The Librarian Recommends a Book
written by:
Little tommy D.

The Librarian Recommends a Book

My office is a partnership of three people that includes me, Ryan Dell, the majority owner, and two of my college classmates, Roy Marks and Walter Morrison, and we deal in self-insured benefit programs, retirement plan installation, plan administration, and commercial insurance products. Our office is located in the downtown center city, once a hub of daily activity. However, it is now a sedate, aging urban dinosaur with little in the way to attract crowds of shoppers or commerce. Revitalization attempts lived a short, expensive life without creating a legacy worth explaining. We have little walk-in traffic; therefore we made an economic decision to locate where we did to take advantage of the lower lease rate for the large space we occupy. With all the dismal negatives, the one bright spot is the library at the corner on the street facing our building. I see it from my office window whenever I glance out the window. The odd reference I am making to the library is to advise you that as often as I see the building, I have never been inside it.

In the last two weeks I have been intrigued when I stand at the window with my morning coffee and observe the traffic at the intersection, there has been a new addition to my sight. At nearly the same exact time, eight-fifteen, what appears to be an attractive woman crosses the street, energetically takes the eight steps up, unlocks the door and disappears inside. The more I watch, the higher my curiosity climbs. So, this morning when I saw her in a pale yellow form-fitting pant suit, black shoes and purse, I decided to visit the library and get a closer look. My view from the top doesn't allow much in the way of judging her age, height, weight, hair color, or, most importantly, at least to me, her looks. When I sat at the desk to answer the phone, I decided that ten would be a good, quiet time for my first foray into the musty world of books.

The steps were much wider than I thought, the inside was bright, color-vibrant, clean, and not a hint of must, dust, or paper odors. I was proven so wrong that I apologized to myself for applying stereotypes to this appealing institution of knowledge. I surveyed the tables and found two were occupied, most likely by scholars, because both had the table strewn with masses of books, fold-out papers, and laptops. My surveillance was not for other patrons, but in trying to locate the yellow pant suit that had seemingly vanished once she entered the building. I walked toward the rack that held the newspapers. I saw that it contained all the daily papers from surrounding communities, the Wall Street Journal, business and commerce news editions, foreign language papers, and eight from such far places as Boston, LA, New York, and other large cities. I made a mental note to visit here more if only to read a few of these editions. I was lost in thought as I stared at the array when a melodious, sexy voice at my left side asked, "Are you having trouble finding the one you are searching for this morning?"

I quickly turned to face her and was bowled over by her beautiful clear, pale skin coloration, her cobalt blue eyes, her perfect lips and nose. I paused before answering to assure .myself that I wouldn't stammer or spit on her when I answered. I took a deep breath and then replied, "No, I was noting the excellent selection that is available. My office is across the street and I was chastising myself for not visiting the library before today, but I made a note to be back more often."

My breath left me when she delivered me a devastating smile and in her sexy voice asked, "Is it only newspapers you are interested in pursuing or do you have further interests in printed material? If so, I am available to make some recommendations to suit your desires?"

My thought immediately turned to mush when I thought of one recommendation to suit me that she could make, but I played the gentleman and responded civilly with, "That would be ideal. I haven't read a good book in two years or more. It has always been business needs first, and I do read a long line of related business news. A little fantasy reading might just be the ticket. So, what have you for me?"

"Follow me to the desk. I'll pick a few for you."

Did I follow her? You bet her sweet ass I did and I enjoyed every up and down movement the yellow pants presented to me, cheek by cheek. By the time I arrived at the desk, I had to lean forward on it to cover the hard on that was tenting my suit pants. While I stood there hurting, she went around the desk to face me. While she was gathering her list of books, I piped up and said, "I have a question if you don't mind." She nodded, so I asked, "What is a guerrilla librarian? One of my newsletters has referred to that term more than once in recent weeks."

Her head popped up, she laughed, and surprise of all surprises, she grabbed my hand, held on, and answered laughingly, "Do you remember back when certain books were kept from the public eyes? When many of the books by Henry Miller, Allen Ginsburg, Lenny Bruce, Geoffrey Chaucer and numerous others that were considered dirty and rude? Well, librarians who guarded them were referred to as guerrillas because the books were kept in a locked cage and the librarian had the only key. Today, since the huge shift in morality, the term is now applied to those of us who guard to keep certain books from being damaged by borrowers. The cage is still locked, I have the key, but the books are only valuable, not loaded with sex scenes."

