The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

by Rose Caraway

  “I’m going to spank you for rubbing it in. And then I’m going to make you suck my cock. And I’m going to have you dance for me rather than a stripper; I don’t want to wait to feel you across my lap.”

  I didn’t have a snappy comeback, because I was no longer in charge. “To answer your question, I don’t have any toys on me.”

  “But you do have this,” he said, picking up the paperback. “I’m going to spank you with it, and maybe if you’re good, I’ll use the belt I have packed in my bag. And you’re going to call up room service and ask if they have any adult toys you could purchase.”

  Somehow, in swapping books, it was like we were swapping roles, like I’d transferred every hint of erotic power over to this wunderkind. Whether we actually did those things or not, I was in. All in. It was so unexpected; I just sat and stared at him until he placed the book back in my lap and whispered, “Now close your eyes and think about how it’s going to feel to have my hand on your ass and my cock in your mouth.”

  I did just that, trying not to squirm too much in my seat. I jumped, startled, when the flight attendant came by to take our final drink orders. Joel ordered a beer, while I asked for an orange juice. When it arrived, I took a few sips, but was so jittery I worried I’d spill it. “Drink up,” he ordered me. “You need all the energy you can get for what’s about to happen. I won’t have you conking out halfway on me.”

  I loved the way he immediately took control, but I also loved that he’d waited to see if I’d responded to him taking charge. I have plenty of bratty sub in me, but I don’t just let that side out for any guy, especially not ones who think all women should immediately bow down and take orders. That’s the opposite of hot. Joel—Joel was everything I look for in a lover, and my body was already primed to respond to his every word. Sometimes, it’s that easy—and I’m that easy.

  He left me alone for a little while. I’d just settled into a daydream about kneeling on the floor with my hands bound behind my back when we started our descent. Joel grabbed my wrist, his fingers locked tight. He kept it there the whole ride, which earned us a knowing look from the female flight attendant who came around to make sure our seats were in the upright position and our seat belts were buckled. As we hurtled to the ground, Joel leaned over and whispered, “Show me your panties. Just for a second. Don’t make a scene, just show me what color they are.”

  That made my red panties very, very wet, a fact I was pretty sure Joel found out in the brief moment I showed him what lay between my legs. I blushed fiercely, not because I’m shy, though—I was just amazed that in such a short time span, Joel had managed to have me at his mercy, ready to eat out of the palm of his hand, if he ordered me to. “Do you have checked luggage?”

  “No,” I replied.

  “Good, because if you’d made me wait even longer you were going to get punished for it.”

  I had a feeling whatever punishment he’d concoct would be more pleasure than pain, but I smiled back. We landed smoothly; Joel opened my seat belt before I had a chance to, running his hand briefly between my legs. Not for the first time, I wondered if we’d have struck up a flirtation—or whatever this was—if someone else had been seated between us. I had a feeling the answer would’ve been no, unless we’d managed an airplane ménage à trois, which even for a hottie like Joel might have been a challenge.

  I let him lead me along, grateful to simply follow. I shut off my overactive mind so I could focus on what my body was telling me, which was that I was ready for whatever Joel threw at me. That was good, because he started in the cab, after giving the cabbie the name of his hotel—he didn’t even ask mine, but I realized quickly that they were both downtown, so it wasn’t an issue. No sooner had the driver begun our journey than Joel was cornering me in the backseat. His fingers pinched my lower lip, making the rest of me sing with excitement.

  “I’d try to find a strip club but all I want is to see the parts of you I couldn’t make you show me on the plane,” he muttered as he teased my lip. Joel shifted his hand from my lip to behind my head, pulling me close, but not close enough. When I tried to bridge the gap between us for the kiss I was dying to feel, he pulled back. “You have to earn a kiss, Brianna,” he admonished. “Show me those wet panties again.” He managed to say this in a much louder voice, one I was pretty sure the cabbie heard because he swerved slightly and quickly righted the vehicle.

