For his entire life, Dean had been an avid reader. Every day when he was a child, his mother read to him. Occasionally, it was excerpts from a book she was reading to herself, but most of the time it was a book she had bought for him. He was reading at a First Grade level when he started preschool. Run Silent, Run Deep by Naval Officer Edward L. Beach Jr. was the first "adult" novel he had ever read, and he could still clearly recall it. It told the tale of submarine combat in the Pacific during World War II. The themes of revenge, fortitude, bravery, loyalty, and honor--and how they might be put to the test in times of war--were present. Though he was unaware of it at the time, the book would ultimately influence his choice of work.
Maybe that's why he finds himself in a book club at this stage of his life. He joined approximately a year ago. The local library's conference room serves as the Club's meeting place. There are just ten people in the little group. The youngest member is twenty years old, and sixty-two is the oldest. That's him, Dean--the retired man with a full head of silver hair, the divorcee, the old guy. Ben, the youngest, is a programmer with aspirations of becoming a writer. Dean, who believes he might one day see Ben's name on a book, has read some of his work. Ben likes to write LightRPGs. In case you're unfamiliar with the term, it refers to a literary style that blends the elements of computer role-playing games. Dean enjoys reading Ben's works.
Then there is Rachael, the housewife, mother, and runner. Book Club is her leisurely escape. She's awkward in casual conversations during breaks, and she gently complains about her husband and children. She could have been a famous equestrian, don't you know. She's rather plain-looking; thin, with legs that remind Dean of toothpicks when she wears leggings, and she doesn't need to wear a bra since her tits are not much more than insect bites, though she does have pronounced nipples. The most pleasing view of Rachael, according to Dean's thinking, is from the back when she's wearing slacks. Her wavy long brown hair that hangs midway down her back, and her juicy peach of an ass, give Dean visions of picking her up and sitting her on his cock while he's standing behind her. He is confident that he could make her moan if he could bounce her up and down his shaft, leaving her a boneless lump on the floor with his semen oozing out of her pretty little cunt (with an ass like that, she simply
must
have a pretty little cunt, right?). Rachael has a daughter, Adalyn, who's just gone off to college. Rachael is always showing photos of her. Adalyn is also a runner, but her young body is more curvaceous than her mother's. Dean has been known to masturbate while thinking about a mother-daughter threesome with the two of them. Dean has quite the imagination if you've not come to realize that yet.
Lynn, the Club leader, works at the library, she's their gal on the inside that helped them get the room. Always smiling and laughing, she's a source of levity. She's short and round, not Dean's type, yet he does think she's prettier than Rachael. All that extra meat on her bones gives her a round face. She always has a sparkle in her eyes. Lynn is fun to be around. Dean wouldn't say no to her choking on his cock head.
Diah is an immigrant from Indonesia. She's been in the States for five years and her English is passable, but she wants to do better. She uses Book Club to learn and all of the members enjoy working with her. They take turns sitting next to her and some of them, Dean included, meet with her outside of Book Club to tutor her. She's of medium height, with straight black hair, eyes the color of dark chocolate, and caramel skin that Dean wants to taste -- well actually, he has tasted.
One evening he and Diah met at a restaurant and had dinner, using the menu to help her study English. They chose this particular place to meet because the booths had high backs, and there was a light directly over the table; private but well-lit and perfect for their purpose. They wouldn't be disturbed and they wouldn't disturb diners in the adjacent booths. The two of them sat side-by-side, and after giving the waitress their order, they kept a menu and started reading, with Dean helping her pronounce words. It was quite the exercise, what with a mixture of American and Italian dishes. When their meals arrived they put the menu aside and the conversation turned to more current news topics. Dean was infatuated with Diah's full lips, covered in burgundy lipstick. He found himself focusing on them as she spoke. With their entrees finished, they ordered dessert. There was cheesecake for Dean and Tiramisu for Diah. With the last morsel of dessert coating her spoon, Diah's tongue laved the creamy concoction into her mouth. As her tongue snaked between her lips it left a small dollop of the whipped mixture of eggs, sugar, and mascarpone on her upper lip. Dean's cock, which had been stiffening all through dinner, twitched and began to ache. All he could think of was her lips wrapped around him. Taking a chance, he leaned close.
"You have a bit of that delicious creme on your lips," he whispered. Their lips were all but touching.
Diah's eyes grew dark, and her breathing slowed.
"Would you clean it, please?"
Dean's tongue swept the creme away, then probed her mouth. The flavors of tiramisu and cheesecake swirled together as their tongues danced. They both ceased to breathe as their passion built. Dish eventually broke the kiss with a loud gasp.
"Dean, what are we doing?"
He slipped a hand under her blouse, grasping one of her breasts as he kissed along her jaw and down the graceful column of her neck. She softly moaned when he thumbed her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.
"Dean, please, stop."
Dean ended their entanglement with a sigh.
"I'm sorry, Diah. You're so attractive that I got carried away. Please accept my apology."
"There's no need to apologize. You're a handsome man, and it felt good, but I... I prefer the touch of women."
