Le Bibliothécaire

The library was becoming less busy. The only people we ever got were the old, bookish professors doing research. Young kids didn't read anymore and I was sure they never would -- at least not until video games become extinct.

My nose was buried in a Zane novel, and I was enjoying the scene so well I didn't notice him come in and stop in front of my desk.

He coughed discreetly and I looked up sharply, a little annoyed at being interrupted, scared perhaps that it was my boss and he had caught me reading Zane. My feelings of animosity melted away when our eyes met.

'Hi,' he said shyly.

'Hello,' I nudged my glasses up a bit. 'I'm Marsha O'Donnell. How may I help you?'

'Um...' he scratched at the stubble under his chin. 'I'm looking for a book called Riders of the Purple Sage.'

'Riders of the Purple Sage,' I repeated mechanically, checking out his features. He couldn't have been more than 24, all of 6ft 3, and the boyish grin had a certain charm to it. Final verdict -- gorgeous.

'It's by a writer called Zane,' he continued. 'I've spent two hours looking for a Z-section.'

'There's no Z-section in the Library of Congress cataloging system,' I informed him as I put the keywords into my computer. 'There you are, Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey.'

I scribbled the call number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

'How do I find it?' he asked, still looking confused. That was when I noticed the accent.

'Mr...' I prompted.

'Professor Cohan,' he corrected.

'I'm sorry,' I gushed. 'You look too young to be one... I mean, I've never met one this young. I'd never have guessed...'

'That's okay,' he reassured me gently. 'I'm sure you were wondering why a professor couldn't find his way in a library. You Americans don't exactly use the same cataloging systems as the British.'

'You're British?'

'Irish,' he replied. 'If you're not married, I'd say you've got some Irish blood on your father's side...'

My face tightened when he mentioned my father and his voice trailed off.

'Here,' I interrupted him, snatching the paper from him. 'Let's go find your book.'

Together we headed for the P shelves. The P shelves are almost always the largest section of every library (if you leave out the newspapers and journals) as they contain Language and Literature.

We spent a while looking for the catalog number probably because I wanted to spend some time with him. I finally 'located' the book.

I never realized how close he was to me until I bent to pick the book. My ass brushed against something hard. I heard him suck in his breath. For a moment we didn't move or speak. I swiped my ass against his crotch again, and he let out a low groan.

Suddenly, the pressure against my bum was gone. Before I could turn around to find out why, I felt the cool air from the air conditioner fan my thighs as he flipped my skirt over my back.

He rolled my panties down and began to plant soft, feathery kisses all over my ass. I felt my cheeks being spread. The cold air hit my sweaty asshole and I cried out as his tongue plunged into my honeywell.

Riders of the Purple Sage tumbled to the floor. I moved my hands behind me to help hi spread the lobes of my buttocks, moaning as his playful tongue flicked in and out of my cunt.

I shut my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy his pleasuring. His tongue moved up, hesitated, then moved up again.

'No,' I whispered as his tongue lapped at my rosebud. 'No!'

He kept at it and my pleas gradually weakened until I fell silent, listening to the slurping sounds as his tongue swabbed my anus, enjoying the incredibly nasty feeling that came with doing something so naughty. For a moment, his tongue left me, and then his finger jabbed in sending a massive shock wave through me. I grabbed the shelf for support as my orgasm hit, biting on my lower lip to stifle a cry as the waves of pleasure washed over me.

I straightened up and when I turned around, he already had his trousers down and his cock sticking out of his shirt tails. His dick was average, but the balls were something else -- huge and covered with hair. I got down on my knees and stroked his cock slowly, licking on the underside before taking him into my mouth.

His nuts wouldn't fit in my small hand so I contented myself with rubbing them gently. After a minute he held my head away from him, stopping me in mid stroke. He pulled his cock out slowly and I could tell he had been about to come.

'Condom?' he asked, then realized how silly the question was.

Before I could say Jack Robinson he had me bent over touching my toes as he slammed me for all his worth. My glasses kept dropping to the end of my nose and I kept nudging them up. I took them off and was about to drop them on the shelf when he stopped me.

'Leave them on,' he said.

I put them back on and he turned me around, entering me from the front.

'Someone's coming,' he whispered in my ear.

A thrill shot through me and I held on tight to him. Within seconds he had me coming and then quickly pulled out.

'Get dressed,' he whispered urgently, stopping to pick his trousers. I saw his cock jerk once, twice, shooting his come all over the floor and the books on the bottom row as he worked his trousers up his legs.

The footsteps were closer now. I quickly yanked up my panties and let my skirt fall in place, then picked up Riders of the Purple Sage and handed it to him.

'Thank you Marsha,' he said, giving my bum a squeeze and then he was gone. I never saw him again.

Kenyan Beauty

Thanks to everyone for reading, and waiting. I've had a few problems I had to deal with in the last few weeks and they apparently dampened my imagination. I'm back and I hope you'll continue to read the stories that can only be found here at Carpe Nostrum.

"Do you want to come up?" I asked.

