Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 07

No words were spoken between the pair; none had to be, but whether chemical or pheromone induced, the mutual physical attraction between them was immediate, intense and undeniable. Grabbing Angelina about the waist, the man pulled her close and grinded his midsection to hers. Angelina felt the bulge from his tight, polyester trousers pressed against her, leaned back her head, closed her eyes and moaned with sexual excitement. Seconds later, she was staring him in the face from centimeters away, poised to suck the mustache from his top lip.

From the sidelines, Harry finally spotted his girlfriend in the crowd. In a pique of jealousy, he ran toward Angelina and physically removed her from the dancefloor.

"Harry, what's the problem?" asked Angelina, when the two were safely off the floor. "I was just getting into that dance."

"Yeah, but you were into it a little bit too much," he said. "I think it's time to go now."

"Oh, c'mon. I was just starting to have some fun."

Harry led Angelina out of the main floor. In minutes, they'd retrieved her fur coat, exited the disco and hailed a cab back.

"Where to, folks?" asked the cabby, when the two had settled in his back seat.

"Waldorf Astoria on Park Ave," answered Harry, with a relieved sigh.

"You got it."

Pulling away from the curb, the taxi immediately ran into bumper-to-bumper traffic.

Oh, great, Harry said to himself, as he stared blankly out the dirty backset windows at the lines of cars in front of their taxi.

Feeling a familiar soft touch on his right thigh, he instinctively turned toward the source. Looking back at him, from behind her owlish glasses, was Angelina, her eyes burning with sexual fire.

Moving her black-gloved hand a few inches northwest, she rested it on her lover's crotch. Never comfortable with public displays of affection, Harry had little time to object, though, as Angelina moved her face into his and began kissing Harry softly, but passionately on the lips. Harry returned the favor, and soon the couple were making out like teenagers in the back of one of their parent's cars. Feeling his oats - and his lover - Harry placed his left hand on the fabric-covered side of Angelina's right breast and gently squeezed. For the next 15 minutes the pair continued their heavy necking - the cabdriver stealing periodic smirking voyeuristic looks through his rear-view mirror at the romantic twosome - until they'd pulled up outside their hotel.

Anxious to get inside their hotel room and make love, Harry tossed a $20 bill in the front seat of the cab for a $10 fare and exited the vehicle before their driver had time to make change. Practically sprinting through the lobby, Angelina and Harry came upon an empty elevator, piled in and pressed the up-arrow-button. Exiting on the 5th floor, they turned down a hallway and moments later fit their key in the door of room 521.

Safely inside, the pair began to shed layers of their clothes in a flurry. In rapid-fire succession, Harry's tuxedo jacket, shirt and trousers recklessly hit the hotel room floor, as did Angelina's fur coat, gloves and the lower half of her dress. Clad in her loose-fitting top, fuck-me boots and a lacy, red thong - a perfect color match for the rest of her skimpy outfit - Angelina dropped to her knees and slowly slid her hands up the legs of Harry's boxer shorts until she found his cock. The horny woman stroked the swollen member with her sleek, graceful fingers, and softly ran her long, red-polished nails up and down his bulge. Harry closed his eyes - enjoyed the sensation - and let his lover do her thing.

Extracting her hands from his boxers, Angelina pulled them down to his ankles and then went in for the kill. Delicately taking his penis with her left hand, she moved her open mouth on it, swallowing it like a boa constrictor inhales its prey.

Since the start of their affair, oral sex had been considered routine foreplay for Harry and Angelina. Not that they didn't also enjoy kissing. Harry, in particular, loved how Angelina's mouth tasted - even when he kissed it while, or right after, she smoked a cigarette. Somehow, Angelina's breath was never particularly smoky.

Angelina had always believed in getting her numerous sexual partners over the years in the mood as quickly as possible. And to her, that involved going directly to the source, with at first a gentle touch of the hand, then with an all-out-assault of her lover's dick with her mouth and tongue. After decades of regular blowjob practice, she was quite skilled at bringing her lovers to the brink of orgasm, then transitioning their penises to her vagina, so she could enjoy the love-making experience.

As much as he enjoyed a good blowjob, though, Harry much preferred having his dick work its magic inside Angelina's warm, inviting pussy, rather than her mouth. In her cunt, Harry could pump to his heart's content - aroused by her ubiquitous, high-heeled boots, slinky negligee, gloves, or whatever sexy, revealing outfit she happened to be wearing at the time that complemented her toned body and exquisitely made-up face. His staying power and stamina in bed was unmatched by any lover Angelina had been with. The little man, who was 18 years Angelina's senior, never failed to thoroughly pleasure her into orgasm and ultimately unconsciousness, when her sensitive erogenous zone just couldn't take it anymore.

