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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

Barely Breathing (MF, rom)
by Kathleen Farrell (katefarrell@hotmail.com)

***

"Undress," he whispered.
 
The darkness was becoming less intrusive as my eyes adjusted. He sat by 
the window, the light from an autumn moon silhouetting him against the 
night. He wasn't as tall as I'd imagined, perhaps only 4 or 5 inches 
more than myself.I could see his long hair falling about his shoulders 
and I nervously pushed my own back from my face. I wanted to make eye 
contact, some sort of reassuring connection that would calm my nerves, 
but it was much too dim. He remained silent and I realized he was 
waiting for me to carry out his command. He wouldn't ask again. 

Slowly at first, methodicaly, I undid each button, slipped the blouse 
from my shoulders and began to fold it. How foolish is that, I thought, 
and let it fall to the floor instead. My jeans soon followed, and I 
remained in my panties and bra,. My breasts overflowed the white cups 
and looked voluptious, the nipples hard now and poking thru the fabric. 
I ran my fingertips along the inside band of the panties and waited for 
him.

God, why did he just stand there? Why didn't he touch me? He knew I 
needed that. It's why we were both here. He needed to put his hands on 
my flesh as much as I craved it myself. These were no longer choices, 
they were compulsions.

Moments passed and he watched me sliding my palms gently along my 
stomache and abdomen, letting myself enjoy the ache of being so very 
close to him and not even touching. I could hear him crossing the room 
now and my skin tingled in anticipation, the fabric between my legs 
absorbing the moisture but not the scent of my arousal. I inhaled deeply.