Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 14

"I have a late Christmas present for you...a blowjob like you wouldn't believe," Angelina seductively breathed into her boyfriend's ear. "Then, I want you to give me a gift...cunnilungus til I cum dry."

Tom's penis reacted even stiffer to his flame's dirty talk. Fortunately, before Tom ejaculated in his pants, the doorbell rang. Thank God, he said to himself, jumping off the couch and running toward the door. With one hand shoved into his pocket to cover his erection, he hurriedly opened it with the other.

"Neil! Janet!" said the excited young man, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "C'mon in."

"Sorry we're late," Neil said, as he and his wife stood in the doorway of his younger brother's apartment.

"No problem. We were just playing Trouble. So...Neil...Janet, I'd like you to meet my girlfriend, Angelina."

The librarian rose from the sofa and sauntered to the front door to shake the couple's hands.

"Please excuse my appearance," Angelina apologized with a disarming smile, trying to save face. "There was a wine mishap and I had to change into Thomas' clothes."

"Hi, Ms. Lione. Do you remember me from Riverside?" Neil asked.

"Of course I do, Neil. You were a very high-spirited boy, as I recall. Not one who was prone to following library rules."

"Yeah, that was me. I haven't been back in years. How is everything there?"

"Oh, it never changes. What are you doing now?"

"I work on Wall Street."

"Very nice. You've made out very well for yourself."

"Yeah, I do okay. Well, it's good to see you again, Ms. Lione. Brian, you ready to go? I think we've imposed on your uncle and Ms. Lione's time long enough."

"Oh, no imposition at all," Angelina lied. "He's such a delightful young boy. Thomas and I could have played with him all night."

"Ready to go, dad," said Brian, slipping his arms through the sleeves of his winter jacket and pulling a knit hat over his head, covering his ears. "Uncle Tom has to go to work anyway."

"What are you talking about, dear?" asked the boy's confused mother. "It's a holiday. Your uncle doesn't have to work."

"Then why did the lady just tell him she wants to give him a blow job?" Hope she pays you a lot of money, Uncle Tom. Say hi to Connie Lingus when she comes."

Holding his boxed up game of Trouble, Brian marched past his dumbfounded parents and out the apartment door.

"Uhh...ha...ha..." Tom said, in a nervous chuckle, his face flush with embarrassment, as the other three adults' mouths dropped open in shock over what the boy had so nonchalantly just announced. "Yeah, umm...well, have a good night. Happy New Year!"

Tom abruptly shut the door on his brother and sister-in-law and turned back to his girlfriend.

"How. Did. He. Hear. Me?" Angelina wondered, retreating back to the couch and falling back on to it.

"It's okay...no big deal," Tom said, trying to downplay an extremely awkward situation. "He's gone now and they'll forget about it soon enough."

Tom plopped himself onto the sofa next to his girlfriend.

"Well, there's nothing we can do about it now?" he said pragmatically, half a minute later, slapping his thighs with his hands. "We can sit here and feel foolish or try to make the best of what's left of the rest of the night."

"You're right, darling," Angelina said. "Let's not waste this precious time together. Give me a moment to slip into something more playful."

Angelina rose from the sofa, entered Tom's bedroom and shut the door behind her. In the time it takes Cher to execute a concert wardrobe change, she was back, pausing at the doorway to allow Tom to drink in the awesome sight that he couldn't full appreciate hours ago when she first arrived at the apartment. Angelina had shed her boyfriend's clothes and was once again dressed in her sexy little, see-through gray negligee and high-heeled, knee high, black-leather boots. Once again dressed in familiar clothing, Angelina strode confidently back to the couch and cozied up to Tom.

"It's like quarter to midnight now," he said. "Thought maybe we could watch the ball drop at Times Square?" Tom asked, grabbing the remote control from the coffee table.

"The only ball I want to see in the next 15 minutes is the two of yours dropping between my legs before you stick your big dick into my juicy pussy," Angelina said, gently taking the remote from his hand and returning it to the table.

Back in the romantic mood again, Angelina moved her face into Tom's and began kissing him softly on the lips, her left hand tenderly cupping the side of his face. In no time, the pair were heatedly making out.

"Oh...this almost makes those endless, tedious games of Trouble worth it," the lusty librarian said with a moan a minute later after coming up for air. "Now, we're finally alone. Just the two of us."

Not quite.