"I see. It's obvious with you that you look like anything but a guerrilla. I picture all of them in military type uniforms, scraggly, unshaven hair on their face carrying a machine gun and wearing a beret," I smiled at her, savoring the fact that she still held my hand. Disappointingly, she let the hand go when she spread the list in front of me. I was watching her finger flow down the page until it stopped on an author I had never heard of and the book title that was a stunner for me. I also took note of the absence of engagement or wedding rings as her hand flowed down the page. She turned the list so that I could get a closer look at the recommendation. I found that my first reading was as clear as this one and just as surprising: "The Becoming of a Woman," by Terri Anne Trenton.

She took my hand again and asked, "Have you heard of this best seller? I believe you would find it most interesting. Shall I bring it out for you? You can scan through it and then decide if it's for your tastes."

I nodded, reluctant to have her release my hand.

She went behind the door, returned in a few minutes with the novel and handed it to me, pointed to a single chair at the end of the nearest stack and told me to sit and scan through it while she attended to the mail.

I flipped open to the summary page and my eyes popped out and fell on the paper as I read:

"How one woman learned to adore her other side - and the man who took her there.

His was the first. In my ass.

I don't know the exact length, but it's definitely too big—wait---just right. Of medium width, neither too slender nor too thick. Beautiful. My ass, tiny, tight, and tightly wound. Twenty-five years of winding as a ballet dancer. Since age four. Turning out the legs from the hips winds up that pelvic floor like a corkscrew. I worked my gut all my life standing at that ballet barre. Now it is being unworked.

His dick, my ass, unwinding. Divine.

This is the back-story of a love story. A back-story that is the whole story. A second hole story, to be exact. Coleen declared that you couldn't write about love while in its heady hold, as if only love lost resonates. No hindsight for me in this great love but rather behind-sight. This is a story where the front matter is brief and the end matter is all. When you've been sodomized as much as I have, things get both very philosophical and very silly very quickly. My brain has been rocked along with my guts.

As Ted enters me I let go, millimeter by millimeter, of the tensing, pulling, tightening, gripping. I am addicted to extreme physical endurance, the marathon of uncoiling intensity. I release my muscles, my tendons, my flesh, my anger, my ego, my rules, my censors, my parents, my cells, my life. At the same time I draw him inward. Releasing out and pulling in, one thing.

Bliss, I learned from being sodomized, is experiencing eternity in a moment of real time. It is the ultimate sexual act of trust. You could really get hurt—if you resist. But push past that fear, literally pass through it, and ah the joy that lies on the other side of convention. The peace that is past the pain. Once absorbed, it is neutralized and allows for transformation. Pleasure alone is mere temporary indulgence, a subtle distraction, an anesthetization while on the path to something higher, deeper, lower. Eternity lies far beyond pleasure. And beyond pain. The edge of my ass is the sexual event horizon, the boundary beyond which there is no escape.

Anal sex is about cooperation. Cooperation in an endeavor of aristocratic politics, involving rigid hierarchies, feudal positions, and monarchist attitudes. One is in charge, the other obedient. There is no democratic, affirmative-action safety net swinging below ass-fuckers. You can't half-ass butt-fuck. It's a high-wire act— there are no understudies, no back-ups, for anal Cirque du Soleil.

The truth always shows itself with the ass. It doesn't know how to lie, it can't: it hurts, physically, if you lie. The pussy, on the other hand, can and does so all the time. Pussies are designed to fool men with their slippery shores and open harbor. My pussy proposes the question; my ass answers. Sodomy is the event in which Rainier Maria Rilke's hallowed dictum to "live the question" is finally answered. Anal penetration resolves the dilemma of duality that is introduced and magnified by vaginal penetration. It transcends all opposites, all conflicts - positive and negative, good and bad, shallow and deep, pleasure and pain, love and death- and unifies them, renders all one. This, for me, is therefore The Act. Butt-fucking offers spiritual resolution. Who knew?"

I slammed the book shut, jumped from the chair and hustled to the desk, sat it down and waited for her to return. When she came out, I said, "I'll take it. It may just do the job."

Broadly smiling at me, she handed me a library card application. I quickly completed it and slid it across to her. She read the data, looked at me and offered, "When you finish the book, I'll b happy to discuss it with you and answer any questions you have at that time. Does that interest you, Ryan?"

"It does, yes, it does, but you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know your name."

"You'll find that information to become available when you return the book and schedule our discussion, Ryan. Until then, happy reading and don't do anything I wouldn't do while reading the book." She touched my hand again, I stood and watched her fabulous ass wiggle away, shaking my head and doubting that she is a practicing butt-fucking librarian. I waited until she disappeared through the stacks before I moved.

