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Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love

By: RVon



Recent college graduate Tom Bailey stood poised at the entrance to his old middle school library like an anxious puppy waiting at the back door of his owner's house. Nervously, Tom raked his fingers over his hair and straightened his tie with a sweaty hand. 

Would he summon up the courage to knock on the door and finally reveal his love for his grade school librarian, or slink away and keep those feelings to himself as he'd done for the last nine years? 

At 22, Tom thought he was finally old enough to maybe have a chance with the longtime object of his affection: Angelina Lione; old enough that his love wouldn't be dismissed as a mere crush. No, crushes don't last nine years. This was love and he intended to act on it, if only Tom could get up the nerve to knock on that door. 

Sure, Angelina had to be at least 50 by now, but there was nothing Tom could do about the vast differences in their ages. Now was the perfect time to strike, while he was single and Angelina, hopefully, not too old -- or worse married. He just had to hope that the sexy librarian he'd fallen in love with nearly a decade ago still looked close to how he remembered her. 

If nothing else Tom had to knock on that door and take that first step to getting his love off his chest. No one -- not even his closest friends -- knew of his feelings. He was too embarrassed to tell them. After all, 8-9 years earlier Angelina was in her early 40s -- she could have been old enough to be his mother.

Angelina never wore a wedding band or engagement ring, helping to fuel rumors amongst the student body that she was a lesbian. "Her hair's too short," went the popular argument, to which Tom countered to himself But it's nicely shaped, curled around the ears and puffed a bit on top. Plus, she always applies a light touch of makeup to her face, whereas stereotypical lesbians didn't use any makeup. There was nothing remotely 'butch' about her look. "She calls herself "Ms." rather than "Miss" or "Mrs." That's weird." So. Just because she's a feminist, doesn't mean she's gay, went Tom's silent defense. She could still be straight, but doesn't want to be defined by her relationships with men; nothing wrong with wanting to be an enigma. The added mystery made Tom want her even more.

Yet, even Tom would admit that Angelina was not a classic beauty. While her figure was nice, there was nothing exceptional about it. She didn't have an overly shapely rear end or very large breasts. Her face was certainly attractive but not particularly striking. Angelina's hair was short and dark -- not blonde and long like the pinup girls of the day his friends were into, like Cheryl Tiegs and Christie Brinkley. She even wore large-framed glasses that made her look rather owlish.

No, what really appealed to Tom was Angelina's attitude and footwear. Tom had Ms. Lione to thank for the raging boot fetish he acquired at age 13. Ms. Lione seemed to wear boots nearly every school day. Tom loved winter because he got to see Ms. Lione's extensive boot rotation -- from classic knee-high, high-heeled black, white, tan and brown leather, to high-heeled, knee-high black suede. She had them all and in all the best styles -- some even stiletto. 

Ms. Lione and her form fitting, sexy boots arrived in Tom's life at just the right moment: puberty. The timing was perfect -- a collision at the intersection of Adolescent Hormones Street and Sexy Object of Desire Avenue. 

Out of nowhere one day, the sight of Ms. Lione strutting around the library "innocently" enough in her high-heeled boots suddenly provoked Tom's first boner. The experience simultaneously scared and excited him. He was too young at the time to know what a fetish was, but old enough to know -- and like -- the fact that Ms. Lione and her boots aroused him to no end. From that moment on, Tom was head over high heels in love and lust with the sexy librarian and looked for any excuse to pop into the library to see Ms. Lione and no doubt experience his daily woody. 

While actresses and fashion models, who wore fashion boots, were everywhere, they were only available on TV or the pages of a magazine. They weren't real to Tom. Ms. Lione, though, was real. She was actually in his life. Sort of. Even though to her he was probably just another anonymous teenager at school. She was a genuine, in the flesh woman, who wore stylish and sexy boots in his presence. A woman who allowed him to exercise nearly all of his four excitable senses. He could see Ms. Lione and her gorgeous boots up close and get a whiff of her exotic French perfume when she passed by. The only things he couldn't do were touch the wrinkled leather of Ms. Lione's booted legs or taste her full, moist and cherry lipstick covered lips. Well, two out of four wasn't bad.

If boots were sexy to him, Tom determined that they must be to other men, as well, so Ms. Lione had to be making a conscious effort to look sexy for someone or ones -- maybe for a man or men at school, for all he knew. Who cared? Just so long as she kept wearing them, Tom would be close by in the library at recess angling to get a good look at her. Sometimes, if he was lucky, he'd see Ms. Lione cross her boot-swathed legs, revealing some luscious thigh in the process.

As it turned out, boots weren't Tom's only fetish. Around the age of 13 he also discovered he had a thing for women who smoked. Again, Tom was too young to understand the phallic meaning behind smoking, but he had a good idea what it represented and that it sure looked like any woman who would put a forbidden cigarette in her mouth could easily substitute it for an erect penis. Unfortunately, he never saw Ms. Lione smoke, but he was certain she had the habit. A fellow classmate had been in her office once and reported back to some boys -- Tom included -- that it smelled a little like cigarette smoke.

Ms. Lione had two of the top criterion Tom looked for in a woman: someone who smoked and wore sexy, high-heeled boots. In the late '70s, Angelina Lione may have been a 40-something year old librarian, but to Tom's hormone-fueled imagination she was a wild, sexually aggressive woman just waiting to burst out of her shell and fuck him.

Ms. Lione also had an arrogant way about her which Tom liked. She ruled the library with an iron hand, forbidding students from just hanging out there to kill time. She was bitchy, a real diva. Imperious, temperamental and overly dramatic and for reasons he couldn't understand, Tom was turned on by that behavior. 

Ms. Lione was his "first." The first woman he ever masturbated to and even years later remained his "go-to" woman to stimulate himself to. He'd tried masturbating to other women and even been with a few physically, but always when it came time to ejaculating, the image of Angelina Lione wearing a pair of her sexy boots and seductively bringing a long, white cigarette to her lips appeared in his head and brought him to heights of orgasm that he could never reach with any fictional or real-life partner. To Tom, Ms. Lione was a MILF, long before the term was coined.

All of the preceding had brought Tom to this place at this time. To the threshold of fulfilling a quest born when he was a teen. It was now or never. Tom closed his eyes and silently -- almost passive aggressively -- wrapped his knuckles on the door. A few seconds later, the door opened. It was Angelina Lione, standing before him looking exactly like he remembered her eight years earlier. And below her plaid skirt, which tastefully matched her form-fitting black sweater, she was even wearing her trademark knee-high, high-heeled black leather boots -- although Tom didn't dare look down at them too long. Around her neck, Ms. Lione wore two necklaces. On her head were the same large eye glasses. Hoop earrings dangled and swayed softly from her lobes. Her makeup was a light, but effective touch, the rouge highlighting her high cheek bones and ruby red lipstick coating her full lips.

"May I help you?" asked Ms. Lione, her tone suggesting that she clearly did not recognize Tom as a former student.

"Yes...ummm...hi, Ms. Lione," stammered Tom. "I'm...ahhhh...Tom Bailey. I used to attend Riverdale. I graduated in '79."

"Okay. Okay. What brings you back?"

"I graduated college a few months ago and a wave of nostalgia came over me and I thought I'd visit and see the old teachers...not like you're old, Ms. Lione. You're not."

"Oh. Would you like to come in? I have a free period between classes."

"Thank you."

Ms. Lione opened the door wider and allowed Tom to enter the library.

"Let's go to my office and catch up," said Ms. Lione, sweeping her hand to the right in the direction of her office.

Tom entered Ms. Lione's office. It didn't smell like cigarette smoke. Either Ms. Lione quit smoking, he thought, or the rumors were untrue.

"Please, sit down," Ms. Lione said, motioning to the chair in front of her 6' long all wooden desk.

Tom took a seat and stole a glimpse of Ms. Lione from the rear as she walked by on the way to her desk. In that brief instant, she seemed a bit curvier and shapelier than he remembered around the waist and firmer in the butt, but maybe that was due to Ms. Lione's skirt, which looked to be on the tight side.

Ms. Lione sat behind the desk and crossed her booted legs.

Crap, Tom said to himself. That desk is blocking a view of those beautiful boots.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise," said Ms. Lione, folding her hands neatly and resting them on her desk, her red-manicured fingernails shimmering from the sun streaming through the window of her office. "It's not every day one of my ex-students visits. Tell me, Tom, where did you go to school? What did you major in?"

"Well, I graduated from Fairfield in August with a degree in liberal arts," replied Tom.

"Oh, very good school. What do you plan to do with that degree?"

"That's sort of the real reason I'm here," Tom lied. "I'm thinking about enrolling in grad school for library science and I wanted to kind of pick your brain about a career in that field."

"That's wonderful!"

The phone on Ms. Lione's desk rang.

"Excuse me for a second," she said, picking up the phone with her left hand.

Tom studied the hand -- a silver gemstone dress ring wrapped around her middle finger and a sapphire band adorned her pinky, but, thankfully, the critical ring finger of his dream woman was bare. 

"Angelina Lione..." the librarian answered into the receiver. "Okay, I'll be right there."

"I'm sorry, Tom," she said, hanging up the phone and rising from her chair. "But there's an impromptu meeting in the principal's office." 

Tom was crestfallen. He'd finally worked up the nerve to have an audience with Ms. Lione and she was called away not two minutes into their conversation.

"It's too bad," continued Ms. Lione, walking to her office door. "I'd love to hear about those plans of yours."

Following from behind, Tom was now feet from the exit -- feet from walking out of Ms. Lione's life again; maybe forever. Suddenly, in a rare display of quick thinking under pressure, the shy young man spoke up before it was too late.

"Ah...Ms. Lione, if you're free tonight, would you like to join me for dinner? We could talk about library science then."

"Why, that's a wonderful idea," exclaimed Ms. Lione. "I'd love to. Do you know Rotini's in Cromwell?"

"No, but I can find it."

"Quaint and charming little Italian place. Make a reservation for 6:00, would you?"

"Great."

"Okay. It's a date. Meet you there. Gotta run."

Ms. Lione darted past him -- leaving behind the scent of her light, flowery perfume -- down three steps -- her boots click clacking on the linoleum floor like only boots can -- through a set of double doors and was gone before Tom could move. He was virtually paralyzed by his sudden good fortune. She had even said the word "date."

Wow, could she really be thinking of this as a date date, Tom wondered. Snapping back into reality, he assumed the role of devil's advocate and figured that could very well have been just her slip of the tongue. After all, as far as she knew, Tom wasn't there for romantic purposes. This was allegedly just a fact-finding, educational dinner. 

Plus, he still didn't know what Ms. Lione's relationship status was. She could very well be dating someone already or married -- naked ring finger aside. Then again, she agreed to the dinner very quickly, without so much as a moment's thought. If she had a husband or boyfriend, certainly she'd have to run it by him first, to let him know what her evening plans were, right? Of course, maybe the man in her life was out of town, so there'd be no one to check with. 

The possibilities were staggering, as Tom staggered out of the school. Whatever. It was still progress. Sure, dinner could be a bust. Ms. Lione could reveal right off the bat that she was in a committed relationship and then broken-hearted Tom would be stuck, having to listen all evening to her prattle on about library science -- or worse yet -- the man who he was jealous of; the man who got to make love to Ms. Lione, while he was left to just masturbate to her. 

Five hours later, Tom sat nervously at an intimate table for two at Rotini's. Arriving some 15 minutes early (no way would he risk being late), he ordered a scotch and soda (his first ever) in an attempt to appear more adult than his 22 years. 

At 6:00, Tom began checking his wristwatch every 30 seconds, becoming more anxious each time that Ms. Lione had yet to arrive.

Finally, at 6:05:23 she appeared at the entrance to the dining hall. Led to Tom's table by a waiter, Ms. Lione was dressed in her work clothes -- including her intoxicating pair of knee-high, high-heeled, black leather boots. Standing up, Tom immediately walked around to where Ms. Lione would be sitting and pulled out her chair before the waiter had a chance to. 

"Chivalry isn't dead, after all," said Ms. Lione with a sly smile, as she tucked her hand under the back of her skirt and sat down. 

Tom gently eased her chair into the table as the waiter gave him a nasty "that's my job" look.

"Would the lovely signora care for something from the bar," the waiter asked in a northern Italian accent, while placing a menu in Ms. Lione's hand. 

"A glass of Chianti please," said Ms. Lione.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, turning back to Tom, a moment later when the waiter left them alone.

"That's okay," he answered. "I was early. It evens out."

Ms. Lione smiled and let out a small laugh.

"You've been here before, Ms. Lione?" asked Tom.

"Yes, many times," she said. "I live only a few blocks from here."

"Oh, really. It's funny. When you're a student, it's hard to imagine teachers having a life outside of school. Going out to a restaurant seems sort of out of context."

"True."

Tom was hoping to riff off of Ms. Lione's reply, but her one-word answer left him speechless. Instead, he buried his head in his menu to pick his entrée selection. A minute later, the waiter returned with Ms. Lione's drink. 

"Gratci," said Ms. Lione.

"Is the signora and her son ready to order?" asked the waiter.

"He's not my son," Ms. Lione responded, dabbing at her mouth with a cloth napkin after practically doing a spit take on her wine. 

When composure was restored, Ms. Lione and Tom ordered their meals and the waiter retreated to the kitchen.

"What should we drink to?" asked Ms. Lione, raising her glass to toast.

"How about to library science -- and every mother's son?" answered Tom, raising his glass.

"That's funny. Cheers."

The two clinked glasses and took sips of their respective drinks.

"Speaking of library science," Ms. Lione continued, "that's exciting that you want to make it a career. You don't find too many men in that field."

Tom didn't know how to interpret that remark. Was Ms. Lione insinuating that he might be gay? 

"Well, my girlfriend at Fairfield got me interested in it," he replied, intending to put that thought to rest straight away.

"Girlfriend?! Are you still together?"

"No, we broke up before graduation."

"I see. If you're interested in attending Seton Hall for grad school, I could introduce you to the dean of the library science program. We were classmates."