  I hiked up my skirt as briefly as I could, but he wouldn’t let me pull it back down, instead leaving my panties on view for several seconds, though they felt like several minutes. He rubbed his fingers against my panties, pinching me for a moment before letting the skirt fall over his hand, which then rested against my hip. He’d moved so he was sitting right next to me, while I simply waited to see what he’d do next. I didn’t have to wait long before he was tugging on my lip again, this time with his teeth. By the time we reached his hotel, I was swollen, aching, putty in his hands.

  I was so aroused I could barely carry my shoulder bag. Seeing this, Joel managed to carry my bags and hoist me in his arms and into the hotel. “You need your energy, remember, to be my slut for the night.” Who knew four little letters could be so charged? It wasn’t so much the word, though, as the way he said it, like “slut” meant a magical princess who’d be treated to all sorts of sexual delights, if only she behaved. He ceremoniously placed me on a couch in the lobby, told me not to move and went to check in.

  It would’ve been humiliating—if it wasn’t so exciting. I couldn’t remember the last time a man had treated me with such certainty that I was his, through and through. Of course I wasn’t really Joel’s—I barely knew him. We weren’t in a love story like Z’s, but I knew I wanted him. I knew that for however long we were together—an hour, a day, or possibly more—I truly was his, and I wanted him to treat me this way. Thankfully I’d managed to convey that to him on the plane, and now my job was simply to sit and obey orders. I was far enough from home that I didn’t care if anyone caught on to what was happening between us.

  Joel returned and pulled me up, tugging me close enough to feel the hardness beneath his jeans. “I’m very tempted to drag you into the bathroom right now and make you take care of this, but we have a whole suite waiting for us. I’m going to carry you to the room, and you’re going to let me. Think about what you’re going to do to my cock.” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Joel had picked me up—both our bags in one hand, the other wrapped around my ass—and carted me to the elevator. In this position, I could focus properly on his erection; being so close to him was making me unbearably aroused. So I shut my eyes, a necessity in case anyone was watching me and wondering what a woman my age was doing draped over this man’s shoulder, and thought about how hungry I was for him—all of him, not just his cock.

  If we’d managed to get it on while en route, I think ultimately, as hot as it might have been, I’d have been disappointed. Making me wait for him gave me extra time to let my imagination roam. As the elevator rose, an image of me kneeling, naked, with my hands tied behind my back, flashed into my mind. Joel was holding his cock in his hand, but he wasn’t feeding it to me—no matter how much I begged, stuck out my tongue and even drooled at his command. Instead he was slowly sliding his fist up and down, letting me see exactly how hard he was.

  I was so lost in my fantasy that when we exited the elevator I had to remind myself where we were. In my head, I was already poised to do anything for a taste of that precome tempting me from the tip of his cock. We entered the room and Joel threw me roughly onto the bed. While normally my first thought upon entering a hotel room is figuring out where the nearest outlet is located to plug in my phone, I barely even remembered I had a phone. I had more urgent devices to turn on. “I don’t know whether to rip your clothes off or make you dance for me.”

  Wisely, I didn’t say a word, letting him mull over his options. Instead, he brought my fingers to his zipper. “Slowly,” he cautioned. I moved as slowly as I could, but it
was a challenge. I’m used to getting what I want, and he’d already denied me for so long, but I knew if I tried to rush him, I’d only provoke the opposite effect. I shifted my gaze from what my fingers were about to reveal to his face. He offered me a sensual, wicked smile as his fingers covered mine and, together, we eased the zipper down.

  “This what you wanted?”

  The gorgeous hard cock that greeted me certainly was, but when I started to place my hand around it, he batted me away. “I’ll tell you when you can touch me. Right now you’re going to give me a lap dance. Hurry up.” Joel slithered out of his clothes, pulled the covers back and sat on the bed, completely naked, his erection proud and inviting. I stood on shaky legs. “No music, just you dancing for me,” he coaxed in a quieter voice. My heart was pounding a beat loud enough to guide me as I started with my skirt. I faced him, hands at the zipper, before simultaneously tossing my head back so my breasts brushed his face as I popped the button and let the skirt fall to my feet. I turned and bent over, baring my ass to him, getting into the spirit of it, especially when he pulled me gently back toward him and let his cock rub against my slit.

