Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 19

October 22, 1988

Single, middle-aged and bespectacled Angelina Lione may look the part of the prim, proper and sexually repressed, buttoned-up bibliothec, but she's most definitely NOT your father's librarian - at least not while in a lover's company. Blessed with a ravenous and unquenchable sexual appetite, Angelina's orgasms are so intense that she oftentimes faints during the throes of passion.

While never mistaken for a perfect 10 with her large brown eyes, tucked behind oversized, Diana Prince-style eyeglass lenses, Angelina still cuts quite the desirable figure, with a fetching face always perfectly and tastefully made up, and a sleek and shapely body. Her short, black hair, speckled with gray, was cut in a chic, wedge/pixie-style, puffed and piled on the top and curled forward around the ears. Angelina's attractive physical traits, however, always paled in comparison to her overwhelming sex appeal. Using her vast store of feminine wiles, Angelina negotiates about her lovers' hearts, minds and bodies as deftly as she navigates the Dewey Decimal System, manipulating infatuated men for her monetary and personal gain.

High maintenance and even higher fashion, Angelina always models the latest designer threads - oftentimes accentuated by any one of her dozen pairs of high-heeled dress boots. Her sophisticated look even extends to smoking accessories. The haughty diva wouldn't dream of smoking a cigarette if it wasn't filtered through her long, black holder. More of a cigarette holder sucker and stroker than a smoker, Angelina seductively works the black shaft with her mouth, tongue and fingers as if it was a penis proxy; the effect that playing with the long, stiff holder has on would-be lovers is like snake charming. Under the sexy siren's magic spell, they're entirely at her mercy; powerless to resist the temptation to pleasure her - as if they really would.

Angelina spent her 20s and 30s as a fully-committed member of the sexual revolution of the 1960s and '70s - bedding dozens upon dozens of men. Only when she reached age 40 did her love life settle down - for her anyway - when the lusty librarian entered into a long term, nearly exclusive, torrid affair with the principal at her school. After the forbidden relationship unceremoniously ended six years later, Angelina found herself alone at a time when her peers had long since settled down into blissful domestic life. A prolonged romantic dry spell followed, until a former student unexpectedly burst into her life.

Twenty-two year old Tom Bailey had been in lust with Angelina for years, drawn in classic fetish fashion to the sexy librarian's stylish, high-heeled boots, seductive smoking and even her pretentious and snobbish personality. Over time, his feelings - like his fetishes - for the femme fatale only grew stronger, until he could no longer keep them to himself. The pair had just launched an intense, physical relationship when Harry Seymour, Angelina's old boss and lover, re-entered her life. Unable to decide between the two romantic suitors, Angelina proposed a date-off - or "fuck-off" - as Tom bitterly described the arrangement.

Now, with her love life once again in full bloom, the amorous woman was in sex heaven - reliving her youth, when men practically lined up around the block to date her. Preying on the men's sexual addiction to her, Angelina gleefully bounced between their beds for nearly a month, until Tom finally prevailed.

The love triangle finally broken, Angelina and Tom were finally free to embark on a committed, loving relationship. But the couple's path to romantic bliss was lined with a phalanx of challenges - not the least of which was familial. During their first fortnight together, Tom met Angelina's family - and had been unnerved by her brutish and overprotective brother-in-law.

It was a couple months into their relationship before Tom worked up the nerve to introduce Angelina to his folks. The encounter set off a tremor that was bound to trigger aftershocks along the fault line of their courtship. The meeting with what turned out to be an old work adversary so unnerved Tom's mother, in fact, that she subsequently resumed a long dormant smoking habit.

That introduction went poorly enough, but how would Tom's college friends react to seeing him with a much older woman? What would be their impression of her? What would he see in her? Sure Angelina was attractive enough - but she was an attractive older woman. Why would young Tom be interested in a 50 year old, when there were plenty of lovely ladies his own age available? And when they got a whiff of her pompous and bitchy personality, they'd really question what was in this relationship for Tom and the age difference would be even more pronounced. The very real possibility existed that they'd disapprove of this affair, judging Tom a weirdo and mere boy toy to Angelina's dirty old woman.

