He ran the last few blocks to the library, praying he would get there before the doors were locked. He knew he was cutting it close, but had to have that book to finish his research paper tonight. Rushing through the doors relieved to find them still open, he receives an immediate glare from the matronly woman behind the desk. Catching his breath and slowing down his step, he nods in apology and quickly heads back to lose himself in the rows of books.
Rounding the corner of the last row, he is stopped short by a most intriguing sight; an exotic looking woman is standing halfway up the ladder, arm reaching high to put away a book on the top shelf. In doing so, her skirt is drawn up, exposing tantalizing thighs, adorned in silk stockings that are secured by a lacey garter. His sudden appearance startles her and she gasps, the book falling from her hand to the floor below. Rushing to assist her, he is rewarded with a dazzling smile, highlighted by the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. He hands her the book, which she immediately reaches to place on the high shelf and as she turns back to thank him, she finds his eyes locked on her recently exposed thighs. Descending the ladder, her eyes eventually meet his as they travel up her body and he blushes, knowing that she has caught him staring. But rather than admonish him, she winks at him and asked if he liked the show. His blunt reply surprises them both as he tells her that it was over way too quick. Her seductive laugh makes his spine tingle as she reaches to pat his cheek. Then she is gone with a wink, an aromatic trail of a spicy exotic scent and an insinuation that perhaps tomorrow would offer new pleasures.
The next 23 hours find him drifting back to thoughts of her; that smile, those eyes, that creamy thigh come back to him in taunting images; reeking havoc with his body. He hurries from his last class to get to the library earlier than the night before, anticipating spending more time with her. Entering the building casually, so as not to disturb the old matron, he begins his search for her, row by row, glancing up one and down the other. As he reaches the last row, exactly where he found her before, his sudden intake of air brings another seductive laugh from her. She is standing on the ladder again, but this time is facing completely forward, one foot on a higher rung than the other is, arms leaning on even higher rungs. Her skirt tonight is shorter, although the thighs exposed are just as creamy and this time she has added the tempting sight of cleavage from her open blouse. She watches him take in all of the sights she has displayed, before she lowers an arm, crooks her finger and uses it to beckon him closer. Standing before her, his face is even with those luscious thighs and he groans as she hikes up her skirt some more and turns a knee outward, revealing the inside of that silky flesh.
He responds to his gut instinct and leans forward to slide his tongue across her skin, starting just above the stocking and slowly working upward. Her only reaction to this is a soft moan, which he takes as encouragement, his tongue continuing upward, finding her mound completely shaven and the skin surrounding her clit exposed and slightly open. His tongue quickly darts downward, grazing that tender spot and discovers that it is erect and throbbing. Her sudden gasp is all the encouragement he needs to begin making long strokes with his tongue and short flicks with just the tip. Soon she is moaning, her hips grinding against his tongue, her breath coming in gasps as her climax draws hear. Her hands reach down to entangle in his hair as the moment arrives and her body trembles as the spasms of pleasure overtake her, riding his tongue with her head thrown back. As she begins to relax, he begins placing soft kisses on her thighs, when suddenly she shifts to push him back, smoothes down the edges of her skirt, kisses him on the forehead and dashes off, commenting over her shoulder that she’ll see him tomorrow.
Walking home with the taste of her still on his tongue, he wonders what sort of game she is playing. Will she be there tomorrow night? And if she is, what does she have in store for him next? Will this game be one-sided, with only her receiving the direct pleasure, leaving him with indirect taunting sensations of arousal with no fulfillment? These thoughts, as well as other less inquisitive ones, haunt him until the anticipated rendezvous time. His lack of focus is diminished, his appetite almost non-existent, his frustration level building. He slowly begins to realize that anticipation, albeit exciting, can also heighten ones level of stress.
