The Sexy Librarian: A Lesbian Romance

by Nicolette Dane

  Esme popped back up quickly and grinned at me with that dazzling pale face of hers. She kissed me on the nose.

  “C’mon,” she said, smacking me on the butt. Esme lead me over to the bed and lifted her hand up, motioning for me to lay down. “Lay down on your stomach,” she instructed.

  “Okay,” I said, crawling up onto the sheets and sliding upwards toward the pillows.

  “Here,” she said, reaching out and taking one rather large, fluffy pillow from the mess of them near the headboard. Esme positioned the pillow underneath me, my belly on top of it. This pillow propped my backside higher up into the air, exposing my ass and pussy to full view. I admit that I was a little bashful by the position, but I trusted Esme and in that moment I would have done anything she told me to do. “Close your eyes and relax,” she said, and I did.

  I heard Esme rustling through a drawer at her bedside but I didn’t open my eyes at the noise. Rather, I took a deep breath, released a happy sigh, and gave myself to my beautiful redheaded librarian lover. Her attentions made me feel so adored, so desired. I know that my soft, young body aroused her and it made me feel extremely confident about myself. I felt Esme mount the bed and crawl down behind me.

  “So cute,” Esme mused to herself. I felt her soft fingertip gently run over my asshole, massaging the tiny crinkles and folds. It then dropped down and tenderly petted the base of my slit, her dry finger slightly sticking to my flesh as it moved.

  “Mmm,” I sighed delightedly.

  “You have a beautiful pussy,” said Esme, giving my lips a gentle squeeze. “It’s so inviting.” I then felt her tongue lick over my slit in a slow, deliberate movement. My head went swimming and I groaned happily, pulling a pillow out of the bundle of them and positioning under my head, my arms wrapping around it and hugging.

  “I’m a little embarrassed that you can see everything,” I admitted.

  “Don’t be,” Esme comforted. “You have a treasure down here.” Esme gave me another long lick, her tongue causing my lips to part and I could feel it poking inside of me. My eyebrows raised as I moaned again in passion.

  “Be gentle, okay?” I said

  “If you want me to slow down,” she said, interrupting her sentence with another lick of my pussy. “Or stop,” she continued, the tip of her tongue running lightly, wetly, over my asshole, causing an intense shiver to course through my frame. “You just tell me, all right?”

  “All right,” I said, almost whining with a craving for more.

  I could feel the warmth from Esme’s face move away from my backside, but she let her hand rest on me, tenderly and sweetly massaging against my achy pussy lips. With each swish of her hand, back and forth, I felt a pleasing tingle run up my spine. I hugged the pillow tighter, my mouth dropping open just slightly, concentrating on my breathing, almost meditating as I lay there ass up, vulnerable, anticipating Esme’s attention.

  “This might be a little cold,” she said. I felt the hand that was touching me pull back and then her other hand swoop in. This hand was coated in a cool lubricate and she was right — it was a bit cold. I shivered and endured, allowing her oily palm to move over my pussy and up to my ass by way of my taint. Her fingers slipped right over my skin and it felt spectacular. With two fingertips, she massaged the lube against my asshole, tenderly running over my wrinkles as my heart beats doubled in speed. I was growing intensely excited, uncertain what Esme was doing but loving every uncharted second of it.

  “Oh my God,” I moaned, feeling Esme’s lips collide with my dampness. The lube made it easy for her face and lips to slip around my underside and she kissed me with fervor, flicking her tongue at me, pushing it into my hole, dragging it down the length of my slit and diddling my clit with it. She was experienced and happy to demonstrate. I felt profound love in that moment, my backside fully exposed, my tenderness apparent. It’s liberating when you can be so free with someone.

  As Esme kissed my pussy, occasionally sucking, occasionally licking, I felt a single finger of hers press against my rear hole. She pushed with a modicum of force, then gently rubbed, and then pressed once again. I felt a little strange from this, but I resolved to relax into it and allow her to do whatever she wanted to me. I wanted to make her happy. I wanted her to make me happy. Esme then sat up and slid her other hand underneath, stroking my throbbing pussy lips in a methodical and steady motion, while she lovingly traced a fingertip around my rim, the lube allowing her to deftly massage my folds.

  “Is that okay, dear?” she said in a low, seductive voice.

  “It feels really nice,” I said. Esme gave my pussy lips a squeeze, then a stroke, and then she pushed two fingers through my slit and fondled my clit back and forth in an abiding motion. My chest was getting heated as my lungs demanded greater breaths, my heart fluttering fast. Esme’s pleasing work underneath me was some of the greatest arousal I’d ever felt up to that point. My toes were almost going numb so I wiggled them a few times to bring them back.

  Esme squeezed my pussy again, bunching my lips together, and stretching them out slightly from my body. It made me feel rubbery and malleable, it made me feel like I could become anything. I released a handful of sighs reflexively, noises that were beyond my control, my mind completely dunked into this electrifying massage. It wasn’t what I expected, this massage, but it had already far surpassed anything I’d felt on my bottom half before. The way Esme touched me was with a benevolent vigor, as though she were playing all of my arousing nerve endings like a lusty harp. Pluck rub squeeze, pluck rub squeeze, and then I would quiver and shake on command. I knew that I would happy if she’d just go on touching me like this for the rest of eternity.

