Jessi Bond

Sex by the Book

It had been a long, slow day in the library. Ellie had spent the last two hours with her feet propped up on the desk, paging through a book she’d read a thousand times and sipping a rapidly-melting iced coffee. The dusty, puttering little fan was doing little more than circulating hot air and everyone who wasn’t obligated to be in the library was wisely opting for swimming, or at least some place with an air conditioner.

Ellie had been lobbying the town for better climate control for years now — for the sake of the books! — but they never seemed to find the money. So she suffered and sweated through the whole summer, sucking down popsicles and licking on ice cream cones just to survive. And this one was even worse than the year before. Every week seemed to set a new record high. Ellie had long ago sacrificed any semblance of professionalism, coming to work dressed in cutoff shorts and a spaghetti-strap top, not even caring how much of her milky pale skin was showing.

When she heard the bell on the door jingle, she almost jumped out of said skin. She threw down the book and put her feet back on the floor, pushing some stray locks of hair behind her ears and putting on a presentable smile.

Of course the visitor would be the sexiest man she had ever seen in her life.

Of course.

He sauntered in, dressed in khaki slacks and a light blue collared tee-shirt, looking criminally comfortable in the oppressive heat. He was tall and lightly tanned, smiling as he pulled off his sunglasses, revealing a set of piercing gray eyes.

“Good afternoon,” he said. “Hot day, isn’t it?”

If he were anyone else, she would have been fighting the urge to say something snarky about stating the obvious. But instead she found herself swallowing hard and struggling to find words.

“Sure is,” she said, finally, at a loss for anything cleverer. “Can I help you find something?”

“I’m actually hoping to have a look at your local newspaper archives,” he said. “Everything from the Daily Post between January and October of ’89. If you would?”

“Of course,” she said, getting to her feet and leading him over to the neglected microfilm machine in the corner. “Sorry it’s a little dusty, nobody really uses it much anymore.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be my first choice,” said the visitor. “But until they get their archives digitized, this will have to do.”

“Actually,” said Ellie before she could stop herself, “I sort of like the ritual of the microfilm. It makes it seem more interesting. Almost like you’re uncovering forgotten secrets. These days, you don’t really get the chance to do that very often.”

The visitor grinned. “Quite the romantic, aren’t you?”

To her horror, she felt herself blushing. “I don’t know. I guess. Let me get those reels for you.” He nodded, taking a seat at the microfilm machine and switching it on.

She spent longer than was strictly necessary bent over the drawers, searching for the dates that he’d requested. At first she was just trying to conceal her ever-reddening face, but she soon realized this particular pose could only be to her advantage. She bent further, feeling her cutoffs ride dangerously high, very nearly revealing the cheeks of her ass. “Sorry,” she said, wiggling a little just for dramatic effect. “I’m just having a little trouble reading the print on these things.”

She could practically feel his eyes on her. After a few moments, she heard him push the chair back and stand up, coming towards her. She froze.

“Let me help you,” he said, very quietly. He was so close she could almost feel the heat of his body, which ought to have been unbearable on a day like this. But for some reason, it sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine.

He leaned over her, almost-but-not-quite touching, and she could feel his hot breaths on the back of her neck. Even as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of her face, there was a tingle developing between her legs. She squirmed again. The seam of her jean shorts rubbed hard against her clit, and she had to stifle a gasp at the sensation. Her pussy swelled and throbbed.

He took a step forward, pressing his body against hers. A hard bulge nudged at her ass, growing harder as she pushed back against him, standing up slowly. His hand came to rest on her waist, sliding down the front of her jean shorts, while his other hand cupped one of her tits and gently worked the nipple between two fingers.

He played with the tab of her zipper. She sensed he was waiting for something, so she leaned back into him, whispering: yes.

And that was all the encouragement he needed, unzipping her shorts and pushing them down so he could slide his fingers into her panties and between the wet lips of her pussy. He rubbed against her clit, dipping his fingers inside her. She whimpered and laid her hand on top of his, pulling it away. He stepped back.

“Just let me lock the door,” she murmured, quickly re-fastening her shorts and running to flip the deadbolt. When she came back, he was stripping off his shirt, smiling as if he felt like the luckiest man in the world.

“I don’t usually do this,” she said, going up to him and laying her hands on his hips. “I swear.”

