15 comments/ 35136 views/ 3 favorites Bookstore Seduction By: Kat73 Thanks for the inspiration... Yaaawwwnnnn. Awake. Slowly, I open my eyes and stretch. It's Wednesday. I love Wednesday's. That is when "He" comes into the store. And "He" is hot. Maybe today is the day. I smile and slip out of bed. I work in an old book store in town. I have worked there since High School. I was 16 and the owner paid me under the table to dress seductively and sell books. A new owner now, so no more under the table, but she does like it when I dress seductively. She has even told me that if I ever wanted to be with a woman . . . well, that's another story. I brush my teeth and climb into the shower. It is still a bit chilly and that makes my nipples stand at attention. I turn up the heat and wash my hair and face. I rinse and massage the conditioner into my hair. I then lather up the loofa and begin to clean my body, starting with my tanned arms, moving to my ample breasts (stopping to pull on the nipples), over my slight tummy, and down to my long, firm legs. I decide I need a quick shave and lather on the cream. With every long stroke my fingers brush my labia and I can feel a slight tingle. I pull down the shower massager and let it go to work. As I do, I think about Him. He is about 6 feet tall, slightly older than I, pretty well in shape, dark hair and eyes. He comes into the shop almost every Wednesday to browse. He always has an excuse to talk to me. I want him so bad. I am still shy after the last few boys have dumped me. I imagine him taking me in his arms in the stacks, kissing me, running his hands all over me . . . as I approach my climax, I can hear the phone. "Damn timing." I mutter as I climb out of the shower. I grab a towel and run to get the phone. "Good morning," I say, more cheerfully than I feel. I can see that it is Layla, the owner of the store. "Good morning dear." She replies. "Would you mind opening and closing today? I am a bit under the weather and don't think I can make it in." "Sure," I respond, getting more excited. Now I will be the only one in the shop all day. We chat for a few minutes and I promise to call her with the day's receipts. With a plan forming in my head, I go to my closet to get just the right dress. It's white and nearly see-through. The top is tight enough that a bra is not necessary and then tapers down my waist until it flows out into a full skirt that goes to my ankles. I decide to wear a lace thong . . . just in case. I spray on some perfume, apply some light make up and head out the door. Once at the bookstore, I go about all the opening duties; dusting, arranging sale books, putting the cash into the registers and then open the doors and wait. The book store is two storeys with a balcony so that you can see upstairs. The upstairs is mostly classics and used books and the downstairs is new releases, cookbooks and reference. My plan was to be on the second storey when he arrived. He is usually in around noon, so I have a few hours to kill. I help some customers, do a few special orders and then start with the new-used and go-back books. I take my pile up to the top of the stairs and set it down anticipating. At five after noon I hear the bell that signals a new customer. There is no one else in the store at the time. I walk to the railing and it's He. I bend over and smile and I can tell by the instant rise in the front of his slacks, that my dress has the appropriate effect. I begin to put away books at the edge of the balcony, going up and down the ladder to give him the fullest view possible. Several times I catch him looking up to catch a glimpse. I decide that today is the day and this is my best opportunity to seduce him. I walk back several isles and remove my now wet thong and hide it up on a top shelf. As I come back down the ladder, I hear a slight intake of breath and realize that he has come up below me. He is looking up my skirt with a mischievous grin on his face. I excuse myself and walk away, shaking my hips just slightly. I go to the pile and grab another three or four books. Every few minutes we just happen to be on the same isle. I brush my hand across his bottom a few times and drop more than a few books so that he can see me bend over to pick them up. I can feel myself getting very turned on by the sexual tension in the air. More than a few times I see him adjust his package, so that his erection is not so obvious. I decide to take it up a notch and unbutton the top two buttons of my dress so that my breasts are spilling out of the fabric. As I walk back onto the same isle as him, he whistles under his breath. I bend down to place a book on the