioned notions.

  But I've been well rewarded for my willingness to change. A
year after we met, Lois and I moved in together. That was two
years ago, and I've never been happier or more sexually
contented. What's more, Lois's friends, who at first scrutinized
me suspiciously, the way a father does his daughter's date, have
begun to accept me into their embrace.


  #

  Which brings me to Monica.

  When I first met her, at an outdoor May wedding, she
reminded me of a girl I had admired in high school: jet-black
hair, olive skin, and a classical Italian voluptuousness. Her
large breasts filled her white button blouse in a most
provocative way, and her rounded hips and full bottom made the
sight of her walking away a powerful temptation.

  Lois noted my interest with a smile. "I'll just say one
thing about Monica," she told me. "Be straight with her. Don't
play games."

  I took that advice to heart. When the chance for a private
moment arose late in the day, I told Monica plainly how
delightfully sexy I found her. Her eyes brightened, and she
allowed as how she had always liked tall men, and thought I had
fascinating eyes.

  Before that conversation was done, we had shared a first
tentative but electrifying kiss, and I had learned a great deal
about her history with Lois. They had been close years ago,
before Monica moved a thousand miles east. After five years in
what Monica called "urban exile," she had just returned to her
home town, two highway hours away from where Lois and I live.

  She had no car, so we probably wouldn't see her often, she
said. But she hoped to see us soon, under better circumstances
for catching up. And then she casually confided that she had
always been attracted to Lois, though she had never quite known
how to tell her.

  "Maybe I'll just have to seduce you both someday," she said,
her tone light, but her smile saucy.

  Then her ride called her away, and in a few minutes Monica
was gone. So it was left to me to report back to Lois that
Monica was interested -- in both of us. I watched as Lois's
expression metamorphosed, in several stages, from startled to
intrigued.

  "In that case," Lois said slowly, "there's something else I
should tell you about Monica. I think she has the most beautiful
tits--"


 #

  We didn't talk about it, but from that point onward, a
threesome involving Monica, Lois, and me was somehow in the air.
No one had made any promises, but all the pieces were there -- if
only they came together in the right time and place.

  The right time turned out to be only a month away, though at
first it seemed like an absolutely wrong place. The occasion was
our group's annual weekend swim-and-sing camp out in a nearby
state park. Even though Lois and I knew Monica was coming, we
also knew that sunscreened skin, mosquito-sprayed clothing,
crowded tents, and narrow air mattresses -- plus no privacy to
speak of -- didn't add up to anyone's idea of ideal conditions.

  But Mother Nature intervened. It was brutally hot and humid
all afternoon, while we were at the lake. By dinner time, back at
our campsite, the sky was a wall of dark clouds. By dusk there
was no mistaking the ominous rumbles, and when the wind changed,
we knew we wouldn't escape the downpour. A few hardy souls vowed
to stick it out, but the rest of us quickly struck our tents and
began to gather our gear.

  Monica, though, was in a temporary quandary. She wasn't
eager to stay, but she'd been dropped off at the park by her
housemates, who had continued on into the city and wouldn't be
back until Sunday. When Monica looked at us hopefully, Lois and I
looked at each other and saw the answer we wanted in each other's
eyes.

  "Why don't you come home with us?" I said. Monica's hopeful
smile widened into a happy one.

  On the drive home, the sexual tension filled our Accord
like a glowing cloud. We talked about everything but sex, yet I
could hardly think of anything else. It was hard to keep my eyes
on the dark, rain-slick highway. The fingers of lightning
fracturing the sky outside reflected the electric atmosphere
inside the car.

  When we reached our townhouse, Lois opened a bottle of white
wine, and I loaded the CD with jazz and Latin rock. We'd been
building up erotic energy for hours, just as the thunderstorm
raging outside had built through that sultry afternoon. But
still, there was no hurry. I understood -- there was no need for
haste. We had a night and a day together ahead of us.

  Finally, with sheets of rain hammering the living room
windows, Lois set aside her empty glass, reached out to squeeze
Monica's hand, and bent to kiss me. "Let's go upstairs," she
said.

