The Librarian: Part 3

The Librarian: Part 4

THE LIBRARIAN: PART 4 TOUGH GUY.  by horn pixy [https://www.sexstories.com/profile637871/hornypixy]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/TheLibrarian4.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/Librarian4.jpg] What do you think? he asked as she lifted the glass to her lips. She took a sip and her tongue tasted a drop that was left behind on her bottom lip. Not bad, she said. Not bad at all, barman. Got any other surprises for me? Sure do. Just come round back and step into my office for a minute or so. Ignoring the looks of his staff as he abandoned them to the crush of too many customers, he lifted the counter for her to follow him behind the bar. His hand low on her back, he guided her into the back of the building, to the room that housed his office. There was a solid wooden desk with a chair on each side and a computer stand on the other side. He closed and locked the door behind him and stood with his hands in his pockets as she surveyed the room. I don t see any hidden cameras, she said, sounding almost disappointed. His eyebrows shot into the air. You want to be caught on camera? Of course not, she said, letting her handbag drop negligently on the couch that was stacked with papers and the other debris of running a business. I can t afford any blackmail material. I have a very, very possessive boyfriend. Her fingers stroked down his chest as she spoke, and he shifted his body to get a little closer to her. He would kill you if he knew about tonight. Brandon s eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch. Tough guy? The toughest, she purred as she started undoing the buttons on his white shirt. Big, scary guy. Are you trying to make me jealous? he asked as his hands found her ass and pulled her tight against him, letting him feel the hard ridge between their bodies. Maybe, she said. Is it working? My girlfriend would claw your eyes out, he whispered against her temple. She looks tame, but she can be a real wild animal sometimes. I can take her, the girl said, smiling confidently and tipping her face up for a kiss. Brandon didn t comply immediately, choosing to taste that spot under her ear women always ruined with perfume. Not this one. He could taste nothing but pure, unadulterated female skin as he touched the tip of his tongue to the spot. No marks, he heard her husky murmur. My boyfriend can t find out. I ll mark you if I want to, he said, settling his lips tight over that sweet spot and suckling hard, drawing the blood to the surface of her perfect, unmarred skin for a proper hickey. You bastard, she gasped and tried to pull away. Brandon tightened his hold and laved the bruise with his tongue before continuing down the line of her jaw. He found a little beauty spot near the corner of her mouth and played with it for a few seconds before settling his lips over hers with deliberate possession. Mine, he thought as his hands sought out the curves of her ass and cupped them. He pulled her against him and lifted her until her feet were no longer touching the ground. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her body closer to his, her tits pressing hot and soft against his chest. He pressed her back against the door of his office, ignoring her hiss of pain as the handle bit into her hip. She hitched her legs around his waist and he settled into the apex between her thighs like he belonged there. His hands held her in place as he started grinding against her with a slow, rocking motion, his hips moving and his fingers clenching her ass cheeks. Oh, she gasped when his cock pressed hard and tight against her. Her hands were busy with his buttons and his collar, trying to get rid of his shirt. He pressed a hungry kiss against her lips, slipping his tongue over that plump flesh and tasting the drink he d made for her. She kept her lips pressed closely together, making him work for it. He punished her by nipping on her bottom lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but definitely hard enough to make her gasp in shock and surprise. He took advantage of that, slipping his tongue into her mouth and taking what he wanted, branding her with his kiss. He angled his head and deepened the kiss and there was something dark and desperate about the way their mouths and bodies moved together. He drew her tongue out of her mouth and sucked on it, swallowing her responsive moan. Her hands were moving restlessly, testing the strength of his shoulders, one of them cupping the back of his head and fisting in his hair. He broke the kiss when oxygen became a problem, and they were both breathing heavily when he pressed his face into the curve of her neck, pressing open-mouthed kissed to that meeting of neck and shoulder. He pulled away and angled his hips closer to the wall to brace her against the wall while his hands started pulling at the straps holding the dress together like a corset. His fingers were almost shaking with the strength of his need as he pulled at the tight knots. She was pressing kisses everywhere she could touch him; his forehead, cheeks, temples. He swore when he failed to loosen the ties and she laughed, a low throaty sound that had his cock hardening. She pushed herself away from him and he let her slide down to the floor reluctantly. Why don t you go sit and let me entertain you? she asked and he followed her instructions, settling himself down on the brown leather chair behind his desk. She picked up the drink he d mixed for her and took a sip, her eyes smoky and seductively on his face as the corner of her mouth tilted in a sensuous smile. She dipped her finger into the drink and slipped it inside her mouth, sucking the juice. Brandon cleared his throat and got rid of the shirt that was still hanging off his shoulders. His hard-on was pressing uncomfortably against zipper of his Levis. With one hand, the girls swept the desk clean of papers. He watched in fascination as papers and ledgers hit the floor. The framed photo of him and Emily at a ski-resort crashed onto the floor, the glass shattering. He felt another tug of guilt as he looked at her laughing, trusting face. But then the dark-haired vixen walked around the desk, the shards of glass crunching under her shoes. She sat on the edge of the desk, and crossed her legs, the drink still in her hand. The girl took the cherry he d put in the drink with the vague hope that she might do exactly what she clearly about to do. She held it by the stem, just above her mouth. Brandon s eyes were glued on the drop of moisture caught on the bottom, hanging suspended in the air. She held out the tip of her tongue and the drop landed on it. She drew her tongue into her mouth, tasting it. And then she began the seduction in earnest. Her tongue teased around the round bulbous head, licking and tasting and flicking it skillfully. She sucked on it lightly, not hard enough to crush it. She drew it over her lips, across her chin and followed the line down to her cleavage. She slipped it into the sweet valley between her tits and with a small movement of her shoulders, dislodged it from the stem. Fuck, Brandon breathed in an awed voice as she put the stem inside her mouth. He could see the movement of her tongue and it took only a few seconds to knot it. He hoped fervently that she would use that skillful tongue on his cock soon. I seem to have lost the cherry, she said. Will you help me look for it? He reached for her eagerly, but she leaned back and put one foot against his chest, the heel of her shoe biting into his flesh a little. Not yet, naughty boy, she said and pushed her leg. The wheels of the chair propelled him backwards a little and she smiled a little. She tugged at the strip of satin he had been struggling with and it came loose with ease. Her tits pushed against the material and it shifted, allowing him a glimpse of those soft globes of flesh. He thought he caught a flash of red, but then she moved her arms to start getting rid of the dress. He watched the line as the straps slid down her shoulders, baring her more completely while framing her delectable body. Her fingers tugged slowly and the string that held it all together slid from its hooks. The material popped open, but the half-cup bra she was wearing was still holding her tits pressed against each other. His hands itched to cup them and test their weight and he couldn t wait to bury his face between them. He touched her ankle and stroked it, knowing exactly where to press his thumbs to make her squirm. His hands moved up her leg, using it as leverage to pull his chair closer to the desk. He put both hands on her legs and caressed the skin on the inside of her knees. He pressed them slightly away from each other and slid his fingers higher, marveling at the softness that covered her firm muscles. He reached the edge of the dress and he pressed it higher, until it pooled in her lap. She leaned back on her elbows and lifted her hips a little to help him push the tight dress over her ass. The erotic sight of her hips lifting, her legs opening wider nearly undid him, but he clamped down on his desire and settled for stroking her thighs when she grabbed the hem of her dress with both hands crossed in front of her and pulled it up and over her head. It mussed up her hair a little and she dropped the material on the floor behind the desk without a care. You re so beautiful, he murmured, his eyes roaming hungrily over her body, taking in the smooth, flat planes of her stomach, with only the smallest and most natural rounding between her hipbones. Even those creepy dolls in the shops had those bumps nowadays. He cupped it possessively with one hand, his thumb stroking the line of the low-cut thong she was wearing. It was black lace and had clearly been designed to be as improper as possible, because it didn t hide any of her pretty female treasures from his view. He drank in the sight of her full, naturally rounded hips, so perfect for holding onto, and her soft tits, pushing against the bra that was doing a very poor job of keeping them contained. It matched the panties and he found himself devouring her body with his eyes. She was all female curves and seductress and feminine vulnerability rolled up into one delicious package. He put his hands on her knees and pushed her legs further apart to make way for his body. He kissed her stomach, an open-mouthed, mindless kiss as his tongue traced circles on her skin. She leaned back again when his hands found the straps of her panties. She lifted her hips again to help him, but Brandon had lost patience and gave a quick yank, tearing the delicate lace. She gasped as he threw the scrap of material over his shoulder. The scent of her arousal filled his senses and he leaned down to touch his mouth to her hairless mound. She stroked her fingers through his hair when he pushed her down onto her back with one hand. He trailed kisses down her thigh, lifting her leg so he didn t have to move away from her warm, inviting body. He kissed the back of her knee and while her attention was fixed on the things his tongue was doing to that erotic spot, he slid a finger into her sweet wet folds. She gasped and jerked in surprise, and her foot hit him against the side of his head, the heel of her shoe nearly taking his eye out. Damn, woman, he grumbled. Are you trying to kill me? Not yet, she said remorselessly. He abandoned his idea of kissing every inch of her luscious legs and went straight for desert. He hooked her knees over his shoulders and with this thumbs, opened the petals that hid her flower from him. She was perfect; puffy and pink and warm and wet and so damned pretty he could stare at her all day. Her outer lips were full and succulent, swollen with desire. The inner folds were delicate, like some lovely exotic rose. Her little nub was swollen and begging for attention. He complied, rubbing his finger over it a few times, softly, his touches light and fleeting and designed to drive her out of her mind. He dipped his finger in her moist entrance, gathering some of the juice pooled there and bringing it to her clit. He smeared it like a painter, admiring the glistening effect it had on her folds. She squirmed a little as he started playing, touching her in different ways and testing her reaction. He was surprised to find that her clit was more sensitive on one side than the other, and tortured her by concentrating on that spot. He felt like a little boy who had discovered a new toy and he had no intention of stopping his game any time soon. He pushed two fingers inside her opening, slowly to please them both and prolong the sensations that made her hips jerk. She swore