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I’d been working at the bookstore for about a month. I got along well with the owner, Mrs. Johnson but she was pretty stuffy. She was friendly enough, but seemed very conservative. She wore dresses most of the time and they were almost always below her knees. She always addressed me as Mr. Barnett and though her name was Chloe, she insisted that I call her Mrs. Johnson.
Mrs. Johnson was an attractive woman somewhere in her 30s I guessed, and was married to an older guy who was just as stuffy if not more so. He owned another company as well as the bookstore. I assumed this was more of a hobby for Mrs. Johnson but it didn’t matter, it paid well and was a good part-time job.
I liked working for Mrs. Johnson, she pretty much left me alone to do the things she asked me to do. She was very knowledgeable about literature, and I never heard her steer a customer wrong. She let me borrow books to read from time to time and I learned quite a bit.
We talked about lots of things; Politics, in which we differed quite a bit, and current happenings around the world or just here in the city, but mainly we talked about books. I had my favorite authors and genres, she had hers. We talked of writing styles but we always kept it on more or less a professional level. Mrs. Johnson was always very proper and I thought she could just about be called a prude.
We received a shipment of books from a publisher that had a lot of new samples of what they were pushing. Mrs. Johnson opened the box and started handing them to me to sort. history, novels, new best sellers, we commented on each one as to whether or not it would sell.
One book was a collection of erotica. She blushed when she handed it to me and didn’t say anything. We didn’t have a section for that in the store, so I put it aside and decided to just put it in the store room if she didn’t tell me where to put it. We went through the rest of the shipment and arranged them all in the appropriate stacks for putting on our shelves, except for the orphan book.
Mrs. Johnson went back into the office to do some paperwork while I put the new books on the display racks and the shelves. I put the lone book on erotica back in the store room and decided that I’d read it that evening. Later on, I looked for the book but it was not where I put it. I smiled to myself and thought “Hard to resist this stuff, huh?”
Nothing was ever said and the next morning the book was back on the shelf. I picked it up and read through a few pages. It was more fun imagining Mrs. Johnson’s reaction to the stories and poetry than it was reading the book so I left it where it was.
It looked to me like Mrs. Johnson had a great body underneath those long dresses and conservative suits. She wasn’t really what I’d call “busty” but definitely not flat either. She wore glasses and her hair was up most of the time, you know… what you think of when you think of a librarian.
I loved watching her bending over and working at the shelves though, and imagined what might be underneath those conservative clothes. I thought of her more and more doing things like biting her lip as she read, furtively touched herself, or squirming in her chair as she fantasized about living some of the stories in the book.
I started to have fantasies of my own about Mrs Johnson which invariably left me as hard as a rock. I tried to think of her as Chloe, but somehow “Mrs. Johnson” just seemed hotter. I wondered which stories turned her on the most. There were several different genres in the book.
Was she intrigued about self pleasure? Was exhibitionism something that she thought about? What about watching as others had sex or pleasured themselves? Did she live vicariously through the women who met strangers or took part in a threesome?
My favorite mental image of Mrs. Johnson was her sitting in her living room, drinking a glass of wine reading the book and slowly undressing as she read. She would sigh and touch her nipples first through her blouse or bra and then she would gently pull at them after she was naked.
I pictured her as having near perfect breasts, with quarter sized nipples that were tilted slightly upward. I just knew that her bush matched her hair, a light brown color and that it was natural, not trimmed. She would sit back in her chair with one foot up in the chair and absent mindedly, lost in thought, caress her pussy lips with her fintertips. Quite often I’d have to force myself out of my daydream and get to work. More than once I’m sure Mrs. Johnson wondered why I was blushing in the middle of a conversation.
One day, I was stocking some shelves in the front of the shop and Mrs. Johnson was in the back organizing some shelves. She was up on a ladder when I walked in to get some more books but her dress kept me from getting much of a look at anything besides her ankles.
She was wearing a long, fairly loose dress that buttoned up all the way from the bottom to the top. She reminded me to put out some new editions of a classic we’d just beşiktaş masöz escort got in and I replied “Yes Ma’am. I walked back out to the front and was busy swapping out a display when I heard Mrs. Johnson scream and there was a crash in the back room.