  We undressed by the warm light of one small lamp, and met in
the middle of the queen-sized bed. Monica kissed me, then Lois,
long deep kisses that seemed to drive the temperature in the room
higher. The two women were a study in contrasts: Lois taller,
catlike, her skin pale even after the day's sun, her hair a
honey- blonde cascade to mid-back -- Monica darker, her eyes jet
like her hair, her lips as soft and inviting as her hourglass
figure. Their scents mingled in my nostrils in a delightful
confusion.

  Lois reached out and gently caressed the dramatic curves of
Monica's breasts, which were even fuller and more luscious than
her clothing had betrayed. "See?" Lois murmured to me, as though
reading my thoughts. "Didn't I tell you?" Her fingertips grazed
Monica's nipples, making the other woman shiver and close her
eyes. My cock, already jutting upward, stiffened at the sight.

  I tattooed a line of kisses along Lois's shoulder, then
cupped and cradled Monica's brown-tipped globes in my hands,
enjoying their weight and warmth. Lois bent forward and
experimentally teased a nipple with her tongue. When I did the
same, Monica moaned and laid back on the bed, cradling her
breasts in her own hands and offering them up to our mouths.

  We were quick to accept the invitation. Monica's nipples
rose rewardingly under the eager attention we gave them, lips and
tongue and nipping teeth. She squirmed on the black bedspread and
made quiet mewling sounds of pleasure. At one point Lois and I
pillowed our heads on Monica's breasts as we kissed, sloppy
hungry kisses that seemed to arouse Monica almost as much as
they did us.

  Hands were everywhere, the unexpected touch part of the
strange wonderfulness of three together -- exploring the familiar
and the unfamiliar in turn and at once. Monica's fingers in my
hair, Lois lightly stroking my now-throbbing hardness, my own
hands firmly squeezing Lois's ass cheeks, the way I knew she
liked, or tracing lines across Monica's belly and inner thighs,
looking to discover what she liked.

  Before long, I slid down along Monica's body, kissing my way
to the apex of her thighs, and parted her dark fur with my
tongue. Her taste was complex, her fragrance intoxicating, and I
happily buried my face there and began to give her the very best
of my oral talents. Her clit swelled gratifyingly under my tongue
just as her nipple had, and soon the whole bed was moving with
Monica's ecstatic contortions. But, not long after, her moaning,
from which I'd been taking my cue, seemed to stop.

  When I glanced up, I saw why. Lois had taken inspiration
from what I was doing to Monica, and moved around to where she
could lower her own wet pussy onto Monica's mouth. Lois's eyes
were closed, her lips parted, her fingertips pinching her own
nipples as she rode Monica's tongue in a haze of delicious
sensation.

  Monica was pinned to the bed at one end by Lois's silky lips
and at the other by my mouth. In between, she arched her back and
clawed at her own breasts, squeezing them harder than I would
have thought she'd enjoy. But Monica was at that point of arousal
where pain and pleasure merge, and I began to tongue her faster,
to suck gently on her swollen clit. Suddenly she let out a
gasping, moaning cry that even Lois's thighs could not muffle,
and Monica's body jerked in powerful spasm.

  Monica was near-faint in afterglow, and Lois moved from her
to me, nudging me onto my back and lowering herself onto my
cock. Her inflamed pussy was like a hot velvet glove sliding
down over my hardness, but she was so wet that there was barely
any friction. She leaned forward to let me suck her nipples, and
rocked up and down on my shaft with a voracious, ferocious energy
that brought me right to the edge of orgasm.

  But, reaching down to where we were joined, Lois seized my
cock at the root and clamped her fingers around it in an iron
grip, staving off my explosion while she rode me to her own. Her
almost agonized cries of joy and a warm, spreading wetness
between us declared the intensity of her release.

  By this time, Monica had sat up, and was biting her lower
lip and watching us intently. "Is there any of that left for
me?" she asked hopefully when Lois, emerging from her flushed
haze, finally noticed her.