when he found her g-spot and curled his fingers to linger there, stroking and pressing and driving her as crazy with desire as he was. He decided to up it a notch, so to speak, and leaned down. He suckled one of her outer lips into his mouth, then the other, before flicking his tongue over her clit only once. She used a word he didn t think Emily had ever heard and pressed her crotch up against his face. He slid his tongue inside her entrance, tasting the sweet nectar and moaning at the taste of her essence. He started working her over with deliberate slowness, licking and tasting and cleaning her juices. She was begging him by the time he sucked her clit into his mouth, shameless pleas and promises that made him grin. He pulled at the little nub with his lips, nibbled it very lightly with his teeth and sucked it. She was pushing her cunt into his mouth, grinding his face helplessly as he tugged at her rhythmically. I m going to come, she warned when he started pumping his fingers in and out of her. Go ahead, he said, his mouth full of the wild taste of her and his hands full of soft, straining curves. He kept her on the edge, knowing when to ease of and when to speed up, to keep her balanced on the brink of a shattering orgasm. Finally he relented and rubbed her clit with one finger while his mouth settled over the mouth of her opening and, sealing it tightly, started sucking hard and fast. She came on a keening cry as she tumbled down that edge in to the blinding abyss of pure, shattering pleasure. Her juices were warm as it poured out of her body straight into his mouth. He curled his tongue almost like a straw and sucked as much into his mouth as he could. It sounded peculiar; like a symphony of undeniably sex-related noises, but neither of them cared at that point. She was gasping for breath when he eased her legs of his shoulders, and they fell over the edge of the desk inelegantly. Oh my she wheezed. That was amazing! Thanks, he said, grinning as he used his shirt to wipe his face clean. He was covered in her cum. Just give me a few minutes, cowboy, and I ll return the favor. His cock was likely to spurt the second he undid his pants at that point, so a few minutes sounded good to him. He walked around the desk to the mini-fridge behind the door. He took a bottle of beer and opened it, gulping down half the bottle in a few swallows. She struggled to sit up and he admired the way her tit jiggled when she moved, just the way he liked a woman s boobs to jiggle. He couldn t wait to have them in his hands, and couldn t believe he hadn t had them there yet. She drank down some of her warming drink and followed him with his eyes as he undid the top button of his jeans to ease the pressure. Allow me, she said and pushed him down in the chair. A few seconds later, she was kneeling between his legs. She teased him, drawing one white-tipped nail down the steel zipper, rasping it playfully. He watched her as she amused herself and bit back the impatience. He couldn t afford to show any weakness with this woman; she was likely to use it against him shamelessly. She opened his pants and helped his eager cock out of the little prison of too many layers of clothing. Finally it sprung free, hard as a rock and ready as an active volcano. Oh, yes, she said, cupping both hands around his length. He hissed when she stroked him once, from base to tip. You are quite big, aren t you? she asked as she traced a bulging vein with her finger. I haven t had any complaints yet, he said from between his teeth. I can see why not. And so thick, too. She tugged a little as she stroked upwards, and he could feel the moisture of pre-cum leaking from his tip. Her thumb caught it and he looked as she slipped that digit into her mouth and sucked it clean. Hm, she said appreciatively. Her hands started working him over in earnest and he closed his eyes as sensations battered him. He felt the velvety wetness of her mouth and opened his eyes in time to see the head of his cock disappear between those cherry-lips of hers. She licked all around his bulbous head for a few seconds, getting him wet and slippery. After a while, she pushed her head down over him and Brandon groaned aloud. His hand curled around her head and fisted into her curls as she started bobbing her head up and down slowly, taking him deeper inch by inch, until he was buried as deep as she could take him. She picked up her pace a little, sucking while she bobbed, and he couldn t help thrusting his hips to get deeper. She lifted her head and his cock jutted up, lining itself up with his belly. She took one of his balls into her mouth, cupping the other while she stroked him with her tongue. When both his balls were wet and slick, she took his cock back into her mouth. This time she managed to deep throat him a few lovely times. He stared into her eyes and stroked her face as she sucked him off. I m going to come soon, babe, he said. It was fair warning, after all. She redoubled her efforts, sucking harder and stroking with her hand to add to the pleasure. Her tongue was swirling around him, pressing against that sensitive spot at the base of his cock. It undid him, and Brandon lost control for a few seconds, cupping her face in both hands and plunging his cock into her hard and fast until the cum spurted out of his cock and into her mouth. She swallowed convulsively around him and gagged a little. He was past the point of caring. When it was over, he leaned back against the chair, gasping and almost shaking. His hand was still stroking her silky hair, which he had twined around his fingers at some point to hold her face down against his cock as he went in too deep. He forced his fingers to let go of her with some difficulty, as his brain struggled to send the correct commands to his hand. Are you all right? he asked, concerned. She was using the same shirt he d used to wipe her face. I was a little rough back there. Only a little. I'm fine, thanks. He grabbed the beer bottle he d put on the desk and guzzled the rest. You sure know how to give head, he said, impressed. Practice makes perfect, she said and stood up, wincing as the movement made her knee crack. He smiled as she drowned the last of her drink. How was the screaming orgasm? She stared at the empty glass. Not bad. I d like another one, actually. He pulled her down to straddle him on the chair. Your wish is my command, he said and kissed her. It was a tender kiss, but it became hotter as their tongues tangled, mixing the tastes of their respective cum and drinks. His fingers were combing through her dark curls and hers were grasping his shoulders. Finally she pulled away and his hands slid around her body to her back. He found the strap of her bra and undid it deftly. She lifted her arms and got rid of it impatiently. His hands rose to cup her tits. Oh, yeah, he breathed. What is it with men and boobs? she asked, amused. I ve never had sex with a man who weren t obsessed with them. He stared at her chest. They re; boobs, he said as if that explained everything. Hey, I found the cherry. She laughed as he popped into his mouth. He bit into it and it burst open, filling his mouth with the ripe taste of cherry and vodka and woman. He kissed her again, sharing bits of the flesh and juices with her. She was grinning in a playful manner and he wished he had a jar of cherries to share with her. His hands were stroking and weighing her boobs and she leaned back slightly, pressing them into his hands more firmly. He played with the nipples and they hardened under his touch, delighting him. They were rosy tips; a soft, delicate coral pink that he wanted to taste. So he did. He took one tip into his mouth, sucking it hard and with a rhythm that was reflected in the way she was grinding her hips against his body. He pulled back and her nipple popped out of his mouth, making him grin. He found her other tit and instead of sucking, started nibbling on her as if she was a delicious titbit in a finger-foods buffet. She moaned a

The Librarian: Part 3

THE LIBRARIAN: PART 3 EXPLORATIONS COMMENCE.  by horn pixy [https://www.sexstories.com/profile637871/hornypixy]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/TheLibrarian3.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/Librarian3.jpg] My tongue? she said, sounding a little squeaky. Yes, Emily. Slip it in my mouth. There was a moment of silence, and then she asked, why? I want to show you something delicious, he said, and instead of the pity he might have expected when he realized that she had never done this, he only felt a primal, primitive male pride to be the one to teach her, to show her. He felt her warm little tongue pressing hesitatingly against his lips and opened them, sucking it hard inside his mouth. Oh my, she gasped; or tried to, anyway; and he grinned a little in pure satisfaction. Good, huh? he asked after he let go. Uhm, she muttered. Want to do it again? Uhm, she managed again. He slanted his mouth over hers and lapped at her tongue again, this time drawing it into his mouth. He suckled, hard, and she made a small, helpless little sound as both his hands started kneading her ass, covered with the stiff material of new jeans. He pressed her body harder against the door frame, desperate to have more of her. The kiss became urgent, and he realized the exact moment she stopped worrying about what to do and just let her body react, because suddenly it was even more perfect; her lips moving with his, her tongue meeting and thrusting against his, tasting and feeling and exploring. The sounds they were generating were loud in the stillness of the hallway; her moans, his groans, her sighs, his murmurs. Her accelerated breathing, his satisfied growls when she tested and tried something new, something that worked. They kept at it for a few more minutes; it might have been hours for, all he knew; and he dragged one hand up and into her hair. Ouch, she gasped, and the fog lifted a little from his brain, enough to clear his mind for a few seconds, enough to make him realize that he was mauling her in the hallway. What? he asked, and this time he was the one who felt dazed. Nothing, she said quickly. Just my head, against the doorframe. Please, continue with what you were doing. Don t let me interrupt you He laughed a little and pressed his forehead against hers, his eyes closed tightly as he tried to get a grip over his hormones. His cock was rock-hard by now, straining against the fly of his jeans. He wanted her so badly, wanted to sink into the softness that was Emily, the gentleness of her embrace. Wanted to teach her everything he knew about lovemaking, demonstrating over and over until she knew exactly what was the best way to fit tab B into slot A. But she was new, and innocent, and as appealing as the idea was, the small part of his mind that was still capable of rational thought knew that taking her right now, braced against the doorway was not only incredibly stupid (due to the whole public aspect of the milieu) but also extremely selfish. She deserved to be taken slowly, gently, preferably with somebody who would take the time to show her everything she needed to know. And also, a bed would be nice. Just give me a minute, he said, taking deep breaths. No! No, no, no! Don t take a minute; you re going to change your mind if you do! He laughed again. Not bloody likely, he said. Just; just hold on a bit, okay? Okay, she murmured, circling her arms around his body and leaning against him. Her soft hair tickled his chin as she tucked her head in the crook of his neck. He pulled her inside the apartment and closed the door behind them, almost stepping on her glasses in the process. He picked them up and put them on a little table in the corner, and then turned to look at her. She was standing with her hands folded in front of her, head bent down so that he couldn t see her face. She was radiating shyness, and uncertainty, and just a little bit rejection. Tenderness swirled in him again and he stepped closer to her, allowing himself one swift, hard kiss. Look at me, he said. She lifted her head slowly and he smiled at her. You re beautiful, he said. don t even think of arguing with me, not even in your mind. Especially not in your mind. I won t have anybody, least of all you, think otherwise. I won t put up with that. You are lovely, and I want you so much it aches. But I want to do what s right. What would that be? she whispered, and he cupped her neck, his thumb playing in the hollow of her throat. I don t know, he admitted ruefully. Right now I just want to take you to bed, so my judgement is a little cloudy. Do it, she said. Please, Brandon. Take me to bed. I m so tired