"Really?! Oh, that'd be great, Ms. Lione. Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

"My pleasure. So, was your ex-girlfriend the sole reason that sparked your interest in library science?"

"No, I'd been thinking about it ever since I attended Riverdale. I still remember your lessons on card cataloging and the Dewey Decimal system."

"You don't say. I didn't think anyone really paid attention in my classes."

"I did. I hung on your every word."

"What a charming thing to say. Thank you. You know, when you've taught for as long as I have, sometimes you wonder if you're really getting through to students."

"You sure got through to me."

"To tell you the truth, if it wasn't for my teacher's pension, I'd have resigned long ago."

"And done what?"

"I don't know. Maybe worked for a county library."

"I bet you've gotten through to more students than you realize. I'm sure a lot return to visit, right?"

"Not me. They seem to visit their math and science teachers, but you're the first ex-student to visit me in years."

"That's their loss, Ms. Lione. You left quite an impression on me."

"Thank you, Tom. Please, call me Angelina. You're not a student anymore. You're a young man. An adult now."

"Thanks, Ms. Fi...I mean, Angelina. Sorry, you're about the only former teacher I ever visited who's treated me like an adult."

"Maybe it's that scotch and soda you've been nursing," Angelina said slyly.

A moment later, the pair's meals arrived. Between bites, Tom proceeded to beat around the bush in a futile attempt to see if Angelina was married or in a committed relationship. 

When the two finished their dinners, a busboy came to clean away their plates. 

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" asked Angelina, rising from her chair. "I'd like to use the powder room to freshen up."

"Certainly, Angelina," said Tom, rising from his chair in gentlemanly fashion. 

Permission granted, Angelina picked up her purse, turned on her booted heel and walked to the women's room. Tom took in the view from behind of Angelina's shapely ass pressing tightly as she walked against the fabric of her skirt and fine high-heeled leather boots glistening in the low light of the restaurant until his dinner date turned right to the women's room.

She even talks sophisticated and elegantly...powder room, Tom said to himself. The fact that she said she wants to freshen up I think is a good sign that she thinks this is an actual date, I think. Shows Angelina pays attention to her appearance and wants to look good for me. She wouldn't put it like that if she had a man at home or was in a relationship, right? 

A few minutes later, a fresh coat of cherry red lipstick applied to her voluptuous lips and another layer of mascara lightly brushed to her cheeks, Angelina returned to the table and sat down.

"You freshen up very nicely, Angelina," Tom said, standing up to push Angelina's chair in for her. "Not like you didn't look fresh before. I don't mean you're fresh, I...ummm..."

"I think I know what you mean," said Angelina with a reassuring smile to her flustered date as she settled back into her seat. 

"Do you mind if I smoke," she asked Tom, looking at him while reaching into her purse.

Those six words uttered by his dream woman, confirming his long-standing suspicions, were enough to immediately stir Tom's loins.

"Um...no. Go right ahead," Tom said, as he tried to keep his cool.

Sweat began to form on his forehead, while Tom placed his napkin back down over his lap. Thank God, he thought, that I don't have to stand up for awhile. That would be embarrassing.


Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 02



Tom awoke the next morning to an empty bed. Eyes opening upon the ceiling, he immediately recalled his dream from the night before. 

I've dreamt about Ms. Lione a lot, but never in greater detail than that, he marveled to himself. I better write this one down before I forget it. 

Rolling over, Tom noticed an unfamiliar nightstand and paused. Dumbfounded, he turned back over and saw a mirror.

That's strange, he thought. My room doesn't have a full-length mirror. 

A few moments passed. Finally, through the fog in his stirring brain, Tom realized that he hadn't been dreaming after all. Bolting up from the bed, he slapped his cheek lightly with an open hand.

"Shit, this really did happen!" he said aloud softly. "I actually had sex with Ms. Lione! Yes!"

Rising from Ms. Lione's king-sized bed, Tom saw no evidence of his lover from the previous night -- just a white cotton men's bathroom folded neatly on a chair by the nightstand. Tom picked up the robe and wrapped and tied it around his naked body. Opening Ms. Lione's bedroom door he was immediately hit with the smell of pancakes sizzling on a griddle. Tentatively, he walked down the hallway and descended the staircase. 

Following his nose to the kitchen, Tom got his first glimpse of his lover, standing with her back to him, leaning over the stove. Dressed in a tight black top, an even tighter pair of stylish black designer jeans were tucked into her ubiquitous knee-high, high-heeled black boots. 

As Tom drank in the scene of her firm ass gently rocking and swaying, a hard-on began to press against his robe. I don't care how old she is, he said to himself, admiring her like a fine work of art in a museum, this isn't your father's librarian. What a body. I can't believe I actually slept with it. How lucky can I get?

Sensing that she wasn't alone in the room anymore, Ms. Lione finally turned around.

"Well, it's about time you got up," she said with a smile, sauntering sexily over to her young lover, the sole and three inch heels of her boots click clacking on the linoleum kitchen floor. "I thought you were going to sleep right through the weekend. You came within minutes of getting my patented wake-up call; guaranteed to get a rise out of any man -- and it has."

"Sounds like a call that would have been worth a few more zzzzs," Tom said.

The two embraced, wrapping their arms around each other's respective waists and moved their faces close for a soft, passionate open-mouthed kiss.

"Someone could use a toothbrush," said Angelina slyly, ten seconds later when the pair unlocked lips. "I unwrapped one for you in the upstairs bathroom. Are you hungry? I made you some breakfast. Like pancakes?"

"Starving," said Tom, his penis hard as steel and his hands still clasped around Angelina's waist.

"Sit down and I'll fix you a plate."

The two uncoupled and Tom eased himself onto a chair at the small circular kitchen table. 

"Coffee, tea or me?" purred Angelina with a laugh after she'd retreated to the refrigerator.

"You -- any day," smiled Tom. "And I'll have a cup of tea, too, please."

Returning to the table, Angelina set a steaming mug of green tea and a large stack of pancakes in front of her hungry young paramour.

"You really worked up an appetite last night," she said, sitting across from him at the table, fingers absentmindedly playing with the material of her plunging neck line."

"Yeah, that was really something," responded Tom, stabbing at his heaping stack of flapjacks with a fork. "But, you passed out before I...ummm... finished. Are you okay?"

"Okay?! Are you kidding? That was the most intense orgasm I've ever experienced."

Angelina reached across the table and gently grabbed Tom's hand.

"You were so tender, yet forceful," she said, softly caressing the top of his hand with her thumb. "I couldn't take it anymore. It's not the first time I've fainted during sex, but no man has ever had quite that effect on me before. Somehow, you knew every button to push on my body at exactly the right time."

"Well, that was nine years of stored up passion. I've wanted to make love to you since I was 13 and have never wanted to make love to any woman like I made love to you. Listen, Angelina, things happened so fast between us last night, and then you fainted, so I didn't have a chance to ask..."

"Ask what?"

"You're not married, are you?"

"No, I'm not."

"Whewww. That's a relief. Wait, but who's the 'we' you were talking about, who you go to Rotini's with?"

"My sister's family and my mother. They live next door."

"No boyfriend either?

"Not currently."

"Whose robe am I wearing, then?"

"A former lover's. I keep it around for overnight guests."

"Do you have a lot of overnight guests?" asked Tom cautiously, jealously.

Angelina leaned closer to Tom.

"Let's just say, I'm accepting applications at the moment," she answered flirtatiously.

"I see," said Tom, playing along with Ms. Lione's game. "What's in it for me if I get the job?"

"You get to have direct deposit."

"Every two weeks?"

"Nahhh-ahhh. More like every two hours. If you're up for the job. It's a very demanding workload, you know."

"I don't think I'd have any trouble going to work every day. I'd even volunteer for overtime."

"Oh, really? Then, by my body clock, I think it's time to start the second interview."

A roguish smile crept across Ms. Lione's face and fire burned in her eyes from behind her large-framed glasses as she leaned in further to Tom. Meeting his lover halfway, the two began to kiss softly on the lips. Seconds later the pair rose as one from the table and joined bodies. Still kissing, Tom pressed his body against Angelina's and moved his hands behind her, grabbing her ass at both cheeks and squeezing them gently like they were two balloons.

Tom's penis extended quickly and forced its way through his robe, striking Angelina's camel toe. Meanwhile, the hyper-sexually aroused librarian's pussy began self-lubricating. The two continued with foreplay for the next several minutes, until Angelina finally came up for air.

"Do me," she said panting.

"I'll carry you upstairs," her partner responded.

"No. There isn't time. Let's do it here."

"On the floor?"

"Yes. Oh my God, I'm so attracted to you."

Tom did as he was told, gently lowering Angelina's body to the kitchen tile and disrobing. 

"Do you want to take your clothes off?" asked the fully naked young man.

"No," moaned Angelina, her breasts heaving and face flush from their sexual activity. "Just unzip my pants and get inside me."

Quickly, Tom obeyed, slid down her already sopping wet red panties and popped his swollen penis inside her bloated clitoris. Both let out a simultaneous groan and lay contented and still for a moment on the hard floor. 

Then, slowly at first, Tom brought his penis out of Angelina's pussy and proceeded to plunge it back in. Then out. Descending deeper into her warm, gushy cavity with each powerful thrust, like a pumpjack on an oil well, he methodically but delicately kept at his task for fifteen hard minutes. Finally, with one last nose-dive Tom struck oil. It was a gusher.

"OH....OHHHH....OHHHHHH!!!!" moaned Angelina in increasing volumes of ecstasy, as the two simultaneously peaked -- Tom cumming with the force of water rushing through an uncoiled firehose and Angelina's orgasm surging to the top floor. 

At sex's end, Tom lay on top of Angelina for a minute; too spent to stand and Angelina in no rush to have him remove his oh-so- satisfying penis from her vagina.

"Man, that was great," Tom said when he'd finally gotten the strength to lift off of his lover. "Did you like it?"

"What do you think?" asked Angelina sarcastically, still struggling to catch her breath. "You practically fucked me into next week."

The two lay on their backs recovering until Angelina turned over and placed her left hand on Tom's heaving chest.

"I think I'm becoming addicted to you," said Angelina, gently combing what little chest hair Tom had with her long thin fingers with the fire engine red nail polish.

"There are certainly worse addictions," responded Tom, smiling sweetly at his lover.

The couple cuddled in silence for several minutes until the inherent discomfort of their surroundings forced them off the floor.

"I'll clean up here. Why don't you grab a shower?" Angelina told Tom, before straining to reach her 6'2" lover by standing on the tip toes of her boots and sending him off to the bathroom with a kiss on the lips.

No more than two minutes into freshening up, Angelina surprised Tom, joining her lover in the shower. Despite now twice having sex, it was the first time that Tom had seen Angelina naked and he loved the sight. Her body had more tone than a 51-year old woman had a right to and her breasts -- while just average in size -- were firm and perky. She looked so good naked that Tom almost forgot that it was his boot and smoking fetishes that attracted Angelina to him.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Tom asked.

"I could use some washing up, too," said Angelina, a twinkle showing in her green-brown eyes. 

Tom took the bar of soap he was clutching and began rubbing it delicately over Angelina's chest.

"That's not where I need cleaning," she scolded him playfully, taking Tom's soap-filled hand and bringing it down to her clit. 

Tom became aroused, but not enough to make up for the fact that he had already cummed a rushing river into Angelina only some ten minutes earlier. The librarian seemed to understand even her virile young lover's limitations and was content to have Tom work his magic fingers instead on her pussy for the next fifteen minutes in his own interpretation of a shower massage.

"You don't have any plans today, do you?" asked Angelina, after the two dried off, as she stepped a booted foot on a chair in her bedroom and zipped it up over the same jeans she wore to make love in that morning. 

"No, we can spend all day together, if you have no other plans," said Tom, slipping his boxer shorts over a bulging woody brought forth by the sight of Angelina zipping up her boots. 

"Good. Why don't we grab some lunch at this little café in town? We could try to live on love but you're a growing boy and need some nourishment."

"First, we should call a mechanic about your car." 

"We can pick it up on the way."

"But it doesn't start, remember?"

"Yes, it does."

"What? But, you couldn't get it to turn over."

"I wasn't really trying."

"You mean..."

"Yup, I wanted you to take me home."

"But you didn't have to go to that much trouble."

"Yes, I did. You weren't going to get inside me that easily. I had to challenge you first and see how you'd react and you responded ex-act-ly like I hoped you would."

"But how'd you know I wouldn't just leave when you were insulting me?"

"A calculated gamble, but I knew you wanted me enough to put up with the abuse."

"So, that was all a test? Geeze that's cold."

"Playing games sometimes makes things interesting, my love. Let's get something to eat. I'm famished. This time it's my treat."

With both her boots zipped up, Angelina sauntered to her closet pulled out a smart looking tan blazer and slipped it on.

"Drop me off at Rotini's," she continued, picking up her matching pocketbook and turning toward the bedroom door. "You can follow me to the café from there."

A few minutes later Tom pulled his car up to Angelina's red VW in Rotini's parking lot. Hopping out, Angelina turned the lock on the driver's side and slid in. Inserting the key in the ignition, the engine turned over on the first try. Gripping the top of the steering wheel with her black leather gloved hands, Angelina smiled coyly through the front windshield at Tom. The hot librarian then proceeded to pump the gas pedal with her booted foot, revving the engine slowly then progressively quicker and repeating the pattern three times as if imitating how her partner had been making love to her.

My lord what a nymph she is, Tom said to himself, another erection developing in his pants. Is sex all this woman thinks about? She's gonna wear me out.

Angelina then put her car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot, Tom following close behind.

"I think you were tailgating me," said Angelina impishly, crossing her booted legs, the leather footwear squeaking from the friction, as the pair sat down a short time later at an outdoor table at the café. "Maybe when we get back to my house, I'll let you rear end me in another way."

Between bites of her avocado and asparagus salad Angelina asked Tom about his career -- becoming increasingly physically attracted to him as he told her of his entry-level job as a copy editor for a major publishing house in the city. 

"Have to say, Angelina, the past 24 hours has been like a dream to me," said Tom over dessert. "I know so far it's been pretty much all physical, but this time with you has been better than I could have imagined."