After about 10 minutes of intense sucking and reading her lover's moans of excitement, Angelina instinctively knew that Harry was on the edge of ejaculation, if she didn't blowjob abort. Taking his penis out of her mouth, Angelina hooked her thong with her right thumb and let the sexy undergarment fall to her booted feet. Stepping out of it, her left hand guided Harry's erect dick - a bead of pre-cum forming on the tip - into her pussy, then maneuvered it about for a few seconds until it struck pay dirt on her G-spot: the telltale sign being the involuntary moan she let forth.

Their bodies locked tightly as one, the couple closed their respective eyes, rested their heads on each other's necks and slowly and deliberately worked a hedonistic rhythm. Wanting to feel Angelina even closer, Harry reached his hands around her ass and pressed her butt cheeks to him, forcing his steel erection two inches deeper into her pussy.

"Oh, Harry, honey, that feels divine," said Angelina.

"You like, huh?" confirmed Harry, between hurried breaths.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Fuck me. I can't get enough of you. I want your cum to coat every inch of my pussy."

Angelina's dirty talk aroused the man even more. Grabbing his mistress' exposed left thigh from underneath, Harry lifted it until her booted foot with the spiked heel was a few inches off the ground, then curled the leg around his waist and pulled her even closer. With his right hand stroking the toned calf of her soft patented-leather red boot, Harry drove his cock even further into Angelina's pussy.

He'd always loved his lover's preferred footwear. On her shapely legs, a pair of Angelina's sexy, leather, knee high, high-heeled fashion boots had the power to convince him to do almost anything - except divorce his wife and marry her. Still, Angelina had regularly been able to leverage her lover's obvious boot fetish to seduce him and gain little favors, whether it was for material or sexual gain.

Pumping now at his fastest pace yet, Harry finally hit just the right level of friction between his cock and Angelina's pussy and ejaculated a flood of cum. Normally, such an act - if it hadn't already occurred earlier during their love making - would result in Angelina collapsing in a faint. However, with her body still experiencing the jittery alertness of that evening's cocaine ingestion, instead she just felt heightened sexual awareness and pleasure.

Thrusting until he'd coaxed every last bit of pleasure from the action, Harry reluctantly removed his penis from the place it had never felt better in, and fell back onto the bed next to them in total exhaustion. Angelina playfully followed, resting her moist bush by Harry's left hip and bending her sexy, booted leg over both of his meaty thighs.

"That was wonderful, darling. Just wonderful," she said, dancing her fingers on his lips.

"If this is the end result, maybe I should take you to Studio 54 more often," answered Harry, his chest heaving heavily. "What tonight's love making lacked in length of time, it sure made up for in intensity. I'm not sure what got into you tonight, but you were especially frisky."

"I just wanted to show you how grateful I am. I know this was out of your comfort zone, my dear, but I love you for thinking about something I wanted to do."

Angelina rested her head on her lover's chest and stroked his right bicep with her left hand.

"You're the most exciting man I've ever been with," she continued.

Ten seconds of silence followed.

"Harry?" asked Angelina.

Lifting her head off his chest to look him in the face, the middle-aged woman finally heard a soft snore coming forth from his flared nostrils.

"Good night, Harry," she said with a sweet smile, kissing the sleeping man affectionately on the lips.

Shortly after 9:00 a.m. the next morning, the naked man awoke to a strange sensation from below the waist. Lifting his head off the pillow, he looked down toward the foot of the bed to see the top of Angelina's head, her mouth wrapped around his testicles.

"Honey, what are you doing?" asked the groggy man.

Angelina released her boss' balls from her mouth, looked up at him and smiled sexily.

"Why, waking you up, of course, silly," she answered, now resting her chin on folded hands that lay upon her lover's chest.

"Did you sleep at all last night?" Harry inquired, his body now propped on his elbows and noticing that his mistress was still wearing her boots and dress from the night before.

"No. I was still too high from our night, I guess."

"So, what have you been doing for the past nine hours?

"Oh, this and that. Mostly, playing with you."

"'Playing' with me?"

"Yes. And I found out something interesting."

"What's that?"

"That I can get you hard even when you're asleep."

"Ya know, I recall having a dream that I was making love to you."

"Just one dream? That's not very nice that you only remember one instance. I stimulated you three times overnight."

"So, I actually made love to you when I was asleep?"

"Well, I did most of the work, my dear," but you played a vital role, too. Do you mind?"

"No. Not at all. Whether I'm aware or not, I'm more than happy to make love to you. But I wish you had saved some for now. I don't know that I can get aroused before checkout time."