  “Deep breath,” Esme cooed, and I followed her command. On my breath I felt myself loosen up down below, which must have been Esme’s plan because as I felt all clenching dissipate while I inhaled, Esme gingerly slipped a single finger into my rear, her other hand still lovingly massaging and pulling on my pussy lips. I squealed in a surprised delight. “Relax,” she reassured me.

  On my next exhale I could feel my rim tighten around Esme’s inserted finger, the pressure of it inside of me extremely arousing, making me see stars with my eyes closed. Her stroking of my pussy grew more lively and fluid, her fingers easily slipping over my fleshy folds, her fingertips giving my clit adoring circular rubs. Esme eased her finger back and forth in my ass, nothing forceful, more indolent than anything. Slow and deliberate, just another sensation for me to feel as she worshiped my underside. I felt as though I were in some strange meditative trance, like I was hypnotized, completely absorbed by Esme’s massage and living only in that very moment. Floating, hovering above solid ground in a way. It felt positively magical.

  And then it hit me like a glass of water being thrown in my face. I had been floating so high, so enamored by my lover’s touch, so bewitched by the tender attentions, my body neglected to realize how close it was to that all too familiar ledge. And I fell. I fell hard. My body clenched up, my ass tightening around Esme’s finger, my pussy juicy with wanton abandonment, my thighs juddering causing my legs to spontaneously kick, my toes and fingers tingling with numbness, my arms shivering. It was like my body was trying to curl up into the smallest amount of space it could. Esme, in her adoration, slowly pulling her finger out of me and got out of my way, letting me convulse there on the bed. She gently rested her palm on the side of my thigh as I quavered and writhed. She watched with joy in her eyes.

  “I just… ugh!” I groaned, slithering into the sheets, not even able to feel the pillow under my belly or the pillow under my head. I twinkled and twisted, emitting little pleasured chirping sounds as I traversed through an orgasm so powerful, it was something I never knew my body was capable of producing on its own. It was as though Esme had given me some profound gift, unlocked some sort of door that I never even knew existed but had always been there, right before my eyes, if I had only opened them wide enough to notice.

  I know I probably only laid there f
or a few minutes in my uncontrollably floundering state, but it felt to me like it was a full hour of coming. The orgasm permeated my mind, near stupefying me, causing me to lose all notion of time. I didn’t begin to calm down, both my shaking and my bewilderment, until I felt Esme curl up next to me on the bed, slide her arms around me, and hug me close. Our sweaty, naked bodies coalesced into a loving warmth. I focused on my breathing and relaxed back into her embrace. She entwined one of her legs with mine. Our breathing began to synch up. My heart slowed. The feeling was otherworldly.

  “You seemed to enjoy that,” she whispered into my ear, her light, warm breath causing me a tickle. I squirmed again and giggled.

  “What was that?” I marveled. “I never…” I said, pausing for a breath. “I never felt anything like that.”

  “That was a yoni massage,” she said, kissing me adoringly on my ear. “Did it feel okay?”

  “Oh my God,” I said, snuggling deeper back into her. “Can you do that to me permanently? Like, just nonstop forever?” Esme laughed.

  “There’s more where that came from,” she murmured.

  We laid there together, joined, resting against one another’s lovely bodies. A happy sigh emoted from my lips. I sensed a rapturous completeness there next to Esme, coming down from my intense orgasm, reveling in the afterglow of post-coital wonderment. It was an amazing feeling and as I began to drift into a sleepy daze, an afternoon after-sex interlude, a smile curled onto my lips that couldn’t be wiped off. Yeah, this could work. This was how I was meant to feel. This was what bliss was all about.

  I was falling hard for my sexy librarian.

  *

  Thank you so much for reading The Sexy Librarian! I write these stories for you and sincerely hope you enjoy them. If you liked this novella, please leave a positive review on Amazon and let me know what you loved most. Reviews not only help to inform potential readers of a good book, but they also let us authors know we’re on the right track. Writing and publishing is a tireless profession, and there’s nothing more rewarding than positive feedback from readers. Thank you so much for your support!

  Love,

  Nico

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  AN EXCERPT FROM: DORMITORY DEAREST

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  I NEVER THOUGHT college would be this weird. I mean, I was really excited about it leading up to the big move but I didn’t really know what to expect apart from what you see in movies. None of my close friends, of which I had few, went to the same college as me so it was like I was going off on this new adventure all by myself. Nobody knew me, I could reinvent myself if I wanted, I could be a totally new person and carve out a completely different path if I so chose. But once I got to school, I found that I simply couldn’t help but be me. Geeky, introverted, freaky me.