“Me neither,” he replied, ducking down to kiss her. His tongue slid into her mouth nimbly, and she felt a rush of wetness flood her panties. She reached down and unzipped his slacks, pulling out his hard cock and stroking him slowly. He made a little noise into her mouth and kissed her deeper.

When he broke away, she sunk down to her knees, putting herself at eye level with his cock. It was long and thick, precum beading at the tip, tempting her. She gave in, licking at the head. He shuddered and grabbed her hair by the roots.

She opened her mouth wide, swallowing him down, taking as much of his cock as she could fit and closing her hand around the rest. He rocked forward, thrusting shallowly into her throat. Her eyes watered. But she didn’t pull away, just kept on trying to swallow him deeper, loving the look on his face as he lost control.

But just when his breathing started to get erratic, he pulled her away. He stood there for a moment, still holding onto her head, his dick rock-hard and glistening. Then, he released her and let her stand.

She went to her desk on unsteady legs and jerked one of the drawers open, rummaging around inside for the strip of condoms that she knew was there. She thrust them at him silently, and he smiled.

“Thought you said you never did this.”

“I don’t,” she replied, pulling her shorts down and leaning over the front of the desk. “Now fuck me.”

There was a rustling noise, and then she felt his hand resting on her back, gently pushing her down. Her ass rose up automatically as her tits flattened against the hard wood of the desk. He made an approving noise, and then she felt the hard, blunt head of his cock pressing against her pussy. She pushed back eagerly.

He slid in, long and smooth, filling her up completely. She moaned softly in time with his thrusts at he picked up the pace, one hand still on her back, and the other reaching down to stroke her clit.

She cried out in earnest then, hips jerking as he fucked her with his cock and his hand. Pleasure swirled inside her until she couldn’t stand it anymore, coming harder than she’d ever come before in her life, clenching down so hard on his cock that he groaned out loud. But he fucked her through it, not faltering even for a second, until he lost control and came inside her with a few sloppy thrusts.

He stilled and waited for a moment, then pulled out abruptly, walking over to the trash can. She stayed where she was. She felt fucked-out and empty, exhausted. She struggled to her feet and re-arranged herself, only to turn around and see him already dressed and halfway out the door.

He stopped, turned halfway, and said “thank you, I… thank you.” He turned back to the door, hesitated for a moment, and then hurried away.

That night, Ellie felt a burning need to blow off some steam. She wasn’t upset, really; when having sex with a random stranger, one always had to entertain the possibility that they might have an attack of conscience afterwards and leave abruptly. She hadn’t exactly been expecting him to stay and cuddle. But she felt discontented and restless all the same, itching to get out and do something.

The newest bar in town was having a half-price drink special, so she headed out after a quick shower. It was still stiflingly hot, so she’d slipped on a short, breezy dress that dipped down low in the front. She quietly enjoyed the furtive glances of the men — and some of the women — as she swayed down the sidewalk.

The bar was dark and cool, full of dim lights and pulsing music. She settled at the bar and ordered a cocktail, which she sipped slowly through the straw as she scanned the room. Looking over the sea of faces, her mind wandered to the events of the afternoon, taking her back to the hot room, the microfilm cabinets, the feeling of the stranger’s body pressed up against her own. It was vivid, so vivid that her body started to respond in spite of her. She licked her lips and tried to ignore the growing sensation between her legs, the slight tingle in her pussy.

And then, she saw him.

He was standing alone in the corner, nursing a drink and staring out at the crowd, just like her. When she saw his eyes travel in her direction, she turned away quickly, hiding her face.

She hovered over the bar, eyes on the polished marble, wondering if he saw her, if he recognized her, if he was coming towards her right now.

“Good evening.”

She braced herself, and turned.

He was smiling, like before, but a little bit sheepishly, not quite looking her in the eye. She raised her drink in a silent greeting and looked at him appraisingly.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking like he meant it. She shrugged.

“For what?”

“You know very well.” He leaned on the bar and gestured for a refill. “Forgive me?”

“Sure,” she said. “Sure, why not?”

He took a seat next to her, and he was silent for a while, throwing her little glances now and then, still smiling. Now that she was looking at him for real, at his face, the expanse of his shoulders, the vague tingle in her pussy turned into a full-on throb. He was dressed the same as earlier, looking every bit as sharp. She took a deep breath.

“You want to get out of here?”

He looked stunned. He just stared at her for a moment, as if he thought she might be joking, but she stood and reached for his hand, leading him around the side of the room to the exit.