  Emboldened, I stepped right between his legs as I undid the buttons on my blouse. They’re more decorative than anything—I only needed to undo one to slip it over my head, but I chose to take the long route. Our faces were inches apart by the time I wriggled out of the top, my nipples almost peeking out from my bra. I tossed the blouse unceremoniously onto the bed, then shook my hair against his face as I unhooked the bra. I shimmied out of it, my hard nipples passing by his lips. I was glad he’d given me this assignment, because it helped sate my desire for his cock for a few minutes. I was thinking about him admiring me, wanting me, touching me, kissing me, rather than me devouring him. When I moved to take off my panties, his hands met mine and together we pushed them down to my ankles.

  “Leave them there,” he said as a finger brushed against my wetness. I stood, trapped between Joel’s firm, muscular thighs, trembling as he acquainted himself with my wetness. “Put your hands on my shoulders.” I did so, grateful for the support as Joel’s fingers sought out my clit. I’d been watching, but shut my eyes when he sank those wet fingers inside me. I tightened around him, my nails digging into him as he was soon fucking me hard. I didn’t know how many fingers he was using, but I felt full, tight, hot and ready. “Go ahead, show me how much you want me,” he said, answering my unspoken plea to come.

  My body responded instantly, nails digging deeper into his back, thighs shaking against his, as my climax drew his fingers deeper inside me. I’d thought I was ready, but the shock of it had tears racing to my eyes. My orgasm was a comet racing through me, exploding loud and hard and beautiful. His other arm wrapped around me protectively as it subsided.

  I was shaky, but the energy whipped back into me when he said, “Now fetch me your book and get across my lap.” I rushed to retrieve the novel, handing it to him gingerly before climbing across his lap. There’s nothing to take the years off like settling into such a submissive pose. Whether he was going to “punish” or “pleasure” me with my spanking, I felt far younger than the face that stared back at me in the mirror. “I’m going to spank you the way I was thinking about on the plane. I so wanted to take you over my knee right there, let the passengers behind us get a view of this beautiful ass. So we’ll just have to pretend we have an audience.” I could picture it, easily, as the first blow from his bare hand landed. He knew exactly where to strike each cheek—clearly he wasn’t the innocent virgin I’d imagined at first.

  “If it’s too much, say ‘ground.’ Okay?”

  “Yes,” I sobbed as he pinched my ass while waiting for my reply. Then the spanking resumed in earnest. I noticed that if I tensed my ass and tried to prepare for it, he just did something else—pinched my inner thighs, massaged my anus, trailed the back of his hand along my slit—until I relaxed. Then he let me have it. Joel made each smack count, the consecutive blows making my pussy so tight I wanted to scream. When I did, in fact, let out a yell, Joel said, “If you make so much noise that security pays us a visit, there’ll be no more spanking, and you won’t get my cock inside this very wet pussy.” I shut up, letting the sound of each blow echo in the room and in my ears.

  I’d have thought the book wouldn’t have that much of an impact—after all, I’ve been spanked with paddles and floggers and rulers and the like. But Joel had a magic touch, or maybe I was just so sensitive from his hand, because the spanks from the book made me whimper again. With one hand holding my lower back firmly in place, he slammed the book against the fleshiest part of my ass until I was shaking. Finally, he dropped the book on the bed and delivered two of the hardest spanks I’ve ever received, using what felt like every muscle in his body to make my asscheeks sing with pleasure and pain.

  He lifted me up so I was back between his legs, even more wobbly and aroused than before. “Now you get this,” he said, finally placing my hand on his cock. When he said it, for a second, I didn’t even want him inside me; the orgasm had been that good. But my hand around his hardness reminded me that I did still need to feel him there. He fetched a condom from his jeans and guided my fingers once again as I unrolled it onto him. Joel dragged me to the end of the bed, hoisted my ankles onto his shoulders, and speared me with his cock.