of wondering, of not knowing what sex is like. I want; I want to know, and I want to learn. She was quiet for a second. I want to feel. He searched her eyes. Your first time should be with somebody special, he objected, knowing that he wouldn t leave unless she asked him to. Knowing exactly what would happen if he stayed. His beautiful, shy little librarian was about to ask him to make love to her, and he was powerless to deny her anything, least of all what she was offering. He was human, and male, after all. Emily looked at him with her heart in his eyes. You are special, she said after a few seconds. You make me feel wanted. Wanton. You make me want to take you to the library and do something in the non-fiction section where nobody ever goes. He laughed, a raw sound that was being torn from him as his throat closed up. Had he really thought she would be unresponsive and boring? You have to be sure, he said. I m not doing this if you re not sure. I was sure the first time I saw you. I didn t know what to say except, a glass of whiskey, please . I ve never seen a woman drink whiskey like you did before, he said with a little smile. You just sat there, sipping glass after glass of Jameson without making a face, though I m pretty sure you thought it was disgusting. I hated it, she admitted. But I didn t know what else to order, and I was too shy to ask your advice. He made a vow to himself to take her back to the bar one evening and let her have a sip of every single drink he had in stock, until she found something she likes. And then he would mix some cocktails, and teach her about shaken and stirred, and she would never have to drink whiskey alone in a bar again. He kissed her then, a sweet kiss that wasn t about passion as much as compassion. He had feelings for her. They were undeveloped yet, but he wasn't about to deny their existence like some footloose bachelor, afraid of commitment. He didn t know if it was the right thing, making love to her without giving her the chance to get to know him better, but he knew that he could no more let her go right now than he could cut off his own arm. So he stroked her hair, marveling at the silky feel as his lips taught her a few more secrets and his tongue tasted her again. He slid the strands through his fingers and pulled her head back to taste the skin on her neck. She tipped her head willingly, giving him better access. He teased her earlobe, nibbling lightly and flicking it with his tongue before sucking it into his mouth. The silver hoop she was wearing was in his way, so he used his fingers to get rid of it. He tickled the sensitive area behind her earlobe and tasted the dryness of perfume she had dabbed there. It was bitter, and though it smelled like heaven, he wanted to taste Emily, so he traced a line down her neck and across her collarbone, following the line of an imaginary necklace with his tongue, until the last of the perfume had rubbed off on her skin and all he could taste was Emily. Sweet and unique and still a little bit scared. He explored the hollow between her collarbones, taking his time over it. Her skin was like satin; smooth, silky, and so completely feminine. She moaned, a small sound in the back of her throat as she leaned helplessly against him, her hands around his head and her fingers tangled in his hair. She pulled at his head and he went willingly back to her mouth, to kiss and taste and take. He was never going to get enough of her mouth, he though as he toyed with her lips and let her do the same to him. She stepped away for a second and crossed her arms in front of her, pulling her sweater over her head in one smooth move. Brandon felt his breath catch in her throat when she stood in front of him in only her thin white chemise-like top and a lacy white bra that pushed her boobs together in the most perfect way imaginable. He stopped her hands when she wanted to take the top off and slid his hands over her body reverently. She was so warm, but despite the heat in the room her nipples were hard, beaded little nubs, straining against the honeyed fabric of her thin top. He pulled one strap over her shoulder and tasted the skin he unveiled before reaching down and getting rid of the blasted thing completely. And then his hands were in the skin of her softly rounded, perfectly proportioned hips, and her skin was softer and smoother than the silk of the top that had fluttered to the ground and was now lying there, like a pool of sex, on the floor. Brandon looked her in the eyes, and she gazed back unflinchingly, despite the blush that stained her cheeks a delicious shade of pink. Her tits were spilling a little over the lace edge of her bra, something that the designer had undoubtedly taken great pains to accomplish. It was like... froth, he decided as he traced the edge of the material. Or the white foam on top of a wave as it rolled to shore. He reached behind her, holding her gaze as he undid the clasp of her bra, the movement bringing their bodies together. She made a small sound when he stepped back deliberately and let the bra join the other clothes on the floor. You are so lovely, he said, gazing at her body. She was so completely female, so gloriously, radiantly beautiful, and he couldn t believe she was standing there, allowing him to desecrate her innocence. He cupped one of her tits, enjoying the way it spilled over his palm just a little. The tip was pale pink, like a very young rose just ready to bud open. He weighed a tit in each hand and was fascinated by the softness and fullness. His thumbs skated over the tips until they were even harder. He wanted to devour her, but this first time was not for him. It was for her, to feel and learn, and experience. To understand, to know, and to enjoy. Oh, she gasped when he bent down and took one nipple into his mouth. Just for a second did he allow himself to be selfish and suckle on it, but then he pulled back and pressed a kiss right in the middle of her cleavage. She moaned a little and moved restlessly, but he didn t relent. He kissed all over her tit, spiraling teasingly toward the nipple, knowing it would drive her crazy. He rubbed his cheek over the sensitive nub, abrading it lightly with his stubble-roughened skin and laving it unexpectedly with his tongue. He nipped lightly with his teeth, and she moaned again, slightly louder this time as he took his time nibbling it. Do what you did again, she begged him breathlessly. And what was that? he asked, teasing her by drawing his tongue round her nipple without touching it. What you did before, she said incoherently. This? he asked, licking over it once with his tongue flat. No, she said, her head thrown back and her eyes closed. This, then? he wanted to know, flicking it quickly. No! you know what I mean! He took pity on her. Is this what you want? he asked, drawing her into his mouth and suckling hard and sure, playing with his tongue around the tip as he did so. Oh, yes, she moaned; a long, drawn out sound that grabbed at his control. He picked the pace up after that, forgoing the torture on her other tit and going straight for the good part, sucking the nipple relentlessly until she let go of his hair and put her hands behind her own head, increasing both her vulnerability and her pleasure as she arched her body into his hands and mouth. She felt something hit the back of her knees and opened her eyes, surprised to find that he had carried her into her bedroom without her noticing it. She was lost in sensations as his mouth travelled across her skin, insistently licking and nibbling, stopping every now and then to explore some new place he wanted to get to know intimately. She heard him unzipping her pants and lifted her body instinctively to help him get rid of it. Brandon, she sighed when she was laying naked except for her panties; pretty white lace that matched the bra she had been wearing; on her bed, and Brandon was kneeling at the feet of the bed, trying to get rid of her shoes so he could undress her completely. Yeah? His voice was strained with the effort of holding back his passion. Come up here for a second, she whispered. He got rid of her shoe and when he had pulled off her jeans he leaned over her, bracing himself on one knee and both arms immediately. Everything okay? he asked gently, his face showing no sign of the storm raging inside him. He wanted to rush, wanted to hurry, wanted to burry himself in her body, but he was determined not to. This was for her. For Emily. He would have time later to show her unbridled passion. But right now he wanted her to have the most perfect first time any girl has ever had, anywhere. It s perfect, she smiled up at him, her hair flaring out over her pillows. This is a lot better than the last time I undressed you, he said, grinning. What last time? Well, you were fairly drunk, so I m not surprised you don t remember, he said, tracing a pattern on her tit with his finger; lazy circles and shapes that made her arch a little. I only took off your coat and your shoes, he added. Like I said. This is much better. She laughed a little. I m still sorry you spent the night on the couch. Yeah, he said. You re going to need to get a bigger couch if I m going to spend the night again. She licked over her lips, a small gesture he recognized by now as a sign of nerves, so he waited for her to speak, trying to ignore the throbbing in his cock. Why don t you just use the bed next time? she asked tentatively. If you want there to be a next time, that is. I don t want you to feel I expect anything, or that I presume this, right here, right now, that it means I He cut her off. What are you talking about, woman? he asked, but he thought he knew, and he didn t like the direction of her thoughts. I don t want you to think I expect the fact that you re making love to me means I will expect more than just that, she said carefully. I m not na ve enough to think this means happy-ever-after. Okay, he said. With that cleared up, can we go back to the love-making? By all means, she said. He kissed her then, letting her taste a bit of his anger because, damn her, had the thought ever crossed her mind that he might want more? That once might not be enough for him? She sank back into the fluffy duvet, her arms around him pulling him down with her. She pressed her tit against his upper body. He moaned at the feel of her naked body against his clothed one, especially when she rubbed herself against him. You re overdressed, she said and he gave a bark of laughter, hurrying to remedy just that. He was out of his shirt in record time, and she leaned up to watch as he struggled a little with his jeans. Getting it past his raging hard-on was a delicate operation, but he managed not to injure himself. Let me, she said when the jean was around his ankles and he started on his black boxer briefs. She scooted closer to him, dressed only in her lacy white panties, the scent of her arousal wafting through the air. She was very careful when she slid one hand into the waistband and pulled it away from his body and down. It kept getting stuck on his cock, so she used her other hand to hold his cock out of the way. They both gasped when her fingers touched him. Finally the boxers was around his ankles, so he kicked it and the jeans off and out of the way. She stared at his cock for a few seconds, her hand hovering as if she wanted to touch it. Can I she indicated and he nodded, his throat dry. She touched one finger to his shaft, running it up and down his thick length. It s so hard, she said, marveling. and at the same time, it s so soft. Why is that? He moaned something in response as she made a fist around him, testing the thickness and pressing lightly. Harder, he gasped. She did just that, and he groaned. Emily yanked her hand away. Did I hurt you? she asked, wide-eyed. I m sorry! I ve never, you know, seen one. In real life. Tell me what to do. Later, he gasped and pressed her down on the bed, kissing her senseless as he roamed over her body with one hand. I ll let you do whatever you want later. But now I want to show you; do you trust me? She blinked up at him. Yes, she said, and the simple word tore through his last resistance. He kissed her with all the passion he d been holding back, letting her know how much he wanted this, wanted her as he slid one hand down and into her panties. You re shaved, he said, surprised. When I was in my early twenties, I went for permanent hair removal, she said. Each time I tried shaving, I wound up cutting myself, so I just decided, screw that. I m sorry. Don t be sorry, he said as he stroked his finger over her hairless mound, testing the softness of her skin before dipping lower. And