My Librarian

Lots of errands today; I need to stop by the library. As I step inside, I notice the librarian shelving books; she's got a nice big, juicy ass. Mmm—I mentally lick my lips.

I collect the books on hold, browse the videos—I'm feeling itchy, restless. Might be a good evening to watch a movie, as I'm not sure I have the concentration for reading. It's been a full week, and I'm tired; I know my sometime lover is busy tonight, so an evening in sounds relaxing.

Something's wrong with my card—I probably owe money for late fees. I stand in line for a librarian, and it's her again. As she turns to retrieve my receipt after I've paid, I see her ass is even fuller than I thought, and I can almost feel my teeth biting into her thick flesh. I go home and rub myself to a huge orgasm, thinking of that ass.

All week the image stays with me, and by the next Friday I'm coming apart at the seams. I haven't seen my lover since last weekend; he's out of town for a few more days.

Anyway, it's different with him; thinking of the librarian, I feel fierce. I want to knead her like bread dough, beat her like whipped cream. I have to somehow get inside that sweetness.

I stop by the library, just to check--to test whether I still feel the same response on seeing her. She might not even be there, I tell myself.

But she is, and she's wearing a tight pencil skirt that emphasizes her big round peach of an ass. My mouth waters, imagining lifting that skirt and diving in, licking and biting everywhere I can.

I've never even been with a woman, so my reaction interests me. Not since I was a kid, anyway; the requisite playing around we all did.

I recall that I was the initiator then; I took the "man" part in the ongoing sex play I had with my best friend. I told her that her breasts would grow as big as mine if I sucked her nipples, and we took turns licking each other's labia.

Hm. Thinking about that is turning me on a little, imagining sucking the librarian's breasts. She's a redhead, and I picture them as creamy white with salmony pink areolas and small pointy nipples. I want to push my way into her wet slit; I can almost see the soft red fur lining the entrance.

She's shelving again, so I browse the area she's working in. I don't know how to start, what to say; as she straightens up, what comes out of my mouth is, "You're very pretty." And she is; short wavy hair, flawless skin, large green eyes. She's startled--"Oh! Um, thank you", with a hint of upward inflection at the end, as if she's asking me a question.

I forge ahead, "I'd like to take you out for a drink when you get off work." Now she's blushing. "Uh, well, I, uh, I have a partner. A boyfriend!" I smile an insincere smile, "Me, too. He would think this is pretty hot." I have no idea where these words are coming from, who this person inhabiting my body is.

She doesn't respond, is looking down at her feet; I start to feel the first wisps of shame slithering into my body. Then her head comes up, with a snap--"Okay, yes. I get off at 6:30."

We agree to meet right outside the front door—any observant co-workers will think we're just friends, headed out for a drink at the end of a long week. The library closes, and I have a 30 minute wait, which I spend imagining that she will slip out a different exit, ask one of her co-workers to come tell me she had to leave.

But then, there she is—she's refreshed her watermelon-colored lipstick, and I am dying to kiss her full lips. I steer her into my car, and as soon as we're inside I kiss her and put my hand on her thigh. She's not wearing tights; Seattle is finally warm enough to go barelegged, and her legs are smooth and warm.

She moans a little as I kiss her forcefully, opening her mouth with my tongue. Her legs fall apart as she's pushed back into the seat as I lean toward her; I slide my hand up, up, and then I can feel her heat through her panties. I want this to last, so I touch her through the fabric instead of shoving my hand inside, as I am aching to.

I can smell her, and all of the sudden I lean down, put my face right into her crotch. She groans, pulls at my hair like she's trying to make me stop; I breathe onto the strip of fabric covering her, then lick slowly up each thigh. She moans and opens her legs wider, which I take as my cue.

Tented by her skirt, I lean back and gently pull the panties aside; she looks so beautiful and swollen I have to taste her with my tongue. As I touch her with just the tip, right in her opening, she groans gutturally and grabs my hair with her hands.

I realize she's pushing my face into her, so I press in harder. My nose and mouth are overwhelmed by her hot, wet cunt; the smell is intoxicating. I start to lick and bite blindly, frantically; I'm holding her hips as she grinds into my face.

