A Night in Woodland Campground: Part 1

Beskrivelse

A NIGHT IN WOODLAND CAMPGROUND: PART 1 STAYING IN A QUIET CAMPGROUND MAY NOT BE SO QUIET. In 3 parts, by m storyman x [https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=1032891&page=submissions]. Listen to the ► Podcast [https://archive.org/download/summer-shorts/ANightInTheWoodlandCampground1.mp3] at Steamy Stories [https://feeds.feedburner.com/steamy-stories]. [https://archive.org/download/summer-shorts/ANightInTheWoodlandCampground4.jpg] It was definitely time for this vacation. I hadn't taken one in almost four years. I spent most of that time driving from one wind turbine farm to another, each day climbing the nearly five hundred foot tall towers to repair and service the electronics and generators on top of the hollow towers. It was terrific money, and I was never out of work. In fact, that was the reason I was no longer married. My ex wanted someone that could not only provide the standard of living I was giving her, but also be there to share it. In the end, she found someone else to share the considerable amount of money she was getting each week from my paycheck. I didn't even bother to have a house any longer. When I was "home" I stayed in a motel, with most of my belongings, the things she didn't take in the divorce, stored in a storage locker. I mean, why bother with a house if I'm on the road weeks at a time? I guess it isn't the best way to live life, going from one hotel to another, but I figure a few more years and I'll have enough money tucked away to retire and find something less stressful and physically demanding. At forty-eight, I doubted my arms and legs could withstand the strain for too many more years. Sex, well, that was pretty easy. It's surprising how many middle-aged wives traveling for business... or pleasure... are willing to have a quick tryst with a seriously ripped guy their own age. Almost all the hotel bars had a plethora of targets. I preferred the already-married ladies, simply because it limited risk. There was little chance of romantic entanglements, which I admit having issues with; and nearly all of them were already on birth control, so I didn't have to worry about that little problem. After spending so much time being faithful while my ex was screwing around behind my back, if a married woman wanted to fuck around, then fine. I wasn't the relationship police. But vacation for me needed to be totally different. I wanted to go someplace where I simply didn't know where today would take me. I drove thousands of miles just to get to the next job. I wanted to see what there was to see without any schedule or objective. I'd been doing this now for nearly two weeks, driving from attraction to attraction, camping when I got tired. Usually, I picked an out of the way camp ground, many of them being desolate "primitive" camp sites in little out of the way state parks. That was what last night was. A little out of the way state park in the middle of the desert with only half a dozen camp sites. I had the place nearly to myself with the exception of a young lady half my age that rolled in shortly after I did. I was almost disappointed to not have the area to myself, mostly because I needed a shower, and in a place like this, a shower was standing next to my truck dribbling water on myself from my two gallon solar shower bag. I say I was almost disappointed, because after about an hour of sitting and chatting as the sun set, she agreed to get naked with me and share my shower. In her words, "after three days in these desert sites, she'd get naked with the devil if it meant getting her hair washed." She did get naked, letting me see her bare shaved teenage looking nethers and the two silver barbell type nipple piercings on her erect pink nipples, setting off her perky tanned B cup breasts. After sharing half the bag of water wetting, soaping, and rising each other, we faced each other. She easily slipped my cock between her legs and held herself pressed tightly to me as I used the remainder of the water to wash her hair. By the time we were done we were both quite horny, her hips seeming to keep sliding while I was washing her hair. Unfortunately, I'd promised not to take advantage of her, and being a gentleman, I maintained that promise. After a little discussion, she did agree that she'd go as far as to sit on the hood of my truck, her legs spread, while we both pleasured ourselves only a few inches apart. While it took care of the momentary need, it was far from the satisfaction I really wanted at that moment. I'll always wonder if it was fear or conscience that made her leave barely after daybreak and well before I planned on climbing out of my tent. Tonight, it was a little campground, well out of the way, just the way I liked them. Those big K O A campgrounds are just too busy for my tastes. This one looked like it had maybe two dozen sites tucked back in the woods, and of those, only about half a dozen were occupied. This is one of the reasons I was kind of frustrated. The rather cute young lady at the counter gave me a site, not off alone, but right across the little gravel road from one of those national chain rented motor homes. There were plenty of sites where I could be alone, instead I was going to have neighbors less than 30 yards away. I frowned to myself as I pulled into the camp site. I was still irritated as I set my small tent up and strung the extension cord to the electrical