  Lois shimmied playfully atop her impaler. "Feels like it to
me," she said, leaning forward to kiss me. "What do you think,
sweetheart?"

  "By all means -- it's only polite," I answered with a smile.

  So Lois gave way, moving to the side and helping Monica
kneel astride my hips, even guiding my cock inside her friend's
hungry opening. The differences in texture, in temperature, in
enveloping sensation, between the two women was remarkable. But
Monica was no less exciting than Lois had been, especially when
she began to enthusiastically bounce up and down, her muscles
milking my cock and driving all coherent thought from my mind.

  I scarcely noticed Lois moving until she was at my head and
above me. But when I looked up and saw her glistening crimson
gash descending toward my mouth, a shiver of delight ran through
me. When her lips were sealed against mine, my tongue tasting her
exotic dew, I was transported to heaven.

  It was the picture out of my fantasy, only better --
because I had always seen it from the outside, and now I was in
the middle of it. I licked Lois eagerly, thrust my cock deep into
Monica, and asked for nothing else but for it to go on forever.
It couldn't, of course, for there's no way to store that kind of
sexual electricity, to endure such exquisite stimulation, for
long.

  All too soon -- and at the same time, none too soon -- I was
lost in a storm of my own, flooding jets of come into Monica and
sending a lightning charge of pure animal pleasure from my
arching body into both my partners. I think that one, maybe
both, of the women came for a second time soon after, either from
what I had given them or from what they had been doing to each
other.

  But it wasn't important enough to ask about as we collapsed
into a happy, fragrant huddle of warm, tired bodies. All that
mattered was how close we felt in that moment, and how lovely --
and loving -- it had been.


 #

  There were three more episodes of erotic exploration -- in
different rooms, moods, and combinations -- before Monica was
picked up by her housemates late the next day. But the time I
remember most fondly was early Sunday morning, when I awoke
first, savoring both the warm contact with the sleeping women on
either side of me and the memory of what had happened in that
bed the night before.

  Monica was the next to awake, and turned to snuggle closer
to me. The snuggling gave way to soft sleepy kissing, and then to
wide-awake caresses and short-breathed sighs. Both of us were
eager to go farther, but reluctant to exclude Lois, a late
sleeper by nature, and loathe to give her a rude and
uncomfortable wake-up surprise. But Lois stirred enough as
Monica and I were purring at idle to become aware of what was
going on.

  "Is it all right if I borrow him for just a little while?"
Monica asked, reaching across me to brush a lock of hair back
from Lois's cheek.

  "Sure," Lois said with a heavy-lidded smile. She kissed me
on the shoulder and murmured, "Go ahead, it's okay," as she
burrowed back into her pillows. It was more than permission --
it was confirmation that the warm bond among the three of us was
still there, that there were no regrets or second thoughts.

  This time, the love-making was simple and straightforward.
"Please fuck me," Monica whispered, and shifted in the bed so
that she could open her legs and invite me atop and inside.
Leaning on my hands, I thrust my morning-hard cock into her with
long, slow strokes, deep to the hilt and then pulling out until
only the tip of the head joined us. After a time, I dropped to my
elbows so that I could once more enjoy her wonderful breasts and
large, suckable nipples. Monica's arms went around my waist to
hold me close and deep, and she seemed to welcome my weight on
her.

  Then, as our movements grew gradually more energetic, and we
both began to draw ragged, gasping breaths to fuel our pounding
hearts and blood, Lois edged closer, still sleepy, and curled
against us, holding my hand, resting her head on Monica's arm.
She had no energy for any more, but joined us as three, and
basked in the sensual halo surrounding us, smiling with an inner
satisfaction as first Monica, then I cried out our joy and our
release.

  Strange as it may sound, I felt, somehow, as if I'd been
making love to both of them again. And I knew, resting back on my
pillow, that these were two special women with whom I was sharing
an extraordinary weekend and feeling, and I counted myself a
lucky, lucky man.

THE END