I finally pull back to focus on her clit; as I suck and bite it, she begins bucking against me, and I am wishing I could keep her still, make her concentrate on what she's feeling.

As I think this, I sit up, my face dripping with her juice and sweat, and she freezes, not sure of what I'm doing. I tell her, "Lean the seat back", and she blinks, but complies. I realize what I want is to be in control, instead of feeling like I'm on a runway train. I want to slow this down, and I want to call the shots.

We're parked right on the street; what we've been doing has been fairly discreet, but I want to get her completely naked. I get into the driver's seat and drive a few blocks to a parking area behind a building. I know the businesses are closed, so there would be little traffic in the small lot.

She lies still, her skirt still pulled up, and doesn't say a word. As soon as I turn off the car, I turn to her and start kissing her, wanting her both to be reassured and to understand that we're going to do this at my pace, my way.

I kiss her for a few minutes, and she starts breathing heavily again; I stroke her nipples through her blouse, and they are long and hard; not the little buttons I imagined.

She smells like flowers and fresh bread and powder, and her skin is as white and smooth as I pictured. She must never let herself get burned in the rare Seattle sun; she's unmarked as a baby. I decide I want her undressed completely—I want to see that beautiful full moon I've been dreaming of.

I unbutton her blouse, ease it off her round shoulders. Her bra is of the laundry-day variety; plain, serviceable. It makes me like her even more for some reason. I reach behind her and unhook it; she seems frozen, immobile.

I look at her face, and her eyes are closed. I'm not sure if she can't let herself see what is happening, or if she's scared and trying to hide it. Or if she's just wanting to savor the feeling of being taken.

Whatever her state, I need to keep going. Something is driving me, compelling me to have her. To make her feel things. All week I've pictured her on the brink, shaking, moaning, crying out; I want to be the one to take her there.

With that thought reverberating in my mind and body, I pull off her bra and her breasts are full, round, and her areola are huge; her nipples an inch long and dark purple-red, like some strange tropical flower. I wonder if she's had a child.

I lick one, and then the other, sit back to watch them get even harder as I blow on them. And then I bite one, gently and then harder—she sucks her breath in, but doesn't make any other sound. I want her making noise.

I rub my face around her breasts, enjoying the feel of those nipples poking me; I want to suck them so hard she can't stay quiet. Her eyes are still closed, and she's got one arm thrown back over her head; the other arm rests by her side, her hand on her stomach.

As I capture her nipple in a hard suck, she brings her hands to my head, as if to pull me off; she's making little mewing sounds. Without stopping I reach up and pin her hands over her head; she struggles a bit. I'm a couple inches taller, but we're about the same weight; if she wanted to get away she could, as I'm only using one hand.

As I keep sucking, feeling that incredible nipple getting even longer in my mouth, I can hear her starting to pant. She continues to struggle a little, but not hard enough for me to think she means it. More that she enjoys the feeling of being held down, of resisting what she honestly is enjoying.

I reach down with my other hand, into her panties; instead of the downy pelt I'd imagined, there is nothing—she's bald as an egg there. I feel a moment of disappointment; I'd noticed that she also shaves her armpits, and I laugh to myself at the expectation that she'd be exactly what I imagined, a Seattle granola librarian who doesn't shave and has a huge ass AND has some desire to be dominated by a woman--how many kinks should one person be able to fulfill?

However, I feel moisture seeping out of her slit, and any disappointment is banished; I want to make her cum, to gush and soak my car's seat. I can feel my own pussy tighten in response to her excitement. So this is what it feels like when my lover says, as he often does, "You're so wet." I feel powerful, like I've made this happen.

I make myself slow down, unzip her skirt and slide it down her legs; I'm still holding her hands above her head, so am doing this all one-handed. It's awkward; I let go of her hands to tug at her skirt. Without opening her eyes, she reaches down to help get the skirt off.

With the skirt finally off, her beautiful soft stomach lies before me; she's got the classic small waist/big butt combination that I don't actually see that often. Maybe if I was hanging out with more women of color, instead of all the flat-assed white women I know.