pole for the fan and light I used in my tent in hot weather. My irritation had faded to mild musings as I stripped down in the tent and changed to some athletic shorts before going out to start a fire in the little fire pit. The mild musings were dispelled completely at the sound of the three young women walking down the gravel path and into the site across the gravel drive, each of them wrapped in a beach towel as they came from the little pool near the front of the campground. I was sure they had to have on more than towels as the three trooped into the camper and closed the door behind them, but that didn't keep my mind from imagining. Maybe it wouldn't be quite as bad a spot as I expected. True, they weren't middle-aged housewives looking for a naughty experience, but they looked to be late twenties or early thirties. I wasn't against enjoying the view of three younger cuties. True, I wasn't likely to do anything close to what I'd do with a middle-age housewife, but then... I settled by the fire in my sturdy little camp chair and pulled out my phone to read my book, the sun still at least an hour from setting. It wasn't long before the three came back out, each drawing a chair around their fire pit, that held a small smoldering fire. Two of them looked like sisters, tall thin, long blonde hair, small tits and very tight clothing. The third was a bit rounder, not fat by any means, but definitely larger than the sisters, medium length brown hair, nice ass filling out the somewhat baggy micro shorts and big tits that stretched the tank top tantalizingly. With her back to me I couldn't really tell if she wore a bra, but from the bouncing I noticed between the door and the chair, I suspected not. I sat, reading my book, but still overhearing small bits of the conversation they were having between giggles and laughs. My ears perked up considerably when I started to hear "I dare you" and "chicken". "I bet he won't even notice you." I heard one of them say slightly louder. "But if he does?" another asked, clearly nervous about something. "Then she has to." I heard the third say, though I couldn't tell which of the three was talking. Almost suddenly the one dark haired girl stood up, turned around to face me and pulled the bottom of her tank top up, showing off a pair of large, nicely shaped breasts. Each tit was mostly white, showing how large the bikini top that she typically tanned in was, but her areola was nearly a quarter of the front of each breast with a surprisingly large hard pink nipple poking out at me. She held the top up for at least five full seconds before pulling the top down over her tits and sitting back down quickly, her back to me as she covered her face with her hands in apparent embarrassment. "He definitely noticed!" she said after half a dozen seconds, pulling her hands from her face. "Well, sis. Guess you missed that one. And the way he's staring, he's not about to miss a single detail." One of the blonde girls said to the other. "Well, it isn't the first time a guy has seen my tits," the second blonde said as she stood up. She walked around the chairs until she was nearly to the road separating us. She pulled up the bottom of the light weight t-shirt she had on, showing me a pair of perky little B cup titties that were tanned completely across with barely a hint of tan lines. She held her shirt up for considerably longer than the first girl did before pulling it back down and turning to walk back to the fire pit in their campsite. "You didn't have to stop there," I called, hopefully loud enough for her to hear me without the whole campground hearing it. She stopped where she was, reached behind her and pushed her shorts down, the elastic waistband pushing down below the curve of her cheeks. She wiggled her ass side to side for several seconds before she pulled the shorts back up over her sexy little ass. "That better?" she asked over her shoulder. "I wouldn't have minded if they went lower," I called back, starting to enjoy the little game, my cock already getting hard in my shorts. "Oh really? Tell me, just how low do you want them to go?" "Well, seems to me you were pretty insistent on getting your friend to show off her tits, how about you pull 'em all the way down?" "All the way as in, to my ankles?" I chuckled. "That's all the way." She said something to the other girls that I couldn't hear, the sister looking blonde nodding and giggling, while the head of the brunette shook side to side significantly. "We're talking about it," the formerly-flashing blonde called back before saying something else to the two girls. It seemed like whatever she said was finally accepted by the brunette. She turned around to face me and stepped to the road. "We will if you do." I was a little surprised. I hadn't played "You show me yours and I'll show you mine" since I was a teenager. I thought about it for a few seconds. "Kind of public for that, isn't it?" "Well, if you're scared..." "Honey, scared isn't in my vocabulary. I climb windmills for a living." "Well then? Unless you don't have anything to show off..." I chuckled again. "Tell me, what do you do for a living?" "Wouldn't you like to know?" she answered with a smile, pulling her shirt up again; enough to expose one of her breasts. "Okay. If you're not afraid of public, strip for me then. All the way." "I will if you do." The bold blonde offered. "And if I do? Just how long will you stand there naked?" I tested her resolve. "As