shelf and slowly stand up to smile at him. He is gone. Suddenly I feel hands on my breasts and lips on my neck from behind. I push back into him as thrills begin to course through me. His hands are rough and his kisses warm and wet. My nipples harden instantly and I feel a warm gush beginning between my legs. His hands are everywhere. I can feel his erection, hard as steel, through his slacks. We don't speak a word as our breathing becomes more labored. His hand begins to slide up my thigh, under my skirt. He sits on a bench in the corner and pulls me down with him. As I sit on his lap, his fingers find my dripping center. I can feel his experienced fingers traveling up and down my labia, stopping to rub gentle circles around my clit. I grind my butt onto his erection, bringing a moan from his lips. His fingers begin to work faster and I can feel myself approaching the edge. My hips begin to move quicker, to match his fingers as I fall over the edge into oblivion. I cry out and then bite my lip as waves of pleasure wash over me. I fall forward onto my knees and can feel him starting to run his tongue over my now dripping lips. He has pushed my skirt up over my hips and is licking me from behind. I can feel his tongue sliding in and out of my hole while his fingers pinch my nub. He licks faster and faster as my juices start to flow. I begin to thrash wildly as a second orgasm rocks my body. I moan softly as he replaces his tongue with his fingers and they move inside me, searching for my g-spot. His thumb flicks my dark hole as his fingers massage my G. I am ready to explode again on his fingers. He slides his thumb into my arse, I moan, loudly this time as I can't help it. I fall forward, no longer able to support myself as wave after wave of pleasure courses through me. After catching my breath, I roll over and sit up. I want to give him the same pleasures he has given to me. He is gone. I jump up and run to the railing. He is just opening the door to the store. He turns, blows me a kiss and leaves. I watch him walk to his pickup truck, climb in and drive away. I retrieve my panties, clean myself up and enjoy the rest of my uneventful day, looking forward to next week. Bookstore Seduction You are browsing at the bookstore. You feel rather bored, and are not pressed for time. You pass attractive men, strangers. Intriguing daydreams wander in and out of your imagination. You are wearing a light colored sundress. You browse and select a book. It is interesting, and so you sit cross-legged on the floor, with your back against the book stacks, with the book resting on your lap. Several minutes pass when you notice a tall man is browsing in the same aisle. He is broad shouldered. His demeanor is also unrushed and casual. As he slowly searches through the books along the aisle, he is moving gradually in your direction. He moves closer, selecting a book now and then. You glance briefly in his direction. His hair is light brown, a bit longer in the back. Day-old, well trimmed stubble. Inside you feel a tingle of chemical attraction to this complete stranger. Every few minutes he moves closer. Soon he is next to you, browsing and reading. With him so close, you notice his pleasant scent. The hairs on the back of your neck seem to stiffen. He seems completely comfortable, so you find yourself also at ease. You wonder if he finds you alluring, or, is he just pausing nearby to examine an interesting book? He is so close. Just a few inches away. Nothing is said. You hear him sigh softly. You look down to see how much of your cleavage is visible to him... you lean forward so he can see a bit more. He shifts his weight on his leg and takes in a sudden breath. You hear him whisper something -- you are not sure what it was... Was he reading to himself? What did he whisper? Did it sound something like "oh my... lovely breasts." Or, was he reading to himself? You are not sure; is your imagination playing tricks? Then he reaches for a book, one very close to you behind you in the stacks. His hand gently brushes against your shoulder as he removes it. The slight touch felt like a bit of electricity passed between you. Was it intentional, or accidental? He stands nearby and reads for awhile, then he sits down almost directly across from you in the aisle, mirroring you as you both sit crossed-legged. You notice his muscular legs, but you try keep your eyes on the print before you, and, every so often, you turn a page. Minutes pass by slowly, silently. But the silence is full of anticipation. He glances at your legs every so often from under his sun visor as he turns a page. More minutes pass. Silence. Other people come and