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Sex and the Art Of Steam Engine Maintenance

Posted by: Age: 35 Posted on: 3 comments
8 likes 1284 views Category: Masturbation Female-Female Tags: Interesting oral sex with a twist, fun, surprise sex
Unexpected library sex

Sex and the Art Of Steam Engine Maintenance The thing of it was, I was never supposed to be there at all. I was supposed to be picking up a kid who'd already put me off twice citing calc tutoring for more time, while I was pretty sure he was checking out biology instead. Bored beyond belief, in an honest attempt not to destroy my 36 days of sobriety and totally broke, I walked into the library on a whim. You can't say I planned it. I didn't even know I was going. In a totally mindless move, I wandered into a section on early mechanics. (Bet you didn't know that existed, did you?) But there I was, a book about steam engine maintenance in my hands that was, for some unknown reason, actually holding my at attention, when she came around the corner. Semmens and Goldfinch, huh? Her voice fell purposefully from her lush full lips. He wrote an interesting book about channel tunnel trains too. If you like that kind of thing. It was a by product of my bipolar and I knew it, but my interest in how things worked had slowing been creeping up on me. And the way she said it certainly helped pique my curiosity. She was tall with an angular face, hair twisted up in a secure, I'm not going to come falling down in the middle of a lecture, type of bun, and had obviously dressed the part of professor. But she couldn't have been more than 25. It was her face was what caught me, and it would have caught you too. It was a study in contrast. Angular, like I said, but she had deep set eyes and lush lips, pixie nose, and lashes that would never need mascara to brush her cats eye glasses. She moved closer, a lot closer, and her lip gloss smelled of strawberries. She ran her tongue over it and caught me watching. It just tastes so good, you know?, and it's pointless to wear it because you're just going to lick it off, but you do it anyway because you like licking it off. Here, try it She pursed her lips and leaned into me. I could have said no, or backed off, or something, but instead I licked them. Which immediately turned into a surprised kiss. Well, the encounter was a surprise, the kiss, not so much, at that point. Do you like engines? She asked me. All those pistons going in and out, in and out. And steam engines? They just heat up till they explode out into the universe. The space shuttle is an even bigger orgasm. She said this masterfully, building and emphasizing exactly the right places. It was when I realized that I was feeling up a girl, in a library, who had turned me on by talking about steam engines that I realized even controlled mania can really be a blast. And she was good. Really good. The kind of good you can't buy, rent, or borrow. The kind you wish you could order over the phone and have delivered to your door wearing a rabbit fur teddy and silver heels. She did not touch me anywhere I expected. That would have been predictable sex. In a library. Where someone could come around the corner at any moment, although, how many people would come into the ancient mechanics section at 8:30 at night? She applied lip gloss to her tongue, licked her finger, and then used it to draw on the soft skin behind my knee. She sat down in a deep soft armchair picked up my foot, my silver slip-ons still on the floor, and sucked each toe while I leaned against the book shelf purring in pleasure. Then she massaged my leg from my toes, up my calf, my thigh, and and the heat in my labia probably singed her as she separated them with her fingers and licked my clit. Up and down slowly while I gasped for air. Putting my foot back on the ground, she rubbed my fingers over her lips and then, using the lip gloss, drew a line on the inside of my arm starting at my wrist, wrapping up around my shoulder, around my neck like a snake would, and ending at my ear. She proceeded to lick it off, holding my arm out for herself while following her trail up as she twisted her left hand into my hair, pulling, wrapping, nails raking my scalp, in other words: pure bliss. She made it perfectly clear that my part in this act was to be pleasured. Her pleasure was alone in watching mine. Her face showed it. She was watching me, learning me, but every time a quiet groan escaped my lips her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed in pleasure. Her long fingers held the back of my neck and drew circles over my temples making me drowsy and relaxed, but it was just to set me up for her next move. She sat me on her lap, pinned my arms behind me and circled my bellybutton with her lip gloss. Then, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a single chocolate chip. A chocolate chip, unwrapped, in a Sax Fifth Avenue suit pocket that looked like it came off the model in the window. Loose chocolate. And she fit in perfectly into my navel. Point side facing in. And then she began in earnest to draw me to a climax I will never match. She licked it till it was wet, making sure to include the skin around it. She would pressure it with her tongue pushing the point inward and sending swirls of color off into the backs of my eyes. Then she would drag the wet chocolate up over my stomach in long lines. Rubbing her fingers over it she drew circles of chocolate around my breasts, tipped my nipples with it, pulled it down toward the insides of my thighs. Then she sucked every drop of chocolate off me except the remaining chocolate in my navel. Around and over my breasts, paying special attention to my nipples. Now I was literally begging for it to come. Desperate, wild, reckless, and needy. Dipping her head she sucked all the rest of the chocolate out of my navel, meticulously licking the inside clean, and I almost came right there but she told me to wait. I was willing to follow orders, or I couldn't think, whatever you want to call it. She smoothed that chocolate around and all over the inside of her mouth and then sank her head down and as I marveled at that completely undisturbed hair of hers, not one single hair out of place, I saw the blue streak running through it, felt the chocolate tongue splitting atoms deep inside me, and came like I never had before. Her eyes glittered with pleasure, and a little, uncharacteristic giggle escaped her. I turned to see what was funny just as a man in an old beat up jean jacket and black cap appeared around the endcap. Anvy (her blue streak gave her away), immediately rose, picked up the steam engine book and handed it to him saying: this is a really good read, if you like that kind of thing with a little wink. He walked off with it, throwing back a look of humor and something else. Jealousy maybe. Anvy. I should have known. You're like a floating mystery in the stacks. An apparition, a ghost, seems no one can agree on what you are. Only that you're the best lay in the world, that you have a blue streak, and that no one ever sees you twice. You know, you should read more Semmens. He collaborates with a different person for each book. Getting to know them. Variety is a wonderful thing. I knew she was leaving and i'd had my one ride. Except she hesitated. She turned then, looked right at me and said I've been waiting for you Spring.

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