"My thoughts exactly, my love," she said, taking Tom's hand in her gloved hand bringing it to her full lipstick covered lips and kissing it while staring intently into his eyes. "You're quite the lover."

"You bring it out in me, Angelina. But what I really can't believe, though, is how a beautiful, sophisticated and incredibly sexy woman like you can still be single. It doesn't make sense to me. You must get asked out all the time, right?"

"At my age?" Angelina said with a harummph, looking back at her salad and picking at it with her fork. "Not exactly. And there's not a large pool of eligible men to choose from at school."

"So, you don't date at all?"

"Not much in the last few years, I'm afraid. Although you were right. The maitre 'd at Rotinis was hitting on me. He even asked me out on a date."

"What did you tell him?"

"At the time, prospects for us couldn't have looked bleaker. This was right after you had trouble lighting my cigarette holder. I told him I'd call him the next day to confirm the date."

Sweat formed on Tom's brow.

"Will you?" he asked nervously.

"That depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on if you want to make us an exclusive, monogamous couple or not."

"Really? Are you kidding?"

"Darling, I never kid about romance. You've stirred feelings and passions in me that haven't been touched in a long time. Honestly, I don't know if what you and I have is nothing more than raw, animal lust, but my women's intuition hints that it's more intimate, and if that's the case then I owe it to myself to pursue a relationship with you, my dear. "

"Angelina, this is all happening so fast, my head's spinning. But I do know that I don't want to be with anyone else! I've wanted to be with you since I was 13. I don't think we have anything to lose by seeing if we're compatible outside of the bedroom."

"Or the kitchen floor...or shower...or anywhere else we feel like making love. The worst that could happen is that we'll experience perhaps the best sex of our lives. And if that's wrong, then I don't want to be right. I can think of no better way to consummate our new arrangement than back at my place after lunch?"

"I'm ready to consummate it now on this table."

"Down, boy. We'll be home soon. Oh, damn."

Oh, damn what?"

"I have to go on a date after all."

"With the maitre'd?"

"No. Every year, Riverdale hosts this bachelorette auction for charity. I'm already signed up for it. It's next week. I can't back out now."

"Are you sure? I don't know if I like this. How does it work?"

"Relax, darling, it's nothing to get jealous about. I've been doing this for over 10 years now. Myself and the other bachelorettes at the school take turns parading around a converted runway in the Riverdale auditorium, while gentlemen in the audience bid on us. The highest bidder wins a date."

"I really don't like the idea of some rich, horny guy bidding for a date with you."

"Believe me, if it's anything like the past few years nothing will happen on the date." 

"What do you wear? Nothing too sexy, I hope."

"Just a little number from my personal wardrobe. This year, I'll be modeling a low-cut, but tasteful maroonish-red evening gown with a pair of suede, matching-colored, knee-high, high-heeled boots. And for a special touch -- my signature accessory -- I'll be smoking from my long cigarette holder, like a professional model might do when she walks the runway. It's a knockout look."

"That's what I'm afraid of. What man could resist that?"

"Well, I personally have the highest bids of any bachelorette each year, so my use of the cigarette holder might have something to do with it. You should come and watch, it's fun."

"I don't know that I could sit idly by and watch strange men lusting after you, trying to top the next highest bidder. Sounds depressing, not fun."

"Well, you could bid."

"Yeah, I could. How much did last year's winner bid?"

"Two thousand dollars, if I recall correctly."

"Two grand?!" Oh, my God!"

"You don't think I'm worth that amount?" Angelina asked in mock indignation.

"No, I don't."

Angelina now looked seriously peeved.

"You're priceless, Angelina," Tom continued.

"Darlingggg," Angelina purred, happy again.

"I can't afford to pay that amount, Angelina. I'm just out of school."

"I know. But you could try. Who knows, maybe I won't attract such a high amount this year. But, it is for a good cause...to raise money for the new gymnasium. And, you can write it off on your taxes."

"Yeah. Okay, I'll give it a try. Still, if I don't win, anyone who pays that amount of money for one date must want something in return."

"You mean, like sex?"

"Yeah. That's what I'm afraid of."

"Don't worry. I haven't gone to bed with a charity auction date for a few years, but if it happens this time, I promise to think of you when I'm making love."

"That's not funny, Angelina. I'm a nervous wreck."

"Oh, I was just teasing you back, darling. Now that I've had the best, I'm not going to settle for the rest. Oh, my dates always want to have sex, but that really would have been charity on my part. The pickings aren't nearly as good lately as they used to be. The desperation in the air has been so thick you could cut it with a knife. Every one of my dates the past three years ended with my date proposing marriage. I think I must have been the only woman they've ever been out with. They were so socially awkward. Although, they weren't so inept that they couldn't operate my cigarette lighter when I took out my holder at dinner."

"You're not going to let me forget that, are you?"

"Don't worry, my pet. You'll get more than enough practice lighting me."

"And you never went out on more than one date with them?"

"My dear, if they were so sexually inexperienced that they proposed on the first date, I knew they weren't worth pursuing beyond that. I'm NOT going to get engaged on the first date to some middle aged CPA, who still lives with his mother. But I'll go on one short, benign date with some loser and that'll be it, okay?"

"Will you tell him upfront that you're already spoken for?"

"I don't think that would go over very well, darling. After paying that much money he'd expect I'd be eligible and would undoubtedly have romantic designs for me. Best I let him down easy without mentioning I already have a boyfriend. Besides, if the next one is anything like my last few dates, he's bound to shoot himself in the foot during the evening."

"Okay. Outside of the auctions, you used to date a lot, though, right? You must have."

"Sure. When I was younger I went out with a different date every night. Blondes, brunettes, redheads. One even proposed after an hour and a half."

"And you turned him down?"

"Get married? At that time it was too much fun being single. Although, I was in a long-term relationship a few years ago."




Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 02



"Did you come close to marriage with him?"

"Sadly, no. He couldn't propose."

"I don't understand."

"He was already married."

"Oh..." 

"Do you think any less of me for having an affair with a married man?"

"No. Who am I to judge? Besides you weren't the one cheating, he was. Unless, you were a homewrecker. Were you?"

"No. Harry's marriage was already on the rocks when we got together."

"Did it occur when I was at Riverdale?"

"Yes. From 1978-84." 

"I knew you had to be involved with someone when I was in 7th and 8th grade. You looked so beautiful every day...like you were trying to impress someone there."

"I was."

"Really? May I ask whom?"

"Correct usage of 'whom.' Mmmm...my, you do know the way to my librarian's heart -- as well my pussy -- don't you? I guess I can reveal his identity. It was the vice principal."

"Mr. Seymour?! No way! Was that his robe I was wearing this morning?" Tom shuddered at the thought of his privates sharing the same intimate clothing, much less the same intimate space in Angelina."

"That's the one."

"I'd never have guessed. He was so...so old to me."

"He was about 20 years older than me. But age didn't mean anything to me. It still doesn't. At the time I had an overwhelming sexual attraction for men with power. To you he was old, but that little bald man really turned me on. When I found out his marriage was on the rocks, I arranged for him to meet me one day after school in the library ostensibly to discuss a school matter. We were alone. I seduced him and we made love like two wild animals on the couch in my office. It was carefree, uninhibited, wonderful. After that, we made love at least once a day -- wherever we could: my house, even in my office after school when everyone left for the day. Once, I even gave him a blowjob under his desk while he was working. We had unbelievable physical chemistry. "

"Wow. But you could have had any man. Why did you stay with a married man so long?"

"He was the love of my life. He said to be patient and would divorce her and marry me and like a fool I believed him...for 6 years. But that's not to say we didn't have some great times together. He had superhuman sexual stamina -- almost as good as you do. He spoiled me with expensive gifts; Harry must have had a boot fetish because he bought me a dozen pairs of sexy, high-heeled boots when we were together. He paid for trips and was always a gentleman, holding doors for me and lighting my cigarettes. I never really got over him and have compared every man I've come across since to see if they measured up. You, my darling, have been the first to come -- and cum -- anywhere close to him."

"Stop. How did it end, if you don't mind me asking?"

"It had been building for some time. I tried everything I knew to finish off his toppling marriage -- including openly flirting with other men at school functions to make him jealous. I even went so far as to hire an escort to be my date to a party at his house once. I normally don't go for public displays of affection, but I was all over the poor guy that night...kissing and fondling him in front of Harry. And I used another man for a couple dates, flaunting our relationship in front of Harry."

"And it didn't work?"

"Oh, it drove Harry mad. He'd get so jealous. We'd fight over it and then have the most incredible, passionate, intense make-up sex ever, but after an incident at his house one night at a school party I finally realized he was never going to leave her, so I ended the affair. He had the best of both worlds: a wife and a mistress. I grew tired of having to slink around. I wanted an honest, open relationship, but he didn't want to risk us being seen in public together within a 100-mile radius of here." 

"I'm sorry, Angelina."

"It's over. Maybe someday I'll tell you more. Let's not talk about him anymore. Let's talk about us. Like why a 14-year old boy would be interested in a 43-year old woman."

"Love is love," Tom deflected, not wanting to reveal the boot and smoking fetish that Angelina had sparked in him and kept going in his libido like an eternal flame. "I found you so overwhelmingly attractive that I'd purposely stay in during recesses to pretend like I was doing homework, just so I could be near you. At first, I thought it was a crush, but it never went away. Even after I graduated from Riverdale, I found myself still thinking about you. Daydreaming about kissing your lips and making love to you. Finally, I thought I was old enough to act on my feelings."

"Obviously, I'm glad you did. It's been so long since I've been with a man. I'm enjoying every second of this -- even when I fainted during love making." 

Angelina paused, topping off her aphrodisiac-loaded lunch with the last spoonful of bananas smothered in chocolate sauce that she ordered for dessert.

"You said before that fainting isn't uncommon for you when you make love," Tom repeated.

"That's right," confirmed Angelina." That just means you did it right. Better than right, actually. I must have really sensitive erogenous zones or something because I almost always faint during an orgasm. I couldn't believe my pussy was filling up like a warm bath only a few minutes after we started making out. I almost passed out during foreplay last night, my feelings were so intense for you."

"Glad you didn't. Talk about coitus interruptus."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to take advantage of you while you're unconscious."

"Why not? For whatever reason I don't revive easily or quickly after I faint -- from what I've been told. So, unless you really want to wait around with a raging erection for 15 to 20 minutes -- or until the next morning like in last night's case -- until I come to again, be my guest. But if we're already being intimate, you don't have to wait. Besides, I'm probably going to faint again anyway, so what's the difference?"

"Really?"

"Sure. I trust you. We'd be on our way to making love anyway and if I've already had an orgasm it wasn't going to get any better for me. By all means, you have my permission to fuck me to your heart's content. Use me like I'm a pin cushion."

"Well, I confess, the sight of you laying there passed out turned me on A LOT."

"As much as it did when I smoked with my holder?"

Angelina reached into her pocketbook as Tom's pulse raced, knowing full well what she was about to do. Cracking open her cigarette case, Angelina took out a long, thin cigarette -- her first of the day -- and subsequently pulled from her bag her collapsible jet black holder. Extending the holder to its full 10 inches, she gently screwed the cigarette into it, went back into her pocketbook, came up with her lighter and held it out gloved palm side up to Tom. Taking the lighter, he seamlessly executed a perfect flick, as Angelina's mouth curled up into a Cheshire cat smile. Inserting the shaft two inches into her open mouth, she directed it to the flame, allowed it to touch, slowly slid the holder out, turned her head to the side, let out a short puff through her closed lips, did a snap inhale, then expelled a voluminous stream of smoke into the air.

"I know I have a smoking fetish, but believe me it's not nearly as intense with other women as it is with you," said Tom, crossing his legs in a futile effort to repress his sudden hard-on. "The way you smoke your holder makes it look like you're smoking a..."

"Penis?" Angelina whispered across the table to him finishing his sentence, before taking a soft pull on the bridge of the holder.

"Yes. It turns me on like you wouldn't believe. I can't help it."

"Oh, I believe it, alright. How unfortunate for you, my dear, but how very fortunate for me," said Angelina, as smoke oozed slowly from her mouth, nostrils and from the moist end of the holder's mouthpiece. "I think it's time to drive back to my house, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. If we don't, I might have to take you right here on this table, I'm so hot for you right now."

Angelina smiled like she was holding all the sexual cards -- and she was. Placing the holder back in her mouth, Angelina clenched it between her teeth, freeing up both hands to open her wallet. Leaving behind a $50 bill for a $30 tab, Angelina slung her pocketbook over her shoulder and strode sexily from the table, her long holder tucked neatly between the middle and index fingers of her left gloved hand. Tom followed, trying desperately to use his lover's body as a shield from fellow diners at the cafe, who might suddenly spot his erection.

The two got into their respective cars and quickly drove to Angelina's house -- Tom speeding through two yellow/red lights in the process.

Parking behind her car in Angelina's driveway, Tom followed his lover up the walkway and finally into the privacy of her home.

"Man, that was close," sighed Tom, closing his eyes and slumping back against the wall of the foyer once the couple was safely inside.

Before he knew what was happening Tom's open mouth was engulfed by Angelina's in an aggressive, passionate kiss that threatened to suck the fillings from his teeth. The horny librarian had the physical advantage from the start, pressing Tom's body against the wall and holding it there with a raised booted leg. 

As his bearings recovered, Tom returned the fervent embrace and worked his hands vigorously over her ass. For the next several minutes the two continued to attack each other like animals in heat, yet neither of them in any rush to exchange genital fluids. Finally, Tom pressed firmly on Angelina's camel toe with a strong hand.

"Ohhhhhhh...that's the spot...," Angelina cried, touching off a climax that coursed through every cell; her body practically quivering and tremoring with excitement. 

Overcome by the passion, the librarian's eyes crossed and rolled back in her head. As Angelina's body suddenly went completely limp and began to sink to the floor, Tom caught her at the waist, Angelina's open mouth coming to rest against his bulging groin.

"Angelina. Angelina," he said, looking into the face of his out-cold partner. 