then he groaned as his finger was instantly coated in wetness. She was soaking. She moaned at the strangeness of having somebody else s finger inside her. He explored the lips, the petals, her clit, before dipping his fingertip inside her and dabbling a little while he kissed her again. She opened her legs wider instinctively, unaware of the eroticism of the movement. He rushed a little as he pulled her panties off and threw them over his shoulder. He knelt between her legs, spreading her knees further as he wedged his shoulders between her thighs. Emily, may I go down on you? he asked formally. Just to be sure. You mean; you want to; Yes, all right. You don t have to, though. It s not have to as much as want to , he said. I want to taste you. Well, don t let me stop you, she said, still a little shy. He used the fingers of one hand to spread her lips and the middle finger of his other hand to dibble inside her again, coating his finger in her juice and spreading it around her cunt. She wriggled a little and gave a small moan. Brandon knew he wasn't going to last a hell of a lot longer, and he needed to get her off so he could get off. So he honed in on her clit with his finger, rubbing it fast and light, and then hard, and then in tight little circles, trying to find out what she liked best. Emily closed her eyes and fisted her hands in the duvet as Brandon s finger did things to her nobody else has ever done. She gave a gasp when he hit just the right spot, and he must have noticed, because he focused on it then, rubbing and tapping at it. A strange need was building inside her. She knew what orgasms feel like; and it was nothing like this. This was an urgency she couldn t stop, a tidal wave rising from every nerve-end in her body. Brandon, she gasped, clawing at his back to get him to stop. There was something wrong with her; this wasn't normal. But he didn t seem to realize her urgency, because then, oh mercy, his mouth was on her pussy, and he was sucking first the one lip and then the other into his mouth before getting to her clit. He moaned a little and muttered something about how good she tasted, but Emily was still fighting the feelings building up inside her and didn t respond beyond little mewling sounds as she tried to get away from the sensations the way an inexperienced swimmer tries to escape an enormous wave. Brandon growled and flicked his tongue over her clit for a second, before rubbing it hard with his tongue. He nibbled lightly and drew it into his mouth, suckling like he did on her nipple. Let go, he whispered against her, his breath warm on her wet skin. Stop fighting it and let go, Emily. She cried out loudly, her back bowing and her hips thrusting as she rode his face, her hands drawing his head closer. The orgasm broke over her; a tidal wave that wreaked havoc with her nervous system and set every nerve ending on fire. It just lasted and lasted, one wave after another cresting through her body as she came, again and a

The Librarian: Part 2

THE LIBRARIAN: PART 2 ABOUT LAST NIGHT  by horn pixy [https://www.sexstories.com/profile637871/hornypixy]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/TheLibrarian2.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/Librarian2.jpg] Well, she thought almost bitterly as she got dressed in sweatpants and a plain black sweater that was soft and a little loose after her latest, and to date most successful, weight-loss plan. She considered shoes, but settled for her fluffy pink slippers instead. So much for her brilliant theory. She had sat there for hours and hours on the most uncomfortable stool ever, drinking glass after glass of whiskey because she didn t know what else to order and was too shy to ask. And nobody; not even one man; had shown any interest in her. The only one who talked at her at all was the hot bartender, who The bartender! Of course! That s why the man had looked familiar to her in her bathroom. His features had been blurry without her glasses, of course, but she was reasonably sure it was him. She was almost a hundred percent certain of it. The only question was; what was he doing in her apartment? It s a long story, he said when she asked him later, in her kitchen, her hair wrapped up in a towel and perched on her head. His eyes followed her movements around the kitchen as she got milk from the fridge for the coffee and put bread in the toaster. The irony of the morning-after-nothing-happened breakfast didn t escape his notice. I have time, she said carefully, closing the blinds to avoid all possible sources of light. Give me the quick version. Fine, he said with a sigh. You were drunk, I helped you home. My keys are locked in my car and I couldn t get a cab to come get me. That s it, in a nutshell. And because I know you re still wondering, I spent the night on your couch, shivering a little. Ok, shivering a lot. It was damn cold. Plus I have a crick in my neck now. She winced. I m sorry. I wish you d waken me up, I would at least have helped you with a blanket. I could have used your hairdryer to build a nuclear bomb right next to your bed and you wouldn t have woken up. You were out cold. Another wince. I m really sorry, she said. I don t know what came over me. I ve never been that drunk before. I m really not the type. I know, he said, not bothering to hide his grin. You told me last night. She chewed her bottom lip nervously. Brandon wanted to take that hot little task over for her. He imagined nibbling on those petal soft lips and cleared his throat a little. What else did I tell you? she wanted to know apprehensively. Well, you work in a library, and you can t lie even to telephone salespeople. Is that all? Not by a long shot. By the way, what does technically mean? She frowned and cocked her head in a what do you mean? way. Technically? Yes. When is something technically and when is it; I don t know, untechnically? Physically? Literally? I have absolutely no idea what you re talking about, she said and smeared a thin strip of margarine over her dry toast. He cupped his hands around the plain white cup filled to the brim with coffee and leaned forward. Tell me, he said conversationally, sadistically waiting for her to take a bite of toast. How does one remain a virgin, but only technically? She started choking as he d expected, coughing and wheezing and grabbing her coffee to help the dry bread down the right pipe. What? Apparently, if you were speaking the truth last night which drunk people seem prone to do for some reason, you are technically still a virgin, but not in a physical sense. I was just wondering how that happens. I told you that? Oh my; I m so sorry! He laughed at the red flush creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. Relax, he said. Its fine. I would just love to hear that story. Because there has to be a story. Not really, she muttered, and then, as an afterthought, I m never drinking again. Wise words that has been spoken by many, many people over the years. I mean it, she insisted. I honestly can t believe I told you that. Virginity is nothing to be ashamed of, Brandon said, stroking one finger down her arm. It kind of is, when you re twenty nine. He gaped. You re twenty nine and you ve never had sex? How the hell had that happen? I don t know, it just; happened, she muttered. Or more to the point, it just never happened. There must be a reason, he prompted. There isn t one specific reason, it s more like a series of non-sexual incidents, strung together by everything from dating sites to five-minute dating games and more blind dates than I can count. I take it none of that worked for you? I met the most interesting people. Like Mike, who was seventy two at the time, and told me he had a granddaughter fantasy he wanted to play out with me. He wanted you to pretend to be his granddaughter? She shook her head. If only. I m not sure how this would have played out since I didn t stick around to find out, but I had to play the grandfather. And he was one of the better options. Brandon sat back, stunned. No way, he said disbelievingly. She nodded. I m serious. After him was a series of serial losers; men who couldn t hold on to jobs and girls and had to borrow money from one loan shark to pay off the next. The type of guys whose idea of cleaning out the trailer means letting a stray dog in to lick the stains from the floor and to put all the porn in one box. Oh, he was in deep shit, Brandon thought as he roared with laughter. She had a sense of humor. There was, to his mind, nothing sexier in a girl than a sense of humor. And after them? She frowned. I met this guy, his name is Stanley, online. We went on a few dates and it didn t go too bad, till his parole officer contacted me to let me know he was back in jail for harassing little kids at a park. She winced. It was messy. The police went through my house, looking for signs of kiddie-porn. Apparently he was part of a child-prostitution and trafficking ring. I had no idea. I got off with a warning, since there was no evidence that I was involved, and he told them that I knew nothing. I suspect they still monitor my internet history every once in a while. Helpless laughter rocked through him. No wonder she was still a virgin, if these were the kind of men she stumbled across during her search. What about high school? he asked. And college? She looked down at her hands. I wasn t exactly Miss Popular in school, she said simply. I wasn t even that shy girl that nobody talks to except when they need help with math, because I sucked at math. Still do, as a matter of fact. I didn t fit in with any of the clicks. I wasn't pretty and I wasn't clever, and I didn t have any secret talents. The only thing I was good at was reading, and I did a lot of that. But nobody makes friends in the school library, right? Especially not if the girl is chubby and have the fashion sense of a blind nun. Now that part I can help you with, he said. Why don t I go shopping with you and help you pick out a few outfits that will make the, uh, best of your figure? She looked down at herself. True, she was wearing sweatpants, but they were new and still neat. And her sweater might be a bit too big after her diet, but it was of a good material and had been expensive and it didn t lose shape in the wash. But his words made her feel downright dowdy. Do you remember what I told you last night? he asked. I barely remember you, never mind anything you told me, she said, stung. He frowned a little and gazed at her with an intent look on his face that made her wonder if he could see more than what she revealed. You expressed the wish to... how to put this delicately? find somebody to enjoy yourself with, but you were concerned that you don t have the right look and personality to attract men. I merely offered my advice to help you if you wanted an objective opinion. Oh, she said, pushing her plate away from her with one finger. Actually, what he d promised was to help her learn to fake it, but Brandon was strangely reluctant to hurt her feelings by telling her that. She was female, after all, and would immediately conclude that he thought she wasn t good enough or pretty enough, or didn t have what it takes to attract men like ants to a syrup bottle. And that was just bull. Even if he had had almost those exact same thoughts not twelve hours ago. Why are you being so nice to me? she asked after a few semi-awkward moments of silence. He shrugged. Maybe I m just a nice guy. Men are never nice unless they have an agenda. He winced. Ouch. True, but ouch. She gave him a small smile. So what s your agenda? Getting in your pants. Maybe I want library privileges. She snorted. Like what? Showing you what the reference section should really be used for. Maybe I have a fine for a book that s late. Think you can help me make it disappear? Her smile was like the sunrise. Are you trying to bribe me? He leaned forward with a grin. Maybe I am. Are you corruptible? Certainly not. I m a good girl, you know. She was trying hard to look prim and proper, and failing miserably. Her eyes; those bluer-than-the-sky eyes of hers; were filled with laughter behind her pretty glasses, despite the way she was pursing her lips and trying to look chastising. All right. So I ll have to pay the fine, then. How about this? There s a book I want to read, but it s on a waiting list. I would love to be moved to the top of the list. She pretended to think about it. That depends, she decided. What book is it? He couldn t help it, couldn t resist the invitation their flirting was issuing. The Art of Pleasuring Women, he said, wondering if she would accept the unvoiced challenge. She did, though her eyes widened slightly