  A moment before, I’d almost refused him—not because I wasn’t turned on, but because all my senses were overwhelmed. I’d never been taken to such an erotic extreme, then made to wait. Joel probably could have gently licked between my legs and made me come again, so the blunt impact of his hardness, combined with the way he grabbed my ass and fucked me for all he was worth, had me spasming again almost immediately. Maddening tears formed in my eyes—tears of lust and desire, but even more, tears at finally having met my match in a lover. Joel fucked me the way I’d dreamed of being fucked—not just with his cock, but with his whole body, his mind, his soul. He didn’t just pull out and ram back into me—although he did plenty of that. He offered me something more than just the promise of our airplane-flirting; he gifted a part of me back to myself I hadn’t realized I was missing, a part I’d found in books and fantasies, but never completely in the flesh.

  I wanted him closer, next to me, as near as he could get, but I didn’t want to pull away or tell him what to do. I sat up as much as I could in that position, and he pressed down, the sweet ache in my thighs causing another ache where he was buried deep inside. “Open,” he commanded, though I already was, open to him in every way. He pushed my thighs apart and bent over me, moving close enough to bite my lip again. With my lip trapped between his teeth, Joel came with a final, forceful thrust.

  I didn’t want to let him go and break the spell. Instead I looked up at him through filmy eyes. He stared right back, that beautiful face softened by what we’d just shared. He eased his cock out of me, but immediately replaced it with two slow-moving fingers that knew just where to go to make me come again. This time was quieter, but just as intense.

  The bathtub was big enough for both of us. He filled it with strawberry bubble bath and sank inside. “Wait,” he said before I got more than an ankle in. “Bring the book. Read me a story.” So I fetched the novel that had brought us together, settled into the tub next to him and picked up where we’d left Z, not minding when the pages got dusted with bubbles. I planned to slip the paperback into his bag, with my phone number, before we parted. But first, we had a tub—and each other—to enjoy.

  Sensate Silicone

  Lillian Douglas

  A medical miracle. Researchers taking home paychecks from the DOD found a way to link the human nervous system to the electrical pulse of a computer. It figures: life-enhancing technology brought into the world by an outfit trying to build better bombs. There was no way of telling how long they kept it under their helmets, but once out the news splashed across the news magazines. No such thing as lost limbs anymore. No such thing as cerebral palsy, MS. Neurological disorders were headed
for a rout. Headlines shouted possibility from every street corner.

  Some glorious people out there were aiming slightly lower. Amid the excitement about long-sought cures for terrible diseases, LiveVibes hunkered down, their minds in the same gorgeous old gutter. Down in the muck, they produced a miracle of their own.

  This is where I come in. Jane Isley, porn star and sexpert, known to my friends in and out of the adult industry as the Dildo Queen. I’d done some work for LiveVibes in the past— strictly R&D, but certain circles pay premium for my endorsement—and we’d come away mutually satisfied. Me in the literal, sexual sense; their fake cock-skin is top of the line. And their money’s plenty green. So when the phone rang Thursday noon, I was on a plane Friday morning out to Portland.

  Business class and a limo waiting on the other end. LiveVibes had come into some more substantial funds than I remembered. In the limo waited a suit and a lab coat, the suit under strict orders not to leak product specifics until I’d signed a nondisclosure and the lab coat dying under her professional veneer to burble and gloat.

  “You’ve never seen anything like it,” the lab coat promised gleefully, her inner third-grader surfacing for a romp, which I minded none. She had perky little almost-tits and a wide-open smile; a bit of a fox. I got a little growly between the legs stealing glances down her shirt (Why the bra? I wondered) and had to swear to myself I’d use her during the session as brain-fodder. Small girls can be so vicious—and who’s hotter than the chick working to build the better dildo?

  Forms signed and my lips tightly zippered, we strode down the hall from legal to development. The lab coat led and chattered. We attracted loose blue jeans and khakis until we’d snowballed into a respectable procession. Throw in some office equivalents of the pitchfork (staplers?) and it could’ve been a revolt.