Lorraine works at the library, my home away from home. Over time, we’ve learned each other’s names, say hi upon greeting, and sometimes chitchat when things are slow. She’s older than I am and sometimes dresses a bit frumpy, but just when I’ve forgotten about them, she’ll wear a long, clingy t-shirt under a sweater that makes clear how big her boobs are. I love that about her. That and her way with subtle innuendos that keep me guessing whether I’m mistaking something innocent or being enticed toward something far from it.
One slow Saturday afternoon I checked out a book on medieval philosophy and hovered near, chatting a bit as there was no one behind me.
“Did you see that woman with the t-shirt that says, ‘Come over to the dark side—we have cookies’?”
She had. “I didn’t think you were a fan of the dark side,” Lorraine said.
“Anything for cookies,” I said.
“Oh,” she said, disappointed.
“I have a dark side too but I’ve learned not to let it out.”
She studied me for a second. “Maybe that’s a lesson you should un-learn.”
Taken aback a bit, but excited, I said, “How might a nice young man do that?”
“I’ve tutored one or two in my day," she said.
Another patron approached and I moved away but I couldn’t leave the library then. I went back to the computer section, made a reservation, and logged in, found tribe. Within a few minutes, I was looking at naughty pictures a distant, unmet friend had posted.
“Hmmmm.” A matronly voice sounded over my shoulder.
Sheepishly, I closed the browser and turned around. It was Lorraine.
“I can see you do have a taste for the dark side,” she said.
“I—those pictures—they popped up, I…”
She shoved a piece of paper into my hand and walked away. Over her shoulder she said, “Don’t be late.”
I opened the paper, already damp with sweat from my palms. It was an address with “8” written under it.
The intervening hours dragged.
I stood on her doorstep for five minutes before knocking and it was still a quarter till.
She opened the door and smiled. “You’re late,” she said, waving me inside.
She wasn’t wearing a t-shirt now but a sleeveless white blouse that showed two sweet mounds of cleavage. She wore a knee-length skirt and it struck me that I had never seen her in anything but pants in the library.
I stepped inside. “Late? But it’s still not 8!”
She closed the door behind me and turned the deadbolt. “O, you thought ‘8’ referred to time?”
“Of course I—what else could it?”
She laughed and put a hand on my arm. “You’ll see,” she said. “And then some.”
She poured us glasses of red wine and put on some soulful jazz. She pointed toward the couch and said, “Sit, sit.”
We drank in silence, letting the music envelop us. She sat the bottle down upon the carpet.
“You read such obscure books,” she said. “Everyone thinks you’re a dusty scholar but I see something else in you.”
“I do love to read.”
“Of course you do. But sometimes—like today, for example, I saw a look in your eye that wasn’t altogether bookish.”
Then she made a point of looking at me over her glasses.
“Not to mention that *trash* you were looking at on a public computer!”
“I told you, those pictures just popped up!” Such a weak lie. She couldn’t possibly believe that. Why did I think she would? Hell, I didn’t—my head was humming too much to think.
She patted my hand. “Hey, I see some things online that I wouldn’t want everyone to know I ogle, either.”
“O really, like what?”
She finished her glass of wine, picked up the bottle from the carpet and poured herself another. She nodded at me slowly and I took a big gulp of mine, then another sudden small one, finishing it off.
“Good boy,” she said, and refreshed my glass.
A new song started playing, something faster, more insistent.
“What I like to look at isn’t the point right now,” she said. “What is the point is what I saw of your private world.”
I drank wine and wondered what to say.
“If ‘8’ wasn’t telling me what time to come here, what was it telling me?”
The music suddenly stopped. I looked toward the stereo. A man stood there, his thumb on the Power button.
“That would be where I come in,” he said.
He was over six feet tall and ripped, wearing only tight jeans and a leather belt with a big buckle that said, “Cocky.”
I scooted toward Lorraine on the couch. She giggled.
“Don’t be afraid. Think of him as a big dog—lethal if you cross him, but otherwise sweet, just wanting to play.”
The guy at the stereo laughed. “That’s why I’m here, to help clear up your confusion.”
Lorraine looked at me. “I am a gifted tutor. No one who has ever trusted me regretted it.”
She filled my wineglass, which was suddenly empty again.
“Lo and I,” he began, walking toward us. “We go back a long way. I was one of her star pupils years ago.”
“I’ll say,” Lorraine said, blushing a bit despite herself.
“So good she hated to see me leave school, isn’t that right, Lo?”
Lorraine laughed, regaining her composure. “Education is a lifelong pursuit,” she said.
He stepped closer to Lorraine and she nonchalantly reached for his buckle, undid it.
