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January 15, 1988
Single, middle-aged and bespectacled Angelina Lione may look the part of the prim, proper and sexually repressed, buttoned-up bibliothec, but she’s most definitely NOT your father’s librarian — at least not while in a lover’s company. Blessed with a ravenous and unquenchable sexual appetite, Angelina’s orgasms are so intense that she oftentimes faints during the throes of passion.
While never mistaken for a perfect 10 with her large brown eyes, tucked behind oversized, Diana Prince-style eyeglass lenses, Angelina still cuts quite the desirable figure, with a fetching face always perfectly and tastefully made up, and a sleek and shapely body. Her short, black hair, speckled with gray, was cut in a chic, wedge/pixie-style, puffed and piled on the top and curled forward around the ears. Angelina’s attractive physical traits, however, always paled in comparison to her overwhelming sex appeal. Using her vast store of feminine wiles, Angelina negotiates about her lovers’ hearts, minds and bodies as deftly as she navigates the Dewey Decimal System, manipulating infatuated men for her monetary and personal gain.
High maintenance and even higher fashion, Angelina always models the latest designer threads — oftentimes accentuated by any one of her dozen pairs of high-heeled dress boots. Her sophisticated look even extends to smoking accessories. The haughty diva wouldn’t dream of smoking a cigarette if it wasn’t filtered through her long, black holder. More of a cigarette holder sucker and stroker than a smoker, Angelina seductively works the black shaft with her mouth, tongue and fingers as if it was a penis proxy; the effect that playing with the long, stiff holder has on would-be lovers is like snake charming. Under the sexy siren’s magic spell, they’re entirely at her mercy; powerless to resist the temptation to pleasure her — as if they really would.
Angelina spent her 20s and 30s as a fully-committed member of the sexual revolution of the 1960s and ’70s — bedding dozens upon dozens of men. Only when she reached age 40 did her love life settle down — for her anyway — when the lusty librarian entered into a long term, nearly exclusive, torrid affair with the principal at her school. After the forbidden relationship unceremoniously ended six years later, Angelina found herself alone at a time when her peers had long since settled down into blissful domestic life. A prolonged romantic dry spell followed, until a former student unexpectedly burst into her life.
Twenty-two year old Tom Bailey had been in lust with Angelina since he was a 13-year-old student of hers, drawn in classic fetish fashion to the sexy librarian’s stylish, high-heeled boots, seductive smoking and even her pretentious and snobbish personality. Over the past nine years his feelings — like his fetishes — for the femme fatale only grew stronger, until he could no longer keep them to himself. The pair had just launched an intense, physical relationship when Harry Seymour, Angelina’s old boss and lover, re-entered her life. Unable to decide between the two romantic suitors, Angelina proposed a date-off — or “fuck-off” — as Tom bitterly described the arrangement.
Now, with her love life once again in full bloom, the amorous woman was in sex heaven — reliving her youth, when men practically lined up around the block to date her. Preying on the men’s sexual addiction to her, Angelina gleefully bounced between their beds for nearly a month, until Tom finally prevailed.
The love triangle finally broken, Angelina and Tom were finally free to embark on a committed, loving relationship. But the couple’s path to romantic bliss was lined with a phalanx of challenges — not the least of which was familial. During their first fortnight together, Tom met Angelina’s family — and had been unnerved by her brutish and overprotective brother-in-law.
It was a couple months into their relationship before Tom worked up the nerve to introduce Angelina to his folks. The encounter set off a tremor that was bound to trigger aftershocks along the fault line of their courtship. The meeting with what turned out to be an old work adversary so unnerved Tom’s mother, in fact, that she subsequently resumed a long dormant smoking habit.
That introduction went poorly enough, but how would Tom’s college friends react to seeing him with a much older woman? What would be their impression of her? What would he see in her? Sure Angelina was attractive enough — but she was an attractive older woman. Why would young Tom be interested in a 50 year old, when there were plenty of lovely ladies his own age available? And when they got a whiff of her pompous and bitchy personality, they’d really question what was in this relationship for Tom and the age difference would be even more pronounced. The very real possibility existed that they’d disapprove of this affair, judging Tom a weirdo and mere boy toy to Angelina’s dirty old woman.
