"Ummm...Angelina? asked Tom hesitantly.
No response.
"Angelina, are you okay?" he asked.
Again, no answer.
Slowly, Tom took his right hand off the steering wheel and gently shook his lover by the shoulder. The motion was enough to move Angelina's mouth off of his penis, but she still didn't stir.
Now, Tom reached down and grabbed Angelina by the scruff of the neck. Carefully lifting her up off his groin, he pulled her upright and turned her face to him. As the passing lights from the highway flashed by Tom could see that behind her owlish-framed eyeglasses, Angelina's eyes were closed. Looking closer, a strand of pre-cum hung from the corner of her mouth.
"She's out cold," Tom said sarcastically. "Great."
Tom positioned Angelina back in her seat and pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal. A few minutes later, Tom pulled his car into Angelina's driveway and shut off the engine and headlights. Pausing for an instant, he took another look at his passed out lover, gave a 'what the hell' shake of his head and exited the car. Walking over to the passenger side, he noticed that the lights in the living room of her sister's family next door were on. Wonderful, he said to himself. That's all I need is for her family to see some strange guy carrying Angelina into her house. That wouldn't draw suspicion or anything.
Opening the front passenger door, Tom quickly began to extract Angelina's unconscious body from the car piece by piece, starting with her arms. Once he had her leaning with her back against the car, Tom draped Angelina over his left shoulder and carried her toward the house.
At the front door he paused to rest and propped Angelina up against the side of the house, holding her up at the shoulder with one hand while digging through her purse to find the house keys. Fortunately, Tom found them quickly, inserted the key in the lock and opened the door.
Turning his attention back to Angelina, Tom allowed her limp body to fall over his left shoulder and he carried her into her house, shutting the door behind him in hopes that no one had noticed their awkward entrance.
Tom allowed himself a sigh of relief before fireman carrying Angelina up to her bedroom, his hands holding onto the back of her thighs, under which swung her black leather boots. Angelina's head bobbed behind him and arms dangled loosely, the gloved fingers of her right hand still holding her smoldering cigarette holder.
Mounting the staircase, Tom took Angelina into her bedroom and gently pitched her forward onto her bed. Tom sank in a chair in the corner of the room. Watching Angelina's unconscious body bounce softly on her heart-shaped mattress before coming to rest, the erection that she caused in the car – which he subsequently lost while trying to covertly carry her into the house – returned even harder than before.
Climbing onto the bed, Tom gently clapped Angelina's left gloved hand. No response.
"Angelina, wake up," he said, moving up to her face to lightly slap her rouge-covered cheeks.
Still nothing. Angelina was more deeply passed out than on the occasions when she fainted. Nothing short of a rock concert in the room would revive her. Angelina would likely be sleeping off this little drunken bout with brandy until morning.
That didn't mean, though, that Tom couldn't have some fun with his lover. As Angelina had so generously offered, Tom was free to "use her like a pincushion" whenever she passed out while they were intimate. Lying next to his sexy, yet helpless companion – a raging hard-on threatening to break through the zipper of his trousers – Tom wasn't about to let this opportunity go to waste.
Rising from the bed, Tom stripped naked, then climbed back in and repositioned Angelina, moved her up on the mattress to rest her head on a pillow and brushed a strand of her dark hair out of her eyes. The barely-smoked cigarette that had been burning in her holder since she began to blow him had now worn down to the filter. Tom removed what was left of the cigarette and placed it in the ashtray by Angelina's nightstand. Popping open the cigarette case in her purse, he withdrew a fresh one and screwed it into her holder. No matter that Angelina wouldn't be smoking it; Tom just loved the look of Angelina clutching her long black holder adorned with a long white cigarette.
Sitting on his knees, Tom gazed down in awe upon Angelina, lying sprawled and spread eagle atop the burgundy red duvet. Eyes closed, cigarette holder in leather gloved hand, pre-cum still at the corner of her slightly open mouth. Tom looked further south. Angelina's breasts were heaving with every breath, camel toe shown through her tight-fitting jeans, and finally, last but certainly not least, her sexy, knee high, black leather high heeled boots, the toes pointed straight up, just as his penis was now doing. Her body was perfect, she was all his and he had all time he wanted with it.
