Chapter 8
Ex Libris Salvatio. Do you like that? I made it up. I have no idea whether it's actually Latin, but it is my new motto. From books, salvation. Or more accurately in my case, from the library, salvation. A lot of people find solace in the library; heck, I'd found some pretty good solace in the library myself the day after Christmas. But salvation? That was a lot harder.
Since Monday was a day off, for the students anyway, I decided to return the three library books I'd checked out, all of which were due on the following day. At the same time, I thought I'd start work on a paper that Mr. Anson had assigned us on President Andrew Jackson's battle against a national bank, a harbinger, according to Mr. Anson, of the Civil War struggle over states' rights. It actually wasn't due for another two weeks, and there was always the chance that I could be expelled by then, but I had a naïve hope that justice would prevail.
Mostly I just found it hard to accept the idea that they'd throw me out of school because Stephie van Carlen was trash-talking me. Particularly if she wasn't willing to share the video she supposedly had. Stephie was only the queen of the senior class, after all, not the whole school.
My working hypothesis, based on what Coach Torianni had told me, was that it was actually Stephie's father who wanted me thrown out. And I figured that if he had enough clout to get my scholarships withdrawn, and my tryouts cancelled, getting me expelled was probably like swatting a fly. Stephie as queen? No. Dutch as king? Sure.
Why did he want me thrown out? It was possible, of course, that Stephie was still the force behind the throne. In my limited experience, though, that would be a pretty big overreaction. Although I couldn't remember breaking up with a girl myself, I did remember it happening to other couples in eighth and ninth grade. Some of them got to the public tears and yelling stage, but never any farther that that. So the idea of Queen Stephie screaming "off with his head!" over a breakup, particularly with an asshole like me, was just a little much. On the other hand, King Dutch getting me chucked out because he thought I'd abused his little girl? Sure, I could see that. I could see that pretty easily.
Nevertheless, I trooped down to the library to start my research. Most of the kids, I figured, would just do their research on the Internet, but they were a lot more comfortable with the Internet than I was, and I'd always liked real books anyway. I got there around ten, and Miss Edwards gave me a big smile when she saw me, but there were too many people around with too many demands on her attention for me to give her more than a whispered "hi."
I was wading through a poorly written book on the controversy when I heard a voice across the table: "The library's closed for lunch, young man."
"Oh, God, I'm sorry," I yelped. I'd slammed my book closed and nearly jumped to my feet before I realized that I'd been given the message by a beautiful woman leaning over the table wearing nothing but a bra and panties, both of them with delicate white lace attached to what looked like shiny black silk.
I sat back hard in my seat, completely bowled over by the gorgeous Lynn Edwards.
"I didn't say you had to leave, silly boy," she said with a smile. "I just said the library's closed. Everybody else has left, and we won't open until 1:30 this time."
I watched in awe as she proceeded to crawl onto the table in front of me.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you to stand up when a lady joined you at the table?" she giggled.
I did jump to my feet then, and she giggled again as she reached for the front of my jeans.
"I thought you might be here today," she said in a voice that was half-whisper and half-moan as she pulled down the zipper, all the while looking up at me and giving me a view of her chest that literally took my breath away.
"Cat got your tongue?" she asked with another giggle. "Yeah, in fact, I tried to call your cell to find out, but your voice mailbox is full, you naughty boy. Too many other girls, probably."
By now, her delicate fingers had reached into my cotton briefs and pulled out my cock.
"Mmmm," she purred, stroking it gently with her hand. "I figured I'd take a chance anyway, though, and wear the undies you like so much."
Well, my tastes hadn't changed at any rate. I liked them just as much now. On the other hand, I'd never seen a real pair of tits, either. So as Lynn ducked her head to swallow my cock, I reached forward for the hook on her bra. With only a little trouble — nowhere near enough, I hoped, to cause Lynn to think that her lover's body had been taken over by the brain of a horny ninth-grader — I unhooked it. Without missing a beat, she slid first one arm and then the other out of it, letting it drop to the table beneath her.
Oh, God, I thought as I reached down to caress her back with my fingertips, please help me last longer this time.
