In the Bookstore, Part 1

The moment I saw her, I wanted her. She was not such a great beauty, but she had fascinating eyes and a way of looking at a man that appealed directly to his manhood. By that I mean there was nothing cutesy about her. No simpering little-girlishness. No bullshit. She was the kind of woman that pushed her hair back and looked straight at a guy in a way that made his dick quiver. Also, she smiled, and she knew just how to do that without guile or pretense. Just a straight-out smile.

I smiled back warmly. “May I help you?” I asked, since she had walked into my bookstore after all.

“Yes.” She had attractive lips and good teeth. “I’m looking for a book on erotica. It’s an obscure volume. It was recommended to me.”

I was more interested than ever. “The title?” I am sure that my eyes were twinkling.

She didn’t bat an eye or hesitate. “The Joys of Mutual Masturbation,” she replied.

I wanted to rub myself through my pants, but of course I didn’t. “I’m sorry. We don’t have it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m quite familiar with our entire stock of erotica. In fact, that’s my favorite kind of reading.”

The lady’s lashes lowered perceptibly and her mouth softened a little. “Really!” Her voice had dropped a bit and taken on a husky tone.

Oh God, I wanted her! My eyes swept the small bookstore, which was deserted except for the two of us. The clock on the wall read 4:55. I was due to close up in five minutes. “Uuuuh…on second thought, I do have some books in the back room that just came in. It’s closing time, so I could put the lock on the door, and perhaps we could go back to the store room and check out the new stock.”

“Why not?” The woman said.

Excitement rising within me, I hurried to make the arrangement and to pull the shade on the door. As I approached the customer again, I took a closer look at her figure and found it pleasing. She had ample breasts and rounded hips. The nylon-sheathed legs that showed below the hem of her dark skirt were trim. She wore high heels.

“If you will just step this way, Missus…uh…?”

“Miss,” she corrected, and that surprised me because she was in her mid-thirties and didn’t seem the least bit old-maidish. “Call me Angela.”

“I’m Will.”

I took her into the back room. Of course, my statement about a new shipment of books was a lie. In fact, there were no books in the back room at all. There was just a desk with a swivel chair behind it, a worn leather chair in front, and a leather couch against the wall. The place was dusty.

Angela looked around.

“Uuuh, concerning mutual masturbation,” I said, “have you ever tried it?” Sometimes the best approach is the most direct one. I had a feeling it would work with her.

“No!” The word exploded from her. Her eyes suddenly brightened, and her voice took on an edge: “Of course, I masturbate. I masturbate a lot. But I always masturbate alone.” She looked right at me without shyness, but she was tense…and excited.

My cock stiffened in my suit pants. “So do I,” I admitted.

“Are you married, Will?”

“Yes. But my wife doesn’t give a fuck about sex. Literally.”

“Hah!” Angela laughed, and the tension was broken. “Hey, I like you,” she said, and took a step toward me.

I raised my hand between us to form a stop sign. “No. No touching. Not yet. You were interested in mutual masturbation, and so am I. So why don’t we…give it a go?” My eyes narrowed and my voice had roughened slightly.

“Right here and now?” Her voice quivered with excitement.

“Yes!”

Angela hesitated for just a moment and then, while looking me right in the eyes, began unbuttoning her blouse. I yanked at my tie. My God, we were both in our middle thirties and had just met five minutes ago, but we were acting like a pair of horny teenagers. In the brightly lit office of the bookstore, we stripped while staring at each other. Her blouse was gone, and she stepped out of her skirt. I tossed my shirt aside and dropped my trousers.

Standing in bra, panties, and gartered nylons, Angela stared at the peak in my boxer shorts and smiled.

“Do you…uh…” I fidgeted, “want the chair or the couch?”

Her eyes twinkled. “The couch, of course.”

“Then take it.”

“May I get rid of these first?” Angela asked, gesturing vaguely at her few remaining garments.

“Yes. Except for the stockings. Please leave your stockings and garter belt on.”

“Mmmm. So you’re a garter guy.” She smiled.

“And you’re a garter girl?”

“Of course. I have nice legs, don’t you think?” She turned this way and that, posing for me.

“You have perfect legs,” I said, stroking myself gently through my shorts. “Trim calves. Full thighs.”

“And what do you have to say about these, Mr. Masturbator?” She asked, removing her bra.

Her titties quivered. They were full and slightly relaxed, which is just the way I like them because that kind yields nicely to a man’s hand. They were just big enough, too, and the nipples were erect. “They’re gorgeous,” I said.

“Really think so?” Angela cupped her tits and lifted, squeezing them a little. She let them go and they bounced.

I stretched the waistband of my shorts forward, dropped them, and kicked free. My eight-inch cock was high and hard, and it bobbed as if it were on springs.

Angela made no bones about looking directly at my prick, and her expression told me that she liked it. I wanted to kick over my marriage vows and have sex with her directly. But we had said masturbation, hadn’t we, and I wanted to try that with her. It would be a first for both of us. “Please sit down,” I said.

Angela turned to look at the rather dusty leather couch, made a pass across its cushions with her hand, then elected to keep her blue bikini panties on. She sat. I remained standing. For some reason I wanted to maintain that pose, with my dick sticking right out towards her. She kept staring at it.

I wondered about her. Was she really unmarried? Had she never been married? What was her story?

She spread her stockinged legs and pulled her panty crotch aside, revealing dark hair. Her fingertips separated the thick bush. Our eyes remained locked as she began slowly stroking herself. I did the same to myself, my encircling hand working lightly up and down on my pole.

“What are you thinking right now?” I asked. “Tell me about Angela. What does she like? What IS she like?”

She began to talk, and Part Two will be Angela’s story…

(I invite comments from ladies. Thanks for reading.)