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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   	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


Forest, The (MF, fantasy)
by Molly Finnegan

***

Paul couldn't remember when his dissatisfaction first became 
real to him. He had all the money he needed or wanted, he 
had a socially-acceptable wife, two perfectly scrubbed 
children, opportunities, travel.  

Yet angst clung to him like fog, until that day he decided 
to go jogging in the  woods behind his vast country estate.  
That late afternoon he became so mesmerized by the dark, 
cool beauty and fresh aroma of the tall trees, he slowed his 
pace to a walk.  By the time he realized he was lost, the 
sun was going down swiftly and a twinge of anxiety chilled 
him.

He saw it just on the horizon.  Was it a house?  He ran 
forward until he came upon a tiny tree-lined path that led 
to a quaint little cottage. He thought it deserted, until he 
noticed a dim yellow glow toward the back.

Paul thought he was dreaming.  The little house with its 
heavy moss on the rounded, curved roof ; the winding earth 
path; the inviting, natural all-wood facade seemed like an 
illustration from his childhood nanny's storybook.  

Enchanted, he jogged quickly up the narrow walk.  "I hope 
this isn't where the Wicked Witch lives,"  he smiled to 
himself, remembering his little-boy terror when Nanny read 
that part.  

Paul tapped the ancient knocker three times and waited, 
bouncing on his toes for warmth.  There was no answer.  He 
knocked again and saw the yellow light move toward the front 
door.  He closed his eyes and said a child's prayer as the 
door squeaked open.

Before him stood a barefoot woman in a long flannel ruffled 
nightgown. Her hair was swept atop her head.  She thrust the 
candle she was holding up and out to better look at her 
guest, casting on him an aura of eerie yellow light.

"Paul!" she said.  "Please come in!"

Paul could not remember having seen this woman before. 
Stunned, he walked through the portal into a large room with 
deep cloth chairs, old-fashioned quilts and a log fire 
dancing cheerfully under an ironstone black kettle.
    
"That's where she makes stew out of little children."  He 
didn't think he'd spoken aloud until he saw her look of 
alarm.

"Wha....?"                

     
"Oh I'm so sorry," he said. "I...I've been in the 
woods...too long."

She led him to a large over-stuffed chair close to the fire 
where he sat, sinking deep into the comfort of enfolding, 
downy cushions.

"I'll get you something to drink," she said.  "Some warm 
brandy."  

"But how do you......?"  His voice failed as the woman, in 
one graceful gesture, turned and took the pins from her 
hair, loosening a thick, rich brown fountain, shiny even in 
the dim light.  

She returned shortly with warm brandy in two earthenware 
cups. For the first time he noticed that her cotton gown 
hugged a luscious body.  The floor-length garment had tiny 
pearl buttons all the way down the front. There must have 
been hundreds of those buttons!

And she was unbuttoning the fourth.

She moved gracefully to the arm of his chair and turned to 
him.  "Are you warming up now?"
 
"Yes.... thank you."

"I'm a little warm myself," she said and unbuttoned three 
more buttons, revealing cleavage that promised firm, round 
breasts.  She placed both hands on the back of his neck and 
combed his hair up from his hairline, sending a shiver of 
cool desire through him. 

"Forgive me...," he stumbled. "You seem to know me, but 
I....can't...."
      
"Call me Chloe," she said and rubbed her cheek in round 
circles against his. 

"Well...where..uh...?"  

Chloe gracefully slipped onto Paul's lap and snuggled, 
straddling him.  They were a perfect fit.  Speechless, he 
started at the sight of her stunning face, her bottomless 
brown eyes.  

Chloe smiled as she unbuttoned all the pearl buttons to her 
waist and let the soft fabric fall to her elbows.  Her 
breasts were round, firm and soft;  the erect nipples 
inviting.  In a perfectly natural gesture his arms encircled 
her tiny waist as his tongue traced an irregular path from 
her throat to the smooth, flat skin between her breasts.  
His brandy-sweet lips found her right nipple. 

He tried to use his free hand to remove the rest of Chloe's 
gown, but found it snuggling her waist.  He began working at 
the tiny pearls, his big hands awkward and fumbling.  