Damn, I had almost pissed my pants when she answered in that way. I spun around and decided to get out of there before I got myself in deep shit trouble by attacking her in a public building. I knew one thing and one thing only as I scurried around a truck and crossed the street. I won't get any sleep tonight because I intend to have my conversation about this book with her the soonest.

I was so antsy at the office when I returned that I stuck my head in one of my partner's office's, disturbed his reading, and spit, "Walt, I don't feel all that good so I think I'll call it a day. You don't have anything urgent for me do you? Roy is in Shoreline Village with the engineer from Overseas Barge Lines examining their latest addition to the fleet. If you need me, call the house. Hopefully I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, go on home, Ryan. Nothing critical that can't wait a day or two. Hope you get to feeling better soon. Take two aspirins and call me in the morning," he laughed and waved me out.

After I arrived home, it didn't take me more than fifteen minutes to shed my office clothes, step into a pair of pajama shorts, slip a navy tee shirt over my head, grab a beer, and hit my leather recliner. I have never attacked a book as eagerly as I hit this one. By the time the first hunger pain grabbed my gut, I was already at page one-hundred ten and accelerating. I realized I was speed reading and retaining too little. I cautioned myself to slow down and absorb more of the story because I don't want to be caught short when she begins asking questions and referring to parts that I may have skimmed instead of reading. I wanted no chance of literary embarrassment when I discuss sticking a dick in an ass with the best ass I've seen in years. I didn't attempt to read while I ate. I wanted think time and my thoughts were giving me fits. I had the awakening feelings of a teen-ager, but the fears of a cautious adult. The last thing I wanted was to stumble if I became too over-eager and stimulated during the discussion. I resolved that when the time was scheduled, I would pull the old college trick we all used before a date. I would jack off so that the urges were dampened enough to prevent Cumming brought on y psychological means and not the physical. It worked then and should work even better now.

I spot cleaned the kitchen and returned to my book, this time with a Pepsi so that I would face no danger of becoming sleepy or drift toward sloppiness in my retention of the written material. The deeper I delved into the story, the harder my dick became and the temptation to grab it and work the shit out of it was overwhelming, but I gritted my teeth, moved it around to relieve the pressure and managed to get in another one-hundred fifty pages before I fell asleep with it in my lap. I awoke at five, hated myself for not going to bed, made coffee, listened to the news on the tube while I ate toast and slurped the coffee. I couldn't get it out of my mind that maybe the librarian would turn out to be a butt-fucking fine piece of ass. If she does, it would be my first attempt in what I always considered the 'wrong hole' when I missed the right one and had to back off. Truthfully, I didn't relish the thoughts of sticking my pristine lily-white Willie in the sewer pipe of life. But, I cautioned myself, if that is the last resort option with the gorgeous-assed librarian, them I'm in, like it or not.

I poured the last drop of coffee and glanced back at the clock. I picked the phone from the table, punched '1' and waited. Carolyn answered. 'Demamo Underwriters. Carolyn speaking.' I grinned each time I heard the name of our partnership, a combination of the first two letters of our last names.

"Good morning, Carol. Ryan. I still don't feel at the top yet so I'm deferring my arrival until this afternoon. If anything urgent pops up, call me here at home. I'll see you later, but if anything comes up with me, I'll call back and let you know. Have a good one." She said she hoped that I felt better soon and that she would monitor my traffic for anything important. We hung up and I went back to reading. I heard the mail truck out front at the exact time I closed the book and sighed heavily. I have never read a book that sucked the marrow from your body with its descriptions and its content. I looked at the authors name again---Terri Anny Trenton---and speculated that maybe she had been butt-fucked once and then fantasized the rest of the story as I found it incredible that a woman could be as obsessed with her ass as this book subject appeared to make herself. I took the book to the car and dropped it on the passenger seat. I showered, dressed, and left for the office, arriving at eleven-forty three.

I returned a few phone calls, checked through the mail, signed two letters to go out, checked with Roy about the Overseas Barge Line addition to the fleet and got the good news--it was being added to the policy and generated enough new income to pay our rent for the next three months. On the way back to my office, I stood by the window and eyed the library, hoping to luck into a shot of the librarian returning from lunch and had no luck. I won't play the lottery today, as if I ever did play. I hung around the office until four-thirty to give the appearance that I didn't want to be too eager to return the book. I laughed at myself knowing that reading that tome in one day spilled the beans about my eagerness anyway. I can only trust that perhaps she was also eager for me to finish the book so that the conversation could be held.

