3 comments/ 11515 views/ 18 favorites Love amongst the Stacks By: Michael142 It's a nice day ... too nice a day to be inside. I decide to play hooky from work in the middle of the afternoon. Walking around old town for a while, I am just enjoying window-shopping along the avenue. Noticing a used bookstore, I decide to stop in. Hell, I have too many books already, but I was hoping that my late afternoon goldbricking might turn up a good read, and a bargain. One never knows! I am a bit of an amateur historian, but browsing the history section was not turning up any gold ... I couldn't find anything of interest. I browsed my way over to the non-fiction shelves to look for a quick easy read. Possibly, something I could work my way through over a skim milk cappuccino at Starbucks. I like the atmosphere in old town. It just seems like life there slows down to a very livable pace ... a welcome contrast to the exigent atmosphere of the office. When I first saw her, my heart skipped a beat. Yeah, I know that sounds melodramatic, but it happens to be true. She was wearing a short pleated skirt, sweater over blouse, plaid stockings which went just over her knees, and lady-style tasseled loafers. She wore oversized roundish glasses that emphasized her clear blue eyes. She was as cute a little blonde bookworm as I had ever seen. I always favored the "Marion-the-librarian" types anyway; there is just something about sweetness and simplicity in a girl. The "girl next door," isn't that the saying? But, there she was. No pretenses, no airs, just understated ... prettiness. I never cared for the skinny bitchy model types; so whiny and destined to make a misery of a man's life. Like they say, for every beautiful woman, there is some guy that's sick of putting up with her shit! I suppose they are like that because some asshole makes them eat nothing but veggies and brown rice to maintain the emaciated look so popular in fashion mags. Anyway, they are just a pretty face, no bod, and a lot of attitude! Was this love at first sight? Maybe, but it was more likely lust at first site. She slowly turns her head, searching for the some book or other, and as she lifts her eyes, I could see how pretty her eyes were, and how guileless a face she seemed to have. Damn, she's cute! I hang back a little, just watching her. There's no evil intent with my voyeurism ... just admiring something very pretty. What caught my attention overall, was just the way of her. The way her pleated skirt swished when she went from section to section. When she stooped down to retrieve a book from a lower shelf, I nearly lost my gum. I could see her legs a little under the skirt as the hem of her skirt rose. It rose just a little, but enough for the side of her thigh and a hint of buttocks to come into my view. When she swiveled a little and dropped to one knee, I was able to see a very pretty thigh peeking from under her skirt. As I watched her, there seemed to be a certain ... well ... poetry to her movement. Corny, right? The predictable metaphor embarrasses me a little, but it is nonetheless true. What I mean is that she moved with a certain amount of grace, an economy of movement. She moved from standing, to kneeling, to turning, like a poem moving gracefully from one line to the next. I looked on, as one would read on, to see where the poem was going. I warned you that it was a little bit corny, but you weren't there ... you didn't see what I was seeing. You didn't see how the pleats of her skirt curved around her pretty little ass. Hell, I'm no poet! God, I can't remember the last poem I actually read. But, I was very taken with her ... enticed by the way of her. I just had to contrive a way to meet this girl. I needed a way to get to know her that was not obvious ... not intrusive, or clumsy. I figured that if there was going to be a way to approach her, it would be through a mutual interest in books. I am not a voracious reader, but I do like a good book, and I was honestly here today to find a new good read. If I did not try, I thought that I would have missed an opportunity ... she was just too damn pretty to take a pass on. And, as I have said, there was just something about her in a general way that appealed to me. Yeah, there was definitely something there! So, I took a deep breath, screwed up my courage and decided to find a way to connect with her. I started by browsing books on shelves near her. I was very proud on my acting job ... pretending to look intently for a book ... with properly knitted brow and everything. I moved toward her a little more and she looked up, smiled, and made room for me to continue to browse. What she did not know, and I hate to admit this to you, but I was not looking at any titles, just pretending I had a legitimate reason to be close to her. I must have looked lost to her as I continued to scan titles (or pretended to), and she looked up at me again with another smile. Goddamn, she had such a pretty smile! This petite girl, scanning the pages of a book she had selected, smote me. She closed the book, pulled her glasses off, and with a slightly knitted brow of her own asked, "Um, excuse me, are you looking for anything in particular?" The soft tone of her voice made me stop my fake browsing and I answered nervously, "Well, not really. I'm just looking for something new ... something interesting ... you know." What I didn't tell her, was that I had found something interesting but it wasn't a book ... it was a petite little blue-eyed blonde bookworm. To be clear, she had already made my day just by being there, and being able to speak with her was a bonus. She thought for a second, and replied, "What kinds of books do you like? What do you usually read?" This caught me off guard, and without thinking spit out the truth, "Well, to be perfectly honest, I am a history buff, but just now I am looking for a bit of literature ... you know, for a change. Do you have a recommendation for me?" The beauty of this question is that it requires engagement in a prolonged discussion of something I already know interests her ... books! She thought for a second or two, and said, "Well, um ... oh yes! I read a book a while ago, and if you like history, you might like it. It's by an author named, something Knowles ... um, oh yes, John Knowles. It's called A Separate Peace. It was kind of written a while ago, but this store might be a copy of it." She moved along the shelves, with books arranged by author's name, muttered to herself, "Knowles, Knowles, Knowles ... yes here it is. You might like it, it's about two friends at a boarding school in London during, um, the World War II." My eyes were on the swish of her skirt and her shapely, petite little ass. "Hmmm, sounds