in scandalous provocation. Well, now, she said, clearing her throat a little. I guess I can be convinced. Wouldn t want your girlfriend to be dissatisfied by your prowess. It would be sad for the poor girl if you didn t know how to; get things done. You might even say it s my civic duty to let you have the necessary instruction. His throat was a little dry and he lifted his cup to his lips, surprised to realize there wasn t another drop. Yeah, he said. Education is important. Speaking of education, I think it s time for lesson one. Lesson one in what? He grinned. Making you irresistible. Emily twisted her hair into a clip with a practiced movement. Brandon had given her couple of hours while he got a cab to take him home and get his spare keys, promising to be back for her first lesson. She felt awkward when he left, sure it would be the last time she saw him. She knew he thought her plain and uninteresting he d basically said it himself in so many words; and he had absolutely no reason to waste his Saturday on her. She was surprised at the desolation she had felt when she stood at her window, watching his cab pull off. He was the first man in a long time to be nice to her. Not many guys would go to the trouble he d gone too to get her home safely. He d looked after her as if they were friends, and this morning he d joked with her and put her at ease, making her forget about the humiliation of her alcohol-loosened tongue of the previous evening. For goodness sake, she had told him she was still a virgin. Why on earth had she felt the need to share that with him? Now he would always remember her as that crazy girl who couldn t handle a few drinks and had no taste in clothes. He was nice, and talking to him had been very nice and seeing him again would be even nicer, but she was not na ve enough to believe he would be back. Still, she couldn t help taking extra care when she dried her hair and did her make-up. The result was less than satisfactory, to her own eyes. No matter what she did, she would be plain. Nothing could change that. She had never been pretty, nor would she ever be. And you d best make peace with it, she muttered to her slightly depressed image in the mirror. She threw open her closet and looked at the piles of clothes that had been arranged with military precision, according to color and styles. It was a bit sad, watching her cupboard. Most of what she owned was either white or beige or cream, or any variation of that. There were blacks and navy blues, and a few browns and greys. Some dowdy shades of maroon and a mourning, drab purple, but that was it. Was this really what her life had whittled down to? Her job was going nowhere, fast, she had no relationships outside her head, and her closet looked like she let her grandmother do her shopping. Why on earth had she bought that grey and brown coat hanging in the back? It was horrible. It was hideous, even if it was made of the finest wool she d ever touched. Emily pulled it off the hanger and dumped it on the bed unceremoniously. She grabbed another jacket, a few skirts she was ashamed to say she d worn more than twice. The heap on her bed piled high as she emptied her closet almost completely. She was feeling slightly frantic by the time she was done with the coats and jackets and started on slacks and trousers. Had she been blind her entire life, to wear this? What are you doing? a voice suddenly said, disturbing her. Emily dropped a faded charcoal blouse on the floor in surprise. Her sort-of friend and downstairs neighbor was staring at the bed, which was covered with clothes, with an expression of revulsion. She must have used the spare key Emily had left with her, because Emily had locked the door behind Brandon. Usually Judith knocked, but Emily hadn t heard anything. You! said Emily accusingly, bending down to pick up the shirt and holding it out in front of her. I blame you! For what? Judith asked, clearly not sure what to expect. This is partly your fault, Emily scolded, shaking and accusing finger at Judith. How could you let me wear this crap? In public? Judith stared at the bed, her mouth working a little as she processed the situation. I thought you liked it. You should have told me I look about ninety! What sort of friend are you? Em, you always look neat. I thought Neat! I looked neat. And how many guys want to have sex with neatness, I ask you? Uhm Judith cleared her throat. Clearly, not as many as you d like. Emily threw another armful of blouses; a mustardy floral, a khaki-with-frills and a navy box neck that looked like the wrong end of the fifties; on the bed. None, that s how many, she said grimly. How am I supposed to get somebody to marry if I can t even find a man to have sex with me? What s wrong with me? There is not a thing wrong with you, Judith said immediately and loyally. You just; appeal to a different demographic than the men you meet. Yeah, Emily muttered. The men at the senior citizen really enjoy chatting to me on Library Tuesday. They show up by the busloads to come see me. Judith stifled a laugh. Why are you taking all of your clothes out of your closet? Emily sank down on her bead and glanced at the pile of ugly materials and styles. I m getting rid of it, she said darkly. All of it. And I m going to buy new things. Pretty things. Color, Judith, I need color. Pink and green and yellow. Red! I don t even have a red dress. Why don t I have a hot red dress? Red s really not your color, Judith said. Or yellow, to be honest. You need to stay away from red and yellow, and definitely no orange. See? Why haven t you told me this before? Look at me, Judith, I m a mess. Judith sat down next to her. I guess you always seem so content, so at peace with your life. I used to envy you that. I m the most unstable person I know, and you just never cared what people thought about you. I had no idea you were dissatisfied. I m sorry I let you wear ugly clothes. Emily gave a small laugh and glanced at the empty hangers in the closet. There were two coats that had passed her test; a truly timeless black cashmere and a really warm, snowy white one she d bought on sale but hadn t worn yet because it would get dirty the second she ventured out of her bedroom. It s ok. It s not your fault. I should have realized I need help long before now. What brought this on? Judith asked, picking up the mustard shirt looking at it shrewdly. This would make an excellent floor rag, by the way. Emily laughed slightly. Nothing brought it on. I m just; I m tired of being part of the scenery in my own life, you know? When is it my turn to have some fun? I ve been waiting so patiently for my life to begin, and look where it s brought me. I m twenty nine, I ve never had sex, and I m too scared to venture outside this comfort zone I ve been digging for myself with serviceable clothing and comfortable shoes and not enough friends. Your shoes are really ugly, Judith said, honestly. And I promise I ll tell you from now on if you wear something that doesn t work. Emily looked at her nearly empty cupboard. Thanks, she said. I guess I ll take this stuff to the Salvation Army, if they want it. Let me help with that, Judith said. I have a car, so it ll be much easier for me. I know a great homeless shelter that needs donations desperately. I d appreciate that, Emily said. Why did you come here today? Did they drop my mail off in your box again? No, I wanted to ask about that really hot guy I saw coming out of your apartment a while ago. Was he the cable repair man or something? No, Emily said, blushing a little. He; actually, he spent the night here. On my couch, she added quickly. Nothing happened. I was so drunk he had to bring me home from the bar. Judith s eyes widened. But you never drink, she said. I did last night. Never mind that, then. Oh my word, Emily, you let a stranger sleep over at your house? And you didn t jump him? He wasn t interested in being jumped, Emily said. He s just; a nice guy I m never going to see again. Judith chewed the inside of her lip. Leave this stuff, she said, and bring your credit card. We re going to go shopping. Brandon paced the hallway outside Emily s apartment. He d been there for an hour and she still wasn't opening the door. She was either avoiding him on purpose, or incapable of answering the damn bell, or, most probably, not home. Which just plain pissed him off. Hadn t he told her he would be back? She had no business being out when he wanted to see her! He kept walking, following the generic grey carpeting with the navy pattern with his eyes. This was ridiculous. He should be at home, watching sport or having an afternoon nap. He should not be pacing around, waiting for Emily to show up. What was he, a horny teenager who mistakes lust for love? He forced himself to leave after another half hour. No girl was worth waiting for like this. It was pathetic and sad and told him, more than anything else, how much he needed to get laid. These; feelings he seemed to have caught, were like a disease. Or a virus. And the best cure for unwanted feelings is a good old-fashioned boink fest. He knew plenty of girls who would be more than happy to oblige. It was just such a pity he wasn't interested in anybody except Emily. Brandon scowled. Are you sure about the dress? Emily asked for the third time, loading the last of the shopping bags into Judith s car. They d spent almost five hours straight in the shops, with Judith dragging her from the one shop to the next, picking out clothes and smelling discounts from miles away. Her arms were sore from carrying the bags around, and her credit card had given up screaming in pain ten purchases ago. Instead, she imagined it making small little whimpers as it lay in her wallet, trying to curl itself up against the agony and torture she d put it through. But oh, she loved the clothes! The colors; Emily had never thought there were so many shades of pink, or that she could look so good in pastel and bright colors alike. For the first time in years, she didn t feel dowdy. She felt pretty, since Judith had made her go to a bathroom and change from frumpy and dumpy to smart and sexy. She was wearing a short skirt, teetering around on high-heeled boots that could not possible be good for her insteps. She felt deliciously slutty, even though the skirt wasn't that short. But the tight black sweater she wore with it dipped low enough to make men take a second look, and the jacket she had on over it was hot-pink and attention grabbing. Added to that the new jewel

The Librarian: Part 1

THE LIBRARIAN: PART 1 BRANDON HAS BEEN HARBORING A SECRET LIBRARIAN FANTASY  by horn pixy [https://www.sexstories.com/profile637871/hornypixy]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/TheLibrarian1.mp3] at Connected [https://feeds.feedburner.com/connected-podcast]. [https://archive.org/download/winter-short-stories/Librarian1.jpg] Brandon has been harboring a secret librarian fantasy for many years, but Emily was hardly his idea of a hot librarian. She was the type of women who came a side-serving of Complication. So why couldn't he stay away from her? It was almost time for last call. Brandon wiped the sodden rag over the counter and put the empty glass the girl had just put down into the crate under the bar with the other dirty glasses. One more? he asked. She nodded and took her wallet from her purse. He handed her the scotch on the rocks; her sixth or seventh one for the evening; and wondered how she managed to keep her balance on the high barstool. Her eyes had that glazed look of somebody who had definitely had a few too many, but if he had not been the one to pour her drinks; all six or seven of them; he would not have guessed she was drunk. There was no characteristic slumping or wobbling or even raucous laughter. In fact, her ramrod straight posture and uncanny balance reminded him of a ballet teacher, especially with her hair scraped back into a bun like that. She was pretty enough, in a neat, mousy little way. It was impossible to hazard a guess at the figure under the bulky, shapeless coat she was wearing over goodness knew what. She was wearing glasses with a nice frame that actually suited her face in a non-descript kind of way. Brandon had never seen such a dignified drunk in his life. She had better manners drunk than most people had when they were stone cold sober and sitting their grandmother s sitting rooms. Thank you, she said politely when she accepted her change and slipped half of it into the tip-jar, as she had been doing all evening. He kept an eye on her as he started straightening bottles on the shelf behind him, wondering about her story. Brandon loved his job. He owned several