"Ahhhh...hhhhh...it's back again!" she cried, eyes wide with terror.

"What's back?" Tom asked in urgency, still embracing her, his back to whatever was frightening his girlfriend.

"The frogggg..."

Angelina barely got the word out before she slipped into another faint, losing unconscious while still wrapped in Tom's arms.

Tom turned his head 180 degrees. Sure enough, Freddy the frog was perched a foot away on the coffee table staring at the couple. Figures, he thought, turning back to gently lean his unconscious girlfriend against the sofa -- her head partially folding back over the top of the backrest.

Bzzzzzzz!!

Now what? Tom asked himself, rising up from the couch to answer the doorbell.

"Hey, man, Brian left his frog here," Neil blurted out, as soon as he saw his brother behind the opened door. "Have you seen it?"

"You tell me, Neil," answered Tom sarcastically, as he swung the door open wider to reveal a panorama of the living room -- including the sofa, where the toad had now hopped onto his fainted and unsuspecting girlfriend's lap.

"Sorry about that, man."

Meanwhile, Angelina's eyes blinked open. As they regained their focus, she lifted her head off the backrest, took one look at Freddy the frog in her lap, emitted a soft moan and her eyes rolled back up into her head.

"And...she's out again," Tom said, watching his lover re-settle unconsciously into the same spot on the sofa that she lay on moments earlier.

"Oh, man. Really, I'm so sorry."

Tom quickly scooped the frog off Angelina's body with his left hand, covered it with the right, to ensure it wouldn't escape, then returned the pet to Neil.

"Brian strikes again," Tom said.

"Oh, no, what else did he do tonight, I'm afraid to ask?" Neil inquired.

"Ahh...nothing, really. Just kid stuff."

"Did he break that?" Neil asked, pointing to the splintered black cigarette holder on the coffee table.

"Her cigarette holder? Yeah."

"Wait, she smokes a cigarette holder?! What is this, the 1930s? Who uses a cigarette holder?"

Neil reached into the breast pocket of his Armani suit and pulled out his wallet.

"Do you know how much it's worth?" asked the wealthy Wall Street stock portfolio manager.

"Angelina said it was $150...but don't worry about it, it was an accident," Tom replied.

"Here's $300. She can buy two -- the price for pain and suffering he caused -- and I apparently caused her when I was in school."

"Thanks, man."

"Speaking of smoking, how about mom starting up again? What's up with that?"

"She's smoking again because of me and Angelina, isn't she? Well, tough. She'll just have to learn to deal with it."

"She did the same thing when I got Janet pregnant at Rutgers. No offense, but I think she was hoping you'd take the safer road more traveled when it came to women and not get involved with someone her own age. And the fact that she used to know -- and dislike Ms. Lione -- doesn't help matters. I think mom's already up to a pack a day now. Funny, though. Dad sure doesn't seem to mind. Did you see him run around the room the other night so he could light everyone of her cigarettes?"

"Hey, I do the same for Angelina. Women really appreciate just that small gentlemany act. And it turns her on like you wouldn't believe."

"Really?"

"Oh, YEAH. So, how do you personally weigh in on me dating a much older woman? Is it weird to you?"

"Not necessarily. I will say, that until about five minutes ago, I wondered what you found attractive about her."

"What's happened in the last five minutes?"

"Seeing her in that negligee. If you don't mind me saying, she's gotta hell of a body for any chick nevermind a 50 year old. Not to sound creepy, but that negligee looks fucking GREAT on her. Never thought I'd hear myself say this, because she the most feared teacher in school, a real dragon lady, but Ms. Lione is a fox, a real babe. Good job, man. If I knew she had that kind of a body, maybe I'd have beaten you to it and gone back to visit Riverside to check her out. Seriously, though, I always thought she was a lesbian. That was the rumor when I was in 8th grade anyway. She was unmarried and wanted to be called Ms. instead of Miss."

"Well, she's FAR from a lesbian, believe me. She's been with A LOT of guys -- including Principal Seymour, if you can believe it."

"Get outta here. What would she possibly see in him?"

"Power. Money. She was lonely. They had like a five-six year affair. She wanted to marry him, but he wouldn't divorce his wife. It only ended a few years ago. Then like a couple weeks after Angelina and I started dating, he showed up again. He was a widower now. Overnight, I went from being in the driver's seat to barely riding in the car. For a few weeks we BOTH dated her, while she decided who she wanted to be with. I thought there was no way she'd pick me over him. Not with their history and him being single now. No way."

