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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 -- First
by Mark Aster
http://users.aol.com/myfrthal/

= = =
Note: this story contains graphic accounts of sexual
relations between consenting adults.  If you are a minor,
a U.S. Senator, or anyone else whose brain implodes
when exposed to such things, stop reading now, and go
take a cold shower.
= = =

I was seventeen, in my last year of high school.  She was
old, thirty, maybe even thirty-five, and divorced.  We were
both working the local State Senator's re-election campaign.
At nine o'clock that night, I was in her apartment with her,
waiting for Ray Temple, the Senator's campaign chairman.  He
was supposed to give me a box of briefings to take back to
the office, and take her out to a fundraiser.  He was late.

The apartment smelled of her cigarettes and her perfume.
She was wearing a black dress that was short and tight at
the thighs and loose and open at the neck.  Her black hair
was piled carefully on her head, her lips very red with
lipstick.  She was finishing a drink when I arrived.  When
Ray didn't show up on time, she started another.  She was on
her third when the phone rang.  Her hand shook a little as
she answered it.

"Yeah?  Yeah?  Oh, shit!  Yeah, sure, of course.  No, it's OK.
Look, whatever!  OK.  Yeah, I know.  OK, tomorrow!"  She hung
up the phone and sighed.  "Didi fell off her damn bicycle and
broke her leg."

"The Senator's daughter?"

"Yeah.  So now he's doing the Compassionate Daddy thing.  All
bets off."

"What about the briefings?"

She looked at me and her mouth smiled.  Her eyes were tired.
"The Senator's going to win the damn election anyway, kid.
Fucking briefings'll wait.  I'm out a good dinner, and all
dolled up for nothing.  You got a cigarette?  I'm trying to
quit."

I didn't say anything.  She sat down on the couch next to me
and slipped off her shoes.  In the short dress and sheer black
stockings, her legs looked very good.  The apartment was warm;
I thought her body must be warm.  I could hear her breathing.
"Guess I oughta go, then," I said, sitting there looking at
her legs.  She finished her drink and put down the glass.

"Got anything to do?" she asked.  I pictured her with a
cigarette in her hand, lipstick on the white paper, the
smoke swirling out of her open mouth.

"Nah.  No point going to the office without the stuff.  You
really think the election's a sure thing?"  The fabric of her
dress was bunched up slightly at her waist, and it hung away
from her chest.  I could see the tops of her breasts, a hint
of cleavage, lightly freckled skin moving as she breathed.
It was a wrap-around dress, buttoned in front, by her hip.

She leaned back on the couch, relaxed and sinuous.  Her eyes
were very black.  "Fuck the election," she said casually.  She
put one hand on my thigh.  My cock, already hardening in my
pants, pulsed.  "You a virgin, kid?"

I reached out and touched her neck, pressed my palm into the
warm flesh at the top of her chest.  I'd squeezed a few firm
young breasts, licked the bare pink nipples; one special
girlfriend had let me come in her mouth twice before we broke
up.  But no more than that.  I imagined tearing the black dress
off of her and burying myself in her body.

She closed her eyes when my hand touched her, and she shivered
just slightly under my palm.  Then she put her fingers behind
my head and drew my face to hers.  As we kissed, my other hand
cupped one breast through the fabric, and squeezed.  After a
long moment her soft mouth opened, and her tongue slid along my
teeth.  Her fingers twined in my hair.  My hands and arms felt
cold, and I could hear my heart beating.

She opened her eyes and reached down to her hip, unbuttoning
the dress and pulling it open.  Now my hands held her breasts
through lacy black bra-cups, and I could feel her nipples big
and stiff in my palms.  I squeezed again and she closed her eyes
and sighed.  She whispered something under her breath and pulled
my head to her again, kissing me fiercely with her mouth wide
open.  She tasted like bourbon.

Her fingers deftly undid my pants and freed my cock.  "God,"
she breathed, wrapping one hand around the throbbing flesh and
squeezing as I gasped, "God, such a hard young cock."  She
squeezed again, and I was afraid I was going to come, and then
her lips slid around the head and sucked lightly, but just for
a second, and I didn't come.  She stood up.

