Old Dwight and the Librarian

Old Dwight peeked over the top of the book he was reading: The Tropic of Cancer, one of the earliest popular novels that delved into the seamy, steamy world of erotica. He had been reading Henry Miller's lusting after Tania;

"O Tania, where now is that warm cunt of yours, those fat, heavy garters, those soft, bulging thighs? There is a bone in my prick six inches long. I will ream out every wrinkle in your cunt, Tania, big with seed. I will send you home to your Sylvester with an ache in your belly and your womb turned inside out. Your Sylvester! Yes, he knows how to build a fire, but I know how to inflame a cunt. I shoot hot bolts into you, Tania, I make your ovaries incandescent."

Dwight had gotten a bone in his own prick from reading Miller's account and now he couldn't help but notice the young, buxom librarian shelving books not far from the desk where he sat. This certainly was not the first time he had noticed her. In truth, he made certain to look her way each and every time he visited the library. She was curvy. Sexy. Sensuous. Dwight often daydreamed what it would be like to bury his face in her large breasts and make love to her.

Would she have a wickedly hot cunt, like Tania? Would she be wet and inflamed with passion? Would she want to be reamed until she collapsed? Would she be the type of woman to ride a man until she was sweaty from exorcising her own lustful demons?

Dwight suspected she was. There was just something in the way she held herself, the way she moved around the room. Dwight had known women like that. Women who were as carnal and animalistic as he was himself. She exuded a certain aura about her that made Dwight think she would have dark rhythms in her soul, rhythms that would bring an uncommon intensity to her fucking. It was nothing he could define precisely, but it was something he knew when he saw it - much like Justice Potter Stewart saying he could recognize pornography when he saw it. Could it have been that Justice Stewart was just an old lecher whose own experiences mirrored those of Dwight? A man who enjoyed women? Enjoyed sex? Enjoyed the pleasures he could give and receive with the right woman?

Dwight continued to watch as his fantasy woman librarian finished shelving materials and moved to the stairwell. He laid down his book and followed, not knowing why. He was not the type of man who wanted to make a woman feel uncomfortable. But there was just something about this lust-worthy librarian that seemingly compelled Dwight to follow and see where she was going. A siren, luring Odysseus to the rocks?

Once in the stairwell, he caught her scent and heard her footsteps going higher in the building. Dwight was no connoisseur of perfumes (and, to be honest, he wasn't even sure she was wearing any), but he considered himself to be a connoisseur of females and her scent reminded him again of the women he knew who had been the best lovers. It could be pheromones, if one believes those stories, or it could be something else. But it was unmistakable in Dwight's mind; this was a woman in heat; a woman with a fiery pussy that required a man who knew how to make it burn out of control.

The door to the fourth floor opened and closed. There was nothing on the fourth floor of great interest, Dwight knew. It was mainly old materials and books that were "in storage", probably waiting to be destroyed as obsolete. Why would she be going to the fourth floor?

Moving up the stairs quietly, Dwight reached the landing. Slowly, carefully, he cracked open the door silently, so as not to be heard. An eye to the crack showed him a dark, dusty room, but no sign of the librarian.

He pulled the door a little further open and still did not see her, so he stepped inside. Waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, Dwight thought he heard a noise in the back of the room. Haltingly, he began to work his way toward the sound. He wasn't sure why he was there. But he knew he did not want to startle or frighten the librarian. Each step was taken cautiously, being sure not to bump into anything or make a sound that might reveal his presence.

Eventually he was close enough to see what had caused the noise he had heard. It could only have taken a minute or so, but in Dwight's heightened state it seemed like hours since he entered the fourth floor. He saw a small area that had been slightly cleared, a table and chair sitting among the shelves and piles. The librarian was seated on the chair and it was from her the noises were coming.

Dwight quickly realized that he was watching her masturbate. She had stolen away to this secluded, unused portion of the library to get the privacy she needed. He felt odd watching her through a gap on the shelf like some horny voyeur, but the scene was too compelling for him not to watch.