interesting," I said in a lame attempt to keep up my end. My eyes snapped up from her ass to her pretty bespecktacled eyes as she quickly turned back in my direction. Then she continued, "Yes it is ... well, at least I thought so. It is all that coming of age stuff, like Salinger, um 'The Catcher in the Rye,' you know that kind of uh, shit. It's about the loss of innocence in a couple of friends and their experience is kind of likened to the world's loss of innocence with the war. That kind of thing, but as I said, I read it a few years ago." I took the book from her dainty hand, and thumbed through it a little. Then I asked, "What about you? What are you reading?" "Oh, I'm looking at a kind of new book called Before I Fall, by um... (she flips the book closed to find the author's name) Lauren Oliver. It is kind of a spooky book (blushes) ... I kind of like them. It's about a girl who dies in a fiery car crash, and she wakes up the next morning and kind of has a 'groundhog day' experience reliving it until she finds out more about her death ... sort of an involved mystery I guess." I was listening to the sound of her voice rather than the words, but I tried to look thoughtful and mused, "Hmm, it does sound interesting. I think I am going to get this book, A Separate Peace, since you recommended it. And, uh, if you have some time, and because you have just cost me (opening the book to check the price) eighteen dollars and ninety-five cents ... plus tax, it is only fair for you to let me buy you a cup of coffee somewhere." I looked at her hopefully. My heart skipped a beat as she hesitated. A curious smile slowly spread across her face as her eyes searched mine, and with a quizzical look she asked, "Are you hitting on me?" Oh, shit! Busted! I thought, as I prepared to be shot down by a pretty girl ... again. I rallied my courage and said with a resolute smile and nod, "Yes, I am!" She hesitated for a moment, her smile broadened and sweetened, and she said, "Okay, where?" My heart was pounding in my chest, and I replied, "Starbucks. There is one only a block or so from here." "Let's checkout, and I'm all yours," she said. Her voice had a definite musical quality to it. Poetry and music ... what more could a boy want in an afternoon of shirking one's responsibilities? We each bought our books, and walked the block and a half to the coffeehouse. Her conversation was pleasant as we walked; just about the day, her excitement at finding the book she was looking for ... that kind of shit. She found us some counter space along the window with a couple of stools, as I ordered the drinks. She wanted a chai tea latte, and I had my customary cappuccino, with an extra shot. Back at our space with the drinks, and a couple of raspberry scones, she looked at me with a sweet smile. "Thank you! May I know the name of my charming date?"she asked. "Mike," I answered. She thought for a second and asked, "Do you mind if I call you Michael? You look more like a Michael to me!" It sounded musical, like the tinkling of a small bell, the way she said 'Michael.' I told her that it sounded very nice coming from her. "My name is Amy." It seemed appropriate that a girl with such simple beauty had a simple and beautiful name. A bit old-fashioned, but one I have always liked, and I told her this. She blushed, lowered her eyes, and said again softly, "Thank you, Michael." My family calls me Mike, but I like the musical tone she gives to "Michael." Then with a new thought, she asked, "Um, Michael, can you read me a little of my new book while I sip my chai tea?" Her eyes were also asking sweetly as well. Shit, I couldn't turn down such a sweet request, and I actually like reading aloud. I have a lot of experience reading to my younger brother and sisters at bedtime. I picked up her book, and turned to the preface and started to read to my lovely new friend: "They say that just before you die, your whole life flashes before your eyes, but that's not how it happened for me. To be quite honest, I'd always thought the final-moment, mental life-scan thing sounded pretty awful. Some things are better left buried and forgotten, as my mom would say. I would be happy to forget all of fifth grade, for example (The glasses-and-pink-braces period..." I continued reading looking up occasionally to see her looking at me over her chai tea, in rapt attention, eyes wide open, just smiling and listening. What was going on behind those liquid blue eyes, I had no idea. I kept reading to her from her book, pausing here and there only for a sip of my cappuccino. With the entire preface now read, I said to her, "Hmmm, sounds like a pretty good book. Mine if I borrow it when you are finished?" At that moment, I realized that I had gone a little too far in assuming some kind of future with her. She gave me another curious smile and asked, "Aren't you getting ahead of yourself Michael? We just met." Then she thought for a few seconds, "Um, I am open next Friday night, and there is a nice foreign film downtown called 'The Secret in their Eyes.' If you would like to take me Michael, we might get to know each other well enough for me to, um ... share things with you." She giggled at the possible double entendre ... the possible alternate sexual meaning. I laughed, and asked, "Now who's getting ahead of herself?" She blushed and said, "Oh Michael, I just think you have a very nice face. It is kind, and I would like to get to know you and it a little better. Plus, you are a very lovely reader. So um, what ... do you think?" She bit her lower lip waiting. "What time Friday?" I asked, and she breathed in as her face brightened into a happy smile. She lowered her eyes just a little, and said, "Seven would be nice, Michael." "Fine!" We finished our drinks, scones, and conversation, and I walked her back to the front of the bookstore where I we met. I extended my hand for a goodbye handshake. She pushed past my proffered hand, and hugged me, with the side of her face pressed against my chest. I was one very pleasantly surprised guy! I placed my hands on her hips, kind of neutral territory for a first meeting. As she raised her face, I bent down and kissed her. Bold move for sure, but then she was pushing her lips into me at the other end of that kiss. We will see what happens on Friday night. She pulled a pen out of her purse, opened my hand, and wrote her phone number on my palm. She smiled and as she closed my hand, turned and walked away saying, "Bye Michael!" I was too nonplussed to offer a goodbye, and just watched her skirt twirl as she turned and walked away. Amy is pretty. She is petite, with a very nice figure, medium-sized tits, and I loved the way her pleated skirt swished as she walked. Her legs are