Something deep in his soul wondered what he was doing here 
and when the apparition would disappear.  "Where did 
you......?"  The words "come from" were muffled in her deep, 
warm cleavage.  

Chloe moaned softly and threw her head back to expose an 
elegant neck.  Trying to wriggle out of the rest of her 
gown, she rotated her hips, grinding deeper onto his lap, 
her cotton-covered pelvis circling, increasing his erection. 

"I've been...waiting for you..."   Her voice trailed to 
nothing as she concentrated on the warmth of his tongue 
circling her nipples, chilly and tingling.  
"I..ah....ooooooo, Oh!"  


She leaned, kissed his hair and lifted his chin.  His kiss 
was light and Chloe licked her lips, savoring the sweet 
brandy on his mouth.  She took a drink herself, but before 
she could swallow, Paul tilted her gently backward.  His 
lips parted hers; his tongue probed her mouth and throat.  
They exchanged the brandy, playing, squirming, their desire 
throbbing.  Paul could hear his longing pound in his ears 
and chest.  He caressed Chloe's bird-fragile back where his 
fingers danced on her shoulders, her spine, her waist.  He 
pulled her closer to him - closer still until her breasts 
pressed firmly to his chest.

He shut his eyes to savor the joy.  "Ohhhh," he said. "Oh, 
how....?"

     
"Shhhhhhh," she said and placed her finger over his mouth 
and kissed him.  "Shhhhhhhh."   She rocked her body gently 
as though comforting a child

Her finger moved from his lips to the elastic of his jogging 
pants.  Gently she circled the flesh just inside the 
elastic, touching but deliberately ignoring the tip of his 
hard shaft just beneath.  She raised her hips slightly and 
lifted the hem of her skirt, exposing, for a too-brief 
moment her inevitable sex.   She eased herself back down on 
his lap and began slowly grinding her wet nakedness on the 
hard stem she felt beneath her. 

Paul watched, incredulous, as his mysterious lover rubbed 
the tip of her finger in circles around  the silky precum 
that had formed on his tip, just under the waistband of his 
pants.  His eyes twitched in anticipation..

Chloe began her own unbuttoning ritual at his shirt. Once 
removed, her tongue made little curls in his chest hair.  
Wordlessly, she beckoned him to stand where she helped him 
off with the rest of his jogging clothes.  He reached to 
hold her, but she motioned for him to sit.  

She squirmed to her knees before him and stared at his feet, 
warm now before the fire.  She kneaded them with her hands, 
caressed them with her hair.  

Suddenly she separated his knees with her hands and took him 
into her mouth.  "Ummmmm," she hummed, causing vibrations 
that trembled in his groin. Unconsciously he also moaned low 
as he looked down and watched her glorious pink tongue dance 
playfully, teasingly, around his rock hard cock.  She took 
him deep into her mouth and throat where swallowing motions 
heightened the near-unbearable sensations on the firm 
surface of his tip.  

Just as he thought he would come, Chloe pulled away and 
bathed his shaft in her silky hair, her hands massaging his 
inner thighs.  

Paul wanted nothing more than to be inside this glorious 
wood-nymph.  He stood and lifted her by her tiny waist, 
standing her up before him.  He stared at the myriad of 
buttons left on her white ruffled covering.  Then in one 
swift motion he grabbed the waist and tore off her 
nightgown.  Pearly buttons flew everywhere; hitting ceiling, 
walls - making little "ping" sounds at the windows, rolling 
on the floor like tiny marbles.  


He stood an eternal moment to drink in her soft form, her 
gentle, round curves. He had seen such beauty only in his 
dreams.  He lifted her carefully onto the braided rug and 
bent his.face to hers.

The flames of the fire leapt suddenly in celebration and 
approval.

He climbed atop her and studied her face, memorizing each 
detail.  "I could lose my soul in your eyes!"

Paul parted her legs with his knees and entered her easily, 
without direction.  Her  juicy love muscles pulled him in 
deeper, deeper. Propped high on his hands, he feasted his 
eyes on her smooth belly, her thighs, and at last the thick 
tuft of  glistening pubic hair.  The sight of her sex lips 
moving in and bulging out as he entered and re-entered her 
excited him to madness and he began a more deliberate 
pumping and thrusting of his hips. Her whole body welcomed 
him.  