She had one hand playing with her breasts and the other buried between her legs. Dwight wished it was him in both places. Her breasts looked even bigger and sexier like this, and it was obvious they were extremely sensitive. She would gasp and moan whenever her hands flitted across her own nipples - nipples that stood tall enough and erect enough that they were plainly visible to Dwight, even in the dim light and through the silky top she wore. She seemed to be in no rush, leisurely diddling herself, as if to build excitement slowly, trying to work herself to some sexual peak.

Dwight felt his cock, hard in his pants, straining against the denim. Carefully, he unzipped his jeans and slipped his dick into his right hand. He felt drops of slick precum on the head and he used that to lubricate the shaft. As he watched the librarian rub herself, he began to try to keep time by rubbing his cock. Faster than he expected, Dwight felt himself getting to the point where he would need a release. Without warning, he let out a slight moan of his own.

The librarian swiveled her head and saw Dwight. A quick glance told her she knew who he was. Sort of. She had seen him at the library on a regular basis. He was handsome and athletically built, with white hair and a beard. He carried himself with a confidence and discipline that she found attractive in a man. In the back of her mind, she recalled that his name was Dwight Something. He often read military or history books ... but she also was aware he sometimes picked up erotic novels and read those. She had wondered what type of man went back and forth between history and erotica. He had intrigued her with what seemed to be a combination of the scholarly and the prurient.

Now, though, she was more intrigued by what he had in his right hand. A rock hard cock, standing erect and tall. Pointed in her general direction. The veins were prominent and the head glowed purple with excitement. She hesitated, then signaled him to come closer; she wanted him to give her a better view of his dick which looked so tantalizing, arched in the shadows, swaying temptingly from side-to-side as if trying to lure her with its liveliness. A hard cock was one of her favorite things in the world and this cock looked as if it sensed her weakness, her inability to resist the excitement and pleasure she got from a man's prick, put to its proper use.

When the man was near enough, she reached out and touched his dick. She liked the way it felt in her hand. Solid. Thick. Just the way she wanted a man to be. As she slowly stroked his cock, she realized her pussy was beginning to assert its presence, to remind her that it liked cock as much as her mind did. The heat from between her thighs was persistent and undeniable. Her entire body was becoming high sensitized, erotically charged.

Blushing, she licked her lips. Thought for a moment. Then decided. She lowered her face toward the cock she had discovered. She could smell the excitement. She felt the big cock twitch when her breath hit it. Taking her tongue, she gave this dick a nice long lick, from the base to the head. It jumped in excitement, pleasing her greatly. It tasted good. Sweet. She liked sweet cock. A lot.

After a couple more swipes of her tongue, the librarian wrapped her lips around the cockhead and began to lower her mouth on it. Lower. Lower. Deeper, Deeper. She smiled to herself, proud of her ability to swallow cock. From the reaction of the dick in her mouth, she knew that Dwight was impressed, as well. She gave his cock a wonderful working over, making him groan each time she went down on him, her tongue flicking along the shaft as her lips encircled his considerable girth.

But she didn't want him to enjoy the blow job "too much". She had other plans for the dick in her mouth than just blowing it. Sensing he was ready, and certain that she was, the librarian stood up and turned away from Dwight. Her khaki pants dropped to the floor, revealing the single thread of a lacy thong. She bent over and placed both hands on the table, her ass pointing at Dwight, her pussy revealed by the thong that failed to completely cover it.

Dwight sucked in air at the sight of the thong and the wonderful ass it was on. Round, taut and toned. A perfect complement to her large breasts. Dwight loved curvaceous women, and the librarian was decidedly curvaceous. He rubbed her ass with his left hand and then gave it just a light smack, hard enough to hear the sound of his palm as it met that rounded ass. Her body jerked and trembled, the way a woman does when a man discovers the things that excite her. He gave her ass another smack, slightly harder this time, and her body twitched again.

