Horny Librarian

For the last several years I’ve finally been able to find some time to work on my lat­est passion. I’ve been researching something for a book I’m working on. I’d tell you what it is, only it’s somewhat arcane, pardon the term. What I will tell you about, though, is the newest research librarian. We’ll call her Geena because, although it’s not her real name, I wouldn’t want to identify her. I mean, who knows, you might use the same library some time and right now it’s me she’s fucking. You understand, don’t you?

I’d been going to the library, a massive place on Maple Avenue, for about six months. During that time, Sheila was the librarian, about 40, with a face that would smash a fucking mirror. Then two weeks ago, she was replaced by Geena. She is quite tall, with mousy brown hair that almost reached to her butt and she’s usually got it tied into a ponytail. She wears glasses, has big blue eyes and a very nice body from what I could tell. She too is around 40, so while she’s ma­ture, she’s sort of smoldering beneath those thick framed glasses.

I think my reputation preceded me at the library. I just met Geena and she was ready to help me with my latest proj­ect. For me, I made her my latest project.

I showed her my library card and she smiled, fuck, she’s beautiful when she smiles. “Ah yes, my predecessor told me about you, Mr. Bookman,” she said, in a posh voice. “I know what you’ll be needing, so please go into research room six. You know where that is, right?”

“Yes, I do, thank you,” I said. Mr. Bookman is the name I use in the library. My card has my real name on it, but I was given that by Sheila back then and I kinda like it. Now Geena is using it and it sound so sexy com­ing out of her mouth. The research rooms up on the second floor are private, so real researchers, rather than time wasters, can get some privacy while they study. I entered the room, put my black leather jacket on the chair and waited. Within a few minutes, she knocked and walked in and placed those cryptic volumes on the desk, and smiled at me again. “I’m on extension 62 if you need me.” she said, and this time her smile wasn’t to be mistaken. I know she was telling me she wanted me.

I’m tall dark with the swarthy complexion and pretty well-built with big muscles, because I work out box­ing at the gym three to four times a week. I’m also 40ish. I sat down, I always stand when the woman enters the room because they like that kind of stuff, and pulled the first volume towards me. As soon as I did, I noticed a little bookmark sticking out of the top. Well I thought it was a bookmark, only it wasn’t. It was a sheer, see-through little black thong! I pulled it to my face and sniffed at it. It smelled that wonderful fra­grance of a woman’s pussy. Not strong but unmistakable. And attached to it with a tiny safety pin was a little note, in perfect female handwriting... ‘Ext. 62, when you need me.’

Room six had all I needed. Me, Geena, privacy and the big wal­nut table in the middle of the room.

I pondered, should I wait for a few minutes, or call her immediately? Fuck it, I picked up the phone and tapped ‘six-two. A sultry voice came on “Hello this is Geena. How may I help you?”

“This is Jack Bookman,” I told her “I’m in research room six. Would you please come up when you have a moment?”

She gave a little girlish giggle. “Oh, you got my note? Let’s see I’m on a coffee break in 15 minutes. Would that be okay?”

I told her, “Sure. How long have we got?”

Another little girlish giggle. “Oh, about 20 minutes, will that do?”

“Thank you, that would be just fine,” I said. Then I remembered her thong. “I’ve got an item of yours in my jacket pocket,” I told her. “You want it back?”

Geena giggled again. “No, thank you. Mr. Bookman. There’s plenty more where that came from.” And she hung up. The 15 minutes passed like 15 hours, but fi­nally there was a knock on the door. I opened it and she stepped into the room, but not before she hung an appropriate hotel-like ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the doorknob.

Then she reached for her ponytail, pulled the clip, or whatever it’s called, from her hair and shook her head. I pulled her into my arms, kissed her firmly on her mouth and removed her glasses, which I put on the desk next to the volume I had been working on.

Geena was beautiful. I told her so, then kissed her again. While we were kissing, I pulled up her skirt to around her knees and put my fin­gers between her thighs. They parted slight­ ly and they continued up until they reached her panties, wet panties. She was as wet as anything and my finger slithered around the slippery cloth. While I was doing that, she unzipped my fly and her hand stroked my erection which burst out of my pants. It wasn’t a huge erection, as erections go, but she must have liked it because the next thing I knew she was on her knees and her mouth encircled my helmet. For a librarian she was a superb cocksucker.

I’ve renewed my library card through 2050. That means I’ll be fucking Geena until I’m well into my eighties.

Now I have a confession — I checked my watch. She had been in the room two or three minutes, tops, but I didn’t want it all spent on cock­sucking, so I reached for her long hair and pulled her gently up to my face, turned her around and planted her butt on the edge of the large table I was working at.

She sat, and I grabbed her legs and pulled her ankles up so they were rest­ing on my shoulders, and then I pushed my cock head against her semi-shaved pussy, sliding it down to her slit. Geena gave a little shudder, a shudder that was thrill­ing, and then I was driving deeper into her, my cock enveloped by her glorious pussy. Shoot, she was tight!

Her arms reached up for my shoulders and she kissed me hard. “That’s so nice Mr. Bookman, don’t stop,” she purred. As if I had any intention to stop! No, just the oppo­site. I was going to go hard and deep for the rest of my time with her. Then she took her hands from around my neck and grabbed my hips pulling me deeper into her as he muf­fled out a long, low climax, tightening her pussy muscles around my pistoning cock.

Then I started to build to my climax and soon I was spurting hot wads of Bookman jizz into her. I held myself in her for a mo­ment until I felt her gently push my hips away, indicating I should pull it out. My cock slipped out of her, and she kissed me again. She pulled down her shirt, grabbed her hair and in a few seconds she was ponytailed again.

“My lunch break is at noon, Mr. Bookman,” she said as she reached for her glasses. “I thought you might like to take me to lunch?”

I realized I had not felt her breasts, so I pressed my palms against them, firm, not big but firm. “Sure,” I said. “And after work?”

“I’ve got nothing planned,” she said.

I kissed her as I adjusted myself and pushed my cock back into my pants. “Don’t worry,” I told her, “I have!”

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