long as you do, providing you don't do anything like touch your cock or try to cross the road." "Hmm, afraid of me being some kind of a pervert or rapist or something?" I decided to speak to her fears. "Something," she said. "So?" "Well, seems a little unfair for your friends to get a free show." I upped the ante. "Oh, they'll be putting up too, but not completely naked. That'll be me. Just like you suggested. Or don't you think you have enough to impress us?" "Honey, if you wanna see me naked, I'm game. You wouldn't be the first woman I've been naked in public, with in the last few years. So, bring it on!" I said as I stood up, my already-hard cock tenting out my shorts significantly. I was suddenly glad I'd decided to wear just the shorts without my briefs. "Come on girls. Time to put up." "I don't believe I'm doing this," the brunette said quietly as she got up and walked towards the road with her two friends. They stopped across the narrow gravel road in the growing gloom and waited for me to reach the same trail. The blonde pulled her shirt up and off and dropped it on the ground at her feet and then stood, waiting for me to respond. "Your turn?" I grinned at her and then pushed my shorts down, letting it drag my shaft down and then pop free, snapping back upwards and slapping my pelvis with a gentle splat. "Good enough?" I asked as I stood with my feet spread enough to let my full sack swing low and free. "Shit," the blonde whispered as she reached for her shorts. She pushed them down and stepped out of them as she stared at my rock hardness, bouncing slightly with my heartbeat. Her tits were small and perky. Her entire body was completely tanned with only a hint of a tiny bikini line around each nipple and her completely shaved mound and teenage-looking snatch. She looked damn hot, and I wondered if she tanned naked outside or in a tanning bed. She stood naked for long seconds, staring at me before turning to her friends. "Come on you two. You agreed," she said as she stepped her feet slightly further apart. One hand slid up her body to her tits and squeezed one nipple while the other slipped down between her legs to stroke her fingers across her glistening lips. The other blonde pushed her shorts to her knees, exposing a nearly identical cunt, only with a small patch of blonde curls on her mound and a more definite white patch on her cunt and mound. She pulled her shirt up and held it above her tits. The brunette was considerably slower. She pushed her panties down to her thighs, pushing them barely low enough to expose her snatch and the creamy white triangle that was running between her legs. I could just see a little of her cunt as she held her thighs pressed together, limiting my view. She pulled her shirt up again, exposing a pair of easily full C cup maybe even D cup tits. The white around her breasts clearly said she wore a conservative bikini when she was outside and appeared quite shy about her body. "Jesus," the second blonde said, staring at my cock. "Can I touch it?" I chuckled. "I thought your sister, it is your sister, right? I thought your sister was worried about me touching you ladies." "I don't mind if you don't mind," she said as she walked across the maybe fifteen feet of gravel between us. She reached out for my cock and wrapped her hand around me, gripping my hard-on. "Damn! I can't even get my whole hand around it," she said as I gently reached up and teased one of her nipples. She stroked her hand on it a few times, running it all the way to my engorged head before sliding it all the way back to my balls again. "You wanna play with it or fuck it?" I whispered, getting more turned on by the second, between her hand slowly stroking me, my fingers teasing her nipple, her sister fingering herself a few yards away and the sight of those big tits on the brunette girl. "You wanna come touch it too?" I asked looking right at the brunette. "Oh God. No. I couldn't. I mean. No," she said, dropping her shirt and pulling her shorts up as she practically ran to the camper and disappeared inside. That seemed to be the end of the game as the brave blonde let go of my cock, dropped her shirt and pulled her shorts up before backing away from me and then turning and walking back to the camper as well. "You?" said to the more boisterous blonde observer. "Sorry. I only flash. I don't fuck strangers," the naked blonde said as she picked up her shorts and walked back to the fire pit. She stood there, her ass pointed at me in the growing darkness and pulled on her shorts, giving me a quick look at her cunt from behind. I pulled my own pants up, walked back to the truck and dug out a lantern. I pumped up the gas and lit the mantle. I set it on the tailgate before pulling out a beer and returning to my chair, somewhat disappointed that it hadn't gone further than it had, given she was standing there stroking my cock. I wouldn't have minded one bit if she wanted to get fucked. I looked over and saw only the first blonde sitting by the fire, so I slouched back in my camp chair, rested my feet on a big rock, & went back to reading my book. "Hey Linda!" I heard a voice say as a pair of feet crunched in the gravel. "Naomi! You missed all the f

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

I går1 h 0 min

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

17. juli 20261 h 0 min

A Night in Woodland Campground: Part 1

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