She was the city’s chief librarian, and she had a habit of dressing as everyman’s fantasy librarian; button-down blouse, skirt, nylons, and heels. She also liked to wear her hair pulled up into a loose bun with a few strands hanging free to frame her delicate features and dark glasses. This day her white blouse had long sleeves and a black lace, pseudo-tie. Her black skirt hugged her hips and ass before reaching down to a few inches above her knees. Her thigh-high nylons were also black, held up by lace straps hidden beneath the skirt. Underneath it all she wore a skimpy, black lace bra and pantie set.

She was in her office, working on a letter at her big, wooden desk when a knock came at the door.

“Come in,” she called, hitting save and closing her laptop.

“Hello,” a nice-looking man in a business suit stepped confidently into the room. “I’m Tom Simmons, the new Regional Representative for the Library of Congress.”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Simmons,” she stood up and shook his extended hand. “I was told you’d be stopping by.”

“Well, I like to put a face to the names I’ll be working with.”

“Of course. Won’t you sit down?” She asked, indicating the big, wing chairs facing her desk.

“How long have you been with the library?” He asked, settling back into the chair’s leather upholstery.

They talked for nearly an hour, the conversation flowing from one topic to the next, some personal but mostly business. She found him interesting, intelligent, and amusing. A few minutes in she moved out from behind her desk to sit next to him in the other chair, turning it slightly to better face him. Unconsciously she crossed and re-crossed her legs several times, causing her skirt’s hem to ride up slightly.

At some point she realized her mind had begun wandering. She caught herself admiring his looks and his build, which his suit fit well. She also glanced toward his crotch a few times, wondering what it held. While this wasn’t unusual for her, she was a healthy woman with a strong sex drive, she did chastise herself for doing it during a work meeting.

Standing up Tom announced he needed to get going. Once more her eyes rolled to his crotch. This time she saw an obvious outline that sent a tingle dancing along her nerves. To keep from staring, she forced herself to quickly get to her feet.

“Thank you so much for stopping by,” she said, walking him to the door. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Me too.”

After he was gone she returned to the leather chair and leaned back, snuggling into the corner. Closing her eyes she pictured him; his good looks and strong build, his charming smile and conversation. And she remembered the outline at his crotch, the one of his manhood . . . the one that clearly indicated its size.

A familiar warmth flowed through her, making her nerves tingle and her flesh simmer. The subtlest of aches stirred within her loins, making her uncross then re-cross her legs, her skirt riding up slightly. One hand came up to rest against her upper chest, her fingers dangling down and lightly scratching at the top of her breast through her blouse.

For long minutes she simply sat like that, thinking about her visitor . . . her body slowly simmering. Her fingers continued to scratch at her blouse, her other arm resting absently on the chair’s arm. As the warmth ebbed and flowed through her and the ache throbbed with more and more insistence, she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs several times, her skirt riding up to the edge of her nylons.

Her body’s simmering made her breasts ache and her loins sizzle. Blood rushed to her nipples, making the buds swell and press into her lacey bra. Swinging back and forth across the top of her breast her fingers slowly descended, scratching a zig-zag path down . . . down . . . down to the edge of her bra. Tracing this flimsy barrier her scratching fingers were within millimeters of her swollen nipple . . . teasing it. Her other hand came up to mimic these actions on her other breast. Back and forth her nails scratched, their weight reaching through her blouse to draw light indentations in her flesh and tickle her nerves. Crossing her legs again she shifted a little in the chair. The movement caused her bra to slide slightly, the lacey material brushing across her swelling nipples.

“Mmm,” she sighed softly.

Her imagination had started. Not only was she remembering her visitor, she was imagining that he was standing before her, his cock swelling under his clothing while his fingers scratched at her breasts. Gradually the force of her scratching nails grew, pressing harder . . . the indentations into her flesh deepening . . . the teasing of her nerves heightening.

Her hands moved down to cup her breasts, her fingers kneading and massaging the full mounds. She flattened her sensitive nipples beneath her palms.

The ache filling her breasts spread . . . throbbed through her entire body. Her nerves sizzled, her muscles quivered gently. Sighing quietly, Bursa Escort she slid down in the chair, bringing her ass near its edge and drawing her skirt higher. Her legs fanned open and close slightly, flexing her pelvic muscles.

Her loins began to smolder as embers glowed with the heat of her arousal. Her breathing grew shallow and she nibbled at her bottom lip.