His left arm curled around Angelina's waist to hold her up, Tom used his right hand to gently grab her face as if to shake her awake. The effort proved fruitless.

"Great, now what do I do with her?" he asked aloud in dismay, looking down at his unconscious lover, her mouth slightly agape and smoldering cigarette holder still between the fingers of her gloved hand.

Suddenly regaining his wits and recalling their lunch conversation where Angelina granted him consent to finish making love to her should she pass out during intimacy, Tom repositioned the hot librarian, scooped her up and cradled her before him. Pausing, he let her flaccid frame settle in his strong arms and gazed upon her sexy, now vulnerable body that was blissfully unaware and powerless to resist -- not that she would have anyway -- what her lover intended to do to her. Angelina's arched back elevated her breasts, her head lay back at the neck, hoop earrings dangled softly, black leather, knee-high, high-heeled boots rocked slowly under his left arm. Her left arm -- the one whose hand clutched her phallic cigarette holder -- hung loosely around his neck. Tom's penis swelled another couple centimeters in circumference and grew an extra five centimeters as he drank in the awesome sight. 

"I'll take it from here, Angelina," Tom said softly, knowing full well that his passed-out lover couldn't hear and wouldn't be able to respond to him. "You're in good hands. I'll be slow and gentle and make the love last long. It'll be so good that if you come to during it, I'll cum even more and put you right out again."

With that, Tom slowly carried his fainted lover -- totally at his mercy -- through the living room,up the staircase and into her bedroom, gently closing the door behind him. 



Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 03



"Ah, that sucks," said Tom, hanging up the telephone in Angelina's kitchen.

"What's wrong?" asked Angelina, clearing the last of the lunch dishes from the table.

"A friend of mine left a message on my answering machine saying he can't go to the Giants game with me this afternoon. All my other football buddies are out of town, so now I've got no one to go with. "

"I'll go."

"Really? Are you sure. Neither team's very good. I can always scalp it."

"Yes, I'm sure. I never miss a game on TV and haven't been to the Meadowlands in ages."

"OK. Great. I didn't know you liked football."

"I know it seems like we've known each other a long time because the past 36 or so hours have been so intense, but there's a lot of things you don't know about me yet, Tommy boy."

"You're right. We haven't done a lot other than make love," said Tom, recalling the three sex sessions the pair engaged in the day before, including a marathon night tryst that practically left Angelina speaking in tongues before he was through. "Well, good. I'll go to my apartment, get the tickets, come back and pick you up around 3:00. That'll give us enough time to make it to the 4:00 kickoff."

"And don't forget to pack an overnight bag," Angelina reminded her 22-year-old lover. "You're spending the night here again, remember?"

"How could I forget? That's the first thing I'll do. Man, I love three-day weekends. I'd better run. "

"Be back soon. Maybe we can make love again before we have to leave for the game."

"Maybe," said Tom, grabbing his coat from the closet and digging into the pockets for his car keys.

"I miss you already," said Angelina with a pretend pout, as she walked over to Tom and wrapped her arms around his waist. "We haven't been apart since Friday night."

"I know," said Tom, but if I don't leave now, we'll never make the game in time."

"This'll make you drive the interstate like it was the Autobahn," said Angelina sexily, as the middle-aged librarian tilted her head and moved her face in toward her young flame.

Tom met Angelina halfway for a soft, delicate kiss on the lips. Within seconds, however, their passions re-ignited, the pair began ravaging each other's bodies in a blur of hands.

"Angelina, please. I really have to go," exclaimed Tom, a minute later, coming up for air. "You and I both know what's going to happen if we don't stop."

"It doesn't look like all of you wants to leave me," she said, pointing a red nail polished index finger at Tom's erect penis straining the fabric of his trousers.

"C'mon, Angelina."

"OK, go," said Angelina in disappointment. "You're just so hard to quit, though."

Tom stood motionless for a few seconds.

"What are you waiting for?" asked Angelina.

"Umm...your hand," Tom said, moving his head down to where Angelina's hand had proceeded to cup his groin.

"Oh, sorry," she replied, removing it from his bulge. 

Tom kissed Angelina quickly on the lips and walked out of the house, seconds before what little willpower he had left emptied from his tank.

"It's open, c'mon in," yelled Angelina from the entrance way of her house when Tom returned two hours later. 

Tom turned the knob of the front door and walked in.

"I'll be ready in a sec," Angelina said, catching sight of her young paramour in the mirror in the foyer, as she applied a fresh coat of lipstick to her full lips.

Tom had been looking forward to seeing the Giants play in person for weeks, but seeing Angelina from behind – high-heeled, knee-high, black leather boots zipped up over her tight Jordache jeans – made him want to forgo the game and engage in an entirely different 'sport.'

"Are you sure you want to go to the game?" Tom asked, walking over to Angelina. "It's getting kinda chilly out. It'd be warmer if we watched it on TV."

"I think I'm dressed appropriately enough for the elements," answered Angelina, dropping her lipstick into her purse and donning a pair of black leather gloves. "Plus, I packed a little something extra to keep us warm."

Angelina dipped down again into her purse and emerged with a hip flask.

"Do you like brandy?" she asked, waving the silver container with a gloved hand and an impish grin.

"Yeah, sure," Tom replied. "But I don't know that alcohol really does much to guard against the cold."

"We'll just have to see," said Angelina, dropping the flask back into her purse.

"We'd better go then. Traffic's always a hassle at the stadium."

Tom helped Angelina on with her fur lined, Calvin Klein black leather jacket, held the door open for her, then closed it behind him as the couple left the house. Fifteen minutes later, he parked the car in the Giants Stadium parking lot.

Once inside the stadium, Angelina and Tom descended the steps on the lower level from the 50 yard line to their seats. As they passed the rows, Tom smiled to himself with pride as he saw male fans turning their heads one after the other, like falling dominoes, to get a peak at his sexy companion and her attention-grabbing boots and jeans. 

"These chairs are fantastic!" marveled Angelina, as the two settled in their midfield seats. "Where did you get them?"

"They're actually called seats, Angelina," corrected Tom, almost sheepishly. "They're a co-workers'."

The game started on time and as the sun dropped beneath the clouds that late autumn afternoon, an already chilly day turned even cooler. Tom didn't mind, though, as the cold drew his date closer to him in an attempt to gather heat.

The cuddling, however, did little to warm Angelina's bones. Nor did the frequent nips she took throughout the game from her flask. So, by the time the game ended and the two were back in the car, it was quite apparent that Angelina was tipsy.

"Ugh...we're not going anywhere anytime soon," stated Tom, his car a good 50th in line to exit the stadium parking lot. 

"I know something we can do to pass the time," purred a frisky Angelina, knocking back another swig of brandy from her flask before leaning across from her passenger-side seat to nibble on her lover's neck.

"Angelina, please," said Tom, brushing off his lover's advances. "We're in public. People will see us. Give me that flask. You've had enough."

"Oh, you're such a prude," she said in a voice that was growing increasingly slurred and higher, reluctantly handing him the flask. "It's dark out. No one will see. Henry and I used to do things all the time that would make your toes curl."

Angelina returned to her seat with a glum expression and reached a gloved hand into her purse. Fumbling about, she first took out her long, black cigarette holder, then cracked open her silver cigarette case and withdrew a long, slim all white cigarette. With a shaky hand, she somehow managed to screw the cigarette into the holder and went back into the purse to retrieve her lighter. Finding it, she handed it to Tom.

"Light me," she demanded, before placing the mouth of the cigarette holder between her lips.

Tom took his right hand off the wheel and fired up the lighter. An orange-yellowish flame pierced the darkness of the car as Angelina unevenly directed the holder to the light. Upon connecting with her target, she drew in on the holder for a second then slid it out of her mouth and blew out the light with her exhale.

Angelina took another soft pull from her holder as a sly, playful smile crossed her lips.

"I think I know how we can have some fun and pass the time and not be seen," she said, as smoke simultaneously oozed slowly from her mouth and nostrils. 

"Can you wait until we get back to your place?" Tom asked, looking straight ahead at the cars in front of him. "With any luck we'll be there in 15 minutes." 

Clenching the holder between her teeth to free up her hands, Angelina unclasped her seatbelt and once again moved over to Tom's side of the car. With both hands she proceeded to unzip Tom's trousers. Before he knew what hit him, his lover had deftly removed his penis. Stroking it delicately with the fingers of her black leather glove, his dick quickly filled with blood.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked her rhetorically.

Angelina removed the holder from her mouth, turned her head away from Tom to casually blow out the smoke, then went down on the engorged penis lying before her. In an instant her open mouth engulfed it. To Tom, Angelina's mouth felt as warm, wet and inviting as her vagina had been to him the past two days. 

It was quite apparent to him, that no matter how drunk she was, Angelina's mouth knew her way around a penis. While this was the first blowjob she'd given to Tom, Angelina was certainly no blowjob virgin. Her blowjob was all lips and tongue, with not a trace of teeth. Angelina was confident, skilled and in total control of Tom's pleasure. 

"Oh, my God, that feels so good," moaned Tom, as Angelina slowly and rhythmically worked her mouth and both sides of her tongue up and down his shaft, flicking it back and forth, periodically licking it from bottom to top like an ice cream cone. 

But as all-arousing as the blowjob was, Tom also knew that he had to keep his composure, so as the neighboring drivers wouldn't detect anything unusual going on in his car. He also didn't want to cum, hoping he could hold off until the two could make it back to Angelina's house, whereby he could work his way between her legs and really let her have it.

For the next several minutes as his car inched its way out of the parking lot, Tom fought an intense internal battle between his desire to give in and fill Angelina's mouth with cum and his resolve to keep the enjoyment going and yet hold it in for later.

Finally, when his car slipped out of the lot, Tom sped off down the highway toward Angelina's house. It would only be about 10 more minutes, he said to himself, before they'd be safely inside and then he could finish what she had started. 

Tom was so intent now on getting there that it was a couple minutes into the drive west before he realized that Angelina's mouth was now only loosely wrapped around his penis. Two more minutes passed before he grasped that the head lying face down in his lap was only moving due to the motion of the car.

"Ummm...Angelina? asked Tom hesitantly.

No response.

"Angelina, are you okay?" he asked.

Again, no answer.

Slowly, Tom took his right hand off the steering wheel and gently shook his lover by the shoulder. The motion was enough to move Angelina's mouth off of his penis, but she still didn't stir.

Now, Tom reached down and grabbed Angelina by the scruff of the neck. Carefully lifting her up off his groin, he pulled her upright and turned her face to him. As the passing lights from the highway flashed by Tom could see that behind her owlish-framed eyeglasses, Angelina's eyes were closed. Looking closer, a strand of pre-cum hung from the corner of her mouth.

"She's out cold," Tom said sarcastically. "Great."

Tom positioned Angelina back in her seat and pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. A few minutes later, Tom pulled his car into Angelina's driveway and shut off the engine and headlights. Pausing for an instant, he took another look at his passed out lover, gave a 'what the hell' shake of his head and exited the car. Walking over to the passenger side, he noticed that the lights in the living room of her sister's family next door were on. Wonderful, he said to himself. That's all I need is for her family to see some strange guy carrying Angelina into her house. That wouldn't draw suspicion or anything.

Opening the front passenger door, Tom quickly began to extract Angelina's unconscious body from the car piece by piece, starting with her arms. Once he had her leaning with her back against the car, Tom draped Angelina over his left shoulder and carried her toward the house. 

At the front door he paused to rest and propped Angelina up against the side of the house, holding her up at the shoulder with one hand while digging through her purse to find the house keys. Fortunately, Tom found them quickly, inserted the key in the lock and opened the door. 

Turning his attention back to Angelina, Tom allowed her limp body to fall over his left shoulder and he carried her into her house, shutting the door behind him in hopes that no one had noticed their awkward entrance. 

Tom allowed himself a sigh of relief before fireman carrying Angelina up to her bedroom, his hands holding onto the back of her thighs, under which swung her black leather boots. Angelina's head bobbed behind him and arms dangled loosely, the gloved fingers of her right hand still holding her smoldering cigarette holder. 

Mounting the staircase, Tom took Angelina into her bedroom and gently pitched her forward onto her bed. Tom sank in a chair in the corner of the room. Watching Angelina's unconscious body bounce softly on her heart-shaped mattress before coming to rest, the erection that she caused in the car – which he subsequently lost while trying to covertly carry her into the house – returned even harder than before.

Climbing onto the bed, Tom gently clapped Angelina's left gloved hand. No response. 

"Angelina, wake up," he said, moving up to her face to lightly slap her rouge-covered cheeks.

Still nothing. Angelina was more deeply passed out than on the occasions when she fainted. Nothing short of a rock concert in the room would revive her. Angelina would likely be sleeping off this little drunken bout with brandy until morning.

That didn't mean, though, that Tom couldn't have some fun with his lover. As Angelina had so generously offered, Tom was free to "use her like a pincushion" whenever she passed out while they were intimate. Lying next to his sexy, yet helpless companion – a raging hard-on threatening to break through the zipper of his trousers – Tom wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste.

Rising from the bed, Tom stripped naked, then climbed back in and repositioned Angelina, moved her up on the mattress to rest her head on a pillow and brushed a strand of her dark hair out of her eyes. The barely-smoked cigarette that had been burning in her holder since she began to blow him had now worn down to the filter. Tom removed what was left of the cigarette and placed it in the ashtray by Angelina's nightstand. Popping open the cigarette case in her purse, he withdrew a fresh one and screwed it into her holder. No matter that Angelina wouldn't be smoking it; Tom just loved the look of Angelina clutching her long black holder adorned with a long white cigarette.

Sitting on his knees, Tom gazed down in awe upon Angelina, lying sprawled and spread eagle atop the burgundy red duvet. Eyes closed, cigarette holder in leather gloved hand, pre-cum still at the corner of her slightly open mouth. Tom looked further south. Angelina's breasts were heaving with every breath, camel toe shown through her tight-fitting jeans, and finally, last but certainly not least, her sexy, knee high, black leather high heeled boots, the toes pointed straight up, just as his penis was now doing. Her body was perfect, she was all his and he had all time he wanted with it.