Private by nature - and especially embarrassed to confide in anyone about his smoking and boot fetishes - how could Tom possibly explain to them that Angelina embodied all that he found physically alluring in a woman? How every time he saw the haughty diva smoking from a cigarette holder or strutting about in a pair of delicious, high-heeled, knee-high leather boots it made his dick dance and pulsate with delight. Or that when every time he and this MILF-before-the-term-was-coined made love it brought him to heights of pleasure he never dreamed possible.

Now, a year into their dating relationship, the grave doubts Tom once harbored about he and Angelina ever having a serious, long-term future together had faded and they'd settled into a purely physical - if rather monotonous - routine of uninhibited, care-free sex.

"Happy first anniversary eve," Tom Bailey said cheerily into the mouthpiece of his telephone at his apartment in Hoboken, N.J.

"And the same to you, too, darrhhling," his girlfriend Angelina Lione responded in her trademark sexy and breathy tone, on the phone from her house, some 20 miles west.

"What a year. I can't wait to celebrate with you tomorrow. Wish we could celebrate tonight."

"I know, darrhhling, but I can't skip Lisa's bachelorette party. At least I'll get to see one Bailey today - your mother."

"Yeah, her asking you out for lunch...doesn't get much weirder than that, does it?"

"I still can't believe it. But after a year of undermining me and trying to break us up, maybe she's finally accepted that I haven't corrupted her sweet, innocent baby boy. Funny, if she only knew the depths of your kinks and fetishes."

"Maybe you two can even be friends now."

"I wouldn't go that far, darrhhling. I'll settle for civility. Oh, if only your mother could be more like your father. He and I get along famously."

"I think he has a little crush on you. He lights your cigarettes almost as often as I do."

"Yes, he does seem to have a quick lighter finger. I love it. He's so sweet and cute. Say...I've got an idea. Why don't you come over tonight and we can get a head start on our anniversary...emphasis on 'head'?"

"I like that. But won't the bachelorette party go late?"

"Doubtful, darrhhling. I'm sure it'll be a dreadfully dull and tame affair. It'll only be me, Elaine, Lisa, and her four bridesmaids, who aren't exactly the partying types, from what I can tell. We'll probably just talk, open gifts and drink tea. I'll be home by 11:00 at the latest, and then you and I can really party away the rest of the night."

"Great idea. I'll go out with friends here, then drive over to your house around 10:30 and let myself in."

"Perfect. Well, I have to run, darrhhling, and finish putting on my face if I'm to meet your mother by 1:00 at the restaurant. Ciao."

"Have fun today. And don't do anything I wouldn't do at the bachelorette party."

An hour later, Angelina and Ann Bailey, Tom's mother, met for their predetermined lunch date at a restaurant in the librarian's town.

"My, you look lovely," Ann greeted her son's lover with uncharacteristic warmth outside the bistro, admiring Angelina's outfit, which consisted of a tan blazer and knee high, high-heeled black boots zipped up over a snug pair of black designer jeans and a matching top. "You always look so stylish."

"Why, thank you, Ann," Angelina said with surprise, not at all used to being complimented by the woman who had so openly disapproved of her and Tom's romantic relationship.

"I'm so glad you could meet me."

"Yes, sorry it couldn't be for dinner, like you wanted to, but my niece's bachelorette party is tonight."

"Well, that's exciting. How old is she?"

"24."

"Wow, I was married at 24, too. I'm envious. Wish I could relive it. She has no idea how great her life will be from now on."

"Welcome, ladies," greeted the host, standing outside the restaurant at a podium with an open reservation book perched on top. "Do you have a reservation?"

"We do," replied Ann. "Bailey."

"Oh, yes. Reservation for two. Would you like to be seated inside or out today?"