She continued to imagine it was her visitor’s hands on her breasts, cupping and squeezing her pliant mounds. She also pictured the image of his near erect cock straining within his slacks . . . pulsing with desire.

“Oh,” she whimpered, her embers snapping and crackling.

She stopped massaging her breasts. Her hands rose up to unsnap and pull the pseudo-tie away. Then she quickly undid all her blouse’s buttons except the one just above where it was tucked into her skirt. The top fanned open, displaying her bra-cradled breasts and the top of her belly. Her hands converged on her breasts again, now with only her bra separating them from her palms. She squeezed, her fingers tensing to mold her fleshy mounds.

“Oh yes,” she sighed heavily.

Sinking lower in the chair she rocked her legs open wider before closing them and squeezing her thighs together. Her body ached with a need. Her embers snapped and sizzled, tiny flames flickering to life from their heat.

“Oh.” Her hands pulled her bra down . . . pulled the lace covering her tits down under the full mounds. Her fingers reached for her swollen nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger to roll and tweak the sensitive nubs, sending electricity shooting along her nerves. “Oh yes.”

Sliding down a little more she hung part of her asscheeks just off the chair’s edge. Her head lay back into the corner, her eyes closed, images of her visitor manipulating her breasts while his cock throbbed in his pants continuing to fill her mind. She panted lightly, her bottom lip quivering with her shallow breaths. Most of her blouse hung open, her tummy muscles quivering below her tits, her own hands fondling the fleshy mounds. Her skirt had now ridden up past the lace bands of her nylons and now hinted at her panties-covered crotch. Her legs fanned open and close, her thighs squeezing shut.

“Oh. Oh God,” she whimpered, her hands molding her tits, her fingers tugging on her nipples. Her fires grew, the flames dancing as they swelled.

With a mixture of regret and excitement she pulled one hand away from her breast. Drawing it downward, she let her fingers dance across her belly, making the flesh tremble. Her hand slid up and over the closed portion of her blouse, then past the piling of her skirt to delve under its hem and between her open legs. Her fingers danced along her tender inner thigh.

“Mmm,” she whimpered, her fingers reaching her sex. She wasn’t surprised to find her panties were damp with her juices. This allowed their material to give as she pressed two fingers against them and rub her pussy. “Oh.”

In her mind it was his hands on her body . . . touching her . . . feeling her. It was his hand on her tit, squeezing and molding the pliant mound hungrily. It was his fingers rubbing her pussy through her panties, making her juices soak into them more and more as the digits searched out her clit. Finding the engorged button poking out from under its hood and into her panties, her fingers pressed and rubbed it knowingly.

“Oh God,” she whimpered.

She continued to molest her one breast, squeezing and molding her flesh. Her fingers on her clit made her juices flow heavier . . . soaking into her panties . . . weakening their material more and more.

“Oh. Oh God,” she panted, her fires roaring higher. Her hand squeezed her tit hungrily, her fingers reaching out to pinch her swollen nipple. “God yes.”

Her engorged clit throbbed as she manipulated it through her panties and she lifted her ass off the chair to push it back at her pressing fingers. Her fires grew hotter and hotter, the flames scorching her loins. Electricity crackled along her nerves, making her muscles quiver and spasm.

“Yes. Yes,” her imaginings that it was his hands touching her fueled her desires, drew her into a trance. Her panting caused her chest to heave up into the massaging hand on her tit. Her legs opened wider, one of them lifting up to straddle the chair’s arm. Now her skirt rode up completely, plainly exposing her panties-covered sex. Her swollen labia were clearly outlined beneath her wet panties, their soaked material form-fitting over the inflamed lips. “Oh yes.”

For a few more minutes she continued like this, her two hands molesting her two body parts. The sensations they fueled sent tropical breezes gusting through her loins, fanning her flames . . . making them dance excitedly. Soon an orgasm stirred in those fires, emerging . . . developing . . . forming.

“Oh,” she sighed, feeling its promise.

That was enough to draw her hand away from her breast for the moment.

It Bursa Bayan came down to join the other between her legs. Once there, her fingers gripped the edge of her panties and pulled them aside, exposing her glistening sex to the swirling cool air. Her engorged labia flowered open, displaying her shiny pink slit. Her swollen clit protruded from under its hood. While her one hand held her panties aside, her other ran a pair of fingers through her slit. Those digits found her opening . . . rubbed it . . . massaged the walls . . . gently pressed. Her hips jerked upward, pushing herself at the teasing digits.