  Nerdy Natasha. Lucky I ended up in the same small arts dorm with all the other nerdy outcasts and not in one of the huge student ghettos filled with roving bands of bleached bimbos looking for an easy target like me to sink their teeth into. No, as an English major I had been asked by some benevolent cosmic force if I would like to enroll in the residential college for Arts & Letters students and without even knowing much about the program I dutifully accepted. The program was called ALOHA, which stood for Arts & Letters Organized Housing Association, and it was a total lifesaver for a girl like me.

  My dorm was quite small, being one of the oldest dorm buildings on campus, and was only three floors high as opposed to some of those much larger skyscraper dorms that peppered the huge campus of my midwestern farm school. It was like we had our own little sanctuary where we could just be us. All kinds were welcome but it was an overwhelmingly geeky atmosphere. I liked that. But, if I’m being honest, I wasn’t prepared for the level of geekiness. Much different than high school. These students had much more passion. More spunk.

  The beauty about my dorm, Leopold Hall, was that the entire student population within its walls were ALOHA students. It really was like we were on some island. Some island for weirdos. Totally awesome.

  So when I say that I never thought college would be this weird, I mean weird in a good way. Strangely exciting. Different. Filled with possibility and acceptance and with very limited, if any, judgment from peers. We were all just there doing our own thing. English majors and writers like myself, theater students, visual artists, the outcast art crew. It was a terrific amalgam of my university’s creative contingent and it was nothing like I had anticipated. Utopia, almost.

  And the things that happened to me, well, I couldn’t have anticipated them either.

  Each floor of Leopold Hall housed a different year of ALOHA students. So the freshmen like me were on the first floor, sophomores on the second, and juniors on the third. The third floor was much smaller than the other two floors and was all single rooms, rather than the doubles that the freshman and sophomores got. And generally that was fine because by the third year many students drifted away from ALOHA. I could see that it was a good program to start out in, to help you get adjusted to college life, but by the time you’re a junior you want to live off campus, spread your wings and all that. The way the years were laid out in the dorm worked out swimmingly. Girls on one side of each floor, boys on the other.

  And my roommate, Whitney, was a blast.

  “You know what’s awesome?” asked Whitney, sitting on the couch under our lofted beds wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt, her dirty blonde hair twisted up tightly into a bun. Whitney was an outgoing theater major and I was happy to have been paired with her.

  “What’s awesome?” I asked, sitting sideways in my desk chair, avoiding working on a paper for my English class.

  “I felt like, in high school, most boys wouldn’t even give me the time of day,” she said, something I found hard to believe considering she was a pretty girl with an affable personality. “But here in ALOHA, all these boys are totally creaming themselves over me.” I couldn’t help but laugh at her.

  “You’re a nut,” I said. Watching Whitney fuss with her hair, I couldn’t help but fuss with my own hair in mimic. While I was a natural redhead, freckled and all, I dyed my hair a more vibrant red because it made me feel fun. Following Whitney’s lead, I pushed my own hair up into a bun and tied it in place with a piece of elastic from around my wrist.

  “What?” she said innocently, stifling a grin.

  “I just don’t believe that you had trouble with boys,” I said. “You’re totally lying to me.”

  “Well…” said Whitney, looking off sheepishly. “Maybe it’s just that I’m getting more attention here at college. It’s skewing my memory.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “I think I’m leaning toward Justin,” she mused, almost as though she were talking to herself. “He’s kinda beefy and brooding.”

  “Eh,” I said in an unimpressed tone. “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” said Whitney. “He’s cute. He’s got that James Dean thing going on. Tight white t-shirts,” she said, almost giggling.

  “You’re so damn girly,” I said. Even though I said this is a bit of a derogatory way, I actually loved how girly Whitney was. She kind of balanced me out. And I knew that she knew I didn’t mean anything by it.

  “And you could take some lessons!” retorted Whitney with a snort, crossing her a
rms. “If you don’t think Justin’s cute, who do you like over on the boys’ side?”

  “The boys’ side?” I asked, feeling a little put on the spot and cornered. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  “There’s a lot of nerds over there,” Whitney admitted. “Can’t tear a couple of those dudes from their computer games. But there are definitely some hotties. You can tell me, Natasha. Who are you sweet on?”

  “Whitney,” I groaned with embarrassment.

  “Tasha,” said Whitney, impatiently awaiting my answer.

  “I don’t know,” I reiterated.

  “Fine,” she said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I said, slightly acquiescing. “It’s that I don’t know. None of them, I think.”

  “What about Michael?” she asked. “He’s an English major, just like you. I like his long hair.”

  “No, I don’t like Michael,” I said. “He’s fine, I mean, he’s a good guy. But I’m not, like, sweet on him.”

  “People are already shacking up,” said Whitney matter-of-factly. “And a lot of the sophomore boys already have girlfriends. You’re gonna miss out, Natasha.” Whitney then had a brightening thought and her face lit up. “I bet you like a boy in one of your classes!”

  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” I said, standing up from my desk chair and wandering over to my closet. Opening my closet door up, I fished around inside to find my sleeping clothes. With a slight flutter in my heart, knowing that Whitney’s eyes were on me, I cautiously pushed my jeans down my legs and began to change clothes.