go. He quietly sighs. You sigh. You turn a page. He turns a page. The minutes tick. Anticipation grows, then ebbs. And grows again. You glance at him, but his eyes are hidden below his visor. Is he admiring your legs? You decide to slowly and seductively caress the skin of your leg with a slow, light finger touch. Does he react? He does. He notices. You hear him take in a slow, deep breath, and you see that he shift uncomfortably. You slightly rock your leg. He slightly rocks his. He turns a page; you turn a page. You refocus on your book; he does, too. Waxing and waning, arousal growing and ebbing. Communication without sound. He whispers again, but you cannot make it out. He seems to be reading softly to himself. Or, is he whispering to you? What is he saying? Only a few words come across... and even those you are unsure about the meaning or intention. Time passes in his presence, in such close proximity to him. Nothing said. Overtly innocent to others, but, covertly incendiary. There is a nonverbal sync, a palpable chemistry. You shift your position so that your dress pulls up your over your knee. Now he can "accidentally" see a tantalizing glimpse of your smooth inner thighs. He shifts his position, again, uncomfortably. You are intrigued to see that he finds you alluring. He seems to try to focus on his reading.. You very lightly caress the skin of your leg while you read. More minutes pass, and you turn a page, then another. Then you pull your knees up slightly, with your book in your lap. You pull down your dress modestly, but you know he can see under your dress. He reacts. He is tenting. Your head lights turn on. He notices, and reacts. You both pretend not to notice. But you do. After a while of tantalizing him, you change your position to cool him down. This waxing and waning cycles for some time, yet no one else can see the nonverbal communication. You are intrigued by the idea of teasing this attractive stranger. You adjust your top to make sure too much cleavage isn't showing. You modestly pull down your dress, only to accidentally allow him to see your inner thighs again. Heating him up, then feigning modesty, and cooling him down. Only to repeat it again. And again. He tries to hide his arousal with his book. You try to hide your arousal by covering your breasts -- your nipples are pressing out against the fabric of your top... clearly visible now... Finally, it seems as if he can take it no longer. "This print is so small," he whispers. Was he talking to you, or to himself? "I can barely make this out." "What's that?" you ask. "Oh, this print. It is so small. I can barely read it." He comes over next to you and whispers: "Would you mind reading a bit of this aloud to me?" You are taken aback, and say nothing for moment. Then you muster a response. "Oh... sure." "I can barely make this out..." "Oh, small print?" you stammer. "Sure... let's see..." You can feel your heartbeat in your chest. It is a large book, and he places it over your lap. "Oh, might you start reading here?" he says, pointing to the paragraphs with the small print. You begin reading it aloud to him. He has moved close to you. In fact, his knee is touching yours. You begin reading aloud. "Oh, maybe you should whisper," he says, "so we don't disturb others..." "Oh, yes, of course..." You read quietly in a whisper. And he is so close. Your voice is a bit breathy at times, but you try to control its tempo and tone. He helps turn the page. As he does, the back of his hand brushes across your nipple. "Oh..." you whisper involuntarily. "Here you go," he points to the text on the page. You continue reading to him in a low whisper. You read a few sections aloud. Your voice is getting breathy and choppy at times, and you pause every so often. You continue to read in a whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress... You stop reading. "shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, but don't notice. "oh..." you pause. "shhhh... please keep reading..." You do. but your voice is getting breathy and unsteady. You have to pause occasionally. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap. You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, breathy, and you have to pause occasionally... It gives away your faux protestations... "Please... oh, no." You read a few sections aloud. Your voice choppy at times, and you pause to take in a breath every so often. You continue to read, as best you can, in a halting whisper. But, under the book, you notice that his finger is touching the skin of your knee, just under your dress... You stop reading. "Shhh... whisper..." he says. Others are nearby, but don't notice. "Oh..." you pause. "Shhhh... please keep reading..." You do. No one else can see... it is a large book covering your lap. You feel his touch, tracing lightly on your skin, under the book. your voice is unsteady, and you have to pause occasionally... Your voice betrays your arousal, contrary to your faux protestations... "Please... oh, no." Finally, his finger is exploring under the seam of your panties. Warmth and wetness. You feel his finger circle your clit, lightly... slowly. Your mouth is dry... it is hard now to breathe normally. He presses down, harder. "Oh! oh!" "Shhhh...." he says. With his other hand, he tursn the page, rubbing against your hard nipple. You continue reading aloud, in a breathy, in an entirely out of rhythm whisper. Others are nearby. can they tell? "Oh, please. Please stop..." "Read here..." "Oh, stop, please..." Your protestations grow more shallow and weak. "Close your eyes for a moment." he says. You do. You feel his lips on yours. Lightly at first. Then a deeper kiss. You cannot get enough air... you have to pull back to catch your breath. He allows you to calm a bit, to regain your composure, but your face has reddened. And, a red blush appears on your neck and chest You read again, but the words are coming out staccato, only one at at time... You feel your clit tingle and pulse as his finger rests motionless on it for a long while. Pulsating... Breathing... Whispering Trying not to let others see what is happening... You lean forward to let him see your erect nipple. He circles your clit, slow then fast. Lightly then with more pressure. faster harder in circles over it faster breathing deep. "oh! oh... oooh!" "shhhuuuu...: Your entire body quakes with deep, spreading spasms... but you cannot make a sound. You try to remain still. "Follow me" he whispers. You do. It is an upscale lavishly appointed independent bookstore. You follow him into a unisex restroom, and he shuts the door behind you. No one else has noticed. We are alone. "You have such a lovely face" I say as we stand before the large, ornate mirror. "Lovely... so lovely." I'm behind you, and I trace my fingers across your neck and jawline. "Beautiful facial structure... checkbones... lips... nose..." You feel my fingers explore the nape of your neck, your chest, the valley at the top of your cleavage. "So lovely, " I whisper. "And your breasts...." Slowly I unfasten the buttons of at the top of your sundress. As we both look in the mirror I slowly pull back your top and expose one breast. "Shuuuu.... we must be quiet..." Your nipple is erect in the reflection in the mirror. "Lovely... so beautiful..." I whisper next to your ear. We both look in the mirror as my finger circles your nipple, lightly... With my other hand, I reach down and around you, under your dress. Again, you feel my finger on your clit. "oh... no, please! We mustn't. Not here... Someone might come." "Shuuu....." After a while you can take this no longer. I sense it and pull down your panties from behind. You lean forward, steadying yourself with your hands on the hard granite sink. You wait with anticipation. You can see yourself yourself in the mirror. You see your own shocked expression as you feel me enter you from behind... penetrating deeply in one full stroke. Filling you. I pause, both of us throbbing. Then, I thrust fast. Then stop. You wait with anticipation... "Oh, please..." I thrust again. You can see your breasts jiggle with my thrusts. "Oh! oh!" "Shhh...." I squeeze your nipple with one hand, and massage your clit with the other. The contractions start again... and spread over your body. You see your face redden in the mirror. "Ohhhh!" you exclaim too loudly. "Shhhh shhh...." I am hard and deep inside of you. "Ah... oh... ooohhh!" You feel my contractions, and the warm fluid fill you inside... A long pause to catch our breath. "Shhh...," I whisper. "Close your eyes." I kiss you again. Our tongues intertwine and explore greedily. I slowly brush your hair back, and wipe away the sweat from your forehead. "Again," I whisper... "we will meet again. Meet me here again in one week, at the same time." Then I leave, quietly closing the door. You study yourself in the mirror... your face is reddened and flushed glistening beads of sweat, hair disorganized, chest still heaving with deep breaths. You close your eyes. You are alone. "Oh... ohhh" you whisper to yourself quietly. "Oh my." You wonder: How did this happen? There is silence... no voice to counter your protestations. In the mirror your nipples are still erect. Your lips are red and moist, there is a slight, unintentional upturn at the corners. "One week," he said. One week.