I rushed back to the room and found Mrs. Johnson laying on the floor out cold. I immediately went over to see if she was ok. She wasn’t bleeding and she had a strong pulse but she was unconscious. I reached for my cell phone to call 911 and paused. She was laying on her back with one knee up. Her dress was hiked up around her hips and to my amazement she was wearing a sheer black thong. Her skin was pale but very smooth and she had some killer legs! I could see through her panties and she was as bald as a baby except for a small tuft. I knew I should call an ambulance but I hesitated.
It was as if my hand belonged to someone else. I reached out and touched her pussy. Almost immediately her lips seemed to swell. I rubbed them a little more and could feel the wetness begin. It took only a few seconds for her thong to get soaked through. I’d never experienced anything like it.
I was about ready to stop and make the call when her hips began to move. Mrs. Johnson lifted her hips as I continued to caress her. I stopped rubbing and dialed 911 on my phone. I was going to press “talk” but suddenly Mrs Johnson grabbed my wrist.
I knew I was dead. Fired, arrested and killed! I looked down and her eyes met mine and held them. She guided my fingers back down to her soaked thong and rubbed herself with them. Her knee lifted up higher and her hips continued to move. Mrs. Johnson moaned softly and let go of my wrist. Her puffy lips seemed to grow under my fingertips.
She softly whispered “Don’t stop.” I slipped a finger under her thong and caressed the slick wetness between her lips. I slid her thong aside and slipped first one, then two fingers inside her. She moved her hips in time with my fingers and squeezed her breasts through her dress. Her clit was swollen and I circled it with my thumb. It felt as though someone had poured oil on my hand she was so wet.
I pulled her thong down and off over her ankles. I slipped my fingers back inside her and she moaned “Oooooooooo yessssssssss” again.
My ring finger was sliding between her cheeks and I continued to tease her clit with my thumb. I wiggled my finger inside her pressing against the inside of her belly. I leaned down for a taste but she pushed me away and said in a thick voice “Just your hand.” By now my hand was making squishing noises and her hips were gyrating slowly but sensually. I was so hard I could barely contain myself.
Mrs. Johnson’s tuft was actually a perfectly sculpted heart. Her swollen lips were luscious and gripped my fingers tightly. Her body began to shudder and just as suddenly as she grabbed my wrist earlier, she squeezed her legs together, trapping my hand inside her.
Instead of arching her back, she sat up and held my hand in place by wrapping her arms around mine. She moaned deeply and screamed from somewhere very deep within. Mrs. Johnson came HARD again and again. Her fingernails dug into my bare arm and her muscles clenched around my fingers with each orgasm. She held me tightly and flooded all over my hand. Gradually, she relaxed and slowly released me.
She looked at me and whispered “Not a WORD.”
Mrs. Johnson stood up. Her soaked dress fell covering up her beautiful legs that were slick with her juices. She bent over to pick up her thong, her eyes never leaving mine. She walked around the corner. I heard the door to her office close and then I stood up as well noticing for the first time the wet spot on the front of my pants.
I shook my head and hoarsely wishpered “WOW!” and licked off one of my fingers. “Who’d have thought it?”
I went into the bathroom and reluctantly washed my hands. I knew that I’d have to gather up my stuff and go. I debated on whether or not to take the book with me, but decided to leave it for her to enjoy.
I was packing up some of my things into a box when the door to her office opened and she stepped out. She was wearing different clothes and her cheeks were still red. I expected her to fire me on the spot so it was a bit of a shock when she simply said “Tomorrow, I want you to put up the new shelves.”
I almost dropped the box I was holding. I smiled and said “Yes Ma’am.” I let my eyes roam over her.
She lifted her chin and looked back at me almost as if she was denying that what happened…. had actually happened.
For a week it was quiet around the store. The book disappeared from its usual spot in the storeroom. I assumed Mrs Johnson had thrown it away. One day we were unpacking books and started talking about authors again. My favorite was a guy that wrote about adventures in Africa, hers wrote of intrigue and wove a convoluted tale of mystery. I suggested that we read one of each others and talk about our beşiktaş otele gelen escort thoughts. She looked at me for a moment and then placed the missing book on the counter. “How about we talk about this one?”
I was speechless. “Uhhhh Are you sure? OK.” was all I could utter.
She went on, “What do you like in here?”