As I lay panting motionless on the couch, she slipped out of
the dress and stood there in black pantyhose and the lacy bra.
The skin of her stomach was very pale.  She slid her fingers
under the waistband and rolled down her panties and pantyhose.
She kicked the tangled fabric away and came back to the couch,
her ass bare on the cushions.  I found myself staring at the
triangle of thick black hair at her crotch.  She twined her
arms around me and kissed me again, long and lazily.  My
cock swelled and twitched against her hip.  I pressed my
tongue against hers, and explored her mouth.  She moaned
softly and her fingers stroked my cock, keeping me achingly
erect and on the edge of orgasm.  She kissed my neck hard
and hungrily, almost biting, and she undid my shirt and licked
my nipples.  Her mouth was smooth and hot, the lace of her bra
was stiff and scratchy against my stomach.  I undid the clasp.

Naked, she stretched out backward on the couch, her hands on
my shoulders and her thighs spread wide.  Her hair was coming
undone, wisps falling loose around her face and her neck.  I
swallowed hard as she drew me down over her and took my cock
in her hand.  "You want me to talk dirty, kid?" she whispered
as she guided me inside her, "You want me to beg you to fuck
me?  To fuck my cunt with your big hard prick?  Oh, SHIT!"
and she bucked against me, or I thrust into her, once, twice,
three times, and her cunt was open and wet and slippery, and
it pulled at me and I fell onto her and groaned and my left leg
cramped up and she had all her fingers in my hair, moaning, and
I came in four long hot bursts of cum torn out of me one after
another in long incredible spasms.  My mouth closed on her
shoulder; her skin was salty.

I lurched up off of her and sat there shaking.  She looked at
me with those deep black eyes and got up, walked naked into
the bedroom.  I heard water running.  I followed her, my cock
soft and dripping, kicking my pants and underpants away, my
hands and mouth still feeling her skin.  She came out of the
bathroom as I walked into the bedroom.  Her body was still
naked, hot, fragrant.  She looked at me and her mouth twisted.
She looked away.

"Some pathetic slut, heh?  Fucking little virgin campaign
workers.  Goddamn whore..."   One long step and I was next
to her.  I took her head by the hair and turned her eyes
to me.

"No," I said softly, and I kissed her mouth hard and slipped
my tongue into her.  She groaned and her thighs opened despite
herself, and she ground her pelvis against me.  I moved my
hands down her back and cupped her buttocks, pulling her
against me.  Then I lowered her onto the bed.

Her nipples were dark red and erect, the aureolae rough and
firm.  As I squeezed and licked her, she moaned, and her body
shuddered under me.  "God," she breathed, "God what are you
doing?"  I kissed a line down between her breasts and down
her stomach; her thighs spread under my hands and my mouth.

I'd never eaten pussy before, and I didn't know what I was
doing, but it didn't seem to matter.  I opened her with my
fingers, slid my tongue between her labia, licked at her hot
bucking cunt with my eyes closed tight, the smell of her in
my nostrils.  She gasped and grunted.  She was wet and slick,
she tasted dark, rich, meaty.  She felt as good to my tongue
and my fingers as she had to my cock.  She came fast and hard
as I sucked her clit and moved two fingers in and out of her.
I stretched out on her body, squeezed her breasts again, kissed
her mouth, and she screamed.

"Fuck, you're a sweet little bastard," she moaned into my ear.

"It was the least I could do."  My cock had hardened again as
I ate her, and now it was poking at her entrance, sliding
between her labia.  "Can I come in you again?  I'd really like
to."  My body wasn't waiting for permission; the head of my
penis slipped into her, engulfed in her heat, and I penetrated
her as she whispered in my ear.  "Yes, please, yes oh GOD!"
She thrust her tongue into my mouth as I began to stroke.
I lasted much longer this time, and we came almost together.
Then we pulled the sheet up over us and lay there for a long
time.

We fucked, or we made love, about a dozen times after that,
when she was in town and I could get away.  She let me come in
her mouth.  She lay on top of me and rode up and down as I
licked and sucked her tits, and she came over and over and
screamed obscenities at me until I shot into her.  Then she
got a job out of town, and I graduated from high school.  Two
months later I got an invitation to her wedding.

I felt like I ought to feel betrayed or bitter, but I didn't.
I lay in bed that night, thinking about her married, about Ray
Temple's cock pushing into her, about his mouth on her tits.
When I came, some of it got all the way up to my chin.


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

