Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 29

The voice seemed to jolt Angelina out of her sexual obsession and back into reality.

"No, no, we've got it," Angelina said, frantically wiping her lipstick from Tom's neck. "We'll be out in a minute."

"You composed now?" Tom asked, wanting to be sure his wife was in control of her craving for him and that there'd be no attacks on his body before they left the privacy of their kitchen.

"Yeah," Angelina said, taking a deep breath and exhaling to relax. "I'm calm. I'm calm. But lets eat fast so we can get them out of here. I want you so bad I can taste it!"

"Meantime, just promise me you'll try to behave yourself, will you?" Tom scolded his older wife, as he turned away from her to enter the dining room.

As Tom turned his back to Angelina, the nymphomaniac woman sent him out of the kitchen with a flirtatiously playful squeeze of his butt cheeks.

Angelina did behave herself, until halfway through dinner, when a seemingly innocent question to anyone else at the table triggered another full-throated bout of sexual arousal.

"Uncle Frank, that was the best stogie I ever smoked," Tony said. "Where'd you get 'em?"

"Cuba," the distinguished looking older gentleman said.

"Cuba?! Ain't they illegal."

"I know a guy."

"I can't wait to finish mine after dinner."

Seconds later, while stabbing his fork into a second helping of manicotti, Tom felt something leathery and buttery smooth rubbing against the inside of his left leg. He knew before glancing to his left for confirmation that the material was the boot of his horny wife. Flushed and clearly in heat, Angelina flashed her man a seductive smile and continued moving her booted leg slowly and hypnotically up and down his calf.

Tom tried his best to suppress the physiological reaction Angelina sought, but it wasn't easy. Oh, how he had a thing for seeing his lover wearing high-heeled, knee-high boots. And oh, how she loved to exploit her husband's fetishes (including his smoking obsession) for her sexual gain time and time again. Their respective fetishes were the foundation of an active and erotic -- if not necessarily conventional -- sex life. But Tom knew it was best to fight his present desire. No amount of immediate gratification was worth the lifetime of humiliation and embarrassment he'd experience from popping a woody -- or worse, cumming in his pants -- in the company of his in-laws.

The young man was finally starting to feel like he was keeping his urges at bay, when another assault to his tenuous grasp on self-control came from under the table. This time Angelina -- her pussy juicing with vaginal secretions -- switched extremities, boldly feeling about with her right hand until she struck pay dirt. This time, Tom did lose his composure, along with a mouthful of manicotti.

"Ahhhh," Tom blurted, overreacting to the unexpected and sensitive touch of Angelina's hand making contact on his groin by executing a spit-take that shot a mix of cheese, tomato and pasta across the table toward Uncle Frank.

Fortunately, for Tom, the landing came inches short of the man's plate.

"Excuse me," the flustered young newlywed said, coughing into his napkin. "It musta gone down the wrong pipe."

"It never goes down the wrong pipe for me," Angelina said, seductively whispering a double entendre into her husband's ear.

"Think I'll finish my cigar before dessert's served," Uncle Frank said.

Uncle Frank, Rocco, Richie and Tony got up from the table.

"You coming, kid?" Rocco asked the still-seated Tom.

"Yeah...uhhh...just a sec," Tom said, not daring to leave the table until his erection had disappeared.

The women cleared the dishes, leaving Tom and his unwanted woody alone, like a child who was sentenced to the dinner table until he'd finished his vegetables. In a few minutes, his dick returned to normal size and he rejoined the men in the living room.

"Who wants coffee with their dessert?" Angelina asked, poking her head out from behind the swinging door.

Through the smokey haze of her living room, Angelina's eyes were once again drawn to her husband, puffing away on the cigar he'd started before dinner. Immediately, her mouth dropped open. So mesmorizing was the sight that whatever drink orders the men placed went in one of her ears and out the other.

"Hey...dingbat...did ya hear me?" Rocco asked his sister-in-law when the zoned-out woman failed to acknowledge him after he made his request. "I said two creams, no sugar."

"Yeah...yeah...two creams, no sugar," Angelina repeated, as if hypnotized, before ducking back into the kitchen.

After starting the coffee pot, she absentmindedly pressed the "on" button for the blender; the sudden power surge produced a momentary flicker of the house lights. The dimming light shocked Angelina out of her stupor, a metaphorical light bulb burned in her head. With both appliances activated, the scheming woman went for broke, turning on the toaster oven that was plugged into the same wall outlet. The overloaded circuit breaker tripped a fuse and now the house was in total, permanent darkness.

"What'd that ditzy broad do now?" an annoyed Rocco asked.

"Thomas, darrhhling, would you help me with the fuse box?" Angelina yelled from the kitchen through a Grinch-like smile at the perfect execution of her plan.

"OK," Tom called out to his wife from the living room.

Tom rose from his chair and paused.

"Oh... wait," he asked the other men. Where is it? I've only lived here a couple weeks."

"Tony, you're da electrician in da family," Rocco said. "You know where da fuse box is. Go take a look."