Private by nature — and especially embarrassed muğla escort to confide in anyone about his smoking and boot fetishes — how could Tom possibly explain to them that Angelina embodied all that he found physically alluring in a woman? How every time he saw the haughty diva smoking from a cigarette holder or strutting about in a pair of delicious, high-heeled, knee-high leather boots it made his dick dance and pulsate with delight. Or that when every time he and this MILF-before-the-term-was-coined made love it brought him to heights of pleasure he never dreamed possible.
To temporarily escape from and forget their family pressures, the May-December couple took a romantic Caribbean cruise over Christmas break, 1987. The getaway was just what the doctor ordered — if the physician in question was noted sex therapist Dr. Ruth Westheimer, anyway. Tom and Angelina engaged in a month’s worth of uninhibited and lusty sex in just one week. It was like their weekends back home — only uninterrupted by family and work obligations — when they oftentimes enjoyed thrice-daily, intense and passionate lovemaking. In these heady, early days of their dating life, Tom felt like he was attending a sex fantasy camp with his boyhood crush, while to Angelina, she was thoroughly caught up in the joy of what could be her last shot at romance and passion.
Still, for as much fun as they were having, Tom began to have grave doubts about how their relationship, such as it was, was evolving. To him, it seemed like all they did was make love. They didn’t really talk or act like a textbook dating couple, and this concerned him. While Tom wasn’t complaining about having the best sex of his life whenever, and practically wherever, he wanted it, the young man couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that maybe he was only keeping Angelina’s bed warm until the next in a long and varied succession of lovers came along. Perhaps one who was closer to her age and who had a career that allowed him to spoil the materialistic woman more consistently than Tom, with his entry-level publishing salary, could afford to.
Tom took heart in the prospects for their long-term relationship that Angelina went mad with jealousy when his ex came to town for a recent visit. But even someone as young and romantically inexperienced as he knows that jealousy doesn’t necessarily equate to true love.
“Ahhh… if there’s one thing I love about young lovers is they never keep a lady waiting,” Angelina Lione marveled with contentment while sitting crosslegged on the foot of her bed as she zipped a high-healed, black leather dress boot up her shapely left calf. “It wasn’t the best sex we ever had but I’m just impressed you were able to get aroused so quickly after awakening.”
“Normally, getting good wood in the morning isn’t a problem. Before we started dating, I started every day by masterbating to the thought of you,” admitted her boyfriend, Tom Bailey, standing nearby and buttoning up his dress shirt. “Today, though, I had to hold back a little on the foreplay and sex.”
“Yeah. Didn’t want to risk turning you on so much that you’d pass out and make me late for work, so I kinda cut some corners, if you know what I mean.”
“Hmmm…well, that was very thoughtful of you, darling.”
Tom paused from buttoning his shirt, as he looked wistfully out Angelina’s bedroom window at the gray northern New Jersey sky.
“To think, all that time in the school library fantasizing about having sex with you,” Tom said, recalling the days of his youth. “Woulda been cool had that fantasy come true. But I guess you can’t have everything.”
“Well, darling, at least there’s the present,” Angelina said, as she clasped a silver hoop earring onto her right ear lobe. “About tonight…why don’t you stop by the school and we can drive to the restaurant from there?”
“Isn’t that’s kinda late for you to be there? By the time I leave work, get back to Hoboken to get my car and drive here, it’ll be 6:30, maybe even 7:00. Wouldn’t it be better if I just drove to your place, since it’s a little closer?”
“I have to finish writing a grant for a new library program. I want to get it out next Monday. If I don’t finish it tomorrow, I’ll have to work through the weekend, which will leave less time for us to play. I need all the time I can and driving home after work and then getting to it will needlessly delay things. Best if I just stay there and work on it right after the last hour and everyone leaves.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you at the school tonight then.”
At 6:50 p.m., Tom entered the unlocked entrance way of Riverdale Middle School, took an immediate left turn and and feet later knocked on the library door.
“Hi, Angelina. Ready to go?” Tom greeted his lover cheerily when she answered the door moments later.
“Well, Mr. muş escort Bailey, it’s about time you came to grace me with your presence,” the librarian answered coldly and sternly, swinging the door open so Tom could enter.
“‘Mr. Bailey?!'” that’s a bit formal, isn’t it, Angelina?” Tom asked with a chuckle, as he moved toward her to initiate a kiss on the cheek.
