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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


Field of Dreams (MF, oral, voy)
by markth@cris.com (markth)

***

My husband and I are members of a living history group that's centered on
the middle ages. Each year we attend several camping events sponsored by
this group. During these events you'll find a few hundred people spending
the weekend dressed up in tunics and doublets, fighting with rattan
weapons, practicing archery, working on craft projects or just kicking back
and relaxing without the phone ringing. You'll also find several parties
running late into the evening and extreme quantities of homemade beer and
wine in many campsites.

I've also learned from experience that the two of us tend to get a little
more sexually aroused during these events. I'm not sure if it's the people,
outfits, atmosphere, pretending to be someone other than yourself, or
perhaps some combination of the above. I just know that at a weekend camp
out we'll be doing more than just snuggling up in that sleeping bag.

Part of the fun of these groups is coming up with your alter ego, or
persona, to use during these events. While one should not use famous names
like Arthur Pendragon, you can use Arthur. Being hopeless romantics and we
took the names Tristan for my husband and Isolt for myself.

This particular event took place in the mountains, in a remote area that
was moderately wooded. One dirt road leading in to the place was the limit
of the traffic. At night the only lights around came >from lanterns, the
main fire pit, and the stars above. The only open area was the fighting
field, a clearing around a hundred yards or so across at its widest point.
It's in the fighting field that fighters, fencers, and archers pit their
skills against each other during tournaments.

On our first night there we had visited some other camp sites and spent
some time at the party going on at the fire pit. Generally we spent the
evening going around mingling with friends old and new, and sharing our
drink. On our way back to our own camp we noticed several shooting stars.
The only problem was we couldn't see them very well from our camp site due
to all the trees. Not wanting to pass this up I asked Tristan, "How about
we grab a blanket, a bottle, and head off for the fighting field to watch
the stars."

"You know you need but ask my love, and it shall be so." Tristan replied
with an Irish accent induced by the drink he'd consumed. I always have to
chuckle at the way his weekend Irish brogue gets stronger with the more he
drinks.

Grabbing a spare blanket from the tent, and a bottle we made off into the
darkness. Once we'd arrived at the field we spread out the blanket and lay
on our backs watching the show above us.

It comes as little surprise that after spending the day watching strapping
young men working up a sweat proving themselves on the field of battle, a
little bit of drinking around a fire, and being snuggled up with Tristan I
found myself more than just a little horny. Deciding that this is a
wonderfully romantic spot for some passionate lovemaking I roll over facing
Tristan, only to find he's dozed off. My heated desire won't allow itself
to be cooled that easily however.

I never realized before then just how 'convenient' this type of clothing
was. Most middle ages garb is nice and loose fitting, using drawstrings or
ties to hold everything together instead of buttons and zippers. I easily
pulled the front of his tunic up past his waist, untied his drawstring
breaches and pulled them down just enough to expose his crotch. Throughout
all of this Tristan never twitched a muscle, at least not until I go down
on him. I cautiously took his still flacid cock into my mouth, running my
tongue over its tip.

This is the first time that I could recall ever sucking his cock without it
being fully erect. I ran my tongue over the head as I gently suck him. I
loved the way it felt, to start off with his soft cock and then feel it
pulse and grow to its full size in my mouth. The loose skin tightening up
as his shaft thickens with his excitement. All the while knowing that it
was me making it happen.

Tristan's hands caressing my body told me that he had woken. As I continued
using my tongue and mouth on his now fully erect cock, Tristan helped me
slide my peasant blouse off letting my breasts swing free. The summer wind
blowing against my nipples, followed by Tristan's gentle hands hardened
them with desire. While he continued playing with my nipples with one hand,
Tristan's other hand found its way under my skirt. First he started rubbing
my mound through my panties. His hand finding the wetness they had soaked
from my passion. Then when he knew I was wanting more, he pulled down my
underpants. Skillfully he began probing me with his fingers. He slowly
inserted his fingers into my pussy, then began sliding them in and out. My
arousal building with the tempo his knowing fingers created. Covering his
fingers in the wetness. Occasionally his fingers would move to my clit.
There he would rub my own hardening muscle for a few moments before
returning his fingers inside me.

I couldn't wait any longer. I needed to have him inside me. I straddled him
on my knees, but backwards. I had my back toward his torso and was facing
his feet. Using one hand to guide his member, and the other to spread the
passion swollen lips of my pussy apart as far as I could I lowered myself
onto him, sliding his cock into my pussy. Between my saliva on his cock and
my own wetness his cock easily slid its full length into my pussy on one
stroke. I started slowly. Raising and lowering myself on my knees. Savoring
the sensations caused by his cock sliding within me. Using my hands free to
massage my breasts. Brushing my fingers across my erect nipples.

It was at this point that I looked up and realized we were only about forty
or fifty yards from the party by the fire pit. Close enough that I could
make out the familiar faces of people we knew. While I knew that since the
partygoers' eyes were adjusted to the bright fire next to them, they would
most likely never see me out here in the pitch dark. It did however give an
added tingle, that slight sense of erotic danger. The thoughts of one of
the men leaving the fire, perhaps to see the stars as we had, and then
seeing my naked torso in the field, rising and falling in the grip of
passion. Would this man think he had too much drink that night and continue
on. Perhaps he would watch, touching himself in his own desire as he
watched our lovemaking. That exhibitionist thrill made me even more
excited. In my arousal I increased our sexual tempo, my intensity of my
movements rising along with my increasing desire.

It's not much longer until Tristan stiffened, then spasms in his orgasm,
adding his seed to my already soaked pussy. The air heavy with the scent of
our sex, as our combined juices flowed out of me along his cock and down
over his balls. I moved one hand >from my breasts and start fingering my
clit while still driving my pussy up and down on his still hard cock. My
yearning peaks, bringing on one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had.
Clenching my vaginal muscles I hold onto Tristan's cock, keeping it inside
me as my orgasm washes over me.

After untangling ourselves we lay in each other's arms for a while
afterward, touching and kissing, until our passion builds once again.
Returning to our campsite, we make love once again before finally falling
asleep in my lovers' arms.

markth@cris.com

http://www.cris.com/~markth