|Blogs > rm_phatboybc > My Blog|
Thank you to my inspirations...you are hot!
I’m lying on my bed, mindlessly watching television, fidgeting with the boyish edge of my square-cut panties, feeling the low rise brush gently over the top of my trim little bush. My other hand gently holds my cell phone against my ear. I am listening to a man’s voice as is spills out onto my neck, washes down to shoulder and finds itself atop my breast. My hand moves up away from pubic bone, underneath tank top to find soft supple breast. As he tells me stories, and encourages me to soften to his queries, my fingers cinch around nipple and squeeze until it grows hard and needy. My hand travels back to low-rise, slips under expertly and finds soft smooth skin. Just a little rub as hand presses down harder, legs open on cue. Fingertips spread warm flesh wide, finding moisture. I withdraw my fingers and hold them to my face, smelling arousal. The smell makes me think of a beautiful woman I want to fuck.
Are women supposed to say they want to make love…?
I want to fuck her!
The man on the phone has a boat. I decide I need to learn something about this subject. I always seem to have a good reason to go to the library…on Tuesdays. Tonight it’s raining so it’s pretty quiet. Vancouver can become darker than night when it rains; I think most people are afraid they’ll be lost at sea if they venture out. Tonight I think I’d like to be lost at sea. I shake the water off my coat, realizing my t-shirt underneath is soaked through. So here I am inside the big clunky library, purposely going down the wrong stack in order to browse the surrounding titles. I drag my fingers along stiff and smooth spines, not sure what will catch my eye. The smell of aged paper and ink, mixed with an accumulation of human scents over time, stirs up memories of earlier libraries…earlier fantasies. I feel all alone inside the stacks, row upon row of solitude with so many exciting ideas, some forbidden others unheard of, each one linking itself to my permanent observation of the world. Each persons ideas touching me, frigidly intimate. Something about feeling so alone in this giant public space makes me pull at my rain-dampened clothing, wishing it could come off. Then I see her…Long Brown hair tied up tightly behind her. Glasses, slouching down the nose as she looks over them through golden brown eyes and fat black lashes. Lips, softly pouting unconsciously as she files through the card catalogue searching by subject not title. Her white blouse is cut low and fits her form precisely. I can see her poorly chosen dark bra, holding firm large breasts tightly inside. Her blouse tucks properly inside her tight wool skirt, emphasizing her trim waist and curvy hips. I stare at her, completely immobile behind my row of post-modern theory, trying not to breathe too loudly. She doesn’t know anyone is around. I watch her while she flips her fingers back and forth rapidly between cards, then writing on a note pad beside her. She often stores her pencil inside her hair or leans over to softly scratch along her smooth nylon covered leg.
I pull off my overcoat, feeling a little warmer now…I don’t mind so much that my t-shirt clings to my breasts, the white bra underneath every bit as transparent. As I watch the librarian, my nipples grow hard and I begin to feel them softly with my hands…if someone were to come this way I would jump, my concentration is all on her, watching her move, watching her bite her lip or quickly write something down. Again, my hands move down to press hard against my pussy. I wonder what it would be like to fuck her. To have a cock and fuck her. To see her moving against me hard and fast, hear her moaning as I push deeper inside her. What would that feel like? I let out an involuntary gasp as I open my eyes and realize my hand is deep inside my wet pussy.
She hears me and comes towards my stack of books. When she sees me, I am standing as erectly as a soldier in the middle of the row, hands at side, eyes wide…nipples standing at attention underneath drenched layers of white cotton. She smiles, “You scared me she says.” I touch a book beside me aimlessly, unsure what to say.
“This is special collections,” she says sternly, “you’re not supposed to touch without my approval. You aren’t even supposed to be up here technically. You really startled me.”
I blush. “I’m looking for nautical notation,” I say foolishly.
“Wrong floor.” She watches me over top of her glasses, I think I’m supposed to leave. She looks annoyed. I stand there, not sure what to do…I just want to grab her by the hair and fuck her, right up against Foucault. She watches my breasts rise and fall in front of her, “It’s wet tonight,” she finally says.
“Yes,” I say.
“You can dry your shirt on the radiator over by the window if you want…no one will see.” She is cold to me, indifferent, almost scolding.
I have to fuck her. I can’t not have her. “Do you know who I am?” I ask her pointedly.
“No,” she says flatly, continuing on with her card shuffle, ignoring me as I remove my shirt directly in front of her.