Tom was not so young or too love struck not to admit that there were more beautiful women in the world, but at that moment, there was no woman who he'd rather make love to than the sexy, horny 51-year-old librarian lying unconscious before him. Other women surely wore boots, smoked from a cigarette holder and were younger and more attractive, but he couldn't imagine anyone who combined all of those features – and his fetishes – in the one hot-blooded, kinky nymphomaniac that was his lover: Angelina Lione. Vice Principal Seymour's loss several years ago was definitely Tom's gain.
Tom unzipped Angelina's leather jacket and removed her arms from the sleeves, re-inserting the cigarette holder back between the index and middle fingers of her right gloved hand. Then he took a tissue from the Kleenex box on the nightstand and wiped the pre-cum off her lips before tossing the dirty tissue in the wastebasket alongside the bed.
Climbing back onto the bed, Tom cuddled up to the unconscious Angelina, feeling the warmth of her both against his naked frame. With his hand, he turned her face from the right then moved in and kissed her full on the mouth. Her full lips felt soft to the touch, her mouth wet and warm. Tom went in again, only deeper this time, kissing Angelina saw hard that he threatened to inhale her fillings.
When he finished, Angelina's head slumped back to the right and he moved down to her chest. Lifting the form-fitting sweater up over her breasts he proceeded to cup them with both hands and simultaneously massage them.
Never much of a breast man, though, Tom soon tired of the exercise and continued on toward Angelina's boots. Crossing her right leg over her left, Tom gently rubbed the two together, the friction of the leather making a heavenly squeak. Then with his right hand he gently caressed and squeezed the wrinkled leather, then repeatedly swept it the length of her calf. The leather was as hard but pliable as his erection. Wanting to feel even closer to the boots he switched from his hand to his penis, moving it slowly up and down the inside and outside of her booted leg. The sensation practically brought Tom to orgasm, but he knew he had more work to do.
Unbuttoning Angelina's designer jeans, he slowly slid the tight pants down her legs stopping right above the knees. Now all that was left between the two was Angelina's hot black thong. Tom unfurled the G-string to meet the jeans, then spread Angelina's legs. With his fingers he parted her bush then flung his body onto hers and popped his bloated penis into her vagina. Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, given how chronically 'in-the-mood' Angelina always seemed to be, the vagina was wringing wet with her love juices.
With nothing to stop it, Tom's penis sunk to the bottom of Angelina's vagina.
"OHHHH," moaned Tom, his penis resting inside Angelina's warm pussy. "That's the spot."
Tom lay there for a couple minutes, as still as possible – as still as his unconscious lover.
Finally, he began moving. Slowly, a centimeter or two at a time he took his penis out, before plunging it back into Angelina's inviting pussy. With each stroke and every glance he took of the cigarette holder Angelina held in her gloved hand or her booted legs with the 4" heals, he threatened to cum, but still Tom held out. There was no rush, he kept telling himself.
Eventually, the ascents and descents of his penis went the length of her pussy and the faster and harder he went the louder the glorious action caused by erection rubbing against gushy vaginal walls became.
Finally, Tom gave himself permission to give in to the pleasure and one more thrust in her luscious pussy hit a sensitive spot on his penis, resulting in the spouting of a groundswell of sperm that flooded into Angelina's vagina.
Tom felt his legs quiver as the strength from his lower body transferred to his waist and for the next half a minute he unleashed the full extent of his sexual potency into her soggy, sticky fissure. The virile young man kept pumping even after he'd drained his member, hoping to defy medical science. When no second wind came, he collapsed on top of Angelina, penis still firmly embedded in her vagina, heart beating like a long-distance runner on his last mile, thinking that if he died right then it would be the perfect way to go.
A minute later, his breath finally caught, Tom pulled himself off his lover and rolled over on his back. Turning his head to the right, Tom looked into Angelina's blank face. Completely dead to the world from her lost battle with brandy, a soft, high whistle emitted from the breath coming out of her nostrils.
Tom smiled and leaned over to kiss his unconscious lover on the lips. I hope on some level she felt and still enjoyed what I was doing to her, he thought.