Tony obediently complied. Using his aunt's cigarette lighter from the coffee table as a guide, he made his way through the darkened house to the basement stairs and then to the cellar. For the next phase of her master plan, Angelina intentionally waited in the kitchen until she heard footsteps on the cellar stairs. By the time she herself descended the steps, Tony was at the fuse box. Unfortunately, the cigarette lighter produced little brightness, complicating what should have been a quick and simple trip switch reset. Tony knew his aunt was on her way to the basement, so he didn't turn around when he heard her boots echo on the steps. He was understandably surprised, however, moments later when he felt two hands reach from behind and cup his groin. This was followed by the sensation of a woman's body pressing against his.

The nearsighted Angelina, whose eyesight was further compromised by the darkness, had mistakenly assumed that the figure she was feeling up was her spouse. Afterall, Tom was the one she called out to to meet her in the basement, so why would she think it would be anyone but him futzing about in the fuse box? Besides, Tony had the same build as her husband, and he smelled like a cigar.

"Oh, baby, I want you so bad," Angelina purred, before seductively sticking her tongue in her nephew's ear. "I shut off the power to buy us a few minutes of privacy so I can smoke your big...fat...cigar."

Tony's body tightened.

"You're so tense, darrhhling," his aunt commented. "Relax, I'll be gentle."

Angelina gently squeezed Tony's cock. In short order, it got as stiff as the rest of his body.

"C'mon, darrhhling, I know you want to," she persisted, her reluctant sexual partner obviously aroused but not returning the favor.

Unable -- or perhaps unwilling -- to speak up and voice his protest, Tony closed his eyes, moaned, drank in the experience and played along. Content to let his aunt operate under the misapprehension that the man she was fondling was her husband and not her nephew.

"Tony, you need a hand?" came Elaine's voice from the top of the basement stairs, unaware that her son was already getting a generous amount of hand, courtesy of the amorous aunt who he once had a teenage crush on.

"Tony?!" Angelina whispered cautiously. "This is Thomas, right?"

"Umm...hi, Aunt Ang," her 24-year-old nephew sheepishly responded, his cover now blown as big as the blow job he was on the verge of receiving.

In the darkness of the basement, the grip on Tony's groin suddenly loosened and he felt his aunt's body go limp across his back.

"Tony?" his mother asked again, this time with more concern in her voice.

"Uhhh...yeah, mom," her son answered. "Stay put. I don't want you to trip on the stairs in the dark. We'll be right up. I've almost got it."

Tony exhaled a deep breath from his toes. The last thing he wanted was to have his mother catch him in a compromising position with his aunt. With Angelina still hanging on his back, Tony got to work again on the fuse box. Seconds later, the flame from her cigarette lighter revealed which circuit breakers she had tripped to disable the power. Tony switched them to their correct position and electricity was restored to the house.

Now holding on to his aunt with one arm, Tony reached with his other for the nearby cord that would illuminate an overhead lightbulb. The basement now bathed with light, Tony could see that his aunt was unconscious -- presumably having passed out from the emotional distress of yet again having mistakenly come on to her nephew.

Tony repositioned his fainted aunt. Lifting her up, he held Angelina in his arms and looked down at a practically flawless face that belied her 53 years. Eyes closed behind oversized glasses, the pouty mouth framed by red and luscious lips was locked open -- practically inviting a kiss. Tony stared longingly at his hot, vulnerable aunt and rationalized the situation. Just one kiss, he thought. One sweet, innocent smooth of those luscious lips. Who would know? She sure won't. Pulse pounding, Tony surrendered to the forbidden temptation and leaned in to initiate an embrace that was 10 years in the making.

"Angelina? Tony?" Elaine called out for the third time. "The lights are on upstairs now."

Mere centimeters from contact with his aunt's lips, Tony's mother's voice deflated his dick like a pin to a balloon.

"Okay, great," Tony yelled up to her.

The moment gone, a disappointed Tony gazed back at his sexy aunt, the slowly carried her cradle style up the stairs.

"What the...?" Tom asked, at the unexpected sight of seeing his wife in the arms of her nephew, once the pair returned to the first floor.

"She...uhhh...she saw a mouse in the corner when I turned on the light and passed out," Tony lied.

"That'd do it," Rocco said, knowing full well how prone Angelina was to fainting from emotional distress.

"Oh, the poor dear," a concerned Elaine said. "Quick, Tony, lay her on the couch?"

Tony complied, stretching his aunt out on her back. Tom sat beside Angelina and propped her booted feet on the armrest, in hopes that the leg elevation would help her revive quickly.

"Looks like the party's over," Elaine announced. "We'd better go, so Angelina can get some rest."

"But what about dessert?" Rocco asked.

"Are you serious?! Does Angelina look like she's in any shape to serve dessert?"

"I can wait till she comes around?"

"C'mon. There's some Twinkies at home, you can eat. Tom, thank you for dinner. Tell Ang I'll give her a call tomorrow to see how she's feeling. Let me know if you need anything."

"Will do," Tom said, now clapping his wife's hand. "I'm calling an exterminator first thing tomorrow."

As the family made their way to the front door, Rocco delivered a parting shot.

"Hey, kid," he said to Tom. "You could probably score some big points with the missus if you did the dishes while she's passed out."

Well, Tom thought to himself, staring into the face of his fainted bride, after a day of her winding me up, I'm definitely going to score alright, but it won't be with the dishes.

As for the other young man Angelina had sexually wound up that evening, Tony went to bed and fantasized about his aunt: masturbating to her for the first time since he was a young teen.