I thought for a moment and then answered “Tough question. It has to be well written, of course, but I think my favorite kind of story is one where there are surprises.”
“How so?” she asked.
“Kind of like a woman who dresses in sexy underwear under rather plain clothes.” She blushed.
I went on, “The ones where a woman discovers herself or a couple discover a different side to their relationship that they’d never considered before.”
She was blushing but said “I see.”
I asked ” What do you get out of the book.
“It…. welll….. it does things to me.” she replied a little hesitantly.
“What kinds of things? I asked.
“Reading it makes me hot but it also makes me a little sad. It makes me realize theres so many things I’ve never done.”
I asked, “Such as?”
Mrs. Johnson blushed and swallowed but went on. “I’ve never had oral sex. I’ve only been with one man, and until recently, I’ve never had an intense orgasm.”
I asked “The other day?” She nodded.
“I see.” I replied “Just so you know, that was incredible.”
She looked at me and said “you didn’t think it was…. gross? You know… that I get so…. wet. My husband does.”
I was amazed. “He’s an idiot! That was the hottest thing I’ve experienced in years! I’ve never been with a woman who got that wet before…. I loved it!”
Mrs. Johnson managed a weak smile though she was still blushing furiously.
I picked up the book and thumbed through it until I found a story I’d read earlier. I read a passage about a woman going down on a guy.
Mrs. Johnson looked up at me and asked If I’d ever had that done for me.
Mischievously, I asked her “Had what done?”
She stammered. “You know…. had your you know what ummmm sucked.”
I smiled. “Of course. I’ve had my cock sucked many times. It’s wonderful and usually the women enjoyed it too.” She looked down and it was obvious that I was hard. “I’ve also tasted women before. though none quite like you.”
She looked away. I read a few more passages and then asked “Do you have any favorites in the book?”
“Theres a few.” Mrs Johnson said huskily “There’s one where a neighbor watches a woman through a window. There’s another where a woman and a man find their pleasures in unusual places.”
About then a customer walked in and Mrs. Johnson put the book back under the counter. We were both excited by the conversation, but we went back to work.
I was putting some used books away a little while later when I had to walk behind Mrs. Johnson who was bending over and rearranging some books on a middle shelf. As I passed by my leg rubbed against her. I could feel her stiffen, but she didn’t move. I could feel each cheek and the space between. I walked on and finished my task, hoping that little things like this brief contact would turn her on.
That day Mrs. Johnson was wearing a longer gray knit dress that hugged her body with some black heeled sandals. The dress was stretched a little over her rear and I could tell by the outline that she was wearing string bikini panties underneath. Customers kept coming and going too fast to re-start our book discussion so it was closing time before I could even think about it.
I finished up my work for the day and Mrs. Johnson asked me to come back to her office. She startled me by asking “Do you think I’m pretty?”
I answered by saying “Yes I do. Striking even. You’ve got beautiful features and a very nice body. I love your hair too.” I sensed that she was really unsure of herself. She was a beautiful young woman married to an older man who obviously didn’t appreciate her for the extremely sexy woman that she was.
There was a full length mirror on the back of her door. I closed the door to her office and took her hand and led her to a spot in front of the mirror. Standing behind her, I took the pins from her hair and let it fall. “See? You really are a beautiful woman. Especially with your hair down. Fluff it out a little.”
She lifted her hands and ran her fingers through her hair to comb it out then shook her head and asked, “Like this?”
“Perfect!” I said. See how sexy you look?” She started to take off her glasses “No, leave your glasses on. They’re you.”
As I ran my hands over her shoulders and arms, I whispered “Stop me when you feel uncomfortable.” She nodded. I went on, “We always dress in front of a mirror, but have you ever un-dressed in front of one?
She shook her head and whispered “No…. never”.
I unhooked the tiny clasp at the back of her neck and slowly unzipped her dress. I could beşiktaş rus escort see her nipples hardening through the clingy knit fabric “Very nice” I said quietly. Then I slid her dress off her shoulders and helped as she pulled her arms out of the sleeves. She was wearing a black sheer lace bra that clasped in front. “Gorgeous! I said softly into her ear.” Her nipples were just dark enough to show through the lace and they looked perfect. We let the dress fall down around her hips.
“OK?” I asked. She nodded, biting her lower lip.