Tom was not so young or too love struck not to admit that there were more beautiful women in the world, but at that moment, there was no woman who he'd rather make love to than the sexy, horny 51-year-old librarian lying unconscious before him. Other women surely wore boots, smoked from a cigarette holder and were younger and more attractive, but he couldn't imagine anyone who combined all of those features – and his fetishes – in the one hot-blooded, kinky nymphomaniac that was his lover: Angelina Lione. Vice Principal Seymour's loss several years ago was definitely Tom's gain. 

Tom unzipped Angelina's leather jacket and removed her arms from the sleeves, re-inserting the cigarette holder back between the index and middle fingers of her right gloved hand. Then he took a tissue from the Kleenex box on the nightstand and wiped the pre-cum off her lips before tossing the dirty tissue in the wastebasket alongside the bed.

Climbing back onto the bed, Tom cuddled up to the unconscious Angelina, feeling the warmth of her both against his naked frame. With his hand, he turned her face from the right then moved in and kissed her full on the mouth. Her full lips felt soft to the touch, her mouth wet and warm. Tom went in again, only deeper this time, kissing Angelina saw hard that he threatened to inhale her fillings.

When he finished, Angelina's head slumped back to the right and he moved down to her chest. Lifting the form-fitting sweater up over her breasts he proceeded to cup them with both hands and simultaneously massage them. 

Never much of a breast man, though, Tom soon tired of the exercise and continued on toward Angelina's boots. Crossing her right leg over her left, Tom gently rubbed the two together, the friction of the leather making a heavenly squeak. Then with his right hand he gently caressed and squeezed the wrinkled leather, then repeatedly swept it the length of her calf. The leather was as hard but pliable as his erection. Wanting to feel even closer to the boots he switched from his hand to his penis, moving it slowly up and down the inside and outside of her booted leg. The sensation practically brought Tom to orgasm, but he knew he had more work to do.

Unbuttoning Angelina's designer jeans, he slowly slid the tight pants down her legs stopping right above the knees. Now all that was left between the two was Angelina's hot black thong. Tom unfurled the G-string to meet the jeans, then spread Angelina's legs. With his fingers he parted her bush then flung his body onto hers and popped his bloated penis into her vagina. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, given how chronically 'in-the-mood' Angelina always seemed to be, the vagina was wringing wet with her love juices. 

With nothing to stop it, Tom's penis sunk to the bottom of Angelina's vagina.

"OHHHH," moaned Tom, his penis resting inside Angelina's warm pussy. "That's the spot."

Tom lay there for a couple minutes, as still as possible – as still as his unconscious lover.

Finally, he began moving. Slowly, a centimeter or two at a time he took his penis out, before plunging it back into Angelina's inviting pussy. With each stroke and every glance he took of the cigarette holder Angelina held in her gloved hand or her booted legs with the 4" heals, he threatened to cum, but still Tom held out. There was no rush, he kept telling himself.

Eventually, the ascents and descents of his penis went the length of her pussy and the faster and harder he went the louder the glorious action caused by erection rubbing against gushy vaginal walls became. 

Finally, Tom gave himself permission to give in to the pleasure and one more thrust in her luscious pussy hit a sensitive spot on his penis, resulting in the spouting of a groundswell of sperm that flooded into Angelina's vagina.

Tom felt his legs quiver as the strength from his lower body transferred to his waist and for the next half a minute he unleashed the full extent of his sexual potency into her soggy, sticky fissure. The virile young man kept pumping even after he'd drained his member, hoping to defy medical science. When no second wind came, he collapsed on top of Angelina, penis still firmly embedded in her vagina, heart beating like a long-distance runner on his last mile, thinking that if he died right then it would be the perfect way to go.

A minute later, his breath finally caught, Tom pulled himself off his lover and rolled over on his back. Turning his head to the right, Tom looked into Angelina's blank face. Completely dead to the world from her lost battle with brandy, a soft, high whistle emitted from the breath coming out of her nostrils. 

Tom smiled and leaned over to kiss his unconscious lover on the lips. I hope on some level she felt and still enjoyed what I was doing to her, he thought. 




Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 03



Too spent to get off the bed and clean himself up and wanting to be close to Angelina again, Tom turned her over on her side. Facing him now, he draped Angelina's right arm whose hand was holding her cigarette holder, over his shoulder and moved closer to her, slinging his left arm around her waist and pulling her tight to his body. 

The sensation of being next to his lover felt great, but Tom wanted more. Now aligning their midsections, Tom pushed his soft dick against Angelina's clitoris and directed it with his hand between the folds of her bush until it was safely nestled in her vagina. Then, for extra closeness, he grabbed her right thigh and wrapped it around his left leg, pressing her leather boots against it with his hand, before reaching the hand back around and pressing her body to him by grabbing and push her right butt cheek . As he did so, Tom chuckled, feeling like he was engaged in an erotic game of Twister.

The movement drove his cock two inches further into her vagina. That was it, he thought, as his penis sloshed about in the deep puddle that housed the erotic cocktail that was equal parts his semen and Angelina's orgasm secretions. Tom likely wouldn't be able to cum yet and he didn't try, content just to lay there, his penis at home in Angelina's pussy. He was tired, but knew in this position it was improbable – unlike his passed out lover – that he'd sleep through the night. When he did wake up again in a couple hours or so, his penis would be right where he wanted it to be. Fully recovered and ready to pump Angelina full of his love juices. 

Tom gave Angelina another full kiss on the mouth, then reached up with his right hand to turn off the light. Drifting off to sleep, he hoped for a wet dream that would make his night complete. 



Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 04



"You're not nervous, are you, darling?" Angelina asked Tom, as he paced back and forth across her living room.

"Why shouldn't I be?" replied her 22-year-old lover sarcastically. "I'm only meeting your family for the first time."

"Relax. At the rate our relationship is going, you were going to have to meet them sometime. You might as well get it over with now."

"Yeah, but I was hoping it would be later. You know...when I've gotten a little older."

"Oh, stop it. You're making too big of an issue about this age difference. Who cares if I'm old enough to be your mother?"

"Your family, to name an important few. They'll probably care. Remind me again, who's coming over for dinner?"

"My sister, brother, niece, and nephew...oh, and my mother."

"Your mother's got to be...what...75? She's not going to understand why I'm here. Everyone else will wonder what's wrong with me for dating someone who's nearly 30 years older than me."

"Don't worry about it. I've already told my sister all about you. They won't be taken by surprise. And if it troubles them, that's their issue. They'll just have to accept it. Besides, what's important is us. Now, stop this nonsense. How do I look?"

Angelina slightly hiked up her knee level black skirt as she slowly spun 360 degrees on the matching black leather booted toe of her foot, before coming to rest on her 4-inch heels.

"Beautiful and sexy," said Tom, his nervousness fading as he looked at his lover with pride and amazement. 

"The eyeshadow?" she asked, closing her eyes.

"Deep as the night," he whispered seductively into her ear.

"And the cherry lipstick?"

"I bet it glows...in the dark."

"Mmmm, oh, darling, you do say the most divine things to boost a lady's ego."

"And hardly a motive in sight."

"Ha. Merci," replied Angelina. "You look magnifique, too." 

"Seems like everything you wear is sexy without being cheap and tawdry, if you know what I mean?"

"That's the idea, my dear. "I've never believed that a woman needs to dress like a $2 whore in order to attract a man. One can still look elegant and classy and yet totally feminine and desirable without resorting to such lower class lengths. The only time to act like a $2 whore is in the bedroom."

Tom gulped hard. From their experience together, he knew Angelina was right.

"Kind of remarkable, you can pull off that look considering the hangover you woke up with this morning."

"Oh, don't remind me. Taking that flask along to the game was a bad idea. The last thing I remember was giving you a blowjob in the car and wanting to get home fast so we could make love. Then, the next thing I knew I woke up in my bed, cuddled in your big, strong arms with the wonderful sensation of feeling your penis deep inside me. What a delightfully arousing way to start one's day."

Angelina smiled at the memory and sexily sauntered up to Tom. Wrapping her arms around his waist the two proceeded to kiss on the lips, enjoying an embrace that they last shared an hour earlier upon the conclusion of their second love making session of the day.

Buzzzzzz

The ringing of Angelina's front door bell suddenly pierced the passion. 

"That's them, I'll get it," said Angelina, unlocking her lips from Tom's before wiping away lipstick from his cheek with her hand.

Angelina went to answer the door. Meanwhile, Tom turned his back to it and frantically pressed his hands against his groin to tamp the ill-timed erection that had begun to form beneath his pants while he and his 51-year-old lover were kissing.

"Hello, everybody!" greeted Angelina, after opening the door. "Entrée. Entrée."

Angelina's family filed into the house and stopped in their tracks at the foyer.

"I want you all to meet my charming new friend Thomas," announced Angelina. "Thomas, this is my sister Elaine, brother Rocco, niece Lisa, nephew Anthony and last but not least my mother Maria."

Angelina's family stood silently, as Tom gave a timid, almost childlike wave with one hand, as he tried to discreetly cover his woody with the other hand.

"Well, come in and sit down," said Angelina, motioning her family toward the living room. "The lasagna still has about a half hour left to cook, so there's plenty of time for everyone to get acquainted."

Angelina and Tom sat next to each other on the love seat, while her family formed a semi-circle around them on the remaining furniture. The tension in the room was palpable as Tom watched five sets of eyes size him up in icy silence. 

"So, Thomas, Angelina tells us you used to be a student of hers at Riverdale?" asked Elaine two minutes later.

"Yes, the...the...that's true" replied Tom, his voice cracking and stuttering from nervousness. "I graduated from there in '79."

Angelina rested her hand on Tom's knee to help steady her lover's fraying nerves.

"That would make you 22 now?" asked Lisa skeptically.

"That's right," answered Tom. "I graduated from college a few months ago."

"You could be Aunt Angelina's son, age wise," said the 23-year-old Lisa in a condescending tone.

"Lisa!" snapped Elaine, before turning back to Tom and calmly addressing him again. "And you two reconnected, so to speak, at school last week?"

"Yes. I was visiting Riverdale on Friday and dropped in to the library. Angelina and I got to talking, I asked her out to dinner that night and...well...we've been together ever since, you might say."

"What do you do for a living, Thomas?" asked Elaine.

"I work as an editor for Smith and Bradley Publishing in the city," he replied.

"Thomas also wants to be a writer," said Angelina, nodding her approval at him, while hooking her arms around his left one. "Somehow, he must have known that I've always had a weakness for men of literature." 

And men who can breath, Rocco said to himself.

"Do you live in the city?" asked Elaine.

"No, I live in an apartment in Hoboken with two roommates," answered Tom.

The sound of crickets could practically be heard in the silent living room, as Angelina's family turned over the scenario where Tom would introduce Angelina as his girlfriend to his college-age roommates.

"Elaine and Lisa, would you care to give me some help in the kitchen?" asked Angelina 30 painful seconds later, breaking the lull in the conversation. "Mamma, why don't you watch TV in my bedroom, OK? The men can watch TV here. Would any of you like a pre-dinner cocktail?"

"I'll have a beer," said Rocco, in a thick northern New Jersey accent.

"Make it two," replied 21-year-old Tony.

"Thomas, darling, how about a martini?" asked Angelina.

"Yes. Thank you," he answered. "Let me help you with that."

"No, sit. We've got it," his lover said. "You three turn on a ball game and get to know each other better."

Angelina and her sister and niece entered the kitchen. Her mother retired to the upstairs bedroom to no doubt work over her rosary beads and pray for Angelina's soul, while the men stayed put with Rocco switching on the TV and flipping through the channels until he found a New York Knicks pre-season basketball game.

"Well, what do you think?" Angelina excitedly asked Elaine and Lisa, like a teenage girl gushing about her first boyfriend in the girls' locker room. "Isn't he gorgeous? I know it's been only four days, but things are going so well between us."

"He seems nice, Angelina, but we still don't know much about him," Elaine answered cautiously. "And really, after only four days, you can't know much about him either. I wish you would take it slow for once. Your relationships always seem to go from zero to 60 in two days. I don't want you to get hurt again."

"It's too late to take it slow."

"So, you two have been...uh...intimate?"

"Every chance we get," said Angelina with a smile, hopping up onto her kitchen counter and crossing her black leather, knee-high, high-heeled boots. "He's so insatiable. We both are. We're practically living on love.

"I still can't believe that a 22-year-old hunk like him would be romantically interested in a woman my age. It's almost too good to be true. He could have any woman and he wants to be with me: 51-year-old Angelina Lione. I feel sort of like a horny Cinderella when I'm around him. I just want to make love to Thomas as much as possible, before this dream ends and he turns into a pumpkin or worse, one of the many loser boyfriends I've dated."

Eager to go into detail about her new lover, Angelina pressed on, oblivious to her increasingly uncomfortable audience.

"Now that you mention it, he's very young," said Elaine. "May-December romance."

"That's what so great him. He's a young stud so his stamina is off the charts," Angelina continued. "Sometimes, I can't keep up with him. There have been times, in fact, when Thomas's driven me so wild with passion that I've actually fainted while making love. He's that good. But he's not so experienced that I haven't taught him a thing or two about love making. It's funny, Thomas is not even particularly big, if you know what I mean. But he's fearless. He'll do anything.

"But it's more than sex. It's not just physical -- even though the physical part is out of this world good, let me tell you. We can carry on conversations because we have the same literary and art interests. Thomas treats me so lovingly. For someone so young, he really knows how to treat a woman. He's so gentlemanly. Thomas is an old man in a young man's virile body. He's so attentive to my needs. He kisses my hand, insists on opening doors for me and he even lights every one of my cigarettes -- without me asking first. I think I've been smoking a little more since I met him because I love having him light me. It's so erotic. Thomas reminds me of a younger version of Harry."

"Well, at least Thomas isn't married, unlike Harry," said a judgmental sounding Elaine. "At least, not that you know of."

"Why bring that up again, Elaine? Harry and I's relationship ended three years ago. We don't need to revisit it."

"You brought him up, Angelina. I was just saying..."