Dwight noticed juice running down her leg. And a thick, wet strand hanging from her luscious cunt, waiting to drip to the floor. Her pussy was shiny, even in the low light of this dusky room. Using a finger to capture some of her juices, Dwight tasted it and found her to taste like nectar on his finger.

Standing so close to her that the head of his cock was touching her slick, open pussy, Dwight put his arms around the librarian and began to play with the breasts he had daydreamed about. Her tits were full and firm. His hands on them made her wiggle and buck, causing collisions between his swollen cockhead and her swollen pussy lips.

"What do you want?", he whispered in her ear. The first words either had spoken to the other.

She responded by wiggling her soaking slit against his rod. The librarian was frantically aware of his cock, rigidly standing at attention as she shamelessly rubbed herself on it.

But he pulled away from her slightly, although his hands never left her breasts, and repeated his question. "What do you want?"

The librarian's heart began to race faster. She wanted him to fuck her, but she would feel like a slut if she had to tell him. All she wanted was for him to shove that cock in her pussy and fuck her like a nasty whore. She wanted it hard. She wanted it fast. She wanted it now.

"What do you want?", he persisted. "Do you want me to fuck you?"

Her head nodded vigorously. Yes, that was exactly what she wanted.

"If you want me to fuck you, you have to tell me. Do you want me to fuck you?"

A slight "yes" squeaked from the librarian's full, sumptuous lips.

"Yes, what? If you want me to fuck you, then say it."

There she was, standing almost naked in front of him. She had sucked his cock. Her pussy was dripping wet and juice was running down her legs. She was bent over, offering her cunt to him, practically begging him to fuck her, and he wanted to hear her say it. Somehow, the idea of telling him she wanted to be fucked was more embarrassing, and exciting, than everything else.

Her facing turning red, she whispered, "I want you to fuck me."

"Say "please"."

She hesitated. "Please fuck me."

And with that, she finally got what she wanted. His cockhead parted her pussy lips and entered her. He slowly worked his dick into her cunt deeper and deeper until he was all the way in and she could feel his balls resting against her ass. While playing with her titties, Dwight began to fuck her with long, deliberate strokes. She felt every inch of his dick as it first plunged into her and then again as it slowly withdrew. She loved the hard heat of that piece of solid meat as it took her over and over. Her pussy yielded to his thrusts and he began to increase the pace. Faster and faster.

Dwight slid one hand from her breasts and found her clit, engorged as fully as his cock was. A jolt of electricity shot through her when his fingers hit the sensitive button. He continued to fuck her, pounding her pussy harder and harder, while rubbing her clit with one insistent finger.

The combination of carnal lust, cock and finger were too much for the librarian. She felt her body begin to convulse and spasm as her orgasm came on. Her wet cunt released even more juices, covering his dick with the evidence of her excitement. A couple more hard fucks and she collapsed forward on the desk, unable to stand as the orgasm took control of her body.

Her excitement and her tight cunt were too much for Dwight, and he realized he was going to cum too. Wanting to take no chances, he withdrew from her just as his cock began to shoot its jism. It waved freely as three or four loads of thick man-cum arced into the air and onto the librarian's upturned ass.

Legs shaky, Dwight's body draped on top of her. They lie together like that, leaning against the old desk for two or three minutes, until Dwight had recovered his senses. Standing, he stashed his softening dick back in his pants. Leaning over the librarian, he placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck, and felt her twitch one more time.

Dwight left the librarian and quickly made his way back to the stairwell, no longer concerned about the silence or noise. He walked down to the first floor and sat again at the table. He put aside The Tropic of Cancer and pulled out a copy of Mila 18 from his satchel and began to read.

A few minutes later, the door to the stairwell opened, and the librarian appeared. Her clothes were smooth and well-fitting. Her top tucked carefully into the khakis, betraying no sign of what had just happened in the fourth floor darkness. She nodded slightly to Dwight, as she might to any library customer, and stepped behind the counter.

"May I help you?" she sweetly asked a gray-haired lady with an armful of books.