"Geez. But she did pick you over him. That must say a lot about how she feels about you to prefer you over a guy she was that serious about."

"Or feels about a cigar."

"A cigar?! What are you talking about?"

"Angelina gets really turned on by men who smoke cigars. Seymour used to smoke one while they were having their affair. She loved it. He's since given them up. One night before we went out to dinner I sensed she was going to break up with me, so I brought along a cigar as my ace in the hole, my insurance. Sure enough, she starts giving me the speech. I whip out the cigar, light 'er up; next thing you know she's so aroused she orgasms right in her chair."

"Ms. Lione?! No way!"

"It's so intense she passes out at the table."

"Wow! Who knew that conservative-dressing, eye-glass wearing librarian I knew from school was so kinky? Well, I see what you mean, that maybe the cigar pushed her over the edge, but she still dumped a guy she loved, or once loved, to be with you. No matter what it took to get you there, you're her boyfriend now, not him. So, don't sell yourself short."

"I guess so, but I still don't really feel like we're true boyfriend-girlfriend yet, you know what I mean?"

"I'm not following. Don't you go out?"

"Oh, yeah, we'll go out in public to a restaurant, but then it's right back to her place or mine for sex. It's like all she wants to do. It's her favorite pastime. I mean, we have A LOT of it, so it takes up most of our time together, but still, it seems like our WHOLE relationship revolves around it. It's just that we never do typical couple things like go for walks, go out for ice cream or even hold hands."

"You poor guy. What a burden it must be to have to make love to a sexy-ass woman who wants you that badly. Who's the 50 year old in this relationship? Or the guy? It's like the roles are reversed. You should be the hornier one, not her. What are you complaining about? You're living most guys' fantasies."

"Nevermind. You don't understand."

"I understand that you have a hot girlfriend who only wants to fuck your brains out."

"It's just that there's times when I don't want to have sex. I want to get to know her better. I thought maybe tonight we could talk a bit before jumping in bed, but then she shows up at my door dressed in that nightie, with those high-heeled boots and I knew right away she only had sex on her mind. It's only been two days since we last saw each other and she acted like we'd been apart for two years. Honestly, she can't keep her hands off me. Sometimes it feels like she's sexually harassing me, she wants it so much."

"Does she refer to you as her boyfriend?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then problem solved."

"You still don't get it. Most of the time I feel more like her boy toy than boyfriend. From the way she describes her relationship with Seymour, it sure didn't sound like she thought of him as a boy toy."

"He was too old to be considered a boy toy. Don't worry about it, so much. Enjoy being a stud."

"The point is, she wanted to marry him, so there had to be more to their relationship than sex. After being with her for two months, I STILL don't know if there's any more to our relationship than sex. I don't want to be her rebound relationship from Seymour. A fling. A sexual plaything to pass the time until a serious man comes along. A guy her own age. And if that guy happens to smoke cigars, forget it. She'll toss me aside like yesterday's newspaper."

"You don't know that. You do have to consider the possibility that you're still competing with Principal Seymour for her."

"Whatta ya mean? I told ya, it's over between them."

"I don't have a clue how he could get any woman -- much less Ms. Lione to fall in love with him -- but even though he's out of the picture, there's still a lot of pressure on you to measure up to what he was to her. And if he takes up cigars again..."

"Stop kidding around. This is serious."

"You really like her, don't you?"

"Yeah, that's the thing, too. There's times when I think I may even love her."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Yeah, around Thanksgiving when she finally picked me over Principal Seymour."

"How'd she take it?"

"She said she wasn't at the same level of feeling toward me yet."

"There's nothing wrong with that. Not everyone reaches love at the same time -- and you said it really early in."

"I didn't REALLY say it. I told her I think I was falling in love with her."

"Still, you played the love card kinda early, man. Not all women like a guy who commits that soon. Can sound a bit needy and immature."

"Yeah, I know. But it's been over a month and she hasn't mentioned that subject since -- or expressed anything close to similar feelings for me. Seems like all she really cares about is partying and having sex, as often as she can. That cruise we went on? We barely saw the water, the whole six days. We spent almost all our time in our cabin making love. She never cooled off. She was like a sex maniac, who couldn't get enough. She wore me out."