shapely, even without heels. About twenty-five yards down range, she turned and smiled at me before continuing. I offered her a little wave and knowing smile. Every guy knows the importance of a "look back." It means that the girl is interested in you. As she rounded the corner at the end of the block, I turned and walked back to my car. This was Wednesday, so I had two days of anticipation before my date with this little angel. I felt like I was eighteen again with a date to the prom. I called her Thursday night early, just to confirm arrangements. We talked briefly about family, our personal likes and dislikes ... just first date kind of shit. The movie we were going to see was a relatively recent Argentinean film (El Secreto del sus Ojos) so it was in Spanish with English sub-titles. Amy was wearing a navy-blue dress with buttons down the front, synched at the waist with a matching belt, and four-inch heels. The hem fell to about three inches above her knees. As I found out later, she was wearing thigh-high sheer stockings. Since she was so tiny, I am guessing that she felt the need for the little extra stature that the heels provided. She was using a floral body lotion that was very pleasant ... not overwhelming. Amy left her glasses behind in preference to contact lenses. I was happy to see more of her pretty eyes. She grabbed a light open sweater against the night air, and we were off to the theater. I thought the plot of the movie was a little convoluted for my taste, but from what I could make out, it was about a lawyer writing a novel about some of his past cases, with a sub-plot about his love for a woman ... someone who did not return his feelings. Amy watched the movie with rapt attention, only diverting her eyes to give me a little smile here and there. As she moved in her seat, the hem of her dress rose on her legs, and I could see a portion of the darker elastic band at the top of her stockings. Her heels definitely improved the shape of her legs. I had placed her sweater over the back of the seat. When she settled, my arm found its way around the back of her seat without any objection from her. I stole little glances down the top of her dress since the movie really didn't interest me as much as she did. She left the top two buttons unbuttoned so I could see just the very top of the curve of her chest that led to her more covered cleavage. There was a love scene in the movie about halfway through, and she leaned her head on my shoulder as she sighed slightly at the beauty of the scene. She looked up at me and her eyes were very wide. They seemed to be asking for something, so I bent down and kissed her. This first tentative and nervous "first date kiss" grew into a longer kiss that grew in passion as we started to forget about the movie. I reached my other arm over her body, and turned her body toward me to make it more comfortable for her to kiss me longer and deeper. As she turned her body toward me in response, I slid my hand lightly over her breast, and down to her waist. Amy was a girl with some passion ... I could feel it through her creamy lips. Reaching up with my free hand, I unbuttoned another button at the top of her dress. She looked at me for a couple of seconds, and without saying another word, she unbuttoned the next two buttons of her dress. With the two sides of her dress spread a little, her lovely breasts came into view. I slid my hand into her dress as she started to kiss me harder and moan softly. I cupped her right breast in my hand over her bra, and thumbed her nipple through the material. Her breathing deepened and she opened her mouth to allow me to explore its sweetness with my tongue. I massaged her breasts a little longer, and then slid my hand down to her stomach. I was hoping that this would be just a temporary resting place for my hand on its way to more "southern territory." I let my fingers explore the hem of her dress, and her thighs just above her knees. She opened her legs a little, and I slipped my hand up her buttery thighs. When my finger touched her moist panties, she gasped, broke the kiss and said, "Not yet, Michael. I want to ... I do ... but not yet. You're not disappointed are you?" I was very disappointed, but told her, "No, of course not, Amy. I am willing to wait until you are ready." Guys are the gas, and girls are the brakes, I guess. She kissed me very sweetly, moved my hand back to her breast, and as we cuddled a little. We turned our attention back to the movie. Well, actually she returned her attention back to the movie, while I kept my attention on my pretty and petite little date. I was happy. Hell, of course I was happy ... just to be with this sweet girl. After all, she gave me her permission to have something further with her, however postdated. She was a clever and perceptive girl, and noticed my growing intumescence. She looked over, smiled, and then put her hand on it, softly saying, "Let's just hold this little guy off for a while. Mmm, it feels nice though!" "Little?" I thought to myself, but I am sure she didn't mean anything by it. As the move went to credits, I helped her rearrange her dress, and we left as the credits rolled. Foreign film, a lot of unfamiliar Spanish names so who gives a shit, really. I drove her back to her apartment, and walked her to the door. I know that after the kissing and fondling in the theater, a good night kiss was a little redundant, but I still though it was an important indicator of interest. She turned toward me at the door before fumbling for the keys, so I took that as a sign that she was waiting for a goodnight kiss. As I came about eighty percent of the way, I put my hands on her hips. She came the rest of the way, as her arms were up around my neck, and she gave me a very passionate kiss. She broke from the kiss, looked up at me with her arms still around my neck and said in as sweet a voice as she could, "Call me sometime, Michael. I had a wonderful time tonight." The only words I could muster were, "Of course." She retrieved her keys from her purse turned the latch, and was gone with just a very slight turning back smile and wave. Love amongst the Stacks I walked back to the car without producing a single cogent thought in my poor brain. In the car, I finally gathered enough cerebral where-with-all, to exclaim to myself, "Yes! Fucking yes!" Everything I saw from her body language told me that she liked me, but it was also telling me that she was not a slut. A little fondling, okay, but that was just high school shit. Although we were both in our mid-twenties, it was only what was reasonable for me to expect on a first date with a nice girl. I knew that I would be rubbing out my tensions when I got home, and was sure that she was