Chanya hesitated, chewing on her fleshy lowerlip. I leaned on the door frame, smiling down at her, waiting for her to make a decision.

"The party's not until ten," I urged. "And I'm doing some cooking."

"Kamau?" she asked.

If her brother found out there was going to be hell. Kamau was my best friend and the biggest playboy in town. Surprisingly, when it came to his sister he was very protective.

"Kamau is my friend," I replied. "It's not as if we're going to do anything -- he knows I won't take advantage of you. We'll eat and watch a movie or two until it's time for the party."

My excuse sounded lame to me but it must have worked. She flashed me a smile and came up the stairs. I busied her with a drink and one of the chicklit novels my ex-girlfriend had left behind, then walked into the kitchen.

It was hot and the air conditioning was faulty. I made a mental note to notify my landlady when she came for the rent. I took off my shirt and was chopping some carrots while the meat boiled when she walked in. She moved silently, the smell of her perfume getting stronger as she approached me. I kept working, pretending to be oblivious to her presence.

She squeezed my shoulders from behind and I gave them a convincing jerk, then relaxed.

"Smells good," she said. "Most men I know can't cook -- even Kamau."

"Well, I was the only boy in the family. I spent all my time in the kitchen with my sisters and..." her cool, slender fingers had moved around me. She stroked my chest, then moved down to rub my six-pack.

"Go on," she leaned on me. I could feel her hard nipples through her blouse as she rubbed her breasts on my back.

"I was petted by my sisters, as the youngest in the family," I resumed, conscious of my jeans tightening at the crotch as I got aroused. Being in the kitchen, munching on bits and pieces of what was being cooked, I naturally learned how to cook. Anyway... ah!" she had unbuttoned the top of my jeans and unzipped it, taking out my semi-hard cock.

"Is something wrong?" she asked sweetly.

"Of course not," I tried unsuccessfully to match her tone. She picked a jar of mayonnaise off the shelf directly over my head. I focused on carefully cutting the carrots, trying not to cut myself as she coated my fully erect cock and began to stroke up and down my shaft.

"Careful," I warned. "You don't want me cumming all over the carrots."

She stood on tiptoe and bit my ear. I yelped when she stretched my earlobe with her teeth. She released it.

"Shut up," she said, continuing to jerk me off. I dropped the knife in the sink and lifted my hands above my head, giving her room. I moved my hips to her tempo, fucking her hand.

She reached between my legs with her free hand and cupped my balls. There was a familiar tingling sensation at the base of my cock and before I could warn her I shot my seed all over the sink and the carrots. She released me and came round to survey her handiwork.

"You naughty girl," I admonished lightly. I cupped the swell of her soft but firm ass. She wiggled her hips, rubbing her ass against my hand. "Now we can't eat the carrots."

Chanya calmly picked one of the cum-covered carrots and munched on it.

"Well?" she asked, turning to me, arms akimbo.

I tilted her face upward and we kissed. Placing my hands on her bum, I pulled her closer.

The feel of her soft breasts rubbing against my chest brought my flaccid penis to life. With a will o fits own, it swung upward until it was poking against her.

I pulled way and stepped out of my encumbering jeans. I pulled her to me again and began to take off her clothes, starting with her blouse. The bra she was wearing had holes through which her puffy, dark nipples poked. Little wonder I could feel them.

I unhooked the clasps of her bra and dumped it unceremoniously on the kitchen floor. I held both tits reverently, palming her nipples. When I took a nipple in my mouth, she let out an almost imperceptible sigh. I flicked my tongue around the hard bud, getting almost pleasure from pleasuring her as she got from being pleasured.

I knelt down on the floor and kissed her abdomen. I sucked briefly on her belly button and she giggled feverishly, trying half-heartedly to push my head away, yet enjoying the tickling sensation. As I played with her, I unzipped her skirt and let it fall in a puddle at her feet. I left off playing with her navel and leaned back as I tugged her panties down to reveal her landing strip.

There was a lot of moisture around her slit and her thighs were wet. She parted her legs automatically and I lapped at her entrance, seeking her clit with my tongue. When I found it, she came, as if on cue, her fluid pouring out like a deluge, hitting my tongue, chin and the floor. I held her bottom to steady her until the convulsions ceased.

When I rose to my feet her eyes were closed. I kissed her gently and she opened them.

"That was fantastic," she murmured. Her eyes opened wide and she let out a gasp when I drove my cock into her. I lifted her off the ground and moved her up and down my cock, while she had her hands around her neck and clung to me for dear life. I slammed her hard enjoying the wobble of her breasts on my chest and the way her breath got knocked out with each thrust.

I could tell she was on the brink of orgasm when her cunt tightened around me. She held me tighter as her juices gushed onto my cock. With a low growl, I came, covering her sugar walls with my spunk.

We spent a while catching our breaths, then we were at it again, fucking in every possible position. After what must have been her hundredth orgasm and my fifth, we slumped on the floor.

I looked up at the clock.

"We're never going to make it," I said tiredly.

"We can always..." she reached for my sore cock.

"The rice's burning," I pushed her hand away.

"Who cares?" she asked. She grabbed at me again...