Cock of Ages Ch. 13

"That's amazing," I said, earnestly.

"Let me finish up so we can discuss your concerns," she said, smoothly.

"I have to have you," I said, my voice edged with passion. I pulled her standing, then turned her around and bent her over the back of the chair. Her face was only inches away from the door, and she let out a small noise in surprise. It was followed by a barely suppressed whimper.

"That's it," I whispered. "That's what I want: that ass, that sweet, sweet ass." I caressed it through her skirt as she quivered. "That was some outstanding pussy, Alice. I've been thinking about it for days." With that I pulled her skirt up abruptly -- badly wrinkling it in the process -- and peeled down her white panties. It only took a moment for my cock to locate her entrance, which was still relatively dry, and I spared no time for preparation before I pushed deeply inside. She stifled a long, low moan of pain as I seated myself within her, and she braced herself the best she could on the chair. Her knees were shaking.

"That's the stuff," I groaned, a little louder than she would have preferred. "That's what I like." She wiggled to present a better angle for my thrusts, but I ignored it. This was about me, after all. I pushed deeper into her pussy and then began some long stroking. She just lay there, bent over her own chair in her own office, being raped in all but name.

She did get wet after a dozen or so painful strokes, and the going was smoother after that. I pumped her powerfully, slamming all the way forward into her cervix, then withdrawing almost to the head before returning. It was a hard, relentless, savage fuck, and all she could do was grit her teeth and take it.

I rode her unenthusiastic cunt for fifteen minutes and made it clear that I wasn't going to finish until I was convinced she was enjoying it. Despite herself she began making exaggerated sighs -- sighs that could no doubt be overheard by Betty. I added my own exaggerated moans, and before long both of us were panting and groaning like horny teenagers.

"I'm cumming!" I bellowed, at last. "I'm cumming in your goddamn tight wet pussy, Alice!" I accelerated my thrusts until my belly was banging up against her generous ass cheeks like a kettledrum, my cock slamming through the length of her pussy. I grasped the sides of her expensive skirt in white-knuckled fists, and she couldn't help but wail in a mixture of pain and pleasure as I ruthlessly fucked her. There was no way that Betty was not going to hear us.

At last I squirted a prodigious loud deep within her, slowing down to a slippery, squishy cadence before I dismounted. Alice sagged her head and shoulders over the back of the chair, her pink ass cheeks glistening with the residue of my spunk that escaped on my cock.

I had fucked her hard. What was more, I had humiliated her in her professional sanctuary. One thing that I knew she prided herself on was her discretion, and there was no way she could have kept our noisy coupling a secret.

"That," I pronounced, loudly, as I tucked my pecker back in, "was a first class piece of ass!"

She didn't say anything as she slowly pulled her panties up over her butt and tried to smooth her skirt down over it. She turned around and gave me a smile -- a very little smile -- and cleared her throat.

"That was . . . refreshing," she lied, sweetly. "I always like to begin my day on a high note. Thank you."

"Oh, it was my pleasure," I assured her. "I woke up this morning with a fierce woody, and immediately thought of you."

"I'm flattered," she said, and had the grace to blush. "I try to provide a full-service agency to my clients."

"As to that," I said, as if it was an afterthought. "I was wondering whether or not the owner would be willing to let me try the property out -- spend the night, have a few friends over, that sort of thing. So I can evaluate its appeal more thoroughly."

"I . . . I don't see why not," she said, a little startled by the request.

"Nothing elaborate," I promised. "Just a few friends. I'd be more than happy to pay a fee for the night, however -- say, five hundred dollars?"

"I'll be happy to make that proposal," she nodded. "I'll be speaking with him sometime today, I think . . ." I could almost hear the wheels turning. Certainly she would mention the proposal -- but she wouldn't bother to mention the fee. That would go right into her very expensive Italian leather pocketbook. "I don't think there will be a problem, though, not if I put it forward as a precondition of sale."

I nodded. "Thanks, I appreciate it. That will give me an opportunity to appreciate the finer points of the place," I said, meaningfully, as I ran my hand over her face and tucked a stray blonde strand behind her ear. It didn't help much. She still looked like she'd just been had. "Anyway, call me at the hotel and let me know. Ciao!"

I let her walk me out through the front office, taking my arm like an old dear friend and making up some crappy lines about easements as we passed her secretary's desk. From the furious way Betty was blushing, and the flustered way she was busily filing and determinedly NOT looking at us, it was clear that she had overheard the entire sordid encounter. I couldn't help the smallest of smirks as I left.

Real estate is fun!

***

I had run Alice without the aid of anything more than a fairly-benign pheromone cologne, partly because I enjoyed her humiliation at being essentially unwilling and partly because I knew she was a sure thing. Miss Lucy Bonner, however, would likely need the assistance of my pharmacopeia to drop her panties. I made sure I was fully loaded as I entered the public library that afternoon.

I had added some fake glasses to increase my studious appearance, and had traded in the silk blazer for a light tweed jacket, and had added a pipe and tobacco at the last minute for effect. A battered brown leather attaché, a slightly dazed expression, and I could have been a visiting scholar from anywhere.

