Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 18

"On the other hand...," she said, now lowering it and striking up a thoughtful pose as she took a shallow puff on the mouthpiece of her holder and released it, a puff of smoke appearing from behind her lips. "Perhaps I won't. I heard it's your birthday today. Is that true?"

"Yes, Mistress Angelina," Tom answered with relief.

"Hmmm...well, on second thought, it'd be a crime to let such a fine physical specimen such as yourself go to waste. So, in that case, consider ME your birthday present. You may proceed."

Rising from his knees, the young man's face met Angelina's in a delicate embrace. Continuing to kiss, he gently forced his lover onto her back on the covers of his bed. By now, Tom's naked body was atop Angelina's; his right leg bent at the knee and erection lying horizontally along her latex-covered camel toe.

The couple went at it furiously, turning up the passion with every aggressive French kiss, soft Angelina bite on his lip and squeeze of Tom's hand on her latex-covered breasts. Continuing to explore the kinky librarian's body with his hands, Tom soon came across a 3x4-inch zipped pocket sewn over her crotch. Unzipping it, he dug his right hand in and felt Angelina's moist red thong, saturated with her vaginal secretions. While continuing to kiss his lover, Tom proceeded to slide the thong off her vulva. Angelina didn't object. She never did.

After he'd "cleared some space" Tom worked his fingers into the area.

"Ohhh...ohhh...you're a maestro, darrrhhhling, an artiste," moaned a smilingly satisfied, closed-eyed Angelina, before bringing the mouthpiece of her holder to her lips, taking a soft pull and then blowing a cleansing cone of smoke overhead, as Tom gently and rhymically strummed Angelina's pussy. "So gifted. You play me like a classical guitar."

Minutes later, his sticky hand cramping and tiring from the action, Tom worked his head between Angelina's thighs and demonstrated his mouth-organ talent. Munching, sucking and licking Angelina's muff, he proceeded to reach high-pitched notes, as evidenced by his sexually satisfied lover's squeals of ecstasy.

So preoccupied with playing his "instrument,", though - and his ears so tightly boxed inside Angelina's leather-encased thighs - that the young man was unable to hear the advancing footsteps on his apartment's hardwood floor.

"Happy birthday, dear," Tom's mother cheerily announced, entering his open bedroom.

What Ann Bailey's son didn't hear, however, her son's much-older girlfriend mostly certainly did. Turning her head to the feminine-sounding voice that suddenly came from her left, Angelina caught eyes with Tom's mother. Speechless, Angelina's lovely brown eyes grew nearly as wide as her tinted, oversized Diana Prince-style lenses, then - just as quickly - rolled up into the back of her head and her eyelids snapped shut from the shock and embarrassment of being caught engaging in a private moment with the other woman's son.

While Ann didn't faint, she did almost drop the homemade birthday cake she'd been holding to the floor as she quickly retreated from the bedroom.

"Is he not in his bedroom?" Al Bailey asked his wife, when she'd returned to the living room, where he was talking with Paul, who moments earlier had let the couple into their son's apartment.

"Let's go," said a visibly shaken Ann, practically fumbling the cake down onto the kitchen counter and leading her husband out the front door.

Confused by the Bailey's abrupt departure, Paul walked down the hall to investigate.

"Hey, man. Your mom looked upset. Everything Okaaayyy?" Paul asked upon entering the bedroom, his voice trailing off upon encountering his naked friend with the raging hard-on intently eating away at the pussy of the Dominatrix dressed and unconscious Angelina, spread-eagle on his bed.

Transfixed, the young man stood with mouth agape, unable to process the surreal, kinky and erotic scene before him. A good 15 seconds later, Paul, still undetected, snapped out of his trance and slowly and quietly crept backwards out of the room, continuing until he was out of the apartment. Tom and Angelina had the apartment to themselves again - as if they had ever assumed otherwise.

"What's going on, Ann?" Al asked, taking his wife by the elbow after they exited Tom's apartment building.

"I don't want to talk about it," Ann said, fumbling through her purse for her leather-bound cigarette case and lighter.

Finding the smoking accessories, she unhooked the case's clasp, withdrew a More 120, placed it between her lips, fired up the lighter and joined it to the end of the long and slim brown cigarette.

"Honey, what did you see?" her husband insisted.

"It was disturbing," Ann finally confessed, expelling a funnel of smoke into the air, away from her husband. "It was just so disturbing."

"Calm down and tell me. Was Tom in trouble?"

"Ha. I wouldn't call it that."

"Then what was it? It couldn't have been all that bad then."

"He was..."

"Yeah..."

"He was...oh, I just can't say it."

"C'mon, what was he doing?"

"He was naked and he had his mouth on Angelina's privates. There, I said it."

"So, he was giving her oral sex?"

"Apparently, so, Al. I didn't stick around long enough to conduct an interview with them. And she was dressed head to toe in black leather."

"Black leather? Interesting. Did they see you?"