"Out, please," replied Angelina quickly, anxious to quell her fraying nerves with a cigarette and knowing the intimate restaurant with limited capacity did not have a smoking section. "It'd be nice to eat al fresco."

The host nodded and led the women to a nearby table.

"Enjoy your meal, ladies," he said. "Your waitress will be with you momentarily."

Angelina promptly removed her long black cigarette holder and gold-plated cigarette case from her purse and readied the holder to smoke, while Ann studied the wine menu.

"Good afternoon, ladies," said the cheery, bald and middle-aged waiter, appearing at the table. "Would you like to start with a drink today?"

"A bottle of Chateau-Pontet Canet," Ann annouced, placing the menu back in its sleeve on the table, before digging into her purse and removing her leather cigarette case.

The waiter jotted the order on his note pad then took a lighter out of his pocket and seamlessly transitioned to lighting the women's cigarettes, as deftly as if he made a career of it.

"That's a nice wine," Angelina said to Ann, through a talk-exhale, as the waiter walked off. "To what do we owe the occasion?"

"Why, your and Tom's one-year anniversary of dating, of course," Ann replied, after removing the lit More from her mouth. "I misjudged you, Angelina. It's clear you had only serious intentions with Tom, or else you wouldn't have lasted this long."

"Thank you, Ann. That was so thoughtful of Tom to think enough about our anniversary to tell his mother. I'm touched."

"Oh, he didn't."

"He didn't?"

"No. I actually reminded him. I mentioned it in passing recently, as I estimated this was around the time you two started dating."

"So, he didn't know this was our anniversary?"

"He didn't have a clue."

"I see."

"You know how young men are. They can be a bit immature when it comes to sentiment. Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot. You don't have children, so maybe you don't have reference. Honestly, I don't know when his state of suspended adolescence will end."

Ann continued her one-woman monologue for another minute but the content was lost on Angelina. Preoccupied with the harsh realization that she apparently had a man-child boyfriend, who was ignorant to true romanticism, Angelina raised the mouthpiece of her cigarette holder, closed her lips around it, released and blew the smoke into the air, the wind taking it to a place as faraway as the concerned look in her big brown eyes.

"Happy bachelorette party!" Angelina exclaimed, when her sister, Elaine, opened the door to her house several hours later.

"Angelina, what are you doing here?" Elaine said with surprise. "It's only 7:00. You're an hour early. The party doesn't start till 8:00."

"I am? I guess my watch is running slow...or maybe it's fast."

Angelina staggered into the house on the high heals of her black boots, sporting the same outfit she wore to lunch, minus the blazer.

"Are you okay?" Elaine asked. "You don't seem right. Have you been drinking?"

"Tom's mother and I shared a bottle of wine at lunch...and then I had a couple Martinis when I got home."

"What? Why? Geez, Ang. You know you can't hold your alcohol. Lets get some black coffee in you? On second thought, I don't know that coffee would sober you up much. Why don't you get some rest before the party starts?

"Whatever you say, sis."

Elaine hooked her right arm around her younger sister's waist and led the inebriated woman into the guest bedroom, where she promptly passed out on top of the unturned-down bed spread.

Ninety minutes later, the sound of loud music coming from the living room awoke Angelina. A little less drunk, but now groggy, Angelina stumbled upon an unexpected scene that immediately cleared some of the cobwebs from her head - a tall and muscular, African-American male stripper dressed only in a G-string thong, dancing suggestively around an embarrassed Lisa, who was sitting in a small wooden chair in the middle of the room.

Apparently, Lisa's bridesmaids knew how to hold a proper hen party afterall, Angelina thought, as her eyes grew wide and her mouth broke into a roguish smile. The stripper was the living embodiment of her idea of the perfect physical male specimen, and the lusty librarian was instantly and overwhelmingly sexually attracted to the stranger.

Watching the large outline of his cock and balls incased in his black spandex thong, piqued Angelina's sexual curiosity. For all the dozens upon dozens of lovers she'd had in her life, coincidentally, none had ever been a black man.