I scoped out the premises and spied on Lucy awhile before I made my approach. She wasn't particularly attractive -- the kind of woman cosmetics empires were built upon -- but she was shapely and she had a sweet smile. She was as demure and soft-spoken as you might expect a librarian would be. If she wasn't a virgin, then it was her deep dark secret, but that look of longing she had when no one else was looking told me she was looking for love -- and that made her a prime target.

Five minutes in the bathroom to perfect my appearance, look up something in Wealth of Nations, and splash fuck-me-NOW pheromones all over myself, and I was ready to go. I approached the reference desk where she was sitting, nervously, and stammered out a request to see the Civil War era documents in the rare books room. She raised an eyebrow, curiously, as I did so -- then the pheromone hit her, and I watched one visible sign of arousal after another pop up on her.

"I'm -- I am Professor Winthrop," I stuttered, clearing my throat twice in the process. "I'm a historian. I'd be most appreciative if I could possibly gain access to your rare book room," I managed, at last. I could tell she was amused and enchanted already.

"Certainly, Professor Winthrop . . . we often have visiting historians look over our collection," she said, trying to look professional. "I'll just have to get the keys from the head librarian . . ."

"You're most gracious," I said with a small nervous grin and a bow.

She disappeared into the little office, and I was able to overhear a little bit of her conversation with the older woman, who was reluctant to let Lucy escort me. Lucy finally admitted to her in a whisper that I was gorgeous and that she'd owe her a big favor. In moments I heard the keys jingle.

I eagerly followed her into a dimly lit passageway that led past storerooms and closets. She asked me a rash of respectful questions on the journey, and I was able to inform her of my status -- singe -- my position -- Associate Professor -- and my University (Yale -- although I mentioned it apologetically, showing her my Harvard ring -- which told me she was ovulating furiously). I let her do the talking, playing the recalcitrant professor to the hilt.

We finally made it back to the Rare Books room, and she turned to me, apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but library policy is to not permit the study of our original manuscripts without a member of the staff present. Security," she added, sorrowfully, doing her best to push her breasts in my face.

"I, I quite understand," I agreed. "I'll be glad of the company, actually -- I'll only be taking a cursory look at the collection now, of course. If I find what I'm looking for, I'll arrange to have it photographed for my Department."

"Can I . . . get you anything?" she asked, trying to be sultry. "Coffee, maybe? Or a glass of tea?"

"I'll have a glass of tea if you join me," I said, nodding. "It will take me a while just to look at your catalog index -- I swear I won't open a single portfolio until you're back," I vowed.

She smiled and dimpled and scurried away. I pulled out the index and waited, pretending to look for some bit of antebellum correspondence. Lucy returned soon, and handed me a glass.

"I've grown quite fond of iced tea," I noted appreciatively, after taking a sip. "Not something we get very often, in the North."

"Yes, it helps with the heat," she said, with just a trace of suggestiveness.

"Can you get me . . . Folio 199? I think I'll start there," I said, getting right to work. She nodded and dove into the shelves to find it. The moment her back was turned I dropped one of the fast-acting aphros into her tea and pulled a blank yellow legal pad and a freshly sharpened pencil out of my attaché. She carefully cradled the cracked leather portfolio and assisted me in opening it (taking several opportunities to touch my hands along the way) and then respectfully waited while I read.

Ten minutes later, after she had consumed most of her tea, I reached past her for the legal pad, brushed her breast with my arm, and that's pretty much all it took. She turned towards me as I mumbled a startled apology and smiled.

"I didn't mind," she said, softly. "I actually rather enjoyed it."

"Nonsense!" I insisted. "Clumsy of me. If I had meant for you to enjoy it, I would have done this," I said, and boldly cupped her left tit in my palm. She closed her eyes and forced it more fully into my hand, and then I was kissing her passionately. She kissed . . . poorly, no doubt from lack of practice. But her enthusiasm was infectious, and I took a moment to introduce her to the fine art of kissing until she was tolerable, and less like a gagging goldfish.

Meanwhile my hands had attacked her breasts, snaking inside the top of her plain dress and rubbing them vigorously through her bra. I felt her nipples harden like steel nibs, and I was merciless as I twisted and pulled on them. If it hurt, she didn't say so -- indeed, she did her best to push them into my hands all the more.

After a good five minutes of lip-lock I stole a hand under her skirt -- and her hand landed reflexively on top of it. A little distraction with her nipple, a little more intensity on the kiss, and her hand retreated, allowing mine to go forward, up and to glory. Her plain cotton panties were soaked -- and I mean really soaked, with streams of her lubrication running down her leg long before my deft fingers found her entrance. She ceded the valley between her legs without a fight and with only a token protest. Finding her clit was easy: it was erect and waiting for me, and I tormented it with my fingers until she was nigh a powerful orgasm.

I'm no fool, though -- little Miss Lucy was acting against her demure nature, abandoned to a moment of insane passion. While a thunderous orgasm would no doubt be welcome, it might also shake her out of her erotic fog and make her question her actions before she got good and fucked. Couldn't let that happen. I drove her nearly over her peak, then backed off.