Outside, the heat was beginning to lift. The alley was silent and deserted. She pulled him close and slid her hands under his shirt, feeling his firm skin and taut muscles. He sighed and relaxed into her embrace.

“If I were you, I would hate me,” he murmured.

“Well, you’re lucky you’re not,” she replied, pushing him up against the wall. His hands travelled over her dress, over her bare shoulders, and he was looking at her hungrily, like something he’d had a little taste of and wanted so much more.

“This isn’t a good idea,” he said absently, his fingers sliding under the neckline of her dress to caress her nipple.

“Why not?” She pushed up against him, hooking one leg around his, grinding her aching pussy against his half-hard cock.

“I’m only here on business,” he said. “I’ll be gone soon.”

“So?” She grabbed his other hand and guided it to her desperate cunt. When he finally touched her, her knees buckled. He grabbed her by her arm and held her upright.

“So,” he said. “So this is only for tonight.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered, bucking into his hand.

“Well, in that case,” he said, grabbing her by the hips and whirling her around so that their places were reversed; her back against the wall, the bricks digging into her spine, ruining her dress. He knelt down on the pavement and pushed her dress up around her waist.

“Let me at least even the score,” he said, and she nodded, dazed, as he leaned forward and ran his tongue firmly between the lips of her pussy. She moaned and clutched at the uneven masonry behind her. He went to it in earnest then, long slow licks, his tongue rubbing her clit with each stroke. The pressure built amazingly fast, tendrils of pleasure running through every nerve in her body, and before she knew what was happening she was panting and sagging towards the ground, unable to hold herself up anymore. Only his hands on her thighs kept her upright as he increased his pace and she lost herself in it, coming so hard and she yelled herself hoarse, just hoping that nobody was listening.

He stood and let her go, and she began sinking to the ground. He grabbed her hands and let her down gently. His cock was rock-hard under his slacks and she watched dazedly as he fumbled it out, beginning to stroke it impulsively, standing over her, the expression on his face somehow asking for permission even as his body just took what it wanted.

“Yeah,” she whispered, pushing her dress down on her torso, letting her tits free. “Do it. Ruin me.”

The words transformed him. All hints of hesitancy were erased from his expression, as he snarled, “fuck, yeah” and jerked himself faster, leaning over her, one hand bracing himself on the wall. She was too drained to do anything but enjoy the view. She saw the exact moment when it happened, when his face went blank and he lost his rhythm, and then it was coming, hot spurts of jizz on her neck, on her chest, on the fabric of her favorite summer dress. She let her head fall back against the bricks as he collapsed on his knees in front of her.

She felt deliciously wrecked.

“I’m still not seeing how this is a bad idea,” she said breathlessly. He lifted his head, looked at her, and laughed.

“No regrets, then?” he said, tucking his softening dick back into his slacks. “Not even now?”

“Especially not now,” she said, digging a napkin out of her purse. “You said you were in town on business, what do you do?”

“Exports,” he said, looking at the ground.

“Oh yeah? What kinds of exports?” Some part of her brain was vaguely aware of the absurdity of making small talk with the man while she wiped his semen off of her skin, but he was being so cagey about it that she couldn’t help herself.

“All kinds,” he said, fixing her with a stare that said stop asking questions.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m just sort of…curious? I don’t even know your name.”

“Would you feel better if you did?”

“Feel better? No. I feel pretty damn great already. But I’d be curious why you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Someone could have all sorts of legitimate reasons for not giving a name,” he said. “I don’t know your name either.”

“Do you want to?”

“I wouldn’t object to it.”

“My name’s Ellie.” She reached up for him, and he took her hand and pulled her to her feet.

“You can call me John,” he said.

“All right, John.”

“If I’m ever in town again, I’ll…look you up.”

“There are a lot of Ellies in this town, I bet.”

“But how many of them work at the library?”

“I might not be there forever.”

“Well, then I suppose I’ll have to work at it.” He grinned. “But I’ll find you.”

“You sound very confident.”

“Good,” he said.

He walked her over to the main street. She raised her arm to hail a cab.

“Good night, John,” she said. “Good luck with your exports.”

“Good luck with your books,” he said, smiling cheekily.

A cab pulled up and she climbed in, giving him a little wave as he stood there. Just before the driver turned at the end of the street, she craned her head around and saw John still standing there, still watching her. She wondered what his real business was, and if she’d ever see him again.

No matter what, she’d never forget how he’d made her feel.

Content

Jessi Bond
Sex by the Book