"Doubtful, darling. We just made love about 10 minutes ago. As always, it was a blissful experience. I'm quite content down there - at least until later today."

Ninety minutes later the two checked out of the Waldorf.

After they'd walked out the front door, Angelina paused.

"Darling, I'd like a cigarette before our drive home," she told Harry. "Would you mind if I had one outside here, while you retrieved the car?"

"Good idea," he answered, knowing full well that if Angelina smoked in the car, his wife would likely detect it, when she returned home in a few days, and become suspicious of the source.

Carrying their suitcases in each hand, Harry crossed the street to the parking garage, while Angelina opened her purse with her black leather gloved hands and found her long, black holder and silver cigarette case. After screwing a Virginia Slim into the holder, she held it between the gloved index and middle fingers of her left hand and returned to her purse in quest of her silver cigarette lighter.

Noticing the woman digging fruitlessly about in her purse, the doorman who was standing nearby produced his own lighter.

"Allow me, madam," he said.

"Why, thank you," said Angelina, with a regal, somewhat conceited air.

Angelina inserted the black shaft end of the holder in her mouth and waited for the flame. The doorman flicked the lighter, but in the 20 degree temperature, 8 degrees with the wind chill, the fire had no chance of staying alive long enough for it to meet Angelina's cigarette. After the first failed attempt, the doorman cupped his hand near the lighter and the cigarette holder, to give the blaze some more oxygen.

"Sorry, madam, the wind isn't our friend today," he said with a shake of his head, as the flame once again met a premature ending. "Say, you don't look right. Are you okay?"

Looking into Angelina's face, the doorman noticed her eyes fluttering and head nodding involuntarily. Suddenly, Angelina's long night of partying - exacerbated by her introduction to cocaine - finally caught up with her. As her eyes rolled up in the back of her head, the libidinous librarian pitched forward in a faint into the doorman's arms.

"Miss, oh, miss," said the stunned doorman, waiving his gloved hand in her face for air, in hopes of reviving her.

Seconds later, Harry emerged from his parked car in front of the hotel and ran toward his fallen mistress.

"What happened to Angelina?" he asked the doorman with concern.

"I don't know, sir. I was trying to light her cigarette when all of a sudden her eyes glazed over and she passed out. Would you like me to carry her back inside the hotel, let her lie down and get her some smelling salts or something?"

"No, that's okay," he said reassuringly. "We've been burning the candle at both ends the last few days. I think the old gal just can't party like she used to, I'm afraid. She needs to sleep this off. Would you mind carrying her to the car? I'll get her home, into bed."

"Very good, sir."

The doorman stood Angelina's unconscious body up to better reposition her for the carry. Letting it fall backwards into his arms, Angelina's head fell back, revealing an exposed neck that looked oh so inviting to nibble on. Bending at the waist, the doorman lifted Angelina up, cradling her in his arms, her right gloved hand hanging loosely about his neck and her left gloved hand still holding her unlit cigarette holder between its index and middle fingers. The passed-out woman's black, knee high, high-heeled leather boots that were zipped over a pair of tight Jordache jeans, swayed gently like a swing under his right arm.

The doorman carried Angelina the 20 or so feet to the curb, as Harry quickly unlocked the passenger-side door.

"Slide her in here, if you will," Harry said, opening the door and then moving out of the doorman's way.

Kneeling down, the doorman gently placed Angelina's limp body on the car seat.

"Let's lie her down a little," Harry said, moving forward to adjust the seat recline.

Pressing a lever on the right side of the car seat, he gently moved the back of the seat to a 25-degree angle, slid the seat back for more legroom, then took her booted legs in his arms and extended them to a more comfortable position. When he was finished positioning his mistress' unconscious body, Harry buckled Angelina in for safety.

"Thank you for your help," Harry said to the doorman, slipping him a $10 bill for his trouble.

Harry walked around to the driver's side, opened the door and looked to his left at his fainted lover, resting comfortably in her seat, eyes still closed behind her oversized glasses, breasts heaving steadily with each relaxed breath under her black Guess leather jacket, gloved hand with the cigarette holder, lying on top of her camel toe, and long legs sheathed in black leather, high-heeled boots. The sexy sight of his fainted, vulnerable mistress produced the conditioned response: a raging hard-on in his trousers.

"Well, Angelina," he said with a chuckle. "I hope you don't mind if I return the favor, and 'play' with your body when we get home."

With that, Harry turned the ignition on his Cadillac, put it into drive and started off toward the Holland Tunnel, New Jersey and the intimate privacy of his bedroom.

(End of flashback)

"Yes, that was a fun night in our relationship," agreed. Angelina. "But that was followed soon after by one of the worst nights of our relationship. Remember?"