"I'm on fire," I gasped, my eyes filled with feigned wonder. "You are a magnificent creature, Lucy!" She blushed and damn near purred with the compliment.

"I . . . I don't . . ." she began, as the heat in her loins began to fade.

"I know," I reassured her. "One doesn't usually find tramps in the Reference section," I smiled. "Those hussies hang out in Returns!"

That caused her to crack a wide smile, which was a perfect opportunity to ply her with more kissing, keeping that hot wet cunt drenched and simmering. I also took the opportunity to bring my dick into play, which proved to be an enchanting element for Lucy. I pulled her hand to it, and she was very hesitant about touching it. With murmurs of encouragement and only slightly exaggerated sighs, I convinced her to explore it with her fingers. She even knelt for a closer look -- which, ordinarily, might be an invitation to fellatio, but this girl was far more naïve than that. She was running on pure instinct, now.

"The . . . hole is all wet," she noted.

"So is yours," I whispered.

She looked up at me guiltily. "Too wet?"

Poor ignorant dear. I shrugged. "Only one way to find out," I said, lifting her up on the desk with the tiniest of yelps. She was still showing some reluctance as I flipped up her skirt and tugged down her cotton panties. She didn't shave her legs, and of course (that bit of feminine neurosis wouldn't be wide-spread until later in the decade) and her bush looked like an abandoned lot, but there was no disguising her arousal. The crotch of her underwear was dripping, literally.

"I've never . . ." she admitted, biting her lip.

"You've never . . . made love?" I asked, feigning shock. "But . . . but . . . you act like such a natural lover!" I said, reverently. She ate it up, and stripped off the top of her dress and her bra as wantonly as she was able.

While she was doing that, I spread her thighs and bent to inspect her gooey pussy. Dark blonde fur split crookedly, revealing a dark pink cavern that seemed to visibly invite my attentions. I couldn't resist -- daring a premature orgasm, I licked her throbbing clit and engulfed it between my lips, introducing her most sensitive spot to the expertise of my fluttering tongue.

"OHMYGOD!" she shouted in a whisper. Her eyes were wide when I glanced up, and filled with wonder. Grinning to myself I took her to the brink, once again, before straightening and positioning the head of my dick between her lips. I paused before I plunged in.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked, teasingly.

She looked at me, stricken. "Yes! Oh, my God! Yes! Don't stop now!"

"I thought all of you Southern girls saved it for marriage," I quipped, pushing forward almost imperceptibly. She felt my girth spread her entrance, though, and her eyes rolled back a bit before she recovered.

"Just shut up and do it!" she whispered harshly. "This is perfect! Don't ruin it!"

I chuckled to myself and slid home, past the remaining shreds of her hymen. "You're beautiful," I moaned quietly in her ear. "You feel so hot and wet!"

"And you're, you're h-h-hard," she agreed. "Oh, do it, do it, take me, take me!"

Ah, the Sixties! "Take me" was about as naughty as any respectable woman could get away with, now, and it was considered pretty racy. Only the lower class sluts would use the 'f-word' -- or their Ivy League counterparts. Little Lucy was firmly middle-class, though, and such words only popped up in her mind. So I 'took' her, pistoning my hard cock deeper and deeper into her virgin cunt, enjoying her inaugural screw with relish. She was living out a fantasy, here, fucking a handsome visiting professor in the rare book room . . . her ass, as she would later learn, planted firmly on a priceless portfolio of authentic Civil War correspondence. It's the type of fantasy only a truly bookish nerdling girl can muster, but I was filling it as thoroughly as I was filling her freshly broached pussy.

"Oh, yes, that's not too wet at all," I grunted as I planted the very last few inches between her thighs. She gave me an answering grunt as I battered her cervix, but she didn't shy away -- her legs crossed behind my back and urged me ever deeper into her cleft. "I'm not going to deep, am I?" I teased.

"GOD, no," she gasped. "I want you inside . . . me!"

It would be a shame to make this anything less than a completely memorable experience, so I captured one of her bright pink nipples in my mouth and sucked on it hard as I slammed into her. She pushed her pelvis towards me in eagerness. The nipple stimulation helped, though, and in moments she was riding through a cascade of pleasure as her first cock-induced orgasm overwhelmed her.

I didn't even slow down. While she was preoccupied with her own massive orgasm, I worked for my own, ignoring her as anything but a receptacle for my spooge. And a few minutes latter I pumped what felt like a gallon of hot sticky cum inside her swampy pussy. She collapsed on my shoulder as the last spasms wracked her body and she was finally still.

"Oh my God," she whispered into my ear. "I just lost my virginity in the Rare Books room!"

"It appears you have," I agreed, the least bit of regret infecting my voice.

"I can't believe it! I just got . . . got had, in the Rare Books Room! Twice!"

"But, we've only done it once," I said, confused. Yes, of course, I knew what she was doing. But she was sweet and it was her first time. I owed her a little romantic leeway.

"Well, professor, you aren't leaving today without doing it again," she purred into my ear as my softening prick suddenly began swelling again.