bars and still spent an evening now and then behind the counter. After serving drinks for three years across the globe when he was fresh out of high school, he enjoyed the occasional trip down memory lane. It fascinated him to see how alike people were, no matter where they lived. Broken hearts healed just as slowly in Hawaii as they did in Australia, and flirting was a universal art that did not differ too much from one place to another. He loved watching the games, the intrigues, the emotions, as people relaxed around him. He d seen it all; the break-ups and the make-ups, the hopeful souls scouring the bar for the love of their lives; or at least the lay of the night. He d seen people drink to forget, or to try to keep memories alive. He d seen them drink because there was nothing else to do, or because they couldn t do anything else. He d seen the lonely girls go home with the wrong men and knew they d wake up the next morning with alcohol on their breath and regret in their hearts. He d seen women play fast and loose, and the men who managed to escape their clutches. He d seen the best and the worst of people, but he thought he d never quite seen anything like the girl sitting there in a dull brown coat, finishing one drink after another without toppling over or falling into somebody s lap on her way to the bathroom. She was fresh and new, and it intrigued him. The bar was rather empty in comparison to most Friday nights. But to be fair, it was the middle of the month and there was a blizzard raging on outside. He was closing up earlier than usual to give the staff and the customers the chance to get home before it got worse. The neat lady; there was other way to describe her; was one of the diehards, but since she was hardly causing a scene, he didn t ask her to leave just yet while they were cleaning up. Finally they were done, and he had to ask her to leave. She blinked owlishly at him from behind her glasses. Excuse me? she asked, as if she had not heard him the first time. He leaned closer and thought he caught a whiff of something clean and fresh under the ripe smell of alcohol and closed-up people that hung over the room. It s closing time, he repeated. We re going to lock up. Oh, she said, frowning slightly as her impaired brain tried to sort out his words. Right, she said finally. Well, I ll just go then, won t I? Can I call you a cab? he asked, because she still had not moved from her seat. He waved a hand at the two waiters and the other barman, indicating that he would lock up and they could go home. She looked at him, her eyes still slightly unfocused. To take you home, he explained. You shouldn t drive. Did I come with a car? she asked, bewildered. I hope not. I don t own a car. Did I steal one? He grinned. This was fun. Normally drunk people just annoyed him a bit, but this girl struck a chord somewhere in his chest he d never known to exist. Not that I know of, he said. How did you get here? I must have walked, she said, puzzled. From work. Fancy that. What work do you do? he asked as Rod, one of the waiters, closed the door behind the other staff members. I m a libal; librali; a li bra rian, she said, looking quite pleased with herself for managing the word. Fancy that indeed, he thought, his mind going into immediate overdrive at the mention of her career. Like many, many men, he harbored a secret Librarian Fantasy. Even the way she broke it up into syllables didn t diminish the thoughts running though his head. The job suited her perfectly, he thought. She was cut out for the silence and air of wisdom and propriety that hung around the books like dusty clouds. He imagined being scolded by her for being too loud and grinned. Where do you live? he wanted to know. He would help her home, call her a cab, and forget about her. She was not the type of librarian he fantasized about; she had glasses, but they were the wrong kind, and even though her hair was scraped back out of her face, there was nothing sexy about it. She wasn't wearing nearly enough make-up and not at all the right kind of clothes, either. She was just a girl, hiding behind stacks of books. Her fingers were unadorned, and he guessed her to be single. She probably had four or five cats and a vibrator named Bob hidden in her nightstand that she rarely used because it made her feel guilty. Up the street, I think, she said, pointing vaguely with her fingers. That way. You have pretty eyes. He lifted an amused brow. That way would take him to the kitchen and eventually, an alleyway behind the building. How about an address? he asked. To give to the cab-driver. He grabbed a paper napkin and a pen. She wrote slowly, carefully, her handwriting still managing to be neater than his illegible scrawl. You don t live far from me, he said, lying smoothly. Just one block south, to be precise. Would you like a lift home? Never get in the car with strangers, she said firmly. A cab driver is also a stranger, he pointed out. Not the same thing. Nope. But on second thought, I m not sure you ll find a cab in this weather. That s right, she said, smiling broadly for the first time. The expression transformed her face from plain to pretty. Her innocence amused and tickled him. It s snowing. Like a White Christmas. He couldn t help it. He grinned; it was January. She wasn't just drunk, she was completely sloshed. But still amazingly stable and logical. Let s get you home, he said, coming around the bar to help her from the stool. This was not something he ever did. He owned the bars; how the patrons got home was their problem, not his. But he couldn t just leave this girl to her own devices, not unless he wanted the next time he heard about her to be her name in an obituary. She d probably fall asleep in the cold right outside his bar and die. It would cause all sorts of unwanted paperwork and police questions. She didn t even need his help standing up. The liquor, it seemed, had not affected her balance one bit. Still, he kept a hand on her back to steer her. He locked up behind them while she stood looking at him through her wide, trusting eyes. You re really tall, she said. I wish I was taller. You re the perfect height, he said. See? My arm fits right round your shoulders. You re like a portable armrest. She didn t giggle at that, and he wondered of she d heard him. It was a pretty lame joke, but in his experience, drunk people will laugh at anything. I wish I was hot, she said. Like you. But not like you. Like a girl. Then maybe I could have sex. He coughed, choking on his breath, the way some people trip over their own feet. What? he asked when he finally had the air back in the right pipes. I wish I was prettier, she said matter-of-factly. I m not being pessimistic, really. I just; well, no use crying for the moon, is there? You are pretty, he said automatically. She sighed. I m not. But thank you for pretending, anyway. Oh, my goodness, it s cold. He had just opened the back door and yes, it was cold indeed. The wind was blowing sheets of snow into their faces and heaping it against the side of the building. He steered her with one hand in the direction of his car, which was parked under the staff-members-only roof. He cranked up the heater and took the drive slowly and carefully. The cold was making her drowsy, and he could see her head drooping slightly. No doubt the drinks were finally taking effect. I take it you don t drink often? he said. Nope, she said, pulling the edges of her rather ugly coat closer around her. I ve never been drunk before. Until tonight, he thought, but he waited for her to continue on her own. After a few seconds, she did. I m sort of a virgin, she said. By choice. But it s not my choice. She gave a self-deprecating laugh. Technically I m no longer one. But I ve never been with a man, you know? Well, he certainly knew now. But his years as a barman had taught him when to listen and when to talk. So he kept quiet. Well, anyway, I always thought it was because I m too shy. Men don t like that, right? Some do, he said, because what else could he say? Liar, she said fondly. Nobody wants to be with somebody who s ashamed of themselves. I know I wouldn t like that in a man, so I can hardly expect any man to show interest in me. That s why I went out tonight, she added after a few seconds. Too see if drinking helps me get loose. Turns out I m even boring when I m drunk. You re not boring, he said firmly. You just need to learn how to fake it. Everybody is secretly self-conscious. Some just hide it better that others. You need to find a way to pretend. If you can convince yourself, you know other people will believe it. I don t think I d know how, she said. I m no good at acting or pretending or lying. I can t even lie to telephone sales people. I ll help you, he said impulsively. I ll show you how to fake it. Really? Sure. When you re sober. Anything I teach you now will be wasted. Like me, she sighed. I m wasted, and all I want to do is go to bed. That s my building up there. That s a gas station, he said with a grin. Oh. She frowned. Then it s not my building, is it? I sincerely hope not. They found her building eventually, tucked away between a tall, scary-looking block of flats and a three-story bridal boutique. He helped her out of the car and up the steps. It took her three times to key the right series of numbers into the keypad so the door would open. Finally, she recited them to him to read it in. Thank you, she said awkwardly. For the lift, and the ear. He grinned. No problem, he said. Hey, what s your name? Emily, she said. Emily. It suited her perfectly, as if her parents had had a glimpse of her in the future when they named her. She looked like an Emily more than anybody else he d ever met. I m Brandon, he said. Can I pick you up tomorrow around noon for your first lesson? Lesson? In faking it. It occurred to him then that faking it might refer to something else as well, but he always made damn sure a girl does not need to fake it when she s with him. Not that he planned to have sex with her. This girl s second name was Complication. It would be cruel to pluck her cherry and then be off on his merry way. She was not the type to come; and then go. Okay. Wanna come up? He considered saying no, but realized she might need help to get into her apartment. It seemed her brain had simply been behind on its reaction, and she was finally in the clumsy imbalance phase of drunkenness. She might get hurt, or lost, or wind up asleep on a hallway chair somewhere. Sure, he said. It was three interesting flights of stairs. She only almost-fell seven times, even with his arm around her waist. She was still incessantly polite, apologizing profusely and telling him how pretty he was. Yeah, because that s what every guy secretly wants to be. Pretty. He had to take her keys and unlock the door himself. She was toppling over and had to hold onto the wall with both hands to keep from introducing her ass to the ground. It was a good thing she was wearing sensible flats rather than sexy heels, and he had to be the first guy ever to have that particular thought. There we go, he said when he finally got the door open. She would need to get a locksmith to take a look at the thing; the key had stuck a bit, as if the mechanism inside was rusty. Her house surprised him. He had unconsciously expected it to be decorated like something from the Victorian Era; Chintz and flowers, frilly and stuffy. Chokingly girly. It wasn t. Oh, it was undeniable a female place, but it was feminine rather than girlish. The door opened into the sitting room, which had a sage green couch with big white pillows and lampshades. The lavender curtains had been drawn against the cold air and what was probably a dreary scene outside. The art against the walls was lovely; no modern skyscrapers with red splashes to indicate blood and lust, or wriggling shapes than reminded him of female sex organs during ovulation. A small little galley kitchen on the right showed no dirty dishes in the sink, and a gleaming espresso machine on the countertop next to an equally gleaming microwave. He half-carried, half-dragged her to the only other door, guessing it to be the bedroom. It was, and here was more proof of neat, uncluttered taste. The room was tiny, with built-in cupboards and barely enough space to walk around the bed to the bathroom on the other side. You gonna kiss me now? she asked when he helped her onto the bed and slid a pillow under her head. Sure, thing, honey, he said as he switched on the bedside lamp so he could turn off the harsh overhead fixture. In a minute, okay? You just wait right there. He made sure she wasn t too close to the edge to roll off and brought her