She was the city's chief librarian, and she had a habit of dressing as everyman's fantasy librarian; button-down blouse, skirt, nylons, and heels. She also liked to wear her hair pulled up into a loose bun with a few strands hanging free to frame her delicate features and dark glasses. This day her white blouse had long sleeves and a black lace, pseudo-tie. Her black skirt hugged her hips and ass before reaching down to a few inches above her knees. Her thigh-high nylons were also black, held up by lace straps hidden beneath the skirt. Underneath it all she wore a skimpy, black lace bra and pantie set.
She was in her office, working on a letter at her big, wooden desk when a knock came at the door.
"Come in," she called, hitting save and closing her laptop.
"Hello," a nice-looking man in a business suit stepped confidently into the room. "I'm Tom Simmons, the new Regional Representative for the Library of Congress."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Simmons," she stood up and shook his extended hand. "I was told you'd be stopping by."
"Well, I like to put a face to the names I'll be working with."
"Of course. Won't you sit down?" She asked, indicating the big, wing chairs facing her desk.
"How long have you been with the library?" He asked, settling back into the chair's leather upholstery.
They talked for nearly an hour, the conversation flowing from one topic to the next, some personal but mostly business. She found him interesting, intelligent, and amusing. A few minutes in she moved out from behind her desk to sit next to him in the other chair, turning it slightly to better face him. Unconsciously she crossed and re-crossed her legs several times, causing her skirt's hem to ride up slightly.
At some point she realized her mind had begun wandering. She caught herself admiring his looks and his build, which his suit fit well. She also glanced toward his crotch a few times, wondering what it held. While this wasn't unusual for her, she was a healthy woman with a strong sex drive, she did chastise herself for doing it during a work meeting.
Standing up Tom announced he needed to get going. Once more her eyes rolled to his crotch. This time she saw an obvious outline that sent a tingle dancing along her nerves. To keep from staring, she forced herself to quickly get to her feet.
"Thank you so much for stopping by," she said, walking him to the door. "I look forward to working with you."
"Me too."
After he was gone she returned to the leather chair and leaned back, snuggling into the corner. Closing her eyes she pictured him; his good looks and strong build, his charming smile and conversation. And she remembered the outline at his crotch, the one of his manhood . . . the one that clearly indicated its size.
A familiar warmth flowed through her, making her nerves tingle and her flesh simmer. The subtlest of aches stirred within her loins, making her uncross then re-cross her legs, her skirt riding up slightly. One hand came up to rest against her upper chest, her fingers dangling down and lightly scratching at the top of her breast through her blouse.
For long minutes she simply sat like that, thinking about her visitor . . . her body slowly simmering. Her fingers continued to scratch at her blouse, her other arm resting absently on the chair's arm. As the warmth ebbed and flowed through her and the ache throbbed with more and more insistence, she uncrossed and re-crossed her legs several times, her skirt riding up to the edge of her nylons.
Her body's simmering made her breasts ache and her loins sizzle. Blood rushed to her nipples, making the buds swell and press into her lacey bra. Swinging back and forth across the top of her breast her fingers slowly descended, scratching a zig-zag path down . . . down . . . down to the edge of her bra. Tracing this flimsy barrier her scratching fingers were within millimeters of her swollen nipple . . . teasing it. Her other hand came up to mimic these actions on her other breast. Back and forth her nails scratched, their weight reaching through her blouse to draw light indentations in her flesh and tickle her nerves. Crossing her legs again she shifted a little in the chair. The movement caused her bra to slide slightly, the lacey material brushing across her swelling nipples.
"Mmm," she sighed softly.
Her imagination had started. Not only was she remembering her visitor, she was imagining that he was standing before her, his cock swelling under his clothing while his fingers scratched at her breasts. Gradually the force of her scratching nails grew, pressing harder . . . the indentations into her flesh deepening . . . the teasing of her nerves heightening.
Her hands moved down to cup her breasts, her fingers kneading and massaging the full mounds. She flattened her sensitive nipples beneath her palms.
The ache filling her breasts spread . . . throbbed through her entire body. Her nerves sizzled, her muscles quivered gently. Sighing quietly, she slid down in the chair, bringing her ass near its edge and drawing her skirt higher. Her legs fanned open and close slightly, flexing her pelvic muscles.
Her loins began to smolder as embers glowed with the heat of her arousal. Her breathing grew shallow and she nibbled at her bottom lip.
She continued to imagine it was her visitor's hands on her breasts, cupping and squeezing her pliant mounds. She also pictured the image of his near erect cock straining within his slacks . . . pulsing with desire.
"Oh," she whimpered, her embers snapping and crackling.
She stopped massaging her breasts. Her hands rose up to unsnap and pull the pseudo-tie away. Then she quickly undid all her blouse's buttons except the one just above where it was tucked into her skirt. The top fanned open, displaying her bra-cradled breasts and the top of her belly. Her hands converged on her breasts again, now with only her bra separating them from her palms. She squeezed, her fingers tensing to mold her fleshy mounds.
"Oh yes," she sighed heavily.
Sinking lower in the chair she rocked her legs open wider before closing them and squeezing her thighs together. Her body ached with a need. Her embers snapped and sizzled, tiny flames flickering to life from their heat.
"Oh." Her hands pulled her bra down . . . pulled the lace covering her tits down under the full mounds. Her fingers reached for her swollen nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger to roll and tweak the sensitive nubs, sending electricity shooting along her nerves. "Oh yes."
Sliding down a little more she hung part of her asscheeks just off the chair's edge. Her head lay back into the corner, her eyes closed, images of her visitor manipulating her breasts while his cock throbbed in his pants continuing to fill her mind. She panted lightly, her bottom lip quivering with her shallow breaths. Most of her blouse hung open, her tummy muscles quivering below her tits, her own hands fondling the fleshy mounds. Her skirt had now ridden up past the lace bands of her nylons and now hinted at her panties-covered crotch. Her legs fanned open and close, her thighs squeezing shut.
"Oh. Oh God," she whimpered, her hands molding her tits, her fingers tugging on her nipples. Her fires grew, the flames dancing as they swelled.