When I opened the door, I took a deep breath, reined myself in so that as I approached her at the desk where she is standing, I came at her slowly instead of giving the impression of being a panting, drooling, tongue-out sex maniac. If she is really savvy, she would know that from my latching onto the book as quick as I did. See, asshole, you are a sex maniac when it comes to thoughts of her.

"Good afternoon, Ryan. I really didn't expect you back so soon. It pleases me that you were so absorbed by the story that you couldn't put it down. I admire readers with that dedication to a story."

"I must admit that the story line kept one's attention, but I'm not really convinced that the book is for every reader. I would recommend it to, for instance, my male partners, but never to my female assistant. I have to work with her and I would always be self conscious thereafter."

"Yes, I understand that feeling when there is a relationship that isn't more intimate than normal. As a librarian, I had to overcome many inhibitions before I became comfortable in offering some books to patrons. With you, I sensed a need in you for a recommendation that would open your mind and eyes to another world that you may be unfamiliar with personally. Am I close in my description?"

"Way to close. In fact, you were right on the mark. I learned much about another world and myself as I plowed though this mesmerizing story. My next question about it is--when are we meeting to have our conversation. I'm avidly seeking more explanation and expansion."

"I appreciate avidness for knowledge. It makes my little world worth the effort." She stooped behind the desk, took a card from somewhere, handed it to me and asked, "Do you know that street? It's in a newer development and may not be familiar to you?"

"I have continuous updating of my GPS system so I'm certain it will be located. If not, do I call the listed number for oral directions?"

"Yes, that's my home number. And Ryan, come around seven, please. By the way, I love the way you say 'oral.' See you at seven." She turned and gave me another tempting shot of her ass. I couldn't resist so I spoke slightly louder so that she could hear, "I didn't do anything that you wouldn't do while I was reading." She turned, winked, and kept trucking toward the stacks, waving at me with the cheeks of her heart-stopping ass.

I drove directly home. I dumped the suit and tie, showered, brushed my hair, and padded to the bedroom closet to select my evening outfit. I debated and finally settled on black twill cuffed pants, black loafers, black socks and a burgundy Demamo, LLP embroidered polo shirt. As a six foot two, one-hundred eighty-five pound thirty six year-old, I was often told that I cut a dashing figure, whatever that meant. Dashing to me always meant running to get something. You know, he dashed here, he dashed there. I boiled it down to --damn, I look great and if I were a woman, I'd jump my bones in a flash. I selected an expensive bottle of Cabernet to take along. I didn't want to forget my disguise so I put my notepad and pen beside the wine. I opened the nightstand drawer and took three condoms and pout them inside the notepad zipper pouch, never being certain what one is obligated to do with a new partner, especially if the new partner turns out to really be a butt-fucking aficionado. I surveyed the scene. I was ready when the time rolls around.

I entered the address in the GPS, followed the speaking woman and arrived at five until seven. I rang the bell, I heard squeaks on the floor and the door slowly opened and she stood there smiling. She had on a white short skirt, a black and white striped sailor-style top, white sleek sneaks with what appeared to be no socks, but I spied the top of the footie at the back of the left shoe. She ushered me to the Den, took the wine, thanked me and asked if I wanted it now. I shook my head and said, "Later is best." She nodded and placed it on a nice looking piece of furniture that she explained was a folding bar. I took a seat in a large Queen Anne style chair, she pulled one facing me and she sat, holding the book in her lap. When she looked at me, she asked, "Ready? Ask any questions you want. Don't be embarrassed by the topic. We both know what the book is dedicated to describing--anal sex--so ask me something."

Wow, I thought. Direct, no nonsense get on with it attitude. So, I'll start with the worst question I have. I cleared my throat, opened my notepad and read:

"What lf the ass is dirty when you are ready to have an anal experience?"

She nodded and responded, "Good question to start, Ryan. That has to be a concern, both to the woman and the man. Let me show you the comments by one woman who practices anal." She flipped through another book she retrieved from the nearby table. She found the page and handed it to me, saying, "Read the second paragraph."