going to have to touch herself a little as well, after our necking in the theater. That thought made my task easier and more satisfying. I did call her, but delayed a day or so. It is never appropriate to seem too eager, and it was not so long that she would start to worry. As we talked, she mentioned that she was free the next Friday evening, so I asked her to dinner. She said that she would be ready to leave from work, and I could pick her up there. She is a librarian, and I should stop by the library at about five. I got to the library a little early, and she was ready. She turned her head, cocker spaniel like, and asked if I would like a tour of her workplace. The library was going to be open for a while longer, but it was usually not busy on Friday night. "Okay honey, lead on," I said. She was proud of her library, and showed me each of the areas with great excitement. As we proceeded, it occurred to me that we were kind of working our way toward the most remote stacks, away her co-workers and away from patrons. She suddenly turned, embraced me and said, "Michael, this is the romance novel section." I may not be the most subtle person in the world, but it did occur to me before her last declaration, that she wanted a little romance in the romance section. She was again wearing a dress that buttoned all the way up the front, but I was kind of an ecru colored dress that hugged her figure a little more than the one she wore on our last date. Not exactly a pencil skirt, but definitely in that direction. She slowly unbuttoned another couple of buttons at the top of her dress, just enough for her hard braless little tits to come into view. She raised her eyes to mine without lifting her head, and then she made her not so subtle point again, "The romance section, Michael!" Then she backed up slowly toward the wall at the end of the stacks. As I approached, she lowered her eyes nervously, and then raised them again with a couple of nervous jerks, as if she didn't know what my reactions would be to her semi-public seduction. I shoved her up against the wall, and kissed her hard. She was moaning, but doing it softly so she would not attract unwanted attention. I wasted no time sliding a hand into the top of her dress to rub her firm apple sized tits with my hand, flicking my thumb over her nipples. With her sweet aroma wafting up from her breasts, I wanted to fuck her right there. I could so see myself picking her up under her legs, and drilling her right against the wall with her legs wrapped around me. But, I was pretty sure that, that was further than her invitation was leading. Good girl, remember? She took my face in both of her hands, and mauled my mouth with hers. I could feel her firm little bod flex and hips thrust into me as she kissed me so passionately. I held her closer, and ran my hand down her back and over her ass to the hem of her dress. I chanced slipping my hand under the hem and onto her sit spot at the bottom of her buttocks. She changed her stance a little to allow me to find the edge of her silk panties, and to slide a finger onto her pussy lips. I could feel the familiar slippery silkiness exuding from her nether lips. That was when she lifted her lips from mine, enough to say, "Not yet, Michael," but it did give her a little shiver. Instead, I just slid my hand into the back her panties as she kissed me, and onto the buttery skin of her little ass. She did not complain, so I let my fingers played with the tiniest softest little hairs on her ass cheeks as she moaned into my mouth ... and gave another little shiver. I broke from her kiss, and looked into her pretty blues and asked, "Amy honey, do you know what I'd like to do to you? Right here in this public place, in front of anyone walking by, including the two little cuties on the other side of this bookcase peering at us between the books?" Amy let a smile slowly spread across her face, nodded and looking into my eyes answered, "Uh huh!" Then she looked over my shoulder, and between the books to her left, as two eighteen or nineteen-year old girls ducked down and made a hasty retreat out of the stacks, and toward the checkout desk with a couple of books hiding their faces. They were both sweet and pretty, and giggled all the way to the front. Before retreating though, the tallest and prettiest one looked back through the books at me with dark brown eyes and smiled, as her friend pulled her away. These little ladies might have gotten a real sex education if I hadn't gotten a whiff of something sweet and floral ... the type of body lotion favored by young girls. Amy watched the girls retreat, put her hand over her mouth, and laughed quietly into it. "Amy honey, I want you to know something else." "What's that, Michael?" "You have the softest, cutest little ass I have ever fondled in public with a barely legal audience." "Why thank you Michael ... I think!" she said with a slightly crooked smile. We straightened and buttoned her dress, walked out of the library as though nothing was amiss. As we passed the front desk, our two little teen-aged voyeurs were still checking out. The taller one with the dark brown eyes turned and smiled again at me as Amy waved goodbye to a co-worker. She noticed the girl smiling at me. "If you would like to stop and get her phone number, I'll wait outside for you, Michael," I figured that if she was going to be a smart ass, it was only fair for me to play with her a little. I answered, "Would you please, honey? That would be so nice of you ... I'll only be a minute." The sharp pain I felt was Amy kicking me in the shin. She wore a queer smile containing equal parts of hurt as amusement. Then I smiled back at her with a smile that grew and broadened and I added, "I'm just kidding, Amy honey. Tonight, you're my girl!" She smiled and gave me a musical little laugh, as she sighed in relief. "Michael! You are a brat, do you know that?" "Who? Moi?" "Oui, vous mioche!" Saying 'me' in French kind of exhausted my knowledge of that romantic language, but she proved that she had greater depth by replying to me, "Yes, you little brat!" En Français. As we walked out of the library arm in arm, leaving my little dark-eyed admirer behind, she exploded into a torrent of French, which I can only suppose was a scolding she thought I richly deserved. No clue as to what she said, but the tone was unmistakable. At the car, I pushed her up against the door and kissed her. "I am getting to like you quite a lot, my pretty little blue-eyed friend. You know I have eyes only for you. I don't know what you said in French, and I don't think I want to know, but I probably deserved it." "Michael, I like you too ... a lot. I didn't want to lose you to some pretty brown-eyed