“When I first met him,” she said to me, “he was so unsure of himself. Look what I’ve made of him!”
She unzipped his pants and fished out a big cock.
Suddenly I knew what she meant by ‘8.’
I tried to remember what pictures she had overseen me looking at. What had I walked into here?
She sipped her wine and handed me her glass, then leaned forward to take the head of his cock into her mouth. He moaned softly.
After a few long sucks, she eased him out of her mouth. She looked at me and said, “I know you love my tits.”
I blushed, as “tits” isn’t a word I’d ever used with a librarian.
She took her other free hand lay it along my left cheek, easing me gently toward her mounds.
“Kiss them while I suck his cock.”
I did. They were perfumed and soft. Cleavage entrances me. The vagina never did, which is the reason I never married any of my old girlfriends.
I heard her sucking him, heard him moan, and knew she was taking more and more of him into her mouth. I peeked.
She eased his shaft from her mouth and gave me a stern look. “Did I give you permission to stop kissing my tits?”
“Uh, no. I just…”
“You just nothing,” she said. “When I tell you to kiss my tits while I suck his cock, you keep kissing them until I say stop, you got that?”
O boy, did I. I liked her bossy tone, which wasn’t *really* mean. Just laser focused on the main thing.
I kissed and licked her tits while she sucked his cock. In a few minutes, his thrusts grew insistent and I could hear wet sounds in her throat from taking all of him deep.
She eased him out and picked up the wine bottle, shunning the glass and drinking straight from it. She passed it to him and he did the same. He passed it to me saying only, “Finish it.”
I stole a glance at Lorraine and her look said, do it. I did it.
She looked at Cocky and said, “It’s his first night on the dark side for real. How lucky we are!”
Cocky smiled and stroked his cock. “Your turn,” he said.
Lorraine kissed my cheek and whispered in a soothing voice. “You’re going to suck his big cock while I hug you, that’s what.”
I hesitated without refusing, probably in shock.
She blew softly in my ear and licked it. That made me crazy hard.
“Suck his cock and we’ll see what comes of it.”
I kissed the head clumsily, not really knowing what else to do.
“Watch me,” Lorraine said. She expertly took him into her mouth and moaned divinely.
She eased him out, took his shaft in her hand and guided his head toward my mouth. “Suck that cock, baby. It’ll be so good to you.”
While I got used to his heft and length, she cooed softly in my ear. “That’s it, baby, you’re learning. Like a little bird. It’ll soon be natural. Suck that dick for Lorraine.”
In time, Cocky took the back of my head in his hands and shoved his cock deeper into my mouth.
“I’ve been fucking Lorraine since I was f******n,” he said.
“But not nearly often enough,” she said.
“I’m in great demand,” Cocky said, “as you can imagine.”
By now, my head was humming so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. All I could do was suck.
“Tug my balls, bitch.”
I tugged his balls.
“Mmmm,” Lorraine said. “I love it when he gets rough!”
“He ain’t had rough yet,” Cocky said.
His balls slapped against my chin, warm and salty.
Lorraine kissed my cheek again and said, “You don’t know how lucky you are to have his cock in your mouth! I wish I had it in my mouth and snatch and ass every night.”
“Lo,” Cocky said. “We’ve discussed this.”
“I know, I know,” she said.
She whispered, “When I go too long without him, I wake in the night with an arm up my pussy screaming his name.”
“As you should,” Cocky said.
He pulled out of my mouth so suddenly my upper and lower teeth clashed. I feared they might shatter.
“You do deserve a reward, though,” he said to Lorraine.
She shot back onto the couch and spread her legs. He fell to his knees on the carpet and jerked her toward his crotch by her hips. He stuffed his cock inside her.
He fucked her savagely and she sobbed with delight.
Without warning, she buried her face in my chest and bit through my shirt.
Cocky laughed. “That’ll make a nice souvenir,” he told me.
I laughed nervously, enjoying the show of him pummeling her.
Suddenly he grabbed my head and wrenched me to the floor behind him.
“Lo likes to be watched up close and personal when I’m fucking her.”
“Yes, God yes,” she said.
I was so close, sweat and juices splashed on my face.
“Lick my balls and make me cum in her,” he told me.
It wasn’t a request.
I took the nearest ball into my mouth.
Lorraine screamed uncontrollably and Cocky spewed a hot load into her. So heavy, it started running backward out.
He eased out of her and turned toward me, pointing his cock toward my mouth.
I didn’t have to be told what to do.
“Let me! Let me!” Lorraine whimpered.
“Don’t be greedy,” Cocky said.
I licked him clean. He took my head and guided me toward Lo’s well-fucked snatch.
“I think you missed a spot,” he said. “About eight inches down there.”
I did my best to find it.