"Well, don't. I was merely pointing out that I haven't been treated as much like a lady or been aroused as much by a man since Harry and I broke up."

"I don't know, Aunt Angelina," confessed Lisa, who oftentimes sought out her single, sexually experienced and oftentimes promiscuous aunt's advice on boyfriends and fashion. "He's only a year older than Tony and a year younger than me. Thomas looks like someone that I could be dating."

"He's mine," said a suddenly defensive Angelina. "I saw him first."

"Relax. I didn't mean that I would date him. It's just that he's so close to my age."

"I'm sorry," said Angelina. "I've been with enough men to know a real catch when I see one and Thomas's a real catch. Apparently, he's loved me since he was 13 and he waited until he was finally old enough to act on it. That says a lot about him as a man. I think he's the one."

"As in the one to marry?" asked Elaine. "Maybe he wanted to have sex with you at age 13, but how do you know it's anything more than that?"

"Apparently, his feelings were deeper than a mere crush," said her lovestruck sister. "He's handsome, intelligent, incredibly sexy and totally devoted to me. If he asked me right now to marry him I'd say yes -- right after he revived me after fainting."

"At least try to keep from feeling him up while we're here. I don't think mama can handle that."

Meanwhile, in the living room...

"Hey, go next door and get me my glasses, would ya?" asked Rocco of his son. "I can't see the TV without 'em."

"Oh, c'mon, I'm comfortable here," whined Tony.

"Go, like I asked ya."

Tony rose from the couch with a snort and shuffled out of the house.

"So," said Rocco, turning his attention to Tom, once his son was safely out of ear shot. "You're Ang's new boyfriend, huh?"

"Well, I don't know about boyfriend," answered Tom. "We've only been out to eat a couple times and to the Giants game yesterday. We're more like dating, I guess."

"What's the difference? Never mind. I'd watch it if I was you."

"Sorry?"

"Ang has been around the block a bit, if ya know what I mean."

"She's been with a lot of men?"

"When she was younger. Maybe now that she's past 50, ya don't have to worry, but in her prime she was a real maneater, if ya catch my drift."

"How so?"

"Back in the disco days she dated different guys every night."

"Oh, she told me that already."

"Did she also tell ya she drove most of them away because she came on too strong too fast?"

"No."

"Well, think about it. She's obviously a looker -- even now at her age. When she was younger she was even sexier looking. She could get any man she wanted. That was never a problem. But then she'd sleep wit 'em on the first date and then wonder why they never called her again. She was too promis...promisc...what's that word?"

"Promiscuous?" 

"Yeah, that's it. Really, that's the only reason that a woman who looks as hot as she does didn't get married. But she could never figure that out. So watch it. Knowing Ang, I'm sure you've already done the horizontal mambo a bunch of times wit her, so be prepared. I wouldn't be surprised if she was talking wedding right now in the kitchen with the girls. Anyway, how was the game? I woulda given my left nut to see that game in person."

"We had a great time."

"Musta been exhausting."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Ang couldn't even walk to the door when you brought her home."

A chill ran up Tom's spine. Rocco had seen him carry the unconscious Angelina into her house the night before.

"Yeah...ummm... Angelina brought a flask of brandy to keep her warm at the game and she overdid it a bit and passed out on the ride home. So, I carried her in and put her to bed."

"Probably not much of a fun date she was last night, I bet."

Tom shrugged his shoulders in agreement, yet knowing full well that Angelina most definitely was a fun date that night.

"I tell ya," Rocco continued, "you're lucky Ang told Elaine about the two of yous yesterday morning. If she hadn't, I'd a mistaken ya for some strange guy who picked her up in a bar and slipped her a Mickey. I woulda had to come over and kick your ass."

"That is lucky," said Tom with a shudder. "Does Angelina go to bars often?"

"No. That was just an example. She used to. Back in the '70s she went to discos a lot. Now? Not so much.

Rocco paused and leaned his beefy, 240-lb. frame across the table toward Tom.

"Can I give ya a word of advice, buddy?" Rocco whispered. "Treat her right. We don't always get along so well, Ang and me. Sometimes, we butt heads about her phony baloney attitude."

"How so?"

"Well, she can't smoke a cigarette like a normal person. She's gotta use one of those fancy, shmancy, preten...preten...ah, help me out, what's that word?"

"Pretentious?"

"Yeah, that's it. Pretentious. Pretentious cigarette holders, like she's some kind of high society dame from the '40s or something. Give me a break. Ang can be kind of a stuck up, bitch."

"How so?"

"She thinks she's hot shit -- always looking at herself in the mirror to check her makeup, hair and outfit -- smoking from that cigarette holder, wearing expensive designer boots, calling people by their formal names all the time. Do you really go by 'Thomas?'"

"Tom, actually. Actually, she just started calling me that today when you came over."

"See what I mean? Don't get me wrong, Ang has some great qualities. She's always been a great aunt to Lisa and Tony. When they were younger she used to take 'em into the city to see Broadway plays and to the Met for operas. Teaching 'em about culture and crap like that. But from time to time she needs to be knocked down a peg and reminded that even though she's got expensive Park Ave. tastes, her roots are in working class Passaic. Ya know what I mean? She's a Jersey girl, not some sophisticated Manhattan broad.

"But whatever. The point is, she's still family and as the man of the family, I look after her, so you better treat her right. Ang hasn't always had the best judgment when it comes to men. She's gotten involved with some guys she shouldn't have gotten involved with. The worst example was the last guy she was with."

"Harry Seymour?"

"Yeah, that's the little creep. Married guy from school. She went nuts over him and he basically only used her for sex. Strung her along for years telling her he was gonna leave his wife and marry her and Ang believed him; broke her heart in the end.

"You're the first guy since him that she's thought enough of to introduce to the family. 

"She says you're in a relationship, you say you're dating. Hey, what yous two do together in private and how ya explain your relationship to the world ain't none of my business. But ya need to get your stories straight because judging from history, she's probably fitting you for a wedding tux. She told Elaine she's nuts about you."

"Oh, I'm nuts about her, too. I don't care that she's so much older than me."

"Good. To me, I don't think it's so crazy for a 22 year old guy to be romantic with someone who's almost 30 years older. Hey, Ang is a very attractive and sexy woman for a broad her age. She knows how to dress, uses the right amount of makeup without looking like a tramp and has a great bod -- maybe because she never had kids. Anyway, my point is, I don't know what your intentions are with her, but if you're just using her for a good time, like that last guy, you and me are gonna have problems. And trust me, ya don't want to have problems wit me. Treat her right. Capeche?"

"I'll treat her right. I promise. Angelina's very special."

Angelina proceeded to walk into the living room from the kitchen carrying a tray of drinks. 

"Where's Anthony?" she asked, first handing a martini to Tom and then a beer to Rocco.

"He went to get my glasses," answered Angelina's brother.

Angelina set the tray down on the coffee table, sat on the right armrest of Tom's chair, draped her arm around his left shoulder and crossed her black leather high heeled booted legs.

"You two having a good talk?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," replied Tom. "It's been very enlightening."

Angelina reached down to the table and picked up her long black cigarette holder and pressed a button on her cigarette box. The box opened and with her free right hand she took out a long, thin white cigarette and proceeded to screw it into her holder. 

Tom went to retrieve Angelina's silver lighter from the table to light his lover's cigarette holder, but Rocco, who was about to spark up a fat cigar, beat him to the punch. 

"Mmmm..." mumbled Rocco, with the cigar in his mouth, as he flicked his cheap lighter and held it out to Angelina to get her attention. 

Angelina put the black end of the long holder two inches into her mouth and leaned in toward Rocco, let the flame touch the cigarette, took a shallow pull and slid the holder out. 

It was the first cigarette that another man had lit for his lover since the waiter at Rotini's. And even though Angelina was being lit innocently enough by her brother, who only happened to be lighting his own stogie at the time, Tom couldn't help drinking the scene in and feel jealous. 

To Tom's fetish way of thinking, the act of a man lighting a woman's cigarette carried with it a sexual connotation and triggered a Pavlovian, involuntary response in his loins. For even though steamy, passionate sex hadn't occurred in every instance between them that long weekend right after he'd lit one of Angelina's cigarettes in a holder, it had happened enough. Tom couldn't help but feel both aroused and a little jealous, irrationally imagining for an instant Angelina suddenly becoming so sexually attracted to Rocco for lighting her that she proceeded to fuck him right there on the coffee table. Instead, Angelina's response to her brother's benign, polite gesture couldn't have been less physical. Apparently, as Tom smiled knowingly to himself, the act of having her cigarette lit, stimulated Tom more than it did Angelina.




Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love Ch. 04



"Merci beaucoup," said Angelina to her brother, before blowing out a soft, slow stream of smoke from between her parted lipstick covered lips.

The sexy librarian then settled back onto the armrest, smoking from her holder and watching TV in silence with her brother and lover.

"Well, I'd better see how that lasagna's coming," she announced a couple of minutes later, getting up from the armrest. "You two gentleman enjoy your baseball game."

Rocco chuckled softly as Angelina's high-heeled boots click clacked away on the floor leading toward the kitchen.

"She doesn't follow sports much, as ya can tell," said Rocco, as a Knicks player dribbled the ball off his foot out of bounds.

"Not even football?" a puzzled Tom asked. "Angelina said she was a big fan."

"She wouldn't know a football from a testicle. Well...I take that back. No offense, buddy, but she's been around the block a few times, if ya know what I mean, so she knows the difference between those balls, I'm sure. But she hasn't been asked out on dates much lately. She'd have gone to a tractor pull, if ya asked her."

After dinner, Angelina's family excused themselves, said their goodbyes and walked back to their house next door.

"Alone, at last," said Angelina, with a sigh of relief as she collapsed back onto the sofa next to Tom. 

"That was a great meal," he said. "Where'd you learn to cook like that?"

"I'm Italian," said Angelina, matter of factly, as she fastened another cigarette into her long, jet black holder, then popped it into her mouth as Tom proceeded to ignite it with her lighter. 

"I'm like Sophia Loren," she said, slipping the holder seductively out of her mouth and gazing at Tom with a burning look in her eyes. 

"I can cook in the kitchen," Angelina continued in a talking exhale before pausing, "and in the bedroom."

The sexy siren blew out the rest of the smoke in a cloud overhead. Tom's penis immediately began to swell at both the sight of his hot lover and her not-so-subtle hint at what she had in mind for them that evening.

"Let's go to the bedroom," said Angelina.

Slowly, Angelina brought the cigarette holder to her mouth and almost lazily let its black tip touch her barely parted lips. After a soft, barely perceptible suck of the holder, she let a small puff of smoke drift out of her mouth, content more to play with the holder than actually inhale from it. 

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" asked Tom sheepishly. "Your family was just here. If I stick around much longer, they'll probably suspect we'll be making love. That kind of makes me feel a little inhibited, you know. Besides, Rocco made me feel more than a little intimidated."

"They've never complained before when I've had men over. And I don't care if they did. Listen, I'm 51 years old. I'm not a kid. I'm a woman with sexual needs and right now I need you. So, what's it going to be? Are you going to go slink home with your penis between your legs because you're scared of what my brutish brother might think or do, or are you going to make love to me?"

With an annoyed expression, Angelina stood up, turned away from her lover, put the mouth of her holder between her lips like she meant it, drew in, removed it, then blew the smoke down to the ground. 

Rocco and the rest of Angelina's family be damned, Tom thought. Angelina was much too sexy to walk away from -- especially when she was in the mood. Throwing caution to the wind, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up the staircase to her bedroom. 

Placing Angelina gently down on her heart-shaped bed, Tom joined her and they quickly fell into a tangle of arms and legs as the two ravaged each other's fully clothed bodies. 

Gradually, as the lovers continued with intense foreplay, they began to shed their garments and accessories one at a time -- Angelina's cigarette holder placed into her nightstand ashtray one minute, Tom's trousers flung on the floor the next -- until Tom was naked and Angelina clad only in her sexy, high-heeled leather boots. 

Finally, with the coercive image of Rocco a distant memory, single-minded Tom poked his rock-solid erection between the folds of Angelina's clitoris and proceeded to make hard, yet gentle love to her, the librarian digging her red nail-polished fingers into his back and moaning with ecstasy the entire wild ride. 

When he finished squirting the last of his love juice into Angelina's waterlogged pussy, a spent Tom rolled over onto the bed.

"Wow, that was good," he huffed between short breaths. "What did you think?"

"On a scale of one to ten, I'd say an eight," said Angelina, also trying to catch her breath.

"That's it?" said Tom, a bit dismayed by his lover's low 'grade.'

"Well, I'm still awake, aren't I?"

"Right. Come to think of it, this is the third time we've made love today and I haven't made you faint once."

"I'm not complaining, darling. It was still good."

"But I don't want it to be good, I want it to be great. I want to bring you to new heights of pleasure every time. You didn't even have an orgasm this time, did you?"

"Not technically, but no man's ever hit the bullseye on me every time."

"Not even Vice Principal Seymour?"

Angelina smiled at Tom, turned over on her stomach -- bare bottom now raised to the ceiling -- and reached for the cigarette holder resting in the ashtray on her night stand. Removing the barely smoked, burned away cigarette, she inserted a fresh one in the end of the holder from her mahogany cigarette box, then placed the unlit holder in her mouth and turned around to face her disappointed lover. 

"Not even him," she said, talking in a reassuring, albeit patronizing tone with the holder clenched tightly between her teeth. "His dart always came awfully close to hitting the mark, though, I must say." 

A disappointed Tom instinctively grabbed Angelina's cigarette holder from her nightstand, sparked it up and held it out to his lover. Angelina put the holder back in her mouth and leaned in toward the flame, let it touch the end of her cigarette, then rested her head back on her pillow, withdrew the holder and blew a long thin stream of smoke to the ceiling.

"Wow, that little man could get me so horny," she said wistfully, with a nose exhale.

The more Angelina spoke in wistful -- almost longing -- terms about her former lover, the more aroused she seemed to become and the more jealous and uncomfortable Tom became. Angelina appeared to be making love to Harry in her mind, while she was physically with Tom. 