teenybopper before we even got started. I was a little jealous, and yes, you deserved it." "Fair enough!" I opened the door for her and was delighted to see her hemline slide up her thighs as she settled. We had a nice dinner at a good restaurant, and it seemed that I was doing all the talking, with her reacting appropriately to the conversation, but I could tell that something was on her mind. As I stopped talking to pour us both another glass of wine, she lifted her eyes as if she wanted to say something. Then she said it. "Michael, you know that I did not invite you up last time we dated, since I thought it was too early in our relationship. And I know that you might expect to come up tonight, but—" "Amy honey," I interrupted, "you know that I do not have any expectations. You are not some little brown-eyed groupie; you are someone I care about ... someone I really like. I don't want to do anything to—" "Michael, I just wanted to say," she said as she interrupted me back, "that it is okay if you want to come up with me. But if you do, you will have to stay the night. I have just been sitting here trying to get the courage to ask you that. I just don't want to appear too forward ... a slut or anything. I just—" "I understand, honey," I interrupted her again. "Let's just play it by ear later. We'll do what comes naturally, but if I do stay, it will be for the night, I promise you." She smiled and breathed out to relieve her tension, and we had a nice relaxed two-way conversation for the rest of the meal, I paid the bill and we left. It was still early, and she wanted to see a movie, so we bounced some titles off each other on the way to the door, deciding on one for us to see. She asked to visit the ladies room, and was ready to go again after about five minutes. I was struck by a very curious little smile on my face as we started for the car. Once situated in her seat, I noticed that she used the time it took me to walk around the car to pull her hemline up her thighs to nearly the top of the dark band at the top of her stockings. When I entered on my side, she reached over and kissed me on the cheek, and whispered in my ear, "Michael, I'm not wearing any panties ... I um, took them off!" She looked down and away and blushed deeply. "Why you little slut, you!" I answered just teasing. "Uh huh!" was all she said knowingly as she smiled and nodded her head slowly. I just had to reach over and check her out. Juvenile reaction, I know, but an understandably male one. She opened her thighs as my fingers touched her inner thigh. I slid a couple of fingers up her silky-smooth inner thigh, until my little finger just tickled the light hair around her outer pussy lips a little. I could feel the familiar slippery liquid on my little digit, as I pushed the tip of it between her pussy lips. She gave me a very palpable little shiver, and then she put her hand on my cheek, and kissed me on the lips. It was a tentative and nervous, but very sweet little kiss, and her movement toward me caused another finger to invade her silky sexual place. I wanted to unzip myself to relieve my intumescence, by impaling her on my cock right there in our parking place on this very public spot. But, I rejected that urge and instead removed my fingers from her moist lips, and massaged her amazingly soft inner thigh a little. "Amy, let's get to the theater ... we'll find a quite dark spot in the back." "Mmm, sounds wonderful, Michael." I was denying my sexual relief for a second time tonight, but this was the first taste I had of her sweet naked little pussy, and I was overwhelmed by the experience. Yeah, I have had women before, and I have had pussy before. But this cute little bookworm was really getting to me, and I didn't want to do anything to spoil out first real intimate moments together. Would she have let me fuck her in the library among all of those dusty tomes ... teenaged audience and all? And, would she would have pushed herself down on my cock and thrust her tits in my face right there in the car? I didn't know. I will never know. The sexual tension was building in me, as I am sure it was in her as well. As we pulled away from the curb, she looked down, and smiled, but the way she laid her hand on her stomach, told me that she was resisting her urges also. Amy was becoming very important to me. I have screwed thing up before by moving too fast, but none of those girls made me feel the way she does. I get a lump in my throat every time I hear myself say her name. I have her inside me. We did find a dark spot in a back corner of the theater. The seats were of the type that allowed one to lift the armrest up and out of the way allowing couples to sit closer together. Our armrest went up, first thing. As I wrapped my arm around her, she curled up inside my embrace, with her hand on my thigh. As we watched the movie previews and ads, she massaged my thigh lightly with her tiny hand. As her hand neared my crotch, I whispered, "Just where do you think you are going with that hand, young lady?" "Mmm, just doing a little exploring!" I turned toward her a little more, and let my other hand slide up her thigh, and eventually under the hem of her dress. She looked at me with as faux accusatory look. "Just where do you think you are going with that hand, young man?" I laughed quietly, and answered, "Just finishing the job I started in the car. You don't have a problem with that, do you?" She answered by giving me a naughty little girl look, and adjusted herself in her seat, opening her legs more, and raising the hem of her dress. I started kissing her deeply, and was now massaging her pussy. She opened her legs a little more as she put her hand between my thighs over my jeans, exploring my growing bulge. I broke the kiss keeping my lips close to hers, but did not stop my attentions to her sopping pussy. I said quietly, "Great movie isn't it, Amy honey?" She giggled, squeezed my crotch, and with a musical giggle said, "Michael, you brat!" After an hour or so of kissing, fondling her little tits, and exploring her slippery little crotch with my fingers, I said, "I have seen enough of this movie, how about you?" With eyes the size of saucers, she looked up at me and said, "Yes." She smeared her lips over mine, and continued, "Take me home, Michael!" "Let's go!" I whispered. She buttoned up, straightened herself out, and we rose to leave the theater. We walked back to the car, just enjoying the night air, and I made sure she had her sweater securely wrapped around her against the cool air. As I was about to open her door, she threw her arms around me and unleased an amazingly passionate kiss. She broke the kiss just enough time to say breathlessly, "Oh, Michael!" I opened her