a glass of water from the kitchen. He found Advils in her bathroom cabinet, along with some make-up and an unopened packet of condoms. Pity stirred his heart. She was well and truly lonely, wasn't she? All cosseted in her small little apartment, hiding behind books and pretty paintings. So far he hadn t seen any sign of a cat, but maybe the building didn t allow pets. He found a heater and turned it up. She was lying suspiciously still on her side, one arm flung out to the side. He tucked it into a more comfortable position. It was the desire to get her comfortable as much as curiosity that made him wait until she was deeply asleep, or, more likely, passed out, before he pulled her coat off to reveal her body. She was small, and firm, and the only word he could think of to describe her was neat. She was utterly non-descript. She had tits, but they were just there, situated on her chest much in the way a nose is situated more or less in the middle of a face. He doubted he d notice them if he saw her in the line at the grocery store other than for the obvious reason; they were female tits, and therefore bound to be noticed, even if they did not get a second look. They were completely average tits. He couldn t see much, as she was wearing a creamy beige sweater that had clearly been bought with an eye on heat rather than hotness, and brown slacks that sat loose around her legs and revealed nothing about what her body looked like. He shook his head as he slipped her shoes from her feet and considered doing her another favor and tossing them in the trash. They were butt-fuck-ugly. He hated sensible shoes on a woman. He pulled the quilt over her body and since he had some experience with drunk people, found a plastic bucket in her kitchen to put next to her bed. She seemed to have missed the psychedelic-yawn, porcelain-god-worshipping part of the evening, but judging by the fact that her body seemed to have its own ideas of how to react to alcohol, he wasn't taking anything for granted. She would hate herself if she woke up in the morning, only to find she d puked all over her pretty, plush white carpet. Who bought white carpets anyway? Wasn't that like a direct invite to Karma and Murphy and all those other sadistic creatures who makes people spill coffee just after they get dressed in a new shirt, or back their car into a lamp pole the first time they take it out for a drive? He left a piece of paper with the instructions to drink the tablets and the water next to the glass and went back downstairs, only to tread back up when he couldn t find his keys in his pocket. It wasn t in the living room either, nor anywhere else in her house that he could find. He went as far as opening her underwear drawer (he really was desperate, after all,) and was not too surprised that they weren t there. He was pleasantly surprised, however, that the librarian lady had quite good taste in underwear. He didn t touch any of the pretty lace and satin snips of fabric, but he could imagine them on her easily enough, and it made for a pretty image. He finally located his keys; sitting in the ignition of his car, the doors firmly locked against him. Son of a bitch! he said, slamming a frustrated hand onto the snow-covered roof. Dammit! He took his phone from his pocket and tried to call a cab company to come get him and take him home to get his spare key, but just as he got an operator his phone made a cheerful beep just before the battery died. He considered throwing the piece of shit into the nearest heap of snow, but figured that would be counterproductive. He was stuck, and he d be dammed if he was going to wait for the sun to rise outside on the streets, looking at a locked car. He trudged back upstairs, grateful that he hadn t been able to lock the door behind him and made himself at least semi-comfortable on Emily s couch, and closed his eyes. By any luck he would be awake and gone long before Miss Emily found the courage to leave her bed. And when he left, he would stay gone. She probably won t remember the impulsive promise he had made to help her get confidence, so she won t be upset when he doesn t show up. He already regretted the invitation; Emily the librarian was not the type of girl he needed to spend time with. She was too shy; she said so herself; and she dressed atrociously. Except for her underwear, of course. She was plain, bordering on dowdy, a self-proclaimed virgin, (whatever she had meant by technically) and she had you re-going-to-break-my-heart written all over her. She was a librarian, for goodness sake. That was a species of women best suited to the porn industry, where they wore impractical high-heeled pumps and button down shirts with sexy glasses and tight skirts. If you put Emily in an outfit like that she would; well, she would look hot, to be honest. Almost any woman would look awesome, dressed like that. He imagined it easily, right down to the stern look she was giving him for putting a book in the wrong shelf. It belongs in the back, she would say and motion for him to follow her so she could show him where to put it. He would wait for the right moment to pin her against the shelves and kiss the living daylights out of her while his hands explored her hot and eager curves. She would slide one leg around his waist and grind against him seductively; Brandon came to his senses with a jolt, his hand around his cock. He groaned. This was ridiculous. He was sporting a hard-on for the most wood-uninspiring girl he s ever met. She was shy and plain and, frankly, her life was a little pathetic. She had to be at

Camping In Ireland: Part 2

CAMPING IN IRELAND: PART 2 A TALE OF FIRSTS, SET ON A RAINY CAMPING TRIP, AMONG YOUNG FRIENDS. Based on a post by Josh stone [https://www.literotica.com/authors/Joshstone/works], in 2 parts. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/my-first-2025/CampingInIreland2.mp3] at My First Time [https://feeds.feedburner.com/my-first-time].  [https://archive.org/download/my-first-2025/CampingInIreland2.jpg] THE NIGHT STORM They stood in the dunes, feeling the sensation returning slowly to their clammy bodies. She grasped the two ends of the massive sheet together, behind his shoulder blades. Then she stood up on tiptoes slightly, and his thumbs slipped slightly into under the elastic of her pants. She gave a sigh, relaxing into his embrace, and he instinctively pushed her wet knickers down, feeling as they rolled over on themselves as they slipped down her ass. He followed by pulling her wet tee shirt up over her shoulders, where she tugged it over her head, and tossed back by the bags. She stepped carefully one leg out of the wet panties, returning to the warmth of his arm and pulling him even closer as she did so. Her gentle murmur as his hands felt the shape of her hips and thighs spurred him on, piquing his interest in this new adventure, this new and unusual setting. The absence of wet fabric quickly allowed her pelvis to dry and her body warmth gradually increased. But His wet boxers were still a problem. INTIMACY IN THE OPEN AIR. Their bodies relaxed into one another as they dried out within their towel, and he felt her goose bumps disappear from her legs. She pushed his boxers down, allowing their bodies to have full contact as they warmed up together. She lifted her head towards him, and they kissed for the first time since they had left her tent. He felt a sudden jolt of passion as her free hand reached down his belly and holding his contracted and rippled sack of balls. She continued to fondle his sack gently, and felt warmth return to his crotch. He was glad she wasn t giving attention to his shriveled wet pecker, which would need much more warmth an blood flow, to resume even a normal flaccid size. It wasn t even worthy of being called a cock, when shriveled this tiny.  He was preparing an embarrassed explanation for his tiny tally whacker, but it was welcome surprise for him that the awakening of his desire to know every intimate corner of her body, to feel his release at her demand and within her. Had somehow convinced his unconscious brain to re=prioritize rations of blood flow and retention to his promising phallus. His hands reached her breasts, feeling her nipples hard once more. She moaned as he rolled one between his finger and thumb, the bottom of her breast cupped in his hand as she massaged his balls. Her warmth and dexterity both relaxing and tensing him in turn. They both felt as his cock stirred to her touch, her other hand released the towel and surrounding his shaft, as he swelled. They stopped to spread the picnic blanket from her bag on the gentle hill of the dune behind them. They found a slight ravine where they could recline and be somewhat concealed by the several dunes, in every direction. She beckoned for him to join her as she lay on her side, and he lay beside her. Hands were on hips, and kisses deepened. It was as though they were again cocooned in her tent the night before. They were completely warm suddenly, the coastal breeze seemed to pass over their heads and they enjoyed the refuge of these sand ravines. Both were deeply turned on by the range of senses that had been awoken. Her breath began to quicken as she felt his erection press against her mons. She bent her upper knee and planted her foot to rest, creating an open crotch for him, and he felt as her body tensed slightly when his fingers wandered towards her most private place. Trying not to spoil a moment she had been enjoying so much, she had hoped he would not notice her anxiety, but knew all too soon that he had. Their kiss ended, his hands moved reassuringly to her shoulders, following her lead. "Nigel; I've never," She whispered. "I'm. I am enjoying this so much. But I've never done this before" Her face flushed red as she revealed this most intimate truth to the man she had only really met 24 hours ago. He put a hand gently to her face, looking into her deep brown eyes. "Libby; This is new to me, too." He confessed. "I really have no conscious idea what I'm doing. Our bodies, though, seem to be working in a magical sync, like they ve done this since the dawn of creation."  Wry smiles grew on both of their faces as the reality of the situation dawned. "I was so nervous I would mess things up, I really like you" he said eventually. "I want to explore with you". "Me too" she replied "You've been giving me such pleasure, I assumed you had been with loads of people before. They kissed, then she added I want to learn what makes you feel good". And so began a time of great learning for both of them. Their inhibitions lifted as they allowed themselves to be honest, to open up, to allow their most deeply-held feelings out to one another. She traced every inch of his rippled, lean torso, feeling his ribs rise and fall calmly before circling his navel, running her fingers through his salty hair, his pubic hair. He guided her as she stroked his cock, exploring it carefully with her eyes as well as her hands. She felt as he neared the brink of orgasm; then brought him back from the edge with his words helping her to understand this most secret of connections. She kissed him tenderly, on his arms, his chest, his cock, her lips gently enveloping the tip, tasting his precum, feeling him harden in her mouth. She licked his length, learning how a change of pace or pressure affected him physically, hearing from him what felt good. It was beautiful for both of them, a symbol of trust, and a marker of a new chapter in their lives, their relationship. This was not simply about orgasm, about release, it was also about connection. He was not ready to collapse, not yet. So he withdrew from her mouth, telling her about how sensual it was, how much pleasure she had given him. He felt her hip bones with eager hands, brought hands to her ass, felt the way textures changed. He put his hands on her thighs, felt as she moved onto her back, her legs opening, relaxing. He felt the softness of her inner thigh, how it became softer and softer as his hands neared her groin. She told him how much she wanted him to touch her, showed him how to touch her clitoris. He felt her wonderful heat again as his finger, wet with her moistness, explored delicate folds of skin. He had never seen a woman's vagina before, not in real life. He saw the way her labia darkened as he touched her, felt as her clitoris seemed to retract and then harden as she touched him. She was so open to him, so relaxed, her breathing deep and her chest was rising visibly. As he placed a finger at the entrance to her hot moist cunt, she groaned, urging him to explore inside her. His finger slipped more easily inside than he remembered from last