"Again, you're dating a hot nympho. My heart bleeds. Hey, man, give her more time. There's nothing wrong with living on sex at the start of a relationship. In a way, you're in the honeymoon phase of dating. The both of you just got out of a pretty heavy love triangle. For her, she just lost a man she loved for the second time. Even though she went directly to you, he's still in the shadows. She probably just wants to take a break from the emotional part of a relationship, not think about serious stuff so much and have fun with the physical. So don't pressure her to get serious again. Let her be loose and freaky for awhile. "

"But she was that way before Principal Seymour came back into her life. Those first two weeks it was ALL physical. I barely knew anything about her personally. We were too busy fucking."

"Just take it slow. It's also the holidays. People tend to party more during the holidays. Once they're over, life will settle back into a normal rhythm. I bet your relationship will, too. Then you can really get to know each other."

"The parts I do know, I'm not necessarily sure I like. I may love her, I dunno, but there's plenty of things about her attitude I don't care for. She can be shallow, snobby and pretentious. You heard her call me 'Thomas.' No one calls me that. And she calls me 'darling' like some high-society woman. But even with that, as much as that fakeness can repel me, there's times when it REALLY turns me on. This relationship is turning out to be a lot more complicated than I thought it'd be."

"Welcome to the real world. You'll just have to find things like long-term compatability -- and if your relationship can sustain without the non-stop sex -- over time. Listen, Janet and the boy have been waiting for me in the car, so I gotta run. We'll go out for a few beers some Friday night soon and talk it through. Meantime, just enjoy the ride -- and get plenty of sleep and take your vitamins. You're gonna need it. With Seymour physically out of the picture, you have to get used to doing all the heavy lifting, sex wise. You're fucking for two guys now. Maybe not tonight, though. Unless you can revive Ms. Lione, I doubt you'll be 'working' for her tonight. Happy New Year."

Neil let himself out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Tom walked back to the sofa and sat next to his fainted girlfriend.

"Angelina? Can you hear me? ANGELEEENA?" he said, his voice growing louder the last time he drew out the pronounciation of her name, as he clapped her hand with his.

No response. Apparently, the stress of having fainted a third time from unexpectedly seeing a frog, combined with the champagne she drank and the late hour had put her into a deep sleep.

"5...4...3...2...1," Happy New Year!" blared the televised countdown to 1988 behind Tom's back.

Suppose I'll have to take a raincheck on that blowjob, he thought, lifting up Angelina's limp left arm and letting it fall to the sofa as he looked helplessly into her open-mouthed, out-cold face. Guess I'll do the heavy lifting tonight.

Scooping up his lover, Tom placed his right arm under Angelina's legs and his left arm under her back -- the long fingers of his large hand curling around to touch the outside half of her left breast -- and proceeded to carry her loose-limbed body into his bedroom.

Mere steps later, he placed the fainted woman down gently on her back on top of the comforter of his made king-sized bed and drank in the scene. The attractive face with hardly an age wrinkle on it, perfectly coiffed, short dark hair, heaving breasts with the visible nipples above her semi-hourglass figure, and those classy, but make-no-mistake-she-means-business-in-bed, high-heeled, knee-high boots, that were now ten toes up. Neil was right, Tom thought. Ms. Lione was a babe. And she was his girlfriend, all internal and external challenges to their relationship be damned.

Maybe it was the champagne talking earlier, but Angelina had surprised Tom when she asked (more like demanded) him to perform cunnilingus on her that night. She'd given him dozens of blowjobs over the first two months of their relationship, but he'd yet to return the oral sex favor -- in large part because he'd never eaten out any woman before and was afraid his inexperience would show. But with Angelina lying before him, passed out and ready for the taking, now -- Tom thought -- would be an ideal time to practice.

On the second day they knew each other Angelina had felt safe enough with Tom to allow him to make love to her when she fainted while they were being intimate -- an extraordinary expression of trust that Tom always abided by; an act of faith in him as a responsible man that he treated with the utmost care and respect. Angelina had fainted in his company any number of times -- usually from shock or fear -- but Tom never once exploited her unconsciousness in those instances for his sexual gain. This instance, however, he interpreted to be different. While they weren't technically engaged in the act of intercourse at the time Angelina last fainted, when she did it was a given that they were certainly headed in that direction. She'd wanted to make love all night; had repeatedly come on to him and had just taken a break from making out with him when she saw Freddy and fainted. That was enough of a green light for Tom.