You wanted to show me your favourite place: a crowded second-hand bookstore with narrow aisles. You like to lose yourself in it – in summer it is pleasantly cool and in winter the crooked rooms are heated. My sex story between the books.
I walk for a while, passing shelves of French and English literature, books about India and at some point, when I’m not sure how I would find the cash register and the entrance again, I find you. You’re standing on a ladder and look at yourself the dusty, barely legible spines of the books. When you hear my footsteps on the creaking floor, you turn around briefly before dedicating yourself to the books again.
“Did you find something exciting?”. You shrug. “There’s everything here. A book by de Beauvoir, for example. Someone must have made a joke, look: next to the philosophy shelf there are books on the subject of sex.”
You tilt your head to the side and read the titles under your breath: ” Superposition, One in the Other… ” You take another step up the ladder. “…Ah, or here. There’s also real eroticism here: Anaïs Nin.”
A slight smile appears on your face as you leaf through the book
A slight smile appears on your face as you leaf through the book. “… which lay on top of her and slid up high enough to rub his penis between her breasts, which then slid even further up to her mouth… The book is even illustrated with little drawings, take a look.”
You hold the open book out to me, your gaze has changed, there is now something curious, challenging in it. The open page shows a reclining woman drawn with simple pencil lines. Her legs are slightly spread and her lips are slightly indicated behind her pubic hair.
You keep browsing. ” His finger touched the bud very gently, then it slipped between the pulsating lips…” You read this section particularly slowly, delaying every word. With every breath I get a little closer to you.
Your wish is my command
As I stand in front of you, your eyes get smaller and smaller, you read the last sentence – a command to me: ” He felt the moisture…” and you lift your skirt a little, my head disappears and you feel the warmth between your legs. I start kissing your skin with soft, shy kisses.
I hear a groan of relief, a stifled laughter above me. My lips search for the fabric of your panties and press against them, my tongue runs over them once and wants to find a way, but your hangs stop me and push my head away. “Are you getting enough air down there too?”. You smile sheepishly. I nod and smile back. You cover your mouth with your left hand to stifle a groan, with your right you push my head back between your legs. First gently, then more resolutely, more firmly.
I pull your panties aside with my index finger and thumb, with the other hand I gently feel your moisture. You press my head even more against you and I lick you. Slowly at first, exploring, then more determinedly, responding to your muffled moans.
… read more
I can’t see anything, but I smell you, taste you, my mouth is