night, her legs rising slightly as he felt her vaginal walls envelop his hungry finger. Another finger slid inside, and she told him to move them against each other inside her. As her hips rose further, she pulled her knees to her chest, and he felt the strong muscles at the entrance to her cunt open up, encouraging his fingers, deeper and deeper. He felt more horny in that moment than he could ever remember feeling before, as he saw her bulging vulva, wet with excitement, and so clearly trusting him to give her pleasure. She was nearing orgasm, her breaths were shallower and her guidance less necessary. It was so exciting to be outside together. He was desperate, suddenly; to be even more intimate. He dipped his head between her legs and gingerly licked her clitoris, trying to emulate what his fingers had done at first. His fingers were still deep within her, and he felt her tighten around him as his tongue began to explore her tiny nub. She guided him once more, telling him to lick around her inner labia, her clitoris too sensitive to be the sole focus of his attentions. He saw as she began to play with her nipples, felt her reach for his cock. But she surprised him. Instead of stroking him as before, she moved her body round, lying flat on her back and taking one of his legs and pulling over her torso, then sliding up so her cunt was directly under his mouth. Then she put her hand behind his head, and guiding it down to her vulva. As he focused on his oral adventure between her thighs, he felt the exquisite feeling of her taking his turgid cock in her mouth; as he licked her clitoris. It was the softest and most stimulating thing either of them had ever felt. There was absolute trust in both of them as they pleasured each other, her tongue and lips winding around his cock, as hard as it had ever been. His tongue licked her whilst his arms wrapped around her ass, and his hands parted her labia, feeling her wetness combined with his saliva running down his hand, between her legs and between the cheeks of her perfectly-formed ass. She felt as he inserted his fingers once more, and he felt as her cunt began to ripple, to contract around him, her panting building to a crescendo as she took him deeper into her mouth. They were in a sort of magical rhythm where both tension and a deep calm overcame any inhibition that might have previously existed. His fingers squirmed as her spasms grew, she felt wave after wave of pleasure dominating her body. Oh, Nigel! Oh, Nigel. You re Amazing! was heard by the birds in the area, but no one else.  As she was in her climatic bliss, his ability to hold back got weaker and weaker. He felt as the crown of his cock felt a soft place in her mouth, the warmth of her kisses overwhelming him. He felt as his balls contracted, felt as his orgasm built, not immediately like when he touched himself, but almost in slow motion. And then it arrived. Libby, here it comes, ah, ah! he shouted. He exploded in her mouth, releasing a guttural, almost primal shout as he came. She felt as he pulsed between her lips, tasted his semen for the first time. Oh, my fucking gawd, Libby! You re a sex goddess, baby! He finally declared. They held each other tighter in that moment than they had ever held anyone before, her nails digging into his thighs as his tongue gently lapped at her opening. It was only after the sun began to come out that they moved from their embrace, his cock now soft, and his head resting on her thigh. She turned her body round so that they could kiss each other's mouths, and both could taste each other, the salt of the sea, a relaxedness returning. They lay in each other s' arms as the sun shone, warming their naked bodies in that most beautiful of settings. And they knew that the next week would be one of further exploration, of firsts for them both.   NIGEL AND SONIA, HOMEWARD BOUND. The journey back to London was long and tiresome. Ferries, trains, carrying heavy packs. Libby bailed on her girlfriends and rode back with Nigel. This gave the new lovers some endless hours of private conversation and further cemented their bond. He told her of his empty house, his parents away until Tuesday. Would she like to come and stay? She immediately accepted his hospitality. By the time they had got in, put a wash on, eaten takeout, and had a shower, they were spent. Eyes closing and ready for bed. This felt different to being away, and they were now even more nervous somehow. Have I satisfied you, Nigel? Libby asked as they completed the late meal. And then some, Libby. Nigel admitted. I honestly need to give my sore cock a break til morning, if you can allow me? Oh, thank God! My poor cunny is stroked and licked raw, and reamed out by the greatest lover in all of the British empire! Libby finally expressed her relief. And so they both fell quickly into sleep, lying in each other s arms, tender kisses and good nights. Tomorrow would be another day. But he awoke sometime early in the morning, as she shifted in her sleep and he felt differently in his half-slumber. His hands moved slowly on her warm skin, feeling her muscles completely relaxed as she slept deeply, the sound of her deep breaths synchronized with his own. Only semi-conscious, he moved instinctively, his mind still foggy, somewhere between consciousness and slumber. The tips of his fingers reached round and down, holding her thigh ever so gently, tiny hairs the only contrast to her smooth, soft skin as he ran them along her body towards her body. As he felt her flesh draw inward, her softness giving way to the strong muscles of her groin, he rotated his wrist, pushing his hand down the front of her thigh and gradually down to her knee, noticing the change in texture as he reached her kneecap. A long breath, followed by a deep swallow. He became more conscious as he squeezed her leg ever so slightly, cautious not to awaken her, seeking more feedback and releasing a little tension. He trailed his hands back up her thigh, reaching around the outside to trace her hips, stopping where his skin met the cotton of her underwear. He felt the thin band of elastic at the edge of her knickers and followed this with this index finger slowly and deliberately upwards until he reached the front of her body, the point at which it began to curve back inward and down into more intimate space. His palm lay flat on her hipbone as his fingers stretched and splayed, relaxed but inquisitive, and he considered what might come next. She shifted slightly, her hand adjusting the elastic of her waistband, and she muttered something inaudible. He descended back into his dreams, his hand on her under the thin sheets on that sticky summer night. He woke as she shifted her body, her leg slightly bent as she relaxed her hips. His hands held her thigh at their highest point, with the top of his hand feeling the fabric of her panties whilst his fingers sensed the tender skin at the very limit of her thigh. His grip tightened a little as he noticed his heart rate rise, his left hand shifting slightly on the bedsheets beside him. He lay for some time, enjoying the peace and sensuality of the moment, enjoying the memory of exploring her body and his own. He could hear her deep breaths, sense her chest rising and falling, and feel her long hair against his face as they lay side by side, his body slightly turned towards hers as she lay sleeping on her back. His index finger explored her thigh once more, more intentionally than before, and he reached the edge of her knickers once again. This time, his finger felt downwards, between her legs, until he could reach no further. He loved the point where her thigh met her groin, where her skin became covered by cloth, and where he knew she was most sensitive. His finger began, ever so slowly, to feel across the hem and then the soft cotton of her pants. He felt the change in texture as her smooth skin gave way to soft, downy hair under the fabric as it rose from the firmness of tendon to the softness of gently rounded labia. She took one sharp breath. His quickened. His fingers hesitated as he reached the point where her labia met beneath her underwear. He could feel her cleft under his soft touch, and imagined being able to see her, so familiar and yet so secret and mysterious, even after all these months. His fingers followed the line of her slit until he reached the mound above her clitoris. The slight rise of the space where he knew her labia covered her most sensitive place, his finger stopped. He felt as her breathing quickened a touch, or at least he thought so. His temptation growing as she swiveled her hips upwards a fraction, only to relax again a moment later. In the gloom he tried to recall her underwear in his mind. Pale cotton, white, or possibly cream, simple in design with a plain band around the leg, a broader, flat waist-band with a stitched brand name in the same color as the rest. He could just make out the raised letters as he drew his finger tentatively up to the top of her knickers. As he felt her skin again, his palm laid flat against her. He waited. She did not speak or change position, but a deep intake of breath gave him courage, a sign of her satisfaction. Her stomach was warm and flat and the ball of his hand lay on her belly button, two fingers slipping ever so slightly beneath the waistband of her knickers. Nervous of misjudging the moment, he arched his hands, the tips of his fingers moving slowly up her body. He circled her naval, moving in on each rotation until his finger found itself inside and her strong stomach muscles tensed a soft, voiceless sound emerging from her mouth. He was emboldened and turned his body to face hers for the first time. As his hand crept upward, he felt the ribbed fabric of her vest-top. He brought his hand up until he felt her right breast in his hand. Her small breast fitted easily into his hand, with his thumb reaching around to her sternum, then arching over her firmness, feeling her nipple hardening as he did so. As he noticed her hardening, he felt his own arousal growing. Between his thumb and forefinger, he rolled her nipple gently again and again through her top. Her breaths were becoming shorter, and he knew she was feeling the same as he was, relaxed, sensuous and warm. She lifted her top, exposing her breasts in the darkness, and he felt her nipples properly for the first time. They were very small and very hard, rising from slightly puffy areolae, perfectly formed. He could not wait any longer, and brought his head to her chest, licking around her nipples, then taking one lightly into his mouth. He sucked her gently, his tongue exploring the slight variations in texture between her nipples, her areola and the skin surrounding them. He brought his other hand round and caressed her other breast, his erection beginning to push against the fabric of his boxer shorts. She spoke for the first time, uttering his name in hushed tones as he pleasured her breasts, reaching for his boxer shorts as he sucked her into his hot mouth. She pushed them down until she could reach no further, and he took over, taking them down over his legs and feet as she hurriedly removed her clothes. As she lifted her vest over her head, she raised her arms, then folding them around his strong back, their naked bodies fully in contact for the first time since they had got back. She felt as his erection pressed against her stomach, her breasts, slick with his sliver, pressed against his chest, and their breathing fast and synchronous. They both knew in that moment that they would give themselves to the other tonight, a new experience for them both, exciting but without fear. She rose onto her knees, turning the green lamp on that sat beside their bed. "I want to see you" she told him, as she looked down at his body, his cock hard and large. As she lowered her head, he felt his erection strengthen, felt the softness of her lips as they kissed and then enveloped the tip. She tasted his pre-cum as her tongue ran in circles around him, her lips exploring the contours of his cock. She slowly took more of him into her mouth, felt as he groaned, knew of his pleasure. He told her he loved the feel of her mouth around her, loved it when she took him deeper inside. She wanted more than anything to give him the release she knew he longed for, and changed angles, her saliva running around him, leaking from her mouth and down to his balls. Her hands cupped him, feeling this wetness and she stopped momentarily, lifting her head and licking him excitedly up his shaft. She shifted onto her side, her hands helping her to slip one of his balls into her soaking mouth as her hands took over on his cock, and she fel