door, and she slid into the passenger seat. I was shaking a little as I walked around to my side. As I walked around, I surreptitiously drew my fingers across my nostrils to breathe in her most intimate aroma. She has a sweet ... very ripe, womanly fragrance! She turned to me in the car, "Michael darling, please touch me!" She wiggled her hips to raise the hem of her dress up enough to display her sweet pussy. She opened her legs, as she grabbed my hand, placed it on the inside of her thigh, and I just fingered her sweet sex. I tickled her naked clit part of the way to her apartment. I could tell that she was getting close with this attention, so at the curb in front of her building, I slid two fingers up inside her tight little pussy and started stroking her. Her breathing deepened, and she started to shudder. She said gasping for air, "Ohhh, Goddd, Mi-Michael. Don't stop ... I'm comminnng!!" I increased my stroking in and out of her pussy with my fingers, and curled them against the anterior wall of her vagina, massaging her sweet spot until she let out the softest little scream, arched her back and convulsing and shuddering into a strong orgasm. A young couple walking by slowed their pace and looked over at us, giggled, and quickly walked on. I was hoping that I might have inspired his date to open her legs for him tonight ... always willing to help my fellow man. I could feel her pussy squeezing my fingers, as her juices spurted out of her, over my fingers, and down onto the leather seat of my car. Her body went limp, as she was still breathing hard, but working to regain control. As I kissed her, I could feel her shiver into a couple of aftershocks. Still trying to gain control again, she breathed, "Oh, Mi-Mich-Michael!! That wa-was sooo ama-amazing!!" After her breathing slowed a little, she said, "Take me upstairs, Michael!" I looked into her eyes, and just smiled, not knowing exactly what to say, and not wanting to spoil the mood by saying the wrong thing. I think I told her, just feeling the moment that I wanted to make sweet love to her. She was still a little breathless and feeling her wine from dinner, slowly turned her head and replied, "Alright Michael honey, but then fuck me okay?" I laughed, and she tried a lazy breathy kind of a laugh too. I said, "Okay honey, just let me know how brainless you want to become with it!" I was a surprised and a little shocked to hear the f-bomb emanate from such an innocent looking little package. Then as she came to, a little, "Oh Michael I want to be totally brainless!" we both laughed. When arrived inside her apartment, I got the impression that she was worried about being too forward too soon. As I unbuttoned her dress, and as she opened it, she asked, "Michael, does this count as our third date, you know, with the coffeehouse and all?" I replied, "Yes, this is our third date, and with our phone conversations over the past couple of weeks, we know each other well enough to spend the night together, I think." "Ohhh, good sweetie, I just didn't want you to think I was um, a slut or anything," she said with a worried look. "No, I don't think you are a slut, Amy honey." "Oh good, um ... Michael is it?" she giggled and fell into me still feeling the wine and still coming down from her orgasmic high. She was naked now, and I got my first glimpse at the whole package. My god, she is beautiful! So petite, and with the most perfect little body I have ever seen ... and, I've seen quite a few over the years." I teased her a little, as I regarded her, "Now ... you are over eighteen, aren't you?" "Oh Michael, you silly thing, I'm twenty-three." "Well, I guess that makes me an older man, I'm twenty-five." "Cradle robber! How dare you, Michael!" she giggled, teasing me as she still leaned on me. I took her tiny naked frame in my arms, and carried her into the bedroom. I laid her gently on the bed, and removed my clothes. I pulled my navy blue sport briefs down last, and as I straightened, she gasped at the sight of my six and a half inches pointed directly at her. Her eyes opened wide ... child-like as I lowered myself onto her. I pulled her body to mine, and we moved a little on our sides and kissed as we pressed our warm naked bodies together. I explored her back and ass with my hands, and she moved one leg over my body to open herself up to me. As we continued to kiss, mauling each other's mouths, I quickly moved my fingers down her ass cleavage; she shuddered slightly and pushed into me as the tip of my finger played with her tight little puckered opening. Her little asshole felt so good, that I just massaged the outer ring a little. I continued massaging her ass cheeks, then moved my touches into her wet pussy, spreading her lips, and inserting a finger as far as I could reach. She was tight. Her vaginal opening was very small, just like everything else about her. The feeling of my finger exploring her soft, moist fleshy insides was a wonderful feeling that I didn't have the words to describe. I could not wait to get my dick inside her. She was moaning softly, as I moved my kissed down to her small hard breasts, with their puffy nipples. Every part of her skin tasted so wonderful ... fragrant ... sweet. I was taking my time exploring my sweet little Amy with my lips and tongue. I had both of her little buns in one of my hands with the other one teasing her breasts and nipples. I kissed her mound with passion, as I sucked her pubis into my mouth, and let my tongue slide down to caress her clitoris. Love amongst the Stacks I kissed and licked her pussy lips, with her moisture coating my lips. She was lying on her back moaning softly, one arm up with the back of her wrist covering her eyes. She was moving her hips in response to my attentions to her pussy. When I slid my tongue into her pussy, she gasped, shuddered, and grabbed the sheet tightly in her little fists. "Oh, Michael! Oh, oh, oh, Michael!!" I was making love to her pussy with my mouth and tongue and I could feel her getting close. She arched her back a little, and breathed in sharply, and vocalized, "Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh Mi-Michael, Michael I, I'm com-coming. Oh godddd, I'mmm Cominnnnng!!" She shuddered violently, and convulsed at least a dozen times as she screamed and came hard. She bucked her hips mashing her pussy into my face, as she shuddered to finality, and eventually to a dead calm. She was trying to get her breathing and heart rate back under control, and she was laughing, a very sexually-satisfied laugh. "Oh Michael, if I am not slut, you are going to turn me into a naughty little one," then opening her eyes, and starting to get up, she continued, "I'm hungry, let's get something to eat!" With her