Angelina's pussy began to flood with secretions. She had to have this man, and now. With alcohol fueling Angelina's innately hyperactive libido and dulling her best judgment, there was nothing to stop the horny woman from achieving her goal. Forcing her way in front of the other women, Angelina came face to face with the stripper.

Lisa quickly took advantage of having the stripper's attention off her and vacated the chair. But the chair wasn't empty for more than a few seconds, as Angelina playfully pushed the man onto it. Standing over him, she removed her glasses and suggestively began sucking on one of the arms - all the while staring hard into his eyes.

Without looking where they were going, Angelina casually tossed the glasses aside, then - to assert her control over the situation, as was his her wont - quickly mounted the stripper, straddling her booted legs around his thighs. Pressing her camel toe up to his groin, Angelina began grinding away in true lap dance fashion. The stripper didn't object. The man's dick quickly swelled into a raging hard-on. The attraction now mutual, he, too, began to grind back, the pair dry humping in perfect erotic synchronicity for the next several minutes.

Angelina was by now clearly lost in the moment. Only the stripper maintained his head about but him - but just barely. Fearful of the situation escalating and of giving into his desires in public, he grabbed Angelina by the waist with his massive hands and gently lifted her off of him until her booted feet hit the floor. Now free, he stood up and resumed dancing. Hoping it would cool the situation down a degree or two.

An avid and talented disco dancer in the '70s, Angelina had little trouble keeping pace to the bass-driven beat of the music blasting from the stripper's portable boom box. But she also wasn't done having fun with the reluctant stripper.

Moving in close again, she repeatedly pelvic thrusted her shapely hips so they made contact with his groin. She then delicately moved her hands about his bare chest and stomach and inched her face with the ruby red lips to within centimeters of his.

There were six other people in the room, but the middle-aged femme fatale and the stripper - who was weakening at Angelina's relentless sexual assault on his body - seemed lost in their own erogenous zone. The body chemistry between them was combustible.

I'm going to smoke him, Angelina said to herself.

Moving even closer, Angelina opened her mouth and kissed the stripper's chest, then slowly lowered herself to the ground, gently running her tongue down the middle of his chest as she descended. When Angelina reached the man's groin, she grabbed a hold of his thong, carefully unfolded it from his erection and slid it down his legs.

Unexposed, the sheer length and girth of the naked cock impressed even a hardcore and experienced blowjob queen like Angelina. Her body tremoring in orgasmic convulsions at the well-endowed stripper, she took the penis in her hand, examined it like a fine diamond and caressed it with her long fingers. The man reacted in kind to the gentle stimulation, his erection somehow managing to point a few degrees farther north.

Then, as the other women watched on with a mix of horror and awe, Angelina opened her mouth and consumed the raw meat, taking it several inches into the back of her throat. Working the shaft with her lips and tongue, she patiently established a sucking rhythm. The dick - with a a dollop of pre-cum - tasted even better than it looked, and Angelina began to increase the tempo. For as much as she loved a man's cock in her pussy, a cock in her mouth was almost as stimulating.

The stripper arched his back, leaned back his head and moaned in ecstasy. Sensing he was about to ejaculate, Angelina removed the man's dick from her mouth moments before he shot his cum onto the living room floor.

Her oral fixation finally satisfied, an exhausted Angelina leaned back on her boots and annouced "Now that, ladies, is how one gives proper fellatio." Then, giving in to her intoxication, Angelina's eyes crossed, closed and she slumped forward, passing out face first onto the plush white carpet.

Elaine, who was standing behind Angelina, quickly got on the floor and brushed a strand of dark hair out of her unconscious sister's face.

"Looks like the party's over for this school librarian," Elaine said.

"She's a school librarian?!" said the stripper, now on his hands and knees and struggling to catch his breath. "Are you kidding me? Man, I didn't know librarians could party like that."