Maria and the Six Humiliations

At Brightsmart Academy where Alex Wilson had attended some thirty years ago, they made freshmen pen letters to themselves as seniors. Amongst the wisdom Alex had dispensed he had written: "Don't be a cliché"

And here he was 47 and highly at risk. He was married with two children. He worked at a library, a stable career. And he ran programs for everyone from teens to the elderly. He was familiar and well liked by everyone, including the new page.

Maria was beautiful, natural, fresh faced, sometimes with a flower in her hair. She wasn't skinny (a BMI would indicate she was overweight) but it seemed to lay all in her huge breasts. He had no idea about her ass- she wore flowing skirts. Not that he had been thinking about her ass. He couldn't. He was married.

But then he heard her poetry. He ran a poetry group and most of the elderly members of his writing group showed up but so did she, spilling her coffee, getting donut powder on her shirt. Some shared original poems. More read poems important to them. And then the 22 year old page took the stand and read some poems about mental health and mental illness.

Alex had a hard on for genius. And as he listened to her he shuffled his manila folder to block his erection which was intense. Metaphors made him breathe more quickly. There was a huge wave of applause and she took her seat. Alex determinedly kept his eyes on members of the audience but not on her.

She was dangerous. He had just begun to realize this. Alex told her his group would like to see more of her poetry. She had copies of her poetry to him by the end of the week.

He started watching her after that. He noticed she had a habit of pulling her underwear out of her ass. He suspected this meant she was wearing thongs. When she bent over the visualization became too much. He forced himself to stare at tax returns, numbers which weren't sexy. He couldn't help but notice her breasts or how they strained against her clothes like a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled.

It was the end of the weekend and a batch of poems had just appeared in his mailbox. She poked her head in.

"Oh good, you got them,"

"Yes I did. Thanks," What else was there to say? I don't think your bras are supportive? Wear more comfortable panties?

He noticed in her hand a stack of romance novels, "bodice rippers" as they were called. He raised his eyebrows, half-kidding, half curious.

"They're being reshelved," On the cover, a man held a woman insisting his lips meet hers, plump breasts his for the taking. He blinked back to Maria but she left. Hopefully she hadn't realized what was on his mind. Alex worked in a clear office. No sort of privacy.

"Alex," Maria gently rapped on the door "I have something to show you,"

He looked up expecting more poems.

"It's in the aisles," she gestured towards the decrepit reference section. Intrigued he got up. As usual, he was dressed impeccably. Pressed slacks, dress shirt. She took him to the encyclopedia section and started to read from a poem about....birds? Space?

He was trying to focus on the poem so they jumped several feet when he felt a hand on his cock. He glanced down incredulously. Sweet, innocent Maria was rubbing his cock. A quick movement and his cock was out and she was on her knees. Oh my god. The library had never seemed so silent.

"Stop," he hissed. She did.

"Don't," he whimpered. This time she took his cock all the way and began to bob back and forth with determination and enthusiasm and all the qualities he commended in a worker.

"Get your tits out," he commanded. She raised her shirt revealing a black and red lace bra with cups not quite big enough to hold her breasts. She was licking top to bottom, then she gagged as she deepthroated him. He loved the sound, he pushed his cock even deeper. Drool dripped onto her breasts.

"Faster," his voice was urgent, strangled. He was so close almost there. Then she moaned and that pushed him over the edge. He shot his load (without a warning) right down her throat. He noted her smile as she took in every drop with satisfaction. Then she got to her feet and ran away before he could say a word.

He called her to his desk the next day. The whole library could see them. He felt like every one of them must be staring. No one was.

"Did you like my poetry yesterday?" she asked sweetly. Had he hallucinated? "Would you like to hear more?"

"I can't Maria. You know that," Maria looked disappointed but not as dejected as he hoped she would be.

"Okay let me know if you change your mind," She left some papers on his desk. He browsed them.

The first was a poem about flowers. The second was a poem about the moon. The third was...a contract. Or was it rules for some game he'd never played before? The objective? Sex. Sex with that warm, wanton, wet pussy dripping for him. But first he had to put her through six tasks. The six (as she called it) "humiliations"

'There is nothing as sexy as humiliation. It can be very inconvenient but I love it' she wrote. He put the paper down. He had no idea of how he would even begin to humiliate her. Unless he made her strip down in the reference section. He was immediately alarmed at how aroused this made him. God, he tried to calm down so he could go to the bathroom and snap one off. When he did, he took care of business quickly. He had six humiliations to think of.