"I didn't know. Don't apologize, I was out of line. I never should have taken the liberty of kissing and touching you."
She gazed deeply into Dean's eyes, a questioning look on her face.
"Can we still be friends? Please? Can you still help me?"
"Friends, yes, if you want, and I'll still help you," Dean smiled. "I'll pay the bill and we'll go."
Dean walked Diah to her car and they bid each other goodnight. As it turned out, the rumors about Ben sleeping with Diah were seemingly baseless.
Jordan and Delany are the only couple in the Club, they're newlyweds. For them, it's an inexpensive way to socialize, kind of a group date night. If some members are going to a bar you can bet Jordan and Delany will be there.
Delany and Dean almost got a bit heated one night when several members were out drinking, but cooler heads prevailed and Jordan is none the wiser. Dean had gone to the men's room and when he exited he found Delany standing in the hallway. At first glance, he thought she was in line for the ladies' room, but quickly realized that there was no line.
Delany had been drinking margaritas all evening, and Jordan had warned everyone that tequila makes her clothes fall off. Here in the darkened hallway, Delany opened her blouse and bared her ample breasts to Dean. They were probably C-cup Dean guessed, and her conspicuous nipples stood out from the center of her large, dark, pebbled areola.
"Step back in there and suck my nipples, stud," she slurred.
"Now Delany, you're drunk. Don't you remember me sucking them just an hour ago?"
He hadn't, and wouldn't, but figured this ruse would be the quickest way to finish the encounter. He was right. She put her tits away and turned swiftly, nearly walking into the wall.
"Well!" she huffed, "I guess you didn't enjoy them much if you don't want to suck them again! I suppose I'll take my tits and go back to the table."
He hesitated, giving her time to return to the table before following her. Back at the table, Delany was straddling Jordan and trying to get him to take her tits out and suck them. Dean just shook his head and chuckled to himself as he took his seat next to Sarah.
Sarah is another member of the Club, one of three women referred to as 'the three amigos'. They are pretty much inseparable, and they are all here tonight. Barb and Angela are the other two. They're long-time friends and Book Club is just one of their escapes from their husbands. Drinking is another.
After Dean took his seat, Sarah turned to him and placed her hand on his thigh. She learned over and over whispered in his ear.
"Did she try to get you to suck those big titties?"
"Yeah," he replied, noticing that her hand was creeping upward.
"And you turned down that offer? Shit, I would love to motor-boat those sweater muffins."
"What is it with you married women, always looking to fool around?"
"Few of us are fortunate enough to have a trouser snake like this waiting for us," she purred as her hand reached Dean's cock, which had been growing hard while her hand was creeping towards it.
"Sarah," Dean growled.
By now her other arm was around his shoulder, his bicep was nestled between her breasts, and she was stroking him through the fabric of his pants. Her lips were touching his ear and he could feel, and smell, her warm, alcohol-laden breath.
"You can suck my tits if you want, Mr. Silver Fox, but I'd prefer to suck this trophy cock and feel it flood my throat."
"Sarah, stop it!" he rasped.
"What? Are you concerned with what my husband would think? Let me call him and ask. Of course, if I call, he'll probably say to bring me home so he can watch. If that happens then I won't get to swallow your load. He'll make you pry me open with this monster and cream pie my sopping wet pussy."
Dean was growing more uncomfortable by the moment and shifted in his seat. He looked around the table for help, but no one noticed what was happening, they were all engaged in their own conversations.
"If you're wondering if I'm any good, just text your buddy, Ben, and ask him.
He
didn't have any issues with pumping his load into my married mouth... or my married pussy."
"Dammit, Sarah," Dean grumbled as he disentangled from her.
He stood up and headed for the men's room. She had him all worked up, and his cock was so hard that it ached. What was it with these married women throwing themselves at him tonight? He shut himself in a stall and sat on the plastic seat, he started his routine of calming breaths. Moments later he heard someone enter, and a pair of high heels became visible under the stall door.
"Hey, Dean" it was Angela, "I'm sorry about Sarah leaving you hanging like that. Do you want me to help you with that problem between your legs?"
Dean hung his head and scoffed. "Go away, Angela."
"Okay, but if you change your mind just let me know," she said as she walked away.
"Fucking women," Dean mumbled.
His cock was still aching and he decided to relieve himself. He stood up and dropped his pants then turned toward the toilet. His cock was standing out from his body, rigid and throbbing. His head was an angry purple that looked as if it could explode at any minute. He spit in his palm and wrapped his fist around his shaft. As he stroked his aching cock, he thought of one Book Club member that wasn't with them tonight; Ayesha, the only single woman in the Club. The dark chocolate goddess that he wanted to impale with his shaft. She was tall and fit, with firm tits and tight ass. He thought she was perfectly proportioned. Her eyes were the color of whiskey, her lips were plump, and her hair hung long and straight down her back. Standing there at the toilet he imagined she was bent over in front of him. It didn't take long until he throbbed out a heavy load into the bowl, disappointed that he wasn't painting the walls of Ayesha's pink tunnel.