With the point of his own 'dart' a bit dull at the moment, Tom quickly moved to Plan B, so he could steer Angelina's sexual thoughts away from her former lover and back to her current one.

"I remember we were in my office after school one day making love," she said, now lying on her back and staring at the ceiling. "And he put his hand..."

Before the unsuspecting Angelina could finish her sentence, Tom laid his own hand on her clitoris and then quickly slipped his right index and middle fingers inside her and began massaging her vagina.

"Ohhhh...oHHHH, yes!" exclaimed Angelina, half closing her eyes and removing the holder from her mouth so she could moan her approval, her EPH (erogenous per hour) going from zero to 60 in less than three seconds. "Oh, my God, that's driving me out of my mind."

Angelina's chest and breasts arched and the rest of her body writhed in ecstasy, Tom's two fingers finding the elusive G spot that his penis had been unable to touch that day.

"Now, what were you saying about Vice Principal Seymour...?" Tom asked mischievously, his fingers still working feverishly inside of her.

Incapable of answering Tom, Angelina could only continue to moan with sexual bliss. Thirty seconds later, she couldn't even muster that much, as Angelina's eyes rolled up in the back of her head, her body went limp and she fell completely silent, except for the soft breath coming from her nose. 

"That's what I thought you said," said a smiling, self-satisfied Tom, looking down upon the booted, fully pleasured and passed out Angelina, his fingers still stuck neatly in her deeply saturated pussy. "I'm guessing that's a 10 now." 

His penis recovering at the sight of his passed out lover, Tom climbed on top of Angelina and popped it into her clitoris, soon pumping forth another wave of blissful cum into his lover. 



Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love



Angelina continued to fish through her purse, before finally emerging with a silver cigarette case. Prying it open, she extracted a long, thin, all white cigarette. Holding it between the index and middle fingers of her left hand, she took another dive into her purse.

"I can never find my holder in here," she said in exasperation, without lifting her head up.

Holder? Did she just say 'holder? 'Tom thought, feeling for a second like he might faint. It was one thing for Angelina to smoke. That was sexy to him. But it was even sexier to hear that she smoked through a cigarette holder. That was the ultimate phallic gesture to Tom. The sight of a woman placing the tip of a long shaft in her mouth was akin to her giving a blow job. It was beyond phallic. There was no difference anymore once a cigarette holder entered into the equation.

"Ah, here it is!" she exclaimed. "It's such a nuisance, but I just can't seem to smoke a cigarette unless it's in a holder."

Tom gave a knowing smile in agreement, as Angelina withdrew a convertible 3" holder and extended it to 10 inches, dropped her head and adroitly screwed the cigarette into the mouth of her holder, her long, red nails glistening in the glow of the candlelight perched in the middle of the table.

Like Angelina's convertible cigarette holder, Tom's penis began to extend even further.

Once inserted, Angelina held the holder between her outstretched index and middle fingers of her left hand and went back into her purse, coming back up a second later with a silver cigarette lighter that matched her cigarette case.

"Allow me, Angelina," Tom said, gently extracting the lighter from Angelina's right hand.

"How gentlemanly," Angelina responded with an impressed look and raised eyebrow.

Angelina opened her mouth and inserted the holder, wrapping her full, red lips around it, while guiding it with her fingers toward the lighter.

Tom fumbled nervously with the lighter. Flipping its top, a spark ignited, then flickered out before a flame could spring forth. Again, Tom tried and again the result was another extinguished light. He tried a third time, but to no avail. He was blowing it. A non-smoker, Tom had never before used a lighter, but he didn't think there was a trick to it. Apparently, there was and he couldn't figure it out.

Meanwhile, Angelina sat patiently, the unlit holder still in her mouth.

"I'll get it," Tom said nervously. "It must be low on fluid or something."

Turning the lighter away from Angelina, Tom continued to frantically click it, growing more embarrassed with each failed flick. 

Just then, a flame appeared to Tom's left. It was the waiter holding his own lighter out to Ms. Lione. The woman turned toward it, guiding the end of her holder to the fire, let it touch the tip of her cigarette, inhaled slightly, then slid the holder in what seemed like slow motion -- almost teasingly -- Tom thought, as if she was sliding an erect penis (even better yet, his erect penis) out of her mouth. A few seconds passed and just when Tom was convinced that there would be no smoke coming forth from Ms. Lione's mouth, she turned her head up and expelled a long, thin stream of smoke to the ceiling.

"Gratci," Angelina said to the waiter, as wisps of smoke trailed out of her mouth.

"Si, Signora," he said, then turning to Tom -- in a dismissive voice that seemed to suggest that the young man wasn't up to the task of making love to his dinner companion -- added with disgust, "Little boys shouldn't play with fire."

As the waiter walked away, Tom felt his body shrink at the insult -- even his erect penis deflated. The waiter was right, Tom realized. He was a jerk, but he was right. Tom had a chance to do something romantic. To step up, reduce the difference between he and Angelina's ages, and prove to her that he was suave, cool, and worldlier than his years and he'd blown it. If Angelina had any romantic designs on him before, they were certainly extinguished with his failure to operate a simple cigarette lighter. 

Without saying so, all three parties involved -- Tom, Angelina and the smarmy waiter -- knew that Tom's aborted attempt to light Angelina's cigarette holder went way beyond just a failure to work a lighter. It revealed something more; something about Tom's youth and sexual inexperience. Tom's feeble attempts, coupled with the waiter's biting remark, seemed to foretell how he would make love to Angelina, if given the chance. The older woman didn't need short, staccato bursts of energy that quickly flamed out. She needed a strong, mature flame that would last until the job was done; until she was pleasured and deeply satisfied. Tom may be young and virile, but he was no match, so to speak, for the experience of someone like the middle-aged waiter. The impression hung unspoken in the air; over their table, like the gently wafting tufts of smoke flowing from Angelina's sexy and smoldering cigarette holder. Tom was back to being a mere 14-year old boy in her eyes.

Desperately trying to rebound from his misstep Tom said, "I didn't know you smoked, Angelina."

"Yes, ever since grad school," she replied, tapping the holder's shaft with her index finger, as an ash fell into the ashtray on their table. "But I've always been a light, social smoker. Now, I just smoke when the mood strikes, or when I have a drink in public. Are you sure you don't mind if I smoke? I'm not upsetting your young lungs, am I?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's just that I've never seen a woman outside of old movies smoke with a holder before."

"I went through a huge Audrey Hepburn phase when I was in grad school in the early '60s after seeing Breakfast at Tiffanys. Her look was just so glamorous, stylish and chic. I wanted to be just like her character in the film. To live in an apartment on the fashionable upper west side of Manhattan. Stay out all night, drinking martinis and dancing at parties with interesting, sophisticated, cultured gentlemen. So I adopted her wardrobe. You know, the short black dress, matching high heeled pumps, diamond necklace, and to make the outfit complete I had to have her signature long black cigarette holder. 

"At first, when I went out to parties dressed like that, I used the holder as more of a prop or affectation, because I'd never smoked before. But then I found that men would come up to me out of nowhere and offer to light my unlit cigarette holder. That forced me to learn how to smoke. It was a great icebreaker and way to get and keep a man's attention.

Because of that the cigarette holder was the only thing that survived my Breakfast at Tiffany's phase. Nearly every time I take it out it's like a man magnet -- whether I want the attention or not. I just love how I look with a holder and so have the men in my life through the years. I feel so confident and powerful with it -- and just lovvve the feel of a long...hard cigarette holder between my fingers. I love things that are long...and hard."

Tom gulped hard and his penis stood at attention as Angelina slowly moved her thumb and index finger up and down the long shaft. Whether she was cock teasing him or not, Angelina's words and actions were turning him on.. simulating performing a hand job on her holder and Tom felt as if he would cream on the spot.

"Well, I...I... think you've done Audrey Hepburn proud," Tom stuttered, trying in vain to regain his composure. "You look quite stylish, elegant, classy and sophisticated smoking with a holder."

"That's a lot of adjectives," said Angelina, staring back at her dinner companion through seductive, sultry eyes as she brought the holder slowly back up to her lips, inhaled slightly, then slipped it back out. A strand of smoke poured lazily from the moist mouth side of the holder, as Angelina cocked her neck to the ceiling and let forth a voluminous stream of smoke from her parted lips.

The captivating scene left Tom completely speechless. All he wanted to do was take Angelina right then and there on the table and make hot, passionate love to her.

"Plus, using a long holder keeps the smoke away from my hands, hair and clothing, so I don't smell like the cigarette," said Angelina. "It's also healthier for me and everyone else around me. A holder absorbs so much of the harmful tobacco byproducts and emits very little secondhand smoke. I still have the body of a woman half my age."

"Angelina, I need to tell you something..."

"Ah, bellissima!" suddenly came a male voice from Tom's back, shattering the young man's fantasy. "Ms. Lione, my favorite customer." 

Taking Angelina's bare left hand in his, the stranger brought it to his lips and kissed it. 

"You're looking more moldo bello than ever!" the swarthy, black mustachioed man continued. "How are you? So good to see you again."

"Good, Enrique. Everything's wonderful as usual."

"Excellent. You need anything, you let me know, ah? Your youthful beauty always brightens up my restaurant-a."

"Oh, Enrique. You always know just the right thing to say to make a woman feel... bellissima."

"My pleasure, signora. Se solo un maggior numero di donne, prendere il vostro que e hanno capito che non ci si deve vestire economici al fine di essere bella e desiderabile (If only more women would take your que and realize they don't have to dress cheap in order to look beautiful and desirable).

Che cosa un grazioso complimento, Enrique. Sì. L'unico posto in cui agire economico è in camera da letto. (What a charming compliment, Enrique. Yes. The only place a woman should act cheap is in the bedroom, I believe).

Ah si flirtare in modo più suggestivo, Ms. Lione. Ciò che l'uomo potrebbe resistere al fascino? (Ah, you do flirt in the most suggestive manner, Ms. Lione. What man could possibly resist your charms?).

Quale donna può resistere al fascino, Enrique? Forse dovremmo qualche sera prima per scoprire l'irresistibile entrambi. (What woman could resist your charms, Enrique? Maybe we should get together some evening soon to find out just how irresistible we both are).

Ma ciò che di nuovo giovane Casanova cena data questa sera, Ms. Lione? Non si mente? (But what of your new young Casanova dinner date this evening, Ms. Lione? Won't he mind?)

"Questo ragazzino significa niente per me. Egli può essere spiritoso, affascinante, intelligente molto bello, ma non è nulla più di un bambino. Fisicamente, egli è come un cucciolo eccitabili, non so se mi spiego. "(This little boy means nothing to me. He may be witty, charming, intelligent, extremely handsome and yet he's a baby. Physically, he's like an excitable puppy, if you know what I mean.)

"Sì, che cosa ti dice questo circa come fare l'amore, signora? Speranza per il vostro bene, non pee le gambe stasera, signora." (Yes, what does that tell you about how he would make love? Hope for your sake, he doesn't pee down your leg tonight, signora.)

Enrique and Angelina burst out laughing.

"Un vero peccato che un vero uomo non sarebbe tenuto a casa stanotte, signora," Enrique said, turning serious again. (A pity that a real man will not be accompanying you home tonight, signora.)

"Non ti preoccupare, mia cara. Questo l'apprendista smanioso ma impotente ragazzino non condividono il mio letto con me stasera , o mai. Non riusciva nemmeno a far funzionare un semplice accendino quando ha cercato di illuminare la sigaretta in un supporto. Non avete nulla da invidiare. (Don't worry, my darling. You have nothing to be jealous about . He couldn't even manage to operate a simple lighter when he tried to light my cigarette in a holder. No, this overeager but impotent little boy won't be sharing my bed with me tonight, or ever ).

"Io sono grandemente geloso di bocchino. Se io fossi che titolare in bocca, morirei di felicità." (I am jealous of that cigarette holder. If I were that holder in your mouth, I would die of happiness).

"Che cosa romantica da dire" (What a romantic thing to say).

Angelina stared sultrily at Enrique while taking a soft pull on her cigarette holder and blowing the smoke out like cupid's arrow in the direction of his heart).

Mi faresti il piacere di essere la mia private cena ospite una sera settimana prossima? (Would you do me the pleasure of being my private dinner guest one evening next week?) 

Come potevo dire di no in un affascinante invito? Permettetemi di riferirmi alla mia agenda e vi invito domani? (How could I say no to such a charming invitation? Allow me to refer to my date book and call you tomorrow?) 

Fantastico. VORREI cucinare il pasto io. Vino e mangiare è come una donna della sua eleganza e bellezza deve essere qualsiasi emozione o stato d'animo. Til ci incontriamo di nuovo, Angelina. Senza la vostra cena data. (Fantastic. I will cook the meal myself. Wine you and dine you and romance you like a woman of your elegance and beauty should be romanced. Til we meet again, Angelina...without your dinner date). 

Enrique smiled leeringly at Angelina, bent down to sexily kiss her hand again -- the two exchanging smoldering, wanting glances and Angelina's pussy becoming moist from her sexual flirtation -- and left the table without so much as looking at Tom.

"So, you come here often?" asked Tom.

"We come about once a month," answered Angelina matter of factly, talking to Tom as she was watching Enrique walk away with lust in her eyes.

We?! Tom said to himself. Who's we? Tom immediately imagined Angelina and her husband or boyfriend being the "we" in question. Tom had to know more and awkwardly pressed on.

"So, did you have any explaining to do when you left for dinner tonight?" he asked.

"What do you mean?" Angelina asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I...was just thinking...that...um...with the two of us eating out together that it could be misinterpreted or..."

"Are you trying to ask if I had to seek permission to go out? Why would I need to do that? Aren't we just two people who happen to be of the opposite sex sharing a meal and talking about library science? At least, we were talking about that before you veered off topic."

Tom's heart sank. It was clear to him now that his cover was blown. Angelina had seen through his ruse. 

Two minutes of awkward silence followed before the waiter returned to their table.

"Would the signora prefer dessert or sambuco tonight?" he asked, only addressing Angelina. 

