Blind Date at the Bookstore

The text arrived as she was pulling out of the school parking lot, a jarring interruption to her pre-PTA coffee run. “Book store. Ten minutes.” No explanation, just a stark command. She’d initially considered a quick text back, a dismissive wave of the hand, or even a call, but a strange, unsettling calm had settled over her, a silent agreement to the unknown. She shifted the blinker to the left, abandoning her original intention of Starbucks and heading towards the old brick-walled, wood-floored bookstore where they’d shared their first, furtive encounter.

The twelve blocks seemed to stretch endlessly, each turn amplifying the nervous flutter in her stomach. The memory of him, the raw intensity of their initial meeting, returned with a visceral force, mingling with the growing dampness between her legs. As she pulled up in front of the store, the familiar Volvo felt strangely inadequate, a pale imitation of the primal urge building within her. She instinctively checked the backseat, a habit ingrained from years of motherhood, hoping against hope that she hadn't brought along an unwanted passenger. The jangle of the bell hanging on the handle of the glass door was a sharp, insistent sound, announcing her arrival.

Behind the counter, Mr. Henderson, the store’s ancient proprietor, remained motionless, lost in the meticulous task of counting the day’s earnings. Decades of solitude had clearly dulled his senses, leaving him oblivious to the clandestine drama unfolding behind him. She bypassed him, drawn immediately to the back corner dedicated to historical fiction, a quiet corner filled with the musty scent of aged paper and forgotten stories. Her mind raced, grappling with the uncharacteristic absence of her husband, a jarring deviation from their usual routine. The squeak of her running shoes on the polished pine floorboards echoed in the stillness as she made her way to the end of the row, her breath catching in her throat.

And then, he was there. A sudden, breathtaking apparition, a silhouette against the shadows. There was no time for words, no opportunity to articulate the confusion and burgeoning desire that surged through her. He moved with a predatory grace, closing the distance between them in a single, swift motion. He grabbed her, pulling her forcefully against the back wall, the rough brick a stark contrast to her silk blouse. His hands, calloused and strong, ascended the front of her sweater, stopping just above her bra. The scent of his cologne, a potent blend of sandalwood and leather, filled her senses, igniting a slow, burning fire within her. Then, with a deft movement, he fumbled with the clip holding her bra together, releasing her breasts. They swung free, heavy and yielding, a silent invitation to explore the boundaries of pleasure.

He took one of her stiff, pink nipples in his mouth, sucking it with a slow, deliberate rhythm. It was a primal act, a raw expression of dominance and submission. For a fleeting moment, she strained her ears, listening for any sign of intrusion, any indication that she wasn't alone. But there was only the quiet hum of the store and the insistent throb of her own pulse. She reached down, her fingers finding the clasp, and released it, allowing her breasts to hang loosely at her sides. Immediately, he took the second nipple, pulling it free and devouring it with the same intense focus. A low moan escaped her lips, a release of tension and anticipation.

As he straightened, his body filling the small space, she instinctively moved closer, her hands reaching up the back of his corduroy sport coat. Her fingers clawed at the fabric, seeking purchase on his skin. They found it easily, the soft material yielding beneath her touch. She pulled down, exposing a glimpse of his Oxford shirt, revealing a chest covered in a fine layer of stubble. Reaching further, she slid her fingers beneath the waistband of her sweatpants, feeling the cool relief of the cotton against her skin. The scent of arousal intensified, mingling with the scent of old books and dust. She paused, listening again, scanning the store for any sign of an eavesdropper, but the elderly man behind the counter remained oblivious, lost in his world of forgotten narratives. The dampness between her legs intensified, a testament to the escalating heat.

Her husband, sensing her urgency, followed suit, sliding his hand across her belly, his fingers tracing the curve of her stomach. Then, he reached down and slid his hand under the waistband of her sweatpants, discovering the soft, vulnerable flesh of her pussy. She shivered, a delicious tremor that spread through her entire body. She listened intently, straining to hear any indication that she was being watched, but the silence was absolute. He continued his exploration, his middle finger sliding up and down the slit of her pussy, coated in the glistening evidence of her arousal. The touch was electrifying, igniting a firestorm of pleasure that threatened to consume her.