He may not answer those kinds of prayers, but I could tell within a couple of seconds that I wasn't going to explode in Lynn's mouth as quickly as I had the last time she blew me. How wonderful. Slowly, almost not believing my fortune, I slid my hands around the sides of her ribcage until I had two delightfully soft handfuls of Lynn Edwards's tits.
"Mmmmm," she moaned.
"Mmmmm," I moaned right with her. I found myself gently squeezing her, letting her nipples slip through my fingers and then very slowly squeezing them as well.
"Bastard."
I looked down to see Lynn looking up at me through heavily lidded eyes.
"Do you want a blowjob or not, Trick?" she asked in a husky voice. "Oh, fuck, Trick."
She closed her eyes and rolled her head from side to side.
"Let's —" she gasped. "Let's go to the sofa in the office."
Apparently there was a sofa in the office. Even better. I let her lead me there, both of us walking kind of hunched-over to avoid being seen through the library windows. When we were finally in the office, she practically pushed me down onto the couch.
"Now you just leave my boobs alone for a minute, Trick Sterling," she scolded me. "And let me finish my job."
She reached down and pulled my pants and shorts completely off, and then dropped to her knees in front of me.
"I don't think so," I teased her. I reached down and grabbed her under the arms, causing her to yelp in surprise as I swung her up into the air and deposited her beside me on the couch. By the time she could react, I was on my knees in front of her, my hands once again caressing her body, only this time from the front. I took only a moment to admire her sno-cone perfect breasts, and the small red nipples that topped them, each surrounded by just a wedding ring of crinkled red flesh.
"Trick," she moaned as my fingers closed over them and cut off my view. "Stop."
"Why?" I asked her, resting my chin atop her pubic mound, still covered by her black panties but already giving off the wonderful smell that I remembered from our last session together two weeks ago.
"'Cause they're too small," she murmured.
"Baloney," I said, leaning forward until my mouth hovered over her left tit.
She looked down at me, her body still slowly undulating beneath me.
"They're perfect," I breathed. I dropped my head a fraction of an inch and reached out with my tongue.
"Oh, God, Trick" she cried out, "oh, God."
If the spasms I'd caused the other day were climaxes, she had two more of them, one from sucking each of her breasts, and yet another two when I finally pulled off her panties and applied my newfound talents there.
Finally, with her panting and gasping underneath me, I moved up to insert my still hard cock into her.
"Fuck, Trick!" she yelped as I slid the whole thing deep inside of her well-lubricated opening. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna... oh, Trick."
That last Trick was drawn out, turning into a wavering keen over twenty to thirty seconds, like Tri-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-ck!
I still wasn't ready to cum myself yet, though, so I just changed my rhythm ever so slightly and within five minutes had her on the verge of another one. This time I was right with her. We spent five more minutes coupled together before she finally blinked open her eyes and gave me a strange look.
"You've changed, Trick Sterling," she said.
I decided the best course was to simply smile at her. If I had changed, she certainly hadn't seemed to have any objections to it.
"You always told me my boobs were too small," she smiled at me.
"I was an ass," I said. "Your boobs are perfect."
"Say it," she said.
"Say what?" I asked her.
"You know," she nudged me.
I sighed inwardly.
"You were great, baby," I told her.
She looked at me again and opened her mouth, and then burst into tears. She sat up and threw her arms around me, still sobbing on my shoulder.
"What?" I asked, slowly pushing her off of me and wiping the tears off her cheeks. "What is it?"
She sniffled at me.
"I know it's just our game," she sniffled. "You say that, I say 'you too, stud, ' and I pretend I'm one of your high school girlfriends. I'm sorry."
"Sorry about what?" I asked. "About crying?"
She nodded, her eyes welling up with tears again.
"Why?"
"'Cause it actually sounded like you meant it," she buried her head in my shoulder again.
"Hey," I said. I lifted her head by the chin. "I did mean it."
Her upper lip trembled, her eyes looked deep into mine.
"Why do you doubt it?" I asked her.
"In high school," she sniffled again, "I was always pudgy, with these tiny little tits. I never dated at all. And only a little bit in college. And then when we started, you know, fucking, I used to pretend that I was in high school, and that I was one of your girlfriends, instead of, you know, a woman ten years older."
"Hey," I was still holding her chin. "Right now you're my only girlfriend."
"Why?" she looked astonished.