I knew Mrs. Johnson was way out of her comfort zone but she was hanging in there. I could sense that her breathing was getting heavier. Mine certainly was. I reached around her and slowly hooked my thumbs in her dress and pushed it down lower on her hips, revealing her matching black lace panties. Squatting behind Mrs. Johnson, I pushed the dress further down and kissed her hip. Her dress fell down around her ankles showing off her black lace top stockings as well.
“Mmmmmm gorgeous legs Mrs. Johnson. Go ahead and step out of the dress” She did and I told her to kick it to the side. In the mirror we could both see the almost total transformation.
“You certainly know how to dress!” I said with my face inches away from her sexy bottom.
I stood up behind Mrs Johnson and whispered in her ear “What do you think?”
She shrugged and asked “What do You think?”
I managed to croak “Incredible! You’re simply incredible!” She smiled as if realizing her sensual beauty or the very first time. I thought to myself “What a waste! Her husband is a bigger fool than I thought!”
Our eyes met each other in the mirror. There she stood, her pale skin framed by black lace. She looked like a lingerie model, her nipples and her tufted heart barely showing through the lace. Mrs. Johnson’s breasts swelled under her bra, As I’d imagined, she wasn’t large and wasn’t small either. The bra enhanced her cleavage. “Oh that’s perfect.” I whispered. I leaned forward and kissed her neck and shoulder. I traced a finger around the edges of her bra and down her sides. She shivered slightly and gasped. “Ticklish?” I asked.
She giggled “Yes!”
“Gorgeous Mrs. Johnson, simply gorgeous.” I said. Her hips swelled out from her waistline in a perfect curve. She had a little bit of a tummy but just enough to be sexy. I ran my hands up and down her sides again and slid her panties down just an inch or so. “Are we wet yet?” I whispered.
“Oh god yes!” she answered. She bit her lower lip but ran her hands through her hair again.
“Don’t you think you’re beautiful? Hot? Sexy?” I asked. “You must know that you are.” I watched in the mirror as she looked her reflection over as if convincing herself that my words were true.
With my hands on her hips, I whispered “Unhook your bra.”
She reached up and unclasped her bra, then very slowly pulling it back to uncover her breasts. She had small darkish nipples that were hard as rocks. I slipped the straps over her shoulders. She shrugged out of it and dropped it to the floor.
“See how gorgeous they are? Each one a perfect work of art.” I cupped her breasts in my hands and gently kneaded them, She gasped as I squeezed the nipples between my thumb and finger. I was as hard as a rock but this moment wasn’t about me.
This was about Mrs Johnson realizing her real beauty and sensuality. I dropped my hands to her hips and then said “Your turn.”
I guided her hands to her breasts and watched as she began to caress them. Her fingers slowly circled her perfect skin. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back her head as she squeezed them moaning softly as she played with her nipples.
I reached down and ran my hands over her hips. Moving one hand to the inside of her thigh I could tell she was indeed soaked. She moaned softly as I touched her wetness.
Squatting behind her again I kissed her back. “Mrs Johnson, slowly now…. take off your panties.” I said. Our eyes met in the mirror. Taking the waistband of her bikinis in her thumbs, she slid them slowly over her hips.
“Please…. call me Chloe.”
I smiled and said “Sure thing, Chloe.” She had to bend over to push her panties down farther, the wet cloth reluctant to slide down. I kissed the smooth white skin of her bottom, first one cheek then the other. Her pussy lips were swollen and glistening. The smell of her arousal was like a drug.
She slid her black lacy panties all the way down to her ankles. Then Chloe stood up and stepped out of them as she continued to rub her breasts. I slipped my hand between her legs and gently moved her knees apart. My hand was soaked when I pulled it away. I held it up so she could see then I licked one of my fingers clean. I held up another finger for her to try she tentatively took it in her mouth and sucked on it. I moved my finger in and out over her tongue and lips.
“That’s what its like, oral sex. Do you want to try it?” She nodded slowly. “We’ll get there.” I assured her. I reached up and took her hand and softly guided her fingers to the tuft and the base of her tummy.
“Touch it” I said “…and watch. You’ll see that you’re one of the sexiest women I’ve ever met.”
Chloe caressed her tummy and then slid down to her swollen lips. “Thats it, you know what feels good.” I said “Its ok to show me.”
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