"No thank you," she said, taking the initiative to speak for her dinner companion, too. "Just the check, please."

"Si."

Impotently Tom tried to speak up, but the waiter turned on his heel and left.

A few more minutes of awkward silence followed before the waiter returned and placed the bill before Tom without even looking at him.

"Thank you for gracing our restaurant tonight," he said to Angelina. "I look forward to serving you again soon."

The waiter took Angelina's right hand that wasn't holding her cigarette holder, brought it up to his lips and kissed it softly.

"Gratci," said Angelina.

"Ciao, signora."

"Ciao."

Now used to being ignored a pissed off Tom reached into his wallet and left cash in the check envelope but nothing on the table.

"Aren't you leaving a tip?" asked Angelina incredulously, speaking to him for the first time in close to 10 minutes.

"You think I'm leaving a tip after the way the waiter and owner treated me? If they weren't making snide remarks about me they were ignoring me altogether. I don't speak Italian, but I'm pretty sure the owner was talking about me in not so glowing terms. And I think he was trying to pick you up, too, right in front of me, which I found insulting."

"You're leaving a tip and that's final," Angelina said in an angry whisper. "We come here often and you're not going to embarrass me."

Again, who's this we?

Tom reluctantly slapped a $10 bill on the table, while Angelina ejected her cigarette from her holder into the ashtray, collapsed her holder and placed it back in her purse. Tom and Angelina got up and walked out of the dining room. Angelina retrieved her black fur coat from coat check and Tom slipped it on her. Angelina then opened her purse and withdrew a pair of black leather gloves that she slipped on her hands. Opening the door to the restaurant, Tom allowed Angelina to walk out in front of him. 

"My car's over here," said Angelina.

The two proceeded to a red Volkswagen Rabbit.

"Thank you for dinner," said Angelina coldly, reaching out her gloved right hand to Tom. "Good luck to you."

Tom paused. A handshake was not the physical contact he had in mind with Angelina when the day began, but given the recent turn of events, not unexpected. Tom dropped his head and met her leather gloved hand with his in a limp shake. 

Ms. Lione got into her car and Tom walked dejectedly back to his, some 20' away. From behind, Tom heard Angelina try in vain to turn the engine over. He was about to slip the key in the lock when he heard her give it a second try that also failed.

Tom stopped in his tracks. As much as he wanted to get away from that restaurant and be by himself to lick his wounds, he knew he couldn't leave her in the parking lot alone with a stalled car. Returning to Angelina's VW, he knocked on the driver's side window. Angelina rolled down the window.

"I think my battery's dead," said Angelina. "It won't start. Do you have jumper cables?"

"No."

"Could you give me a ride home then?"

The two got into Tom's car. With Angelina navigating, they arrived at her modest two-story home in minutes.

"Here you are," Tom said, as he pulled his car into her driveway. "Goodnight."

"Would you mind walking me to the door?" asked Angelina.

Tom turned off the engine with a sigh, got out of the car and walked over to Ms. Lione's side, opened her door and extended a hand. Ms. Lione took it with her gloved hand, unfolded her boots and stepped out of the car.

Tom accompanied Ms. Lione to her front door as she took a set of house keys from her purse.

"Okay, well, goodnight again," Tom said, pivoting back to his car.

"Could you do me one more favor?" Angelina asked. "I hate to walk into a dark house. Could you...?"

"Yeah, sure."

Angelina inserted the key in the lock, opened the door and flipped on the lights, bathing the sunken living room in front of them with soft light.

"How about a drink as a way of saying thank you?" she asked.

"I don't think so," said Tom. "I want to get home."

"Oh, right. You probably have a curfew, don't you?"

"Okay, I'll have that drink," a perturbed Tom replied.

"Help me off with my coat, would you, please?" Angelina asked, turning her back to Tom.

Tom did as he was told.

"Hang mine in the closet behind me, if you would," said Angelina. 

Again, Tom followed orders. Angelina removed her gloves, placed them back in her purse and walked across the living room to the wet bar.

"Have a seat," she said turning her head over her right shoulder.

Still in his overcoat, Tom plopped down on Angelina's plush velour sofa, while she poured the drinks at the bar. 

"Would you like yours on the rocks or neat?" asked Angelina.

"Neat, please," came Tom's reply.

Moments later Ms. Lione returned to her guest, handed Tom a glass containing a light, amber- colored liquid, sat down kitty-corner from him on the companion sofa and crossed her black leather booted legs. 

"Thank you," said Tom, before taking a sip. "What is this?"

"It's apple juice," said Angelina bluntly.

"Oh. I thought you were fixing me a drink drink. Can I have a scotch and soda or something?"

"I don't know, can you?" she answered in a sarcastic tone.

Tom shook his head in confusion and disgust as Ms. Lione reached down to her coffee table and pressed a button on a small rectangular mahogany box. The lid lifted and with her left hand pulled out a long, thin all white cigarette, before picking up a black 10" cigarette holder with her right hand that was lying next to the box. As Ms. Lione gently twisted the cigarette into the holder, Tom spotted and grabbed a vintage lighter from the table.




Librarian Finds Long Overdue Love



A chance for redemption, he thought, pressing his thumb down on the lighter, an instant before a one-inch orangish flame rose from it. 

Tom held the flame out to Ms. Lione. The sexy librarian inserted the holder in her mouth and directed it to the blaze, allowed it to touch then leaned back, removed the holder, turned to her right and blew the smoke away.

"Hey, first try this time," Tom said, as if almost proud of himself.

"What do you want, a medal?" asked a bitchy-sounding Ms. Lione, before blowing out another inhale, resting the hand that was clasping her holder on the knee of her crossed leg. 

"You know, I'm not a kid. I've had just about enough of your wisecracks, Angelina. "

"That's Ms. Lione."

"Okay. Listen. I'm sorry I asked you out on false pretenses. It's true that I'm not interested in a library science career. But I didn't know how else to break the ice with you. I've admired you since I was 13. Now that I'm 22 I had this crazy idea that maybe I was old enough where you might be romantically interested in me -- assuming you're not married or involved with someone else. Man, this night has been a complete waste of time." 

"I'm not mad about you lying to me. I had a hunch you weren't being straight with me and what you were really interested in was fucking me. You had a chance until I saw how flustered you became when I took my cigarette holder out. You don't think I noticed your napkin rising in your lap and how agitated you became when you tried to light me? If you can't exercise more self-control than that over your anatomy in public, then what's the likelihood that you'd be able to last more than 30 seconds with me were we to become intimate? You may be young and drop-dead gorgeous looking, but I'd have let the waiter and Enrique from Rotini's sleep with me before I let you cum inside me. You could learn a lot from them on the proper way to treat a woman. I could tell by the unrushed way the waiter lit my cigarette holder and how Enrique tenderly kissed my hand and showered me with compliments that they would transfer over quite well into the bedroom. I bet they know how to pleasure a woman. I'm 51. I don't need to have my ego stroked knowing that a horny 22 year old finds me sexy. I need to have my vagina stroked long and hard by a man -- a real man who takes his time and knows his way around a woman. Not groped by some frat boy, who'll blow his load in me the moment we lay down on the sheets!" 

Tom sat silently for close to a minute, collecting his thoughts, before rising slowly from the sofa. 

"Yes, it's true I got excited by you smoking from your holder," he admitted. "I can't really help that. I guess I have a smoking fetish. But you stir something in me, Ms. Lione. You have since I was 13. Since then, I've made love to you in my dreams countless times and not once did I 'blow my load' the moment we hit the sheets. Nor, was I ever in a fraternity. Every time I've imagined making love to you the experience has been slow, tender and protracted. My aim would be to pleasure you, because the more sexually satisfied you are the more it would turn me on." 

Tom stopped talking, moved over to Angelina's sofa and sat down next to her. 

"And I can say," said the young man, in practically a whisper now, "that I brought you to orgasm every...single...time."

Tom stared longingly into Ms. Lione's eyes. Engrossed by the intensity of Tom's gaze, she sat motionless until her hand with the cigarette holder crawled onto his right leg and began stroking his inner thigh. The intimate gesture had its intended effect, as Tom's penis began to rise in his trousers.

Reaching out with his left hand, Tom cupped Ms. Lione's right shoulder. His heart beating so hard it was ringing in his ears, Tom leaned in and tilted his head to the left. Ms. Lione followed, tilting her head to the right and the pair met for their first kiss. It was hot, moist and Angelina tasted delicious, like Tom always imagined she would. 

The two continued to kiss softly for several minutes, whereupon Tom began to work his lips down the side of Ms. Lione's neck. Finding an erogenous zone, Tom continued to work his mouth as Angelina closed her eyes, arched her back and let out a soft moan.

"Oh, that feels so good," exclaimed Ms. Lione. "My body feels like a wet noodle when you do that to me. Take me to my bedroom upstairs." 

Without saying a word, Tom gently scooped up his would-be lover in his arms. Ms. Lione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. Tom carried her up the flight of steps at the back of the living room, seeing little but the smoke from Angelina's cigarette holder curling and drifting to the left of his head. At the top of the stairs, Tom instinctively turned right and into the first room he saw and laid Ms. Lione down on the comforter of the king-sized bed. 

"Join me, darling" welcomed the still fully clothed Angelina, before sucking mischievously on her cigarette holder.

Tom climbed onto the bed and moved in again to Angelina's neck, while his right hand worked its way under her skirt and began massaging her clitoris over her panties. Applying very little pressure, he patiently began in slow, sexy circles, mixing in side to side and diagonal strokes. 

Ms. Lione moaned her approval and Tom ventured the next gamble, sliding his index and middle fingers underneath the panties and inside her for an internal massage. She offered no objection. Parting the pubic hair of her neatly trimmed bush, Tom slowly moved his fingers about in Angelina's sponge-like cavity in a circular -- almost hypnotic -- fashion.

"Oh, my God!" exclaimed Angelina in arousal. "That's so good. 

Over the next several minutes, Tom's nimble fingers worked Ms. Lione's vagina like a classically trained pianist played the keys of a grand piano.

"Make love to me," she groaned. "Fuck me now." 

"Are you sure?" Tom asked. "I can keep doing this, if you want."

"Yes, I can't take it anymore. I want you inside me... now!"

Tom quickly shed his coat, unbuttoned his trousers, slid off his boxer shorts and then began rolling Angelina's panties down her leg.

"Do you want to take your clothes and boots off?" Tom asked.

"No," panted a winded Angelina. "Just pull off the panties."

Tom rolled Ms. Lione's wet, red thong off her booted legs, tossed them onto the floor then gently rolled himself onto her. Angelina responded by invitingly spreading her legs wide then wrapping her boots around his waist when he got inside her. Tom loved the feel of her black leather boots pressed against him as he used his swollen penis as a guide, soon finding the folds of her vagina and eased his way through. The sensation was greater than he'd dreamed as the two bodies intertwined. Angelina's vagina was warm and wet and Tom just lay there while her love juices sloshed and folded around his penis like a soft, inviting bathrobe. 

He could lay there forever, Tom felt, but first he had something sexual to prove to his dream woman. With slow, rhythmic hip thrusts he began pumping Ms. Lione's vagina, alternating short strokes that left his penis at the top half of her clitoris with long plunges into the deep recesses of his lover's hole. 

The sensitive friction from his penis rubbing along the walls of her vagina was heaven for him. And with every centimeter that his penis moved, he felt like he might burst inside her. Equally, Tom's hard presence in her moved Angelina to a state of erotic ecstasy that even surpassed Tom's finger massage of her clitoris. Every movement of his, it seemed, brought her to the brink of orgasm. 

Finally, Tom increased the speed and tempo of his thrusts and added an upward movement at the end of each action. The stroke produced an almost immediate, unintended consequence. 

"Oh...OH....OHHH," moaned Angelina, louder with each plunge of her lover's penis. 

After a few more thrusts, however, Tom realized that Ms. Lione had stopped screaming in ecstasy. Looking up at her face, he noticed that her eyes were shut and mouth agape.

"Angelina?" he asked. "Angelina, are you okay?" 

Ms. Lione didn't respond. 

Tom gently touched his lover's face with his hand, but she didn't stir. Tom leaned in closer. Warm air flowed softly from her mouth and nose. She's still breathing, he said to himself. Suddenly, it dawned on Tom. His love making had brought Ms. Lione to such a state of orgasm that she fainted. I can't believe I'd have that kind of an effect on a woman, he thought. That makes Angelina even more arousing to me. 

His passion taken up another level, Tom resumed his pumping on the unconscious Angelina, until unable to quell his excitement, his penis exploded like a hot dog cooking in a microwave, unleashing wave after wave of warm juicy semen that flowed into and subsequently poured out of her overflowing vagina.

Finally spent, Tom collapsed on top of the passed out Ms. Lione and lay there for several minutes, trying to catch his breath and in no hurry to take his still rock-hard penis from her inviting pussy. 

After a few more minutes, the excess blood began to drain from his penis and it returned to its normal size. Pulling the drippy member out of her pussy, he got up, pulled her skirt down over her naked privates and surveyed the scene. Ms. Lione lay before him, unconscious, but with a satisfied, contented smile on her face. She was still dressed in her black sweater and the toes from her black, high-heeled boots pointed up to the ceiling. Somehow during the throes of their passion, she had still managed to hold onto her cigarette holder -- the lit end of the cigarette dangling over the side of the bed. She looked so sexy that he immediately wanted to make love to her again. On second thought, No, he said to himself. I was already inside her when she fainted, so that was okay. Now, that I'm out, in her present condition it wouldn't be right to go back in. Besides, after tonight, I'd have to think I'll have an encore performance with Ms. Lione when she's awake again and recovered from this experience. 

"I don't think you'll be having a post-coital cigarette tonight, my love," Tom said aloud with a slight laugh, reaching over to Angelina's limp hand and pulling the cigarette holder from it, before resting it in the ashtray on Angelina's nightstand. Stripping off his clothes, Tom returned to his passed out lover, unzipped her boots and laid them on the floor, then got back into bed, pulled the covers up, and spooned Angelina. "Let's see those Italian guys at the restaurant top that," he said softly, before drifting off to sleep.