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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 -- Prenatal
by Mark Aster

= = =
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.
= = =

Pat was awakened, as usual, by the kicks and stretches of
one or both of the babies in her womb, and by an increasingly
urgent pressure in her bladder.  She opened her eyes and
lay still, the pale dawn-lit rectangle of the window floating
uninterpreted before her, the warm sleeping arm of the
twins' father a familiar pressure across her body.  Then
she got up, quietly and softly, and went to the bathroom.

Returning, she stood briefly by the bed, naked, looking
down at the man tangled in her sheets, and she grinned.
Then she went out of the bedroom, closing the door
behind her, and stood on the balcony, looking down
into the apartment's livingroom, absently running
her fingers over her belly, feeling the little lives
inside.  Her breasts were full and heavy, their wide
nipples swollen and tender.  She remembered his mouth
on them last night, his fingers on her stomach and
her lips, and she smiled again.

Going down the stairs her thighs rubbed gently together,
and she felt her labia moving against each other.  Her
vulva was heavy and damp, warm with sex and sleep, and
swollen in anticipation of childbirth.  In the kitchen,
she peeled a grape with her teeth.  Someone had left the
grapes out last night, and this one was warm and just a
little too soft.  She crushed it between her lips; the
juice ran thick and sweet down her throat, and a drop
rolled down her chin.

Quietly and efficiently, she straightened up the mess in
the kitchen and the livingroom.  She picked up a tube of
K-Y jelly from an end-table, tossed it up and caught it,
held it briefly to her mouth, the plastic cap between her
teeth.  Then she smiled and put it back on the table.

She leaned against the doorframe, looking into the dim
downstairs bedroom.  Her sister Julie lay on the big bed,
sound asleep, naked except for the sheer white stockings
climbing her legs in flat vines of lace.  Pat admired her
sister's long legs, her ass slim and smoooth like a young
boy's, the pale skin of her inner thighs curving gently up
to the light curly hair at her crotch.  The man sleeping
beside her was also naked, only his shins still under the
covers.  Her right hand rested on his hip, not quite touching
the base of his penis.  The room smelled faintly of love.

"See what he gave me?" Julie had asked the day before,
in the kitchen, sitting at the table as Pat peeled an
onion.  Julie had held the stockings up to the light,
put her hand into one, stretching it between her fingers,
running it across her cheek.

"A nice present."

"I think he loves me," Julie said softly, touching her lips
with her fingers through the white lace.  Pat cut the onion
in two.

"Is that bad?"

"No!" Julie considered, silent for awhile. "I might hurt him."

"Do you think he'd mind?"

Julie looked up.  "Mind?  If I hurt him?"  She sat with her
elbows on the table, her chin in her hands, one stocking
dangling down into her lap.  "Mind?"  She watched Pat
slice the onion; the knife made crisp wet sounds.  Julie
smiled suddenly, stood up, and walked to Pat.  She put
her arms around her sister's neck.  "You're so damn wise."
Her kiss was long and deep and hot and innocent.

Pat stood for a long time, looking at them coiled together
on the bed, imagining her sister's breath deep and rapid with
sex, her body rising and falling over him, drawing his cock
and his soul up into herself, the two of them rising into some
clear blue inner sky, their bodies convulsing sweetly in orgasm.
A sharp elbow poked at her from inside, and she stroked her
abdomen, running her fingers up and down the dark line that
led up from between her legs.

She sat on the livingroom couch, her legs slightly apart
to accommodate the bulge of her belly.  Upstairs in the
study a disk whirred: mail coming in, or someone surfing
through the Web site.  Someone snored somewhere, once, and
turned over.  Pat picked up the tube of jelly, undid the cap,
squeezed a drop onto her finger.  It sat there perfect and
clear, magnifying the whorl of her fingerprint.  She touched
it to her left nipple and rubbed it in, pressing the tender
flesh.  Her other hand tweaked her right nipple, and she felt
herself opening.  She spread her legs wider and sat with her
eyes closed, not moving.

She's noticed lots of changes in herself as the weeks
pass.  Her labia seem thicker, rougher, her juices are
richer and slower to flow.  The opening of her vagina
is less sensitive, her clitoris more.  Her hormones
wash over her with emotions she doesn't understand,
and she is depressed or horny or manic by turns.  Last
night he'd teased her with it.  "Which Pat are we tonight?"

She'd opened the big brown robe and pressed herself against
him.  "Who's asking?"  And before he could answer she
slid her tongue between his lips, undid his pants,
devoured his cock, and brought him off between her breasts,
his semen coating her chest and belly.  "That was nice,"
he'd said, still gasping, his hands moving over her hips
and her ass.  And later she'd taken him inside her,
his penis coated with K-Y jelly, sliding in between the
thick petals of her vulva, penetrating her and she came
two, three times before he did, and the warm thrusting
and spurting of his cock made her cry.  Last night she'd
been horny and weepy; this morning she was happy and sane.
Her fingers slipped between her legs again, and she began
to stroke herself.

She touched herself with three fingers, sitting on the
couch with her legs spread, her head back, a cushion
behind her to support her back.  Her forefinger and
ring finger slid along the warm crevices at the tops
of her thighs, and her middle finger stroked the slit
between her labia, moving over the curly dark hairs and
slowly slowly working its way between them.  Buried in
the folds of warm flesh, her clitoris began to throb
and swell, and her mouth opened softly.  She began to
rock her hips against her hand.

She imagined him on the balcony, watching her naked on the
couch, his cock poking half-erect through the railing.  He
took it in his hand, squeezing and stroking himself erect,
pushing it toward her, and she groaned softly, taking the
warm head between her lips, her tongue sliding along the
smooth slit in the tip.  Her fingers touched and opened her
vagina, teasing like a lover's tongue, rubbing the folded hood
of her clit, not quite going in.  ("Nothing with fingernails
in there now, love," the midwife had said, "just nice blunt
dongs until the babies are out.")

She sank lower on the couch as her body began to shudder.
Her fingers worked faster and slower at her cunt, and
her other hand spread more jelly over her nipples, the
tender skin of her breasts.  She pressed her palm hard
against her mons as her fingertips teased and fluttered
over her clit, now swollen and extended.  Her mouth
opened wide and she came, came in a long gradual run of
orgasms that arched her back and pulled her ass up off
of the couch.  In the bedroom, Julie came half-awake at
the sound of Pat's coming, and smiled, curling her
hand around the warm soft male penis and slowly stroking
it erect.

Pat relaxed with a deep happy sigh, slumped and wet on
the couch, a warm flush creeping up her stomach from her
hips, and little fists pushing at her insides.  She opened
her eyes, and found herself looking up into his face.  He
grinned, and blew a kiss to her from the balcony, and she
smiled lazily back, and beckoned him down.


My Friends the Allens -- Prenatal
by Mark Aster
http://users.aol.com/myfrthal/
The End