breath coming under control, she jumped out of the bed and bounded out of the bedroom to raid the kitchen. I followed trying to keep up, and helped her put together a few simple things to eat. We were sitting on stools at the counter, munching toasted cheese sandwiches, and swilling coffee. Amy was happy ... kind of high I guess you might say. She talked incessantly munching her sandwich, ripping off chunks of it like a cute, hungry little shark. She was so pretty, and I was beginning to fall in love with this diminutive, sexually insatiable little bookworm. "Mmm, this is good!' She said with a mouthful of food, then washing it down with coffee. "Man, I'm so hungry, Michael ... you made me so ravenously hungry! You're still going to fuck me, aren't you, Michael!" Surprised again by the f-bomb, I laughed nervously, and answered, "Yes Amy, when you're done devouring the kitchen, I will make you as brainless as you wish." God ... I was so anxious to fuck her! She looked up, stopped chewing and swallowed, drained her coffee cup and said springing to her feet, "I'm done. Let's go." She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the bedroom. Before I could react, she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me passionately and she proceeded to climb my body, wrapping her legs around me. We tumbled into bed, and I immediately slid my dick into her pussy as far as I could without any further formalities, and started fucking her with long hard strokes, as her legs still tightly wrapped around me. I had unleased a little animal ... one that just wanted me to fuck the shit out of her. I held both of her tiny buns again in one hand, while supporting my weight with the other. She was thrusting her hips into me to meet my thrusts, and we fucked each other for a good twenty minutes at a strong continuous pace. I am not massive, but because she is so small, I stretched her pussy as I filled her up. By my count, she must have had two or three orgasms as I thrust into her, until I finally stiffened, pushed into her all the way, and exploded inside her. She grabbed my ass to keep me in her. She was very vocal throughout, with so many "Oh god's" that I lost count. She finally went limp in my arms, and I settled her onto the sheets as she recovered. I stayed inside her as long as I could. When I softened, I just held my body close to hers, enjoying the feeling my heart beating against hers, until we both cooled down. When she could speak, she said breathlessly, "Oh Michael. I'm totally brainless. Thank you darling!" She looked at me directly, and continued, "You'd never have gotten a piece of ass like that from any little brown-eyed teeny-bopper, that's for sure!" "The pleasure was all mine! And, baby, I was so busy looking at you, I never even noticed little miss what's-her-name from the library." She laughed, and then with a more serious look, she said, "I know it's late Michael, but I am still keyed up, will you read to me a little, honey?" I had noticed a small collection of books in her living room, after she put on a silk robe; I led her to the couch, clad only in my sport boxer briefs. She curled up on the couch, as I browse through her collection, and selected Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese. I was in such a romantic mood with my bookish, little partner that romantic poetry seemed the most appropriate. There are forty-four love poems in this tome, and I flipped immediately to number forty-three, the one most familiar to people: "How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth, and breadth, and height my soul can reach..." When I finished reading the rest of this sonnet, I said to Amy, "Y'know, this was Elizabeth's most famous pronouncement of love ... the boundlessness of love. In particular, her love for her husband, poet Robert Browning. He called her his 'little Portuguese' you know, which is where the title of this collection comes from." She smiled softly looking into my eyes, just happy to curl up next to me, listening to the sound of my voice. She said in a very low relaxed voice, "Michael, I am familiar with Elizabeth Barrett Browning ... it's my book you are reading from. But, I liked the way you read it ... that's what made me smile. It is amazing how different something so familiar sounds, when someone else says it. But Michael, I felt as though you were saying those things to me." "It would be unfair for me to use someone else's words to express what I feel about you, Amy honey. Before Elizabeth could give voice to her feelings about Robert, there had to be a period where they liked each other. Love is a process, my dear. If I told you right now that I loved you, and described the breadth and depth of my love, you would be right to throw me right out the door." Then after taking a long breath, I continued. "So ... Amy honey ... I like you. I like you like warm rain on my face in spring. You give me the same soft, warm feeling as my comfortable old worn Bulls jersey. This might sound weird to you, but I have known you for just a couple of a weeks. So, what I know about you right now, I like!" I replied. She reached up and gave me a sweet little kiss, and said, "Michael, you are one weird dude, but ... I like you too. You fit me, and you also um ... fit inside me." She giggled as she lowered her eyes and blushed. It was amazing to me that someone so aggressive in bed could also blush at the thought of it. I continued to read a few of the other sonnets to Amy. She curled up against me as I read to her softly. Such a loving feeling for Amy washed over me, that I lost my place reading to her as I looked down into her child-like face. She was curled up into me, and her small naked breasts looked so sexy pushed together between her arms. She eventually fell asleep and I picked her up and carried her into the bedroom. When I slipped her under the sheets and comforter, she curled up and I spooned up behind her, just fondling her until I fell asleep. Later, I was awakened by some guy standing over us. "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?" he said, glowering at us with his hands on his hips. I slid out of the bed on the other side, and as Amy woke, she screamed and held the sheet up to her, covering her semi-nudity. "Who the hell is asking?" I said with my hands on my hips in nothing but my boxer briefs. He ignored me and addressed her, "Amy, who is this joker and why is he in our place?" Amy got out of the bed still holding the sheet around her and with an angry look directed at the stranger, spit out, "Tommy! You do not live here anymore, we are through and you know it. Can't you get that through your head? You either give my my key back or I'm changing the locks." She looked at me