"Just her. Tom's head was too far into her...oh, I don't want to say it!"

"What'd Angelina do?"

"She fainted."

"I can't blame her for being surprised. Let's face it, dear, you were intruding. We should have called first before coming over."

"Are you defending that kind of behavior?"

"I'm not defending it, but whether you like Angelina dating Tom or not, they're adults. Consenting adults. So long as they're not hurting anyone, they're free to do what they want. He's not our little boy anymore."

At that moment, Paul staggered out of the apartment building.

"Paul? Paul?" Al called out to Tom's glassy-eyed roommate, who was not wearing a winter coat . "Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah," Mr. Bailey," he responded, stopping to acknowledge Tom's father.

"Where're you going? You don't even have a jacket on."

"I'm just going to have a drink - or 10."

Paul continued walking to the pub next door, so he could get blind drunk.

"Looks like Paul saw the same thing I did," Ann said, before taking a hard draw on her More. "Let's go, Al. Wait...oh, crap!"

"'Oh, crap' what?" her husband asked.

"I was in such a rush to get outta there, that I left the cake plate behind."

"So?"

"So, that's my Aunt Margot's plate."

"And?"

"And, it's a family heirloom. I meant to transfer it to one of his plates, but I got all flustered and forgot. I don't want to risk leaving that plate at his place. C'mon, we have to go get it. Hopefully, we can sneak in and out quickly, so he'll never see us. Then, I need to get home and have about 10 cocktails myself."

Meanwhile, upstairs in his apartment, Tom was busy serving Angelina his own version of a cocktail. As he hungrily pumped her pussy, the sensitivity of his dick moving against her vaginal walls - combined with his incredible lust for the booted, cigarette-holder smoking Angelina - finally synched, triggering a burst of semen and an intense orgasm that he milked till every drop of cum had emptied into her pussy.

Unmounting, Tom turned Angelina's cheek toward him and planted a passionate kiss on the full moist mouth of his still-fainted lady love. Then he rose from the bed, removed the smoldering cigarette holder dangling between the black-leather-gloved index and middle fingers of her right hand and placed it safely on his nightstand, donned his white bathrobe and glided out of the bedroom in a blissful post-sex haze.

Parched, Tom poured a glass of orange juice from the fridge and sat down at a stool in the island kitchen. As he noticed the chocolate cake on the counter before him, the door to the apartment - left unlocked by Paul when he made his hasty exit minutes earlier - swung open.

"Mom, dad, what are you doing here?" Tom asked in confusion, as Al and Ann Bailey stepped into the apartment.

"Ummm...we just came to get the...get the cake platter," Ann responded, walking over to the counter.

"You dropped off a cake?!"

"Yes. Happy birthday."

Realizing his folks were in the apartment while he and Angelina were making love, Tom's face quickly grew flush with embarrassment. Unsure, however, how long his parents were present and how much - if anything - they heard from his bedroom while they were there, Tom tried to find out more information about the length and timing of their visit.

"Thanks. When...ahhh..when did you drop by?" he asked.

"About 15 minutes ago," Ann said.

"How did you get in?"

"We happened to meet Paul outside, so he let us in."

"And then you just dropped off the cake and left."

Ann bought some time before answering by taking a deep and nervous drag from her More.

"Ummm...yes," she lied, in a talk exhale. "You weren't in the kitchen or living room, so we didn't think you were home afterall. We just left the cake. Then we came back because I remembered this was Aunt Margot's platter."

Tom picked up a clean plate from the dish rack, transferred the cake to it and then handed Ann's platter back to her. Mother and son stared at each other in awkward silence. Both seemingly content to keep playing their game of chicken.

"Well, we should probably get going then," Ann finally said, a dozen painful seconds later.

"Any birthday plans?" Al asked, at last contributing to the conversation.

Ann gave her husband an incredulous look at why he would want to engage in smalltalk that would only prolong the agony.

Oh, ah...I think Angelina's taking me out to dinner to celebrate," Tom answered.

"Where to?"

"I dunno, but knowing her, it'll be someplace classy and sophisticated."

"Where's my massively well-endowed slave?" the now awoken Angelina called out loudly as she walked out of the bedroom toward the apartment's main living space, a whip in her left hand and cigarette holder in her right. "Your charming mistress wants to sink her mouth into a big piece of birthday cock."

"Cock" flowed from Angelina's sensual mouth just as she entered the living room and came face to face with the Bailey family.

Words now escaping her, the embarrassed librarian could only stare blankly at her boyfriend's equally uncomfortable parents, before dealing with the awkward social situation the only way she knew how - by not dealing with it. Neck snapping back, mouth open and eyes rolling up into the back of her head, dominatrix Angelina had said all she was so going to say, as she silently collapsed to the floor in a heap of black leather.

"Tom, you'd better revive your classy and sophisicated girlfriend," Ann said with sarcastic disgust, before indignantly raising her chin and marching from the apartment, Al in tow.