The low tone of her moaning signaled her approaching orgasm. 
"Come," he said, moving one hand to rub the hood of her 
mound. "Come,"    
   
He heard a sudden gasp, felt the tightening of  her every 
muscle. He stayed motionless in her until her back arched 
and she shivered beneath him, trembling once, twice, three, 
four, uncountable times.  .  

Chloe grabbed him, holding him close until her spasms 
finally ebbed.  "Please.." she begged.
          .  Paul could see a bed behind an open door and 
moved her soundlessly toward it, lying her down gently, like 
rare crystal that could break,  upon the downy quilt. Paul 
lay beside her, twirling his fingers in their mingled sex 
juices on her belly.  He was smiling, content.  

"I am home," he said as his head found the clear sweet 
nectar of her inner thighs.  His tongue lapped greedily at 
her engorged sex.  She cried out loudly as his tongue found 
the firm oval he was probing for.  He inserted one wet 
finger which aided his tongue in the love labor.  The more 
he feasted, the more sweetness Chloe poured to him.  

He felt her body shiver, quiver, her legs tighten as she 
once more began to come.  But she pushed him away.  "Not 
yet," she begged.  "I need you inside me.  Enter me.  Enter 
me!"  She moved his head away from her thighs and tugged at 
his shoulders.  Her legs spread wide to greet him.  

She took several deep breathes as Paul entered her in one 
effortless movement.  Chloe arched and gasped again at the 
joy.  Her whole body tensed, relaxed, tensed, relaxed.  Her 
head went back into the pillow thrusting out her neck, her 
arms open in an appeal to heaven.  

Paul began his instinctive plunging.  He could feel her 
muscles squeezing on his cock, milking him, begging him.  
Chloe began rotating her hips, lifting them toward him, her 
throbbing urging his climax.

Their mouths exchanged sweet juices, tongues playing, voices 
laughing, moaning, ahhhhhing.
            Paul felt the tightening in his groin and did 
not try to stop the cum pouring from him, releasing him, 
filling her with his hot life force.  He had a sudden image 
of his soul pouring into her, mingling with hers, forming 
one massive ethereal sphere.  

The pumping of his cum continued in waves, and Chloe met 
each new burst with an upward pelvic surge.  Universal laws 
were suspended.  Time, space, gravity expired in that moment 
of oneness.

After a forever moment, each felt the other relax, slowly, 
one muscle at a time.  Paul lay his head on his lover's 
warm, wet belly.  He kissed her navel.  Sweetly, tenderly 
she sucked his finger until both fell into a peaceful, 
childlike slumber.

Paul awoke much later, smiling at the aroma of their love.  
He opened his eyes and reached over for Chloe.  

She was not there. 

Startled, he jumped from the bed and searched, calling her 
name.  There was no sight, no sound of her in the cottage.

In wonder he moved to the fire, picked up his clothes and 
began to dress.  Anytime, he was sure, she would return to 
the fire - to him.  He slowly dressed in pants, socks, 
shoes.  

Then, looking around for his shirt, his eyes caught 
something sparkle in the firelight.  He fell to the floor to 
find the rug covered with tiny pearl beads.  He smiled as he 
scooped up as many as he could, stuffing them in his 
pockets, his hand, even his mouth.   
   
He noticed his shirt and jacket, but dressed only in the 
jacket.  He lay the shirt across their love-chair and left 
it there - a promise.

He looked in the cottage for her one more time, joy 
replacing the earlier anxiety.  His eyes drank in the 
rumpled bed where he could still sense their mingled 
wetness.  He bent to touch and smell again the evidence of 
their love before heading to the front door.  

Paul opened the door and closed it tightly against the cold 
wind.  He put his head down as a shield against the dark 
forest.  The way back to his everyday world was clear to him 
now.  

As he started down the earthen path, he began removing the 
pearls from his mouth and dropping them willy-nilly on the 
road.  

Just the way the characters in Nanny's stories did to guide 
their path back home.