“Oh. Oh God,” she mewed.

Her head lulled to one side, a few unplanned strands of hair falling loose. Her chest rose and fell as she panted and gasped. Her orgasm grew, building as it crept toward its release. Her fingers penetrated. Her arousal allowed them easy access up to the second knuckle.

“Oh God yes.”

She withdrew her fingers slightly. Pushed them into her again. This time they sunk completely into her. Holding them buried in her pussy she rubbed her swollen clit with the heel of her palm.

“Oh. Oh!”

She started to pump her fingers in and out of herself, while keeping pressure atop her clit. Her other hand released her panties, returned to her breast . . . her palm flattening her swollen nipple . . . her fingers squeezing hungrily.

“Oh yes,” she moaned as her fingers drove into her sex.

Slouching in the chair with her head jammed into the corner, she fondled her tit; molding the pliant mound, tweaking her swollen nipple. Her fingers fucked her pussy, her panties limply trying to rub against the pumping digits.

“Oh yes. God yes,” she panted and moaned, her orgasm building as it reached the edge of its release. “Oh God yes.”

Her hips humped at her fingers, driving herself up as the digits fucked her. She whimpered needily, wanting her fingers to be longer . . . thicker. She rubbed at her clit, sparks shooting through her to fan her fires.

“Oh. Oh yes.” Her orgasm teetered at the edge . . . on the verge . . . teasing . . . promising. Her head snapped to the side . . . then to the other, more strands falling loose. Her mouth hung open. She gasped and panted. Her hand mauled her tit . . . squeezing . . . molding . . . tweaking the nipple. Her fingers pumped in and out of her . . . her pussy clenching at them . . . her muscles quivering. “Oh God yes!”

In and out her fingers worked . . . her palm heavy . . . rubbing her clit. At her tit her other fingers squeezed . . . molded . . . plied hungrily.

Her orgasm hung there . . . wavering . . . teetering.

Her fingers . . . In . . . Out . . . IN . . . OUT . . .

The orgasm roared off the ledge . . . careened through her. Her nerves screamed. Her muscles spasmed. Brilliant fireworks filled her mind. Her hips jerked and twisted in the air as she crammed herself onto her own fingers.

“Oh God! God yes!” Her hand snapped away from her tit to slap down onto the chair’s arm, fingers clenching, nails digging into the leather. Her ass hovered off the chair, her hips rolling herself against her palm and her fingers. “Oh God yes!”

The orgasm continued to rocket through her body, making her muscles twitch and strain with the electricity shooting along her nerves. She gasped . . . panted, whimpered and mewed as wave after wave of thunderous ecstasy rolled through her. Her head rolled from side to side, mouth open, eyes closed. Her flesh began to shimmer with a light sheen of sweat.

Then . . . eventually . . . it began to fade. The waves of ecstasy slowly ebbing.

Her muscles unwound. Her ass settled back to the chair. Her one hand relaxed, her fingers unclenching against the chair arm. Her others remained buried in her sex, gently rubbing her inner walls. As she half-sat/half-laid there, her eyelids fluttering with the aftershocks quaking through her, her breathing began to calm.

“That was amazing,” a male voice suddenly broke through her trance.

Her eyes shot open, frightened shock surging through her.

Standing a couple feet away, leaning against her desk, was Tom Simmons . . . her visitor . . . the one she’d imagined . . . Somehow, at some point, he’d returned. And he’d seen her . . . he’d stood there watching her . . . watching her masturbate . . . watching her cum.

How had he gotten in? Had she even thought to lock the door? No, she’d had no reason to, she’d hadn’t planned to masturbate. Besides, no one ever came to her office.

“Um–. Uh–,” she stammered as these thoughts raced through her mind.

“You are absolutely beautiful,” he praised.

Suddenly all her concerns and all her questions were shoved aside as she recognized the lustful expression he wore. Her gaze fell to his crotch where the bulge of the pulsing, growing cock she’d imagined was now a reality. Her fires had started to dwindle, but the sight of this fanned them anew and she unconsciously licked her lips Escort Bursa while continuing to roll her fingers in her pussy.

“But I don’t think your fingers really did the trick,” he said, shrugging out of his jacket. “What do you say we see what else you can handle.”