This extremely pale woman's ass is still mostly imaginary for me; after a week spent dreaming about it, I'm almost afraid to see if it can possibly compare to the fantasy in my mind.

She's leaned back and I'm on my knees on the seat in front of her; I slide to the floor and bend over to her still panty-covered pubis. As I lick all around the edges of that damp piece of cloth, she is wiggling, making little low grunts.

I bite the inside of her inner thigh, hold her with my teeth; not hard enough to hurt, I don't think, but she stops moving. When she's still, I release her from my grip and resume licking. We do that a few more times before she seems to get the message that I want her immobile.

Only then do I move in closer to that fabric-covered mound; I can smell her, am dying to stick my face into her again, but I slow myself down once more. It's time to see if things are as I've dreamed. I get ahold of her panties and yank them up into her pussy; I like the sight of her lips bulging out the sides.

I play with her a while, biting and pulling her pussy lips, then I grab her panties in my teeth and pull them down; she lifts her hips to help out, and then she's bare before me.

I sit up to take in the sight; her thighs are full and rounded, her calves are muscled, her toenails are painted glittery blue. Her pussy is glistening, ripe as a summer strawberry.

All this time she's had her eyes closed; I tell her to open them. I want her to see me looking at her. She does, and as she takes in the look on my face, she flushes. I have a mental picture of myself, my eyes dark and glittering. I want to fuck her hard, and the thought both excites and disturbs me.

I tell her to turn over; she does, pulling her legs up so she's kneeling with her body leaned forward on the seat, ass high in the air before me. It is majestic, white and impossibly large; I can see her puckering hole, and I want to lick it. I want to make her scream.

I lean forward, and the first touch of my tongue causes her to moan and straighten up; again I bite into her flesh while my hands push her roughly down onto the seat.

She freezes, and I unclamp my teeth and begin to leisurely explore her ass with my tongue. Pretty soon she's moaning continuously, and tiny tremors race through her body. I am sticking the hard point of my tongue into her, then lapping with flat broad strokes, alternating them over and over.

I slip two fingers into her swollen pussy, and she cries out; I continue licking as I push my hand deeper into her cunt. Pretty soon I have my entire hand inside her; she's very wet and I slide in up to my knuckles, then have to push the rest of the way in. I can tell it's hurting her some, but I can't stop. I want to be inside her, any way I can.

I put two fingers from my other hand into her ass; I can feel my hand in her pussy through the thin membrane, and I push the fingers in her ass forward, stretching her opening.

She's loud now, just as I hoped; her hips are bucking, and it's getting harder to stay with her. I can tell she's close, and I'm not ready for this to be over. I bite her asscheek, hard, and I hear her groan, but she doesn't stop moving.

I pull my hands out of her and sit up; her ass is there, quivering and pale, and then I'm spanking her, over and over. I realize after a few hard spanks that she's coming; this has pushed her over.

A huge scream followed by several loud moans, and then liquid is streaming down her legs. She's a gusher; I couldn't have asked for anything more.

I lean over to taste her sweetness; I want to drink her in. As I lick and suckle her pussy, she clamps my head with her thighs. I turn onto my back to get a better angle, and as I look up, I see her face, flushed and sweaty.

She feels my eyes, looks down and I hold her eyes with mine as I slowly, teasingly lick her to another trembling orgasm. When she closes her eyes, I bite her labia, and her eyes fly open; she understands that I want her to stay with me as she comes apart.

A few orgasms later, she's a wet, slippery mess; her mascara is running down her cheeks, and her hair is everywhere. I love seeing her so undone, my sweet little librarian. We sit up, I help her dress, and I drive back to the library.

As we hug goodbye, she whispers into my neck, "Can we...do that again? Sometime?" I lean back, looking at her face, her eyes—I see hunger there that mirrors my own.

I whisper back, "You know we will", and see a heated flush come up her neck into her face. This was just the beginning; I've barely gotten started, just scratched the surface of what's inside me.

I'm imagining the sound of a paddle cracking across that ass, hearing her breathy cries, pushing her limits and mine. "You'll be very helpful in my research", I say.

Librarians like to be in charge, but this one will learn to give me all I ask for; we won't be quiet about it, either.