'So this is what I do to be sure I can take that dick out of my ass and stick it in my mouth without worry. I use a Fleet or generic brand suppository; they work really fast, (for me within minutes) then I fill one of those water bottle douche bags that you can get at the drug store with warm water. I do it, as Shay suggests, until my ass is totally clean. Which is generally no more than 3 times. If I'm doing a filming scene I will take the Imodium for extra safety and mental comfort, but really, you don't need it! Relax, you do these things and you're clean, really, clean enough. No worries. Seriously, relax and don't worry! But still, you don't want to put the dick back and forth from your ass to your pussy, trust me you will get a urinary tract infection and that sucks so bad, probably not the best to put it in your mouth from ass either but fuck it, that's hot. Listen to me! I'm the one that asks, still to this day, "Is it clean? Is it clean?" And it always is, even without all the preparation. Ladies and guys too who take it that way too, listen to your body. If you feel you are gaseous or feel bloated or constipated, then, sorry honey, ain't happening tonight! But most of the time, when you're really turned on and tune into your body you will be fine. So, eat light, suppository and enema with warm water and it's Ass to Mouth baby!'

I looked at her and shook my head. She took the book back and told me that those were the words of a porn film star who did anal films from time to time. I still shook my head even after the explanation. I asked a few more question and she gave very succinct answers to each. I was impressed with either her vast knowledge or, and I was hoping I was wrong here, her experience with the subject. I paused, put the pen down and asked, "How about we serve the wine now. I need a break from the subject at hand. We both went to her bar; I used her unique air pressure cork removal tool, poured the two glasses, clinked the edges, and walked to her patio doors and stood looking at the wind blowing the trees behind her pool. She was standing on one foot and asked, "Would you mind if I shed the shoes, Ryan. The only function of my job that I dislike is being on my feet all day."

I sat the wine on an end table, dropped to one knee, took her foot and untied the shoe and sat it behind me. She shifted feet and I removed the other shoe. We stood there several more minutes, returned to the bar, refilled the glasses and went back to our chairs. We both had nearby tables so I sat my wine on the table, opened my notepad and began reading the balance of my questions. I noticed she was rubbing one foot with the other, then changing and rubbing. I dropped the notebook on the floor, slipped from my chair to my knees and took her left foot, removed the footie, and began massaging it. I looked up at her, saw that she wasn't objecting, but instead had closed her eyes. I moved one hand to the calf and began rubbing it while continuing with the foot. I changed the tempo of my rubbing, adding more pressure on both the calf and foot. Once I added pressure, she moaned and spouted, "Oh, my God, yes--that feels incredible, Ryan."

She seemed relaxed, sedate, breathing harder with each movement of my hands. I switched feet and performed the same procedure. When I took her calf in my hand, she slid farther down in the chair, breathing harder with each stroke of my hands. Her eyes were still closed so I allowed myself to tempt her as I slid my hand up her thigh and applied pressure to the area behind the knee. When I went back to the first foot, I took the leg in hand at the thigh and received no objection from her, her contented rapid breathing was making the only sound in the room. I moved my hand from the bottom of her thigh to the top and she actually squealed in delight. When I put the pressure on the thigh, she muttered, "Oh, Holy shit, this wasn't supposed to be this way this quick."

I had my hand up her skirt and my hand was now flicking at the bottom of her panties on her right leg. Rather than slapping my hand away, she slid even farther down the chair seat and that move exposed her panty-clad lower body to my view. I pulled her right leg toward me, moved between her legs, used both hands and gently took the waistband of the panties in my hands. Within seconds, her thong panties were making a rapid descent down her legs as I pulled the blue wispy material toward her feet. I spread her legs farther apart, eyed her pussy as my heart was pounding to the point that I believed I could see my polo shirt moving with the beat. Now that there was no risk of being slammed by her fists, I dove headfirst wand buried my head in her pussy. I licked, I licked slowly and I licked hard, she shuddered at the sensation, she let her legs relax more and fall farther apart. I hit her with another long lick, and then another. I would have given my balls to know what she was thinking right now as I continued licking through the slit of her pussy, hitting her clit with exactly the right pressure and timing.