She half-sat/half-lay in the big, wing chair, her clothing disheveled and her fingers buried in her pussy. Her eyes lingered at his crotch as he set his jacket over the other chairs back then added his tie while undoing a few shirt buttons. Then he stood before her, rolling up his sleeves, his eyes crawling over her body . . . her full breasts . . . her spread legs. Watching his gaze devour her sent a shiver racing along her nerves.

“Absolutely beautiful,” he whispered as he dropped to his knees before her. His hands settled on her thighs, their heat radiating through her nylons.

Their weight made her heart race.

“Please remove your fingers,” he requested, his eyes rising to meet hers.

She whimpered quietly as she pulled her hand away. She brought it up to rest on the leg draped across the chair’s arm.

“Beautiful,” he sighed. His hands . . . warm and heavy . . . massaged her thighs . . . caressed them. Gradually they inched up, slipping past the lace edges of her nylons and onto her exposed flesh.

The direct contact drew another whimper from her. She stared down at him kneeling between her spread legs. Down past her breasts, cradled by the skimpy bra and topped by swollen nipples. Down past where the bottom edges of her blouse remained tucked into her skirt. And down past the piled-up skirt itself.

His eyes admired her sex, exposed by the torn aside panties, for a moment. Then, as his hands slowly inched higher, he lifted his gaze up along the same path as hers until he stared deep into her eyes. Looking past her glasses, he held her gaze as his hands followed the curve of her thighs up to her hips. There his fingers found the slim sides of her panties and gave them a gentle tug. Pulling her leg off the chair’s arm she lifted her ass off the seat in assistance. He drew the panties down off her hips . . . down . . . down onto her thighs . . . down . . . over her nylons . . . down . . . along her legs . . . down to her ankles. Again she assisted him, lifting one foot, then the other, so he could pull the panties off and set them aside. Then she re-draped her leg over the armrest, spreading herself for him.

Now his hands came to rest on her inner thighs. Again their heat radiated through her nylons, hot . . . teasing . . . tantalizing.

She bit at her lip, tropical gusts fanning the flames dancing within her loins.

Her pussy glistened wetly before him, her labia swollen with lust, her slit shiny with her juices, her engorged clit exposed. His hands slid forward, once more crawling past the lace strap to sizzle against her bare flesh. Higher they inched, his fingers lightly drawing tiny circles as they advanced . . . closer . . . closer . . . closer to her.

With each millimeter his touch advanced a new tingle raced through her. When his thumbs reached up to caress the flesh mere centimeters to either side of her sex a jolt of electricity shot along her nerves making her muscles quiver.

“Mmm,” she quietly mewed.

His hands settled there, on the trembling indentions of her inner thighs. His index fingers arched over to delicately tease her engorged clit, his thumbs lightly brushing her swollen labia.

Hot gusts blasted through her loins, fanning her flames higher. Her breathing grew shallow. Her eyelids grew heavy.

Slowly he leaned forward, bringing his mouth closer . . . his lips . . . closer . . . his tongue . . . closer. His breath swirled over her sex, caressed a thousand-tingling nerve-endings. He drew closer . . . closer. His thumbs pulled her labia back, spreading them open. He kissed her, his moist lips pressing between her pussy lips and against her slit. His tongue flickered out . . . licking her wet slit . . . caressing it.

“Oh,” she inhaled, her head lulling back, eyes closing.

Again and again he licked her, his tongue slithering through her slit, exploring every millimeter. Reaching the top, it sought out her clit to lick and suckle. Sliding back down it found her opening, the tip massaging her parted walls. Up and down he licked, his tongue’s pressure gradually increasing as it traveled . . . up . . . down . . . licking . . . licking . . . licking.

“Oh God. Oh God,” she panted. Her fires burned inside her . . . raging . . . searing. Every contact with her swollen clit sent electricity crackling along her nerves, made her muscles tremble and quake.

After a few minutes, he moved one hand up to pinch the flesh surrounding her clit between finger and thumb. Then he gently pulled. Settling his mouth just below this point he rolled his tongue in her slit.

“Oh yes,” she gasped.

His other hand moved to rub the edges of her opening with a pair of fingertips. After a long . . . long moment the fingers entered her . . . pushing past her walls they penetrated her.

“Oh God yes. Yes.” Her body simmered and ached with lust. She brought her hands up to her full breasts, cupping them, her fingers clenching . . . squeezing.

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