Bookstore Seduction

An Adult Short Story by Robert W. Birch

        It was Thursday of last week, I think. My mind has been a blur since it happened, like the excitement cause something in my brain to short circuit, starting specifically in the pleasure centers of my brain and spreading out from there. But maybe I should start at the beginning.
        I had made one of my frequent visits to the bookstore, where half of my motivation is to get some of their gourmet coffee and a large oatmeal raisin cookie, while the other half is to check out the college chicks that hang out there to read the women’s magazines without buying them. From the table where I sit, I can see them sink back into the soft sofa, often three gals at the same time. In the summertime they wear those short skirts, and on a good day I will drink two cups of coffee and see three shades of panty.
        I guess it was on Thursday that I stopped in, bought my cookie and coffee, and headed for my usual table – the best vantage point to view the couch. On this day, however, an elderly couple had laid claim to the table, where they sat nursing their coffee and leisurely looking through travel magazines. It looked as though they would be there for a while. Reluctantly, I moved to another table that faced a large overstuffed chair. It was empty, but I was optimistic that one of the coeds at the coffee counter would come over and sit there.
        Did I tell you that I am eighteen, starting this summer session as an incoming freshman? I should also tell you that . . . well, that I am still a virgin, although not by choice. Oh, I’ve gotten pretty close to getting laid . . . was naked with a girl on my senior prom night, but even though she would have screwed me, she was having her period. What a bummer! My nuts ached all night, but I figured that in college, it would be easy. I had been here for three weeks and all I had in my college sexual history was the view of a variety of panties in this fucking bookstore.
        Anyway, back to the story. I was watching a tall blonde buying a coffee lette . . . her skirt was almost up to the cheeks of her ass. From nowhere an older woman appeared, carrying a couple magazines, and she plopped down in that chair. She looked up, our eyes met, and she smiled before settling back and opening up a home decorating magazine. I noticed that the loose neck of her blouse was low cut,  and as she leaned forward to retrieve something from the purse she had laid on the floor, I could see that she was braless. The glimpse of her full breasts was brief, but sufficient to bring me to a fully erected state.   
        I assumed it was accidental and she had not realized what she had exposed, but sitting in that chair, she could see directly under the table where I sat, and, I must admit, I had reflexively brushed my fingers over the swelling in the front of my jeans. I was sure she looked, her eyes then coming up to meet mine, and once again she smiled and turned back to her magazine. I assumed that she was absorbed in reading about redecorating a kitchen or some such project. But then she swung a leg up over the arm of the chair, and I just about came in my pants.
        This woman wore no panties, and with one leg over the arm, she was giving me a full view of her pussy. I swear it looked wet. I was the only one in a position to have that shot, and I knew it was meant exclusively for me. I stroked my hard cock and the woman watched. She was no longer interested in redecorating.
        My mind raced. I wondered how I would approach her. What could I say. “Nice pussy,” did not seem appropriate, even thought that was what was going through my head. I was immobilized, but felt no embarrassment in fixing my eyes on her open crotch. I had never eaten a woman, but I wanted to eat this one. I had never fucked a woman, but I wanted to fuck this one. I had no idea how to make this happen, and my heart sunk when she brought her leg back, straighten her skirt, and bent down, once more exposing her naked breasts, to pick up her purse. I thought for sure she was leaving.
        You can imagine my surprise when she walked to my table, moved the extra chair closer to mine and sat down. I was even more surprised to feel her hand slide up my inner thigh. As her fingers moved up, over and around my rigid cock, she whispered, “Let’s go to my car.” I left my coffee and a half eaten cookie, she left her two home decorating magazines, and we headed for the parking lot.
        Her car was a four-door model. She popped the locks remotely and opened a back door. “Get in,” she demanded. I complied and she slid in behind me. At this point I had not said a word, nor could I, for her lips were suddenly pressing against mine. I felt her tongue inviting mine to come out and play, and as we kissed she unzipped my fly and unbuttoned my jeans. She took a brief break from the kissing to concentrate on getting my hard on untangled and out the opening for my jockey shorts, then retrieving my balls and bring them out also. Her mouth once more pressed against mine as her fingers softly caressed the head of my rigid cock.
        My hand went up under her blouse and found a swollen nipple perched on a full firm breast. She shifted her body and without words, I knew she wanted me to touch her pussy. My hand went up her skirt and her legs parted. I had never touched a pussy before and was amazed at the slippery wetness of this woman’s. I had read of the clitoris, and found hers easily . . . the size of a small pea and quite hard. She moaned softly as I circled her clit with a finger, but I was curious and brought that finger to my lips. I tasted her on the tip of my finger, and she was delicious, She held my hand firmly, taking my entire finger into her mouth . . . tasting herself and as the not so subtle announcement of her intent. Her head dropped to my lap and she took the entire length of my cock into her warm mouth. I forgot about everything around me as her tongue teased its sensitive underside of the head and her fingers caressed my balls. She seemed intent on giving me pleasure and did not appear to mind that I had stopped playing with her. In fact, I fell back against the seat, overwhelmed with sensations I had never experienced . . . never even imagined.. My God, she was good.
        I was about to come, and I think she sensed that. She moved up, straddled me and lowered herself down over me. As her pussy surrounded me, I let out an involuntary moan. She took over the fuck and as I sat there, she rode me . . . slowly moving up and down. She had pulled off her blouse and her nicely rounded breasts were in my face. I took one of her erect  nipples into me mouth and sucked gently. I lasted as long as I could . . . tried every trick I had heard of . . . thought of baseball scores, imagined taking a test without studying, conjured up the image of my mother watching, but still I reached the brink and was almost about to come when she stopped and lifted herself off of my lap.
        I though, this is it. She is going to quit and leave me hanging. However, she moved quicky down and took my pussy juice covered hard on into her mouth. This time she used both her mouth and her hand, somehow finding the timing that moved me rapidly toward my orgasm. I was sure she would stop . . . had heard women do not like for a man to come in their mouths, but as I went over the brink and the first surge of semen gushed out, she sucked harder and with each contraction, each spurt, each cry of pleasure that escaped my throat, she swallowed.
        Even after I had finished, she kept me in her mouth, and now she purred. It was clear that she had found pleasure in giving me pleasure. I asked her what I could do for her, and she told me she would take care of it herself, later, once she got home. I told her I would love to do this again, and she said that she goes to the bookstore often. When she smiled, a trickle of my cum appeared at the corner of her lips. I kissed her and she allowed my tongue to enter her mouth where a hint of my flavor remained. I thanked her as I tucked my limp, satisfied cock back into my pants and zipped up the fly.
        She said that she had seen me in the bookstore before and that I seemed lonely, then added that she wanted to do me a favor. I look forward to our next meeting . . . I owe her. Who needs coffee and an oatmeal raisin cookie when there is such good pussy to be eaten.

© 2004 Robert W. Birch, Ph.D.


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Ten Lecherous Limericks Stories
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