She looks at me over her dark rimmed glasses. “As in this library,” she says, “as in the convocation hall.” I nod, then wrap my arms around my back, remove my bra and drop it on the radiator. My gaze is fixed on her, brazen and predatory. She looks at me, then quickly turns away.
“You really got soaked out there,” she says. I can see her watching my figure behind her in the dark, reflective window. I stand…forcing her to acknowledge me.
“My husband paid for this whole building. So technically, this is my library. I can go anywhere I want really. Have you ever fucked my husband?”
“What?” She is startled by my candour.
“Seriously, he’s a rich man, he’s your employer, a known philanderer. It stands to reason he’s probably fucked you, or at least tried.” She says nothing. “Have you been a bad librarian? Did he fuck you here? In front of the window? Bent over the radiator? I move closer behind her, breathe lightly against the back of her neck, watching the wispy hairs move until she shivers.
“Why are you asking me this?” she whispers. I grab her bun of hair in one hand and pull her close against my bare skin. My hard nipples press into her soft blouse.
“Because I saw you do it. He didn’t know I came up here so he never saw me. I watched you suck his cock, then you spread your pussy wide open for him while he fucked you against the window.”
As I tell her this, my free hand wraps around her waist, finally feeling her fluid curves. She doesn’t resist me. “I could get you fired for that you know.” My hand moulds around her solid, perky breast. “I love your tits,” I say as I begin to squeeze her seemingly constant, erect nipple. “Was it cold? Against the glass?” As I say this I slip my hand inside her blouse, pulling loose buttons away to reveal her lacy black bra. Again I squeeze a perfect, full breast inside my palm. She lets out a tiny little moan that lets me know I should continue. She drapes her head to one side, revealing a long, graceful neck for me to begin feeding on. I kiss her softly, tasting a mixture of sweat and lavender. I let go of her hair and let my hand find its way inside the waistline of her skirt. My palm travels slowly along her smooth belly, brushing lightly against lace until I can feel the fullness of her pussy inside my hand. I touch her lightly, teasing her, making her push into my grasp. I give her pussy a firm squeeze and remove my hand. I’m caught up, I am no longer a starving voyeur, I am a dominant hungry animal.
“Do you want me to fuck you too?” I ask. I push on the back of her neck, bending her over a study table. Her skirt rises up her legs, revealing a tiny hint of ass, and old fashioned garters running along her thighs. I kneel down behind her and bring both hands on either side of this perfect backside, running my hands down the outside of her thighs, gathering skirt in hand and pushing it back up to reveal flesh and panty. I am so close to her pussy now, my face only inches away from a strained piece of black lace gone moist with anticipation. I trace my fingers along the inside of her soft thighs, she sighs happily and pushes her ass towards my face. Again, I tease her by running my fingers lightly against her underwear, then gently pull the material to the side to reveal a perfectly shaven pussy.
My tongue takes on its own wisdom now, taking a first taste of this saccharin delicacy, then another and another. She tastes good. I press harder and harder as I run along the outside of her pussy, then gently penetrate into warm, silky layers.
She widens her stance and grabs my hair between her legs, forcing me deeper inside her. I thicken my tongue and begin to fuck her, she groans and pushes hard against my face. I need to get deeper. My fingers begin to work themselves inside her cunt, first one and then two…she’s tight and she wraps her muscles expertly around my knuckles as they force their way deeper inside her.
My tongue circles her clit, searching deep below for the hidden erection, working its way to the centre, building rhythm, rhythm that matches my fingers as they thrust deep inside her. She pushes hard against me, grinding my thumb as she bounces on my hand. She’s screaming now, unknown profanities that only make me want to fuck her harder, faster.
And then it happens, her legs get all sweaty, her rhythm changes to a slow strong pulse and her pussy starts contracting, pulling me even deeper inside her. A rush of white fluid enters my mouth and I drink eagerly, savouring the taste of her climax. She rides it out, pressing down firmly on my mouth, pulling my head by the hair so that I cannot escape this flood.
When it is over, there is silence. My librarian lays spent upon the table, legs spread wide and lax. She is spent, but I’m not finished.
10/15/2005 6:09 pm
Very hot. Well written too!|
11/20/2005 5:55 pm
11/22/2005 11:00 pm
It is very hot to touch. Hopefully, we would meet you personally. AdultFriendFinder, handle: grubrarinpo|
12/20/2005 6:48 am
omg that's fabulous - good job!|