Angelina recoiled in horror.
“Mr. Bailey! WHAT are you doing?!” she asked, her voice rising in anger.
“Uhhh…giving you a kiss hello, I thought,” Tom said uneasily, wondering why his girlfriend was reacting so strangely.
“This forward, insolent and disrespectful attitude of yours is why you’re in detention, Mr. Bailey. Attempting to kiss your teacher is MOST inappropriate.”
“Detention?! What are you talking about, Angelina?”
“Mr. Bailey, don’t pretend you don’t know what this is about. You acted out in recess today. Now, take a seat at one of the tables. You’re mine for the next hour. You’ll do what I say. And you will address me as Ms. Lione from now on. Is that understood?”
Tom slowly sank into the nearest seat at a rectangular table facing the book checkout counter.
“Yes, Ms. Lione,” he said, with all the submissive and bewildedred sheepishness of the young teenage boy the strict librarian had suddenly reduced him to.
“Good,” the middle-aged librarian said, picking up and flipping through a notepad from behind the counter. “Now, for record-keeping purposes, I’ll log you in as present for this detention. Let’s see…this is… January 15…19…79, right?.”
Suddenly it dawned on Tom why his girlfriend was treating him so impersonally — like a common student. She was acting out his fantasy — the fantasy from his middle school days at Riverdale.
Taking a seat at the raised chair behind the counter, Angelina seductively crossed her right black leather boot over her left. The movement forced her plaid pencil skirt to ride up a few inches on her right thigh and draw Tom’s eye. From a few feet away, he stared under the counter at his girlfriend’s sexy booted legs and felt the sensation — just as had so many times as a boy in that library watching his crush go about her work — of a hard-on developing in his pants.
Sensing she was being watched, Angelina abruptly looked up and over to Tom, catching him eyeballing her a split-second before he turned away in embarrassment. Snapping the log shut, Angelina pulled her skirt down over her exposed thigh, uncrossed her booted legs and rose from the chair. Moving out from behind the counter, she walked over to a bulletin board that was in full view of Tom’s vision.
Feeling confident to look up again without getting caught in the action, Tom watched his girlfriend from behind as she replaced and reorganized papers on the board, her shapely ass rocking slowly and rhythmically while she performed the task. Again, his dick grew and hardened.
“Mr. Bailey!, Angelina snapped at him, looking quickly over her shoulder to yet again catch him in the act. “You seem to be quite the peeping Tom, literally. Maybe some manual work will preoccupy your mind from engaging in carnal thoughts. Come with me.”
Her head raised high in arrogance, the grim-faced Angelina strode quickly toward the book case on the north end of the library, Tom trailing behind like a lost puppy.
“Help me stock the shelves,” Angelina demanded, pointing a thin index finger, long nail painted red, at a pile stacked on the floor before climbing seven or eight rungs on the rolling elephant ladder.
Tom reached over to the top book, grabbed it, pivoted back toward the ladder, looked up and froze in wonderment. He was now under Angelina’s skirt and face to muff — mere inches away from her genitals, which were barely covered by the thin band of a red thong.
“I’m waiting, Mr. Bailey,” the sexually provocative librarian impatiently called out from atop the ladder, reaching her left hand to the floor.
Tom complied, completing the handoff of the first book.
“Keep them coming,” Angelina said, either oblivious or unconcerned to the fact that her boyfriend/student was standing within easy munching distance of her sexy pussy.
Oh, God, I’d love to cum right now, Tom thought to himself, giving her another book as he stared at the older women’s privates, the erection in his khakhis now at nearly a 45-degree angle.
Never, in the course of their young relationship had the seductive Angelina’s sexuality been so literally and figuratively in his face. The temptation to stick his face into her pussy was overwhelming, but Tom resisted. The 22-year-old Tom, who was dating the femme fatale on the ladder could have made that move, but the 14-year-old Tom she was currently treating him as, should think twice about it. Even though this was Tom’s fantasy, Angelina — like she always did — was running the show. Best he not make a move without her direction. So instead, for the next 15 minutes, the pair nevşehir escort worked together to line the shelves with books, as Tom somehow fought the irrisistable urge to face plant into her cunt.
“That was a big help, thank you,” Angelina said, when the job was completed, descending the ladder. “As a reward, why don’t you help yourself to a magazine from the rack.”