apologetically and said, "Michael, this is my ex-boyfriend Tommy, (turning toward Tommy) but he just doesn't get the message that we are through. He steals from me and cheats on me ... with my own money and in my own bed no less!" Tommy lifted an arm to point a finger at Amy and started to say, "Amy, if you think that—" I interjected in a forceful voice, "Hey, dude! She doesn't want you here and neither do I, so blow!" Tommy came around the bed calling me all sorts of a motherfucker, and took a swing at me. I ducked the punched, and gave him a shot just below his ribs. He recovered, and grabbed me by the shoulder. I took his hand off my shoulder with one hand, grabbed his wrist with the other, and twisted his arm stiffly behind him. He was in a very painful position that I could use to manipulate him as I pleased. "Hurts like hell, doesn't it?" I challenged him, and then continued, "So here is what is going to happen. I am going to release your arm since there is no way your can get out of this hold until I do. You are going to leave, depositing the key on the table as you go, and not come back." "Fuck you asshole. Who the fuck are you anyway?" This was all he could manage for a response. I twisted his arm a little more to increase the pain, and he yelled, "Okay, okay. I'm going. But I'll be back." I used the leverage of his twisted arm to push him away, and he crumpled against the wall. I said to him, "No you won't!" He rose, rubbing his shoulder, and looked like he was going to make another move on me. I stepped toward him, he raised his hands to surrender, turned, and he left the bedroom saying, "Okay, okay. Key's on the table." Then he mumbled, "Motherfucking asshole!" As the front door slammed, Amy ran to me dropping the sheet, and hugged me wearing just her panties. "Oh Michael, I am so sorry. This is not his apartment, it is mine and I pay for it. I broke up with him months ago, but he won't give up. I don't know what to do." She looked up at me with tears welling up in her eyes, and continued, "I don't want you to be scared away by this Michael (and in a softer voice) but I would not blame you if you bailed right now." "Amy, I'm not going to bail until you say you want it that way. I like you honey, I'm staying at least until I find out why I like you so much." I smiled, and as we kissed, I added, "You're stuck with me for a while, honey." She breathed in deeply, exhaled and said, "Thank you Michael, darling. You can be my 'Robert,' and I'll be your "Elizabeth' for as long as you wish." We rose, showered, and dressed. I made Amy a breakfast of eggs, pancakes, and fruit, and of course, coffee. As we sat down and started to eat, I started the conversation, "Amy, we have to talk about what just happened. Here I am, I meet this cute, little blonde bookworm who is a closet sex-monster. I'm not complaining, but I know so little about you, and you don't really know anything about me. So let's start with, who the hell is this Tommy dude?" As I took a breath, she jumped in, "Michael, I know that I come off as shy and guileless, but I love to be fucked hard, and I do not apologize for it. I have deep passions; you picked-up on that and responded wonderfully. I actually am a bookworm, and spend a lot of time in the library. I actually am a librarian as you know, and will be completing my Master's degree in a year. I love the outdoors, and I volunteer for a battered woman shelter once a week." She paused and touched her cheek, likely remembering an old injury from Tommy. Then she continued her autobiography. "I have a younger brother and sister, and my parents are both professionals. Mom is a lawyer, and my Dad is a university professor in English literature. I don't have any tattoos as you know, and I vote both democrat and republican, depending on the candidate. I have never been charged with any crime, I am honest to a fault, and I am as faithful as an ole coonhound. There, that's me." Then she had a quick thought and added, "Oh yes, and Tommy is my ex-boyfriend. We dated for about a year, and he lied to me every chance he got ... about everything. We lived together for a while in this apartment—which is really my apartment. I kicked him out two months ago, when I found him in my bed with another woman. He stole money from me before he left, but I was just happy to be rid of him. There." She looked into my eyes with tears starting in her own, and said, "The only thing to add is that I met a terrific guy at a bookstore a couple of weeks ago, who I am starting to like very much. And he can keep pace with me sexually ... which is very important to me. Now it's your turn." I laughed, and said, "Well I was going to wait for the book to come out, but since you have already summarized it for me, I won't have to bother!" We both laughed heartily at that. I continued, teasing her a little, "I am an axe murderer, but I am not currently active. I ran drugs out of Columbia, and have a string of whore houses." She wore a curious look, so I quickly added, "Just kidding, I work for an insurance company in the compliance department, and have a degree in accounting. I also have a Master's degree in European history. I have a younger brother, and two younger sisters. My parents are divorced. Mom is an accountant, and my dad is a real estate broker. I am a libertarian, and I do not let anyone do my thinking for me. I like to laugh, and I have a weakness for Marion-the-librarian types, who are also wild animals in bed. I was engaged to be married a year ago, but it didn't work out after I caught her fucking my best friend ... I mean my ex-best friend, who very shortly afterward had to visit the hospital with a cracked rib ... and, a rotator cuff injury ... a couple of bruises ... various cuts and abrasions. He threatened to sue me me, but didn't follow through when I threatened to sue her for breach of promise, and him for alienation of affection." She looked like she didn't know how to respond to the last part, so I added, "Amy, I am really a good guy, and I am starting to think I like you very much. I know that I love making love to you, I love reading to you, I love touching and kissing you, and most importantly, I am interested in exploring a relationship with you, and only you." She seemed more relaxed, smiled and kissed me. "Okay, Michael. I just do not need another violent guy in my life. But, I don't really think you are like that. No one who makes love the way you do can be like that." She gave me a sweet hug, and as I felt her soft warm little tits crushing into my chest, I began to get hard again. She notices it and she pulled back a little. She puts her hand to her mouth trying to stifle a giggle, and says coyly, "I can take care of that for you!" ~ ~ ~