Unbeknownst to me, she was thinking was that I was unmitigatingly irresistible and had enticed her to drop her inhibitions about fucking on a first encounter. I changed my touch slight and used longer, harder licks with longer pressure. Her urge to more under me grew and she began to wiggle in the chair, her pre-orgasmic tingling was spreading like wild fire through her network of erotic fusing. I put my hands under her ass and lifted her hips as I stabbed my tongue into her womanly core, drinking the juice as I explored her insides. Her arms moved, her hands flowed around my head, she held me tight as she urged me on in my exploration of her sensitive tissues as she began to ripple in the abdomen, lifting her hips higher, and gasping stronger and with more intensity. I used my hands under her hips to spread her cheeks, withdrew my tongue and moved to her asshole, punching inside as much as possible. She bucked once, screamed loudly and her juices ran down my chin and I was having difficulty holding on to her buttocks. She pulled my hair to such extreme that I had tears in my eyes, but I refused to quit. I lifted her from the chair, lay her on the plush Den carpet, unbuckled my belt, pulled my pants and shorts off, jerked my shirt over my head, pulled her skirt and shirt from her body, and crawled upwards between her legs. I intended to penetrate her flaming, squirting pussy, but she pushed me back. She stared at my dick, now a massive rod of hot, thick human flesh standing and staring her back through its evil eye. Breathing through loud gasps and low murmurs, she extended her shaking hand, reached out and, touched the head, rolled her eyes back and spit, "Oh, my Holy God. It's more that I imagined. I love it, Holy Mother of God, I love it." No longer patient, I pushed her gently down on the plush carpet and moved forward.

When I entered my full length, she bucked upwards and was writhing under me, still in her orgasmic throes. I was fucking her using hard, long strokes while she whispered in my ear, "Faster, faster. I'm on fire inside. The orgasms keep coming, they keep coming, my God, will they end."

I sustained my stroking in and out of her wet pussy for some five minutes, her orgasmic squirting continuing throughout, and her multiple orgasms never abating. I was on the verge of Cumming myself when she whispered in my ear, "Let me know when you're ready to cum. I want to take it." I stroked easier when she said that and when I knew it was ready; I kissed her, pulled back and told her, it's on the way. She pushed me off, turned over, stuck her ass in the air and pulled my dick forward. "Now, Ryan. Now. It's clean. I cleaned before you got here."

I was in a bind here. I hadn't expected she want to take it this way, but I'm committed and I'm hurting. I moved up and placed my dick at the entrance of her asshole and pushed. Resistance. I tried again, no luck. She turned her head and said, "The small bottle on the table behind you. It's olive oil. Use it." I pulled the stopper out, poured about a half ounce in my palm and rubbed my dick down. I put the head back at the entrance of her asshole and pushed. Magical olive oil. It went inside easily. I was vigorously stroking inside her tightly compressed ass. The enveloping of my dick so tightly was outer-worldly new to me and I was enthralled by the gripping force on my dick. She began moving her body back and forth; matching her strokes with mine and then it hit me. My balls twanged inside my scrotum, the Cum rose inside my shaft, the warm flow encouraging me, and I felt the spurting deeply inside her ass, filling it full of my creamy Cum. I was still holding her hips with my body pushed against the crack of her ass, my dick still gripped by her tight interior. When I released my grip on her hips, she slid forward to her stomach on the carpet, turned and sat up, taking my dick in her mouth and cleaning the cum from the entire length. She held my balls in her right hand, pulling them to urge me forward so that she could reach more of my dick. I was on my knees and it seemed ages as she sucked until I knew it was rising again. She continued until she drew it to its full length once again. When it was fully hard, she backed off, turned it loose and put her hands up, saying, "Pull me up, Ryan, please."

I pulled her up, wrapped her in my arms and held tight, pressing my hard on against her pubic area. After a moment or two, I lifted her chin, bent and kissed her tenderly. I released her, picked her clothes from the floor and handed them to her. She took the clothes, excused herself, and I dressed while she was gone. I was at the patio door sipping my wine and watching the breeze flapping the trees when she returned. She sidled up against me and said, "You filled me and it was beginning to drip down my legs. I had to go expel it before it got over everything. Sorry for the abrupt move. Now, o you mind my asking a question, Ryan?"

I shook my head no and waited. She held my hand and began, "You looked surprised when I presented you my butt. Had you never butt-fucked before today?"

"You were my first. Frankly, you shocked me when you offered your beautiful ass to me even though I have fantasized about it since I first saw you from my office window. I never imagined that I would have the balls to actually do it. Once I was in, it was most pleasurable, tight, warm, and gripping. I wouldn't want it as a steady diet, but an occasional ass-fuck may be in order."

"That's my opinion also. Now I want to ask, would you like to spend the night, Ryan. We could make it even more enjoyable if you do."

"Yes. Yes I certainly would, but only if you tell me your name. I can't go around all night saying, 'Hey, you.' the entire time.

"Fair enough. I told you that after our conversation I would tell you my name. I want to keep my promise. It's Terri Anne Trenton."

I choked on the wine.

.