Tom, his face flush and penis still stiff, staggered as if in a daze over to the rotating magazine rack next to the checkout counter as Angelina brushed past him so closely on the way to her office that the open right hand from her swinging arm struck his left butt cheek. Tom absentmindedly turned the rack a handful of revolutions before one magazine’s bannerhead finally caught his eye — if only because it was out of so totally out of context amidst the obligatory issues of People, Time and Sports Illustrated. He was halfway toward spinning the rack again, before he spun it back to confirm what he thought he saw — a January 1988 edition of Playboy.
What the hell’s this doing here? Tom said to himself, removing the magazine from its slot and flipping through it. Looking about to make sure Angelina hadn’t returned to the main portion of the library, Tom took the magazine back to his seat at the table and began to scan the issue. Any chance his penis had of losing its hard-on was lost between the pages of sexy, volumptuous young women in various stages of undress.
Moments later, Angelina swept out of her office, a long black cigarette holder with a freshly lit Virginia Slim tucked between the index and middle fingers of her upturned right hand. Tom quickly turned to a page without pictures, so as not to blow his cover.
“So, I see you found a magazine.” Angelina said, before gently raising the mouthpiece of the shaft to her lips and then execute a soft nose and mouth exhale.
“Yes, Ms. Lione,” Tom answered, his dick enjoying the sight of his vampy girlfriend smoking her stylish cigarette holder.
“You look surprised, Mr. Bailey, she said, pointing the holder vertically at breast level with her left hand as the red-polish-nailed index and middle fingers of her right delicately stroked the black shaft in handjob- simulation fashion. “I guess you didn’t know I smoked, did you?”
“No, Ms. Lione, I didn’t.”
“Does it bother you, Mr. Bailey?”
“Not at all, Ms. Lione.”
“That’s good. I only smoke occasionally. Everything in moderation, you know. Well, almost everything.
“I suppose it seems a bit odd to see your teacher doing something she wouldn’t be doing during regular school hours, isn’t it? Well, even school librarians have personal lives. We date and do a lot of adult things you students may not expect. I bet you never thought of old Ms. Lione out on the town in the company of a distinguished gentleman at a restaurant or even a discotheque, enjoying a cocktail or two and a cigarette. Is it hard to believe I frequent discos?”
“Just a few weeks ago, in fact, my boyfriend took me Studio 54. and I partied with celebrities at Studio 54. The owner actually confused me for a fashion model. Must have been the provocative dress and stiletto boots I wore and this elegant cigarette holder I smoked from. It draws a lot of attention. Imagine what it would do for my cold, disciplinarian reputation amongst the student body if they knew we danced and partied the night away with celebrities.”
Angelina pulled out a chair next to Tom at the table, far enough away so he could see her entire body, then sat down, slowly crossed her right booted leg over her left and hiked up her skirt a bit to reveal a bit of skin on her well-toned right thigh.
“Tell me, Mr. Bailey, what do the eighth graders — your friends — think of me?” she asked, tapping an ash from her cigarette on the linoleum tabletop.”
“Ummm…they think you’re kinda a mystery,” Tom stammered.
“Is it the ‘Ms.’ title in my name?”
“Yeah. They wonder if you’re single or married, or…”
“Yeah. Because of the ‘Ms.’ and because your hair is kinda short.”
“Haha. Well, I don’t know many lesbians who have boyfriends. For the record, I use ‘Ms’ because I’m a feminist. I’m an independent sort. My relationship with men is my own affair. So, I guess I intentionally court the enigma reputation. But I’m not so much of a feminist that I don’t prefer a man to open doors for me or light my cigarettes.”
Angelina paused to take another drag on her cigarette holder. As she arched her neck to blow a funnel of smoke overhead, Tom’s erect penis struck the underside of the tabletop.
“I suspect the kids don’t like me very much,” she confessed, fingering the silver necklace that lay atop her black crew-neck sweater. “Not too many kids come to the library unless they have to, it seems. You, however, always seem to be around. Everywhere I turn, you’re there, watching me. You wouldn’t happen to have a crush on me, would you, Mr. Bailey? It’s okay to admit, if you do. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Having a crush on your teacher is perfectly normal.”
“Yes, Ms. Lione,” Tom said, sweat forming on his forehead and his balls aching from Angelina’s sexual teasing.
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