As he straightened before her, she found herself reaching for her own release. She grabbed a handful of the hair on the back of his head and pulled him closer, drawing him in as tightly as she could manage, desperate to find the edge of ecstasy. He resisted for a moment, but her grip was relentless, her desire overpowering his hesitation. He finally relented, releasing her ponytail just long enough to look directly into her eyes, a flicker of something akin to understanding passing across his face. Then, he bent back down, resuming his assault on her senses.

When he straightened once more, she seized the opportunity, pulling her hands up the back of his corduroy sport coat, her fingers digging into his flesh through the fabric of his shirt. He responded with a touch of his own, sliding his hand over the flesh of her belly, finding the soft curve of her hip. The touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a fresh wave of heat. She paused, listening intently, searching for any sign of an intruder, but the store remained silent, a sanctuary of illicit pleasure.

Driven by a sudden surge of abandon, she abandoned all pretense and threw caution to the wind. With one hand, she ripped open his belt buckle and fumbled with the zipper on his Levi’s jeans, freeing his cock. The sight of it, swollen and thick with anticipation, was both exhilarating and terrifying. She instinctively reached out, licking off the salty pre-cum clinging to the head, savoring the taste of forbidden desire. As she knelt before him, her movements were fluid and confident, her body a symphony of pleasure and anticipation. She slid her fingers into her sweatpants, finding the entrance to her pussy, and then, with a final, decisive movement, she drew him inside.

Her husband, lost in the heat of the moment, followed her lead, inserting his tool with a slow, deliberate rhythm. His movements were precise and confident, a testament to his experience and skill. As he thrust deeper, she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her clitoris, followed by a wave of intense pleasure. She moaned, arching her back, her body convulsing with the effort of reaching the brink.

As he stood erect in front of her, she felt the pull of the moment, the overwhelming urge to surrender to her senses. She pushed against him, her hips thrusting against his, while he continued his assault, escalating the pleasure with each thrust. The elderly man behind the counter remained blissfully unaware, his world of books and silence a perfect backdrop for their illicit encounter. The scent of her soaked crotch hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to their shared transgression.

She was grinding on his fingers, desperate to reach the peak of her pleasure, but found herself struggling to maintain control, the danger intoxicating and distracting. The elderly gent behind the counter needn’t have made his way to the back store to detect their illicit activity. Unless his sense of smell was as deficient as his hearing, the scent of her soaked crotch would have given them away.

Throwing caution to the wind and her ball cap to the floor, she reached down and, with one hand, undid his belt buckle and the zipper on his Levi’s. She reached in to free the cock she wanted inside her. It was already swollen and thick, and pulling the skin back on his tool revealed a coating of pre-cum on the head that she instinctively bent down to lick off. Once on her knees, she wasn’t satisfied with just the salty pre-cum; she slid the full length of it inside her mouth as far as she could take it, her hand grasping and stroking the part that couldn’t fit in her mouth.

And, just like that, they had crossed the line where getting caught mattered. Usually, when she sucked his cock, he let her use her ample talents however she wanted and just enjoyed the results. This time, however, as he stood in front of his wife on her knees, he grabbed her ponytail from behind and guided her head back and forth, slowly fucking her mouth to maximize his pleasure. He looked down just long enough to wish he could reach his phone to save the image; he knew he was close. But watching her slide her fingers into her sweatpants and find her clit was what finally put him over the edge.

As her husband fucked her face and she rubbed her pussy, she heard a grunt fall from his lips and felt his balls draw up. She thought she could almost feel the journey of his load as it made its way through his spasming cock, and it brought her to her own orgasm. The first shot of his climax into the back of her throat was thick and hot. He released her ponytail and backed his dick out just far enough for the remainder of his milky manhood to coat her tongue and inner cheeks. Then, grabbing the base of his dick, she emptied whatever remained on her bottom lip and kissed the head as it slid out.

The bell jangled on the front door, indicating another customer had come in. She stood up, and they drew together, pulling their pants up so that if anyone were to see, they would look like a couple simply embracing. They kissed, and the cum coating her tongue soon coated his, like the icing on a sinfully delicious shared dessert.

“I gave my 8:00 class a “walk.” I have to be back for the 9:00, or Administration will get suspicious. You leave first. Once I hear the bell on the door ring, I’ll be right behind you,” he said. As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm, spun her back around, and licked off the small splotch of icing that remained on her chin.

He made it back in time for his nine o’clock, but she was late for the PTA Meeting. They both were distracted throughout the day and struggled to focus, counting the minutes till the kids were in bed.

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