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Message-ID: <31941asstr$997445401@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Tom Thumper" <tom9211@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Confession of Cindy Bush {T Thumper} (MF, phone, exhib, MF)
Date: Fri, 10 Aug 2001 08:10:01 -0400
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Grolier Library:  The Confession of Cindy Bush
by Tom Thumper

	I really shouldn't be writing this, much less slipping these pages
into one of Grolier Library's copies of Labelle's Erotic Photography.  But I
can't help myself.  It was an erotic dream come true, and the thought of
someone already aroused by Labelle's photographs coming across my
story...it puts a juicy cherry on the top of my double scoop sundae.
	Besides, I'm the librarian everyone has to come to if they want
something from the shelf which holds Labelle's book or any of the other
well thumbed, well loved books, full of pictures and drawings and all those
deliciously naughty, dirty, wicked words.
	"You want _that_ shelf," said Mrs. Permstir.  Mrs. Permstir is the
senior librarian, though she's only fourty and would look really sexy if
she'd wear something other than that brown sack she comes to work in
every day.  Most of the time she's a bitch and would be happy if she could
get rid of all those pesky readers who mess up her stacks and enjoy life.
She especially hates those poor guys and girls she suspects of having a sex
life.  Wanting something from _that_ shelf means you are doubly guilty.
	"Ms. Bush will help you," she said coldly, turning and waving her
hand at me irritably.  I was already on my way.  My ears are especially
attuned for the phrase 'that shelf' and the extra edge in Mrs. Permstir's
already icy voice.  As I slipped up beside her, she was already launched
into her speech, same as usual.  The poor guy, a handsome devil, in his late
twenties in a white t-shirt and nicely short shorts, muscularly well built,
was turning a very cute shade of pink.
	"Ms. Bush will be helping you because I refuse to be dragged down
by any association with such filth as this," declared Mrs. Permstir in a
voice better suited for addressing a large church.  The guy looked around,
embarrassed.  He was lucky - there was never anyone around in the late
morning.
	"But I'm an artist-" he tried to say, but Permstir was red hot today.
	"All this material is good for is vulgar lusts and encouraging lewd
acts.  I've taken my concerns to the library board and told them what kind
of degenerates would be attracted by such a depraved collection."  She gave
him such a withering stare I was afraid he would give up and walk out, so I
smiled at him quickly and winked.
	"But I was over-ruled,"  Permstir continued.  From what I hear the
collection was donated from a major contributor to the Grolier Library.
Permstir didn't have a chance.  "Ms. Bush, however, perhaps due to her
fickle youth-"  I'm twenty-six for Christ's sake! "-has chosen to facilitate
these transactions."  She virtually spit 'transactions' out of her mouth.
	Mrs. Permstir turned and walked with her head held high into her
office, shutting the door behind her.  I knew from past experience she
wouldn't come out till the schools let out and the little urchins starting
pawing her precious tomes with their grubby hands.
	The library was mine to do as I pleased.
	I turned to the guy, his mouth was open with astonishment.  No
wonder so many people turn to the internet for their private pleasures!
Leaning over to look at his book request slip, I let my blouse fall open
slightly to catch his attention.  The slip said, BARTHELM'S SEXUAL
POSITIONS.  I looked up.  I had caught his attention.
	"Call me Cindy, no one calls me Ms. Bush."  Well, almost no one.
	"I'm Trent," he managed to say.
	"Don't mind her," I whispered, placing my hand on his.  It was
large and rough.  "She's just jealous of healthy men and women."
	As he struggled to say something intelligible I came out from
behind the counter.  Whatever he had to say, he swallowed.
	I'll tell you what I wouldn't have to say in person.  I dress to
please, to tease, to drive men as wild as I can without slipping my hand
down their trousers and stroking their cocks.
	My tops vary but are always tight whether a sweater, a blouse or a
t-shirt.  Today was a purple silk blouse with buttons that I could pop
very easily, just by taking the right kind of breath.  I liked the feel of 
silk
on my nipples, binding my round ta-tas, but still letting them bounce in a
way men just couldn't take their eyes off them.
	My skirt, I always wear skirts at the library, was tan suede with a
white frilly fringe that reached just below my knees with a slit high up one
side.  The suede brushed my legs and made a soft purr as I walked.
	For contrast I had white stockings that went halfway up my
thighs.  If you looked hard and I hope you did, you could see the black
elastic band that held them in place and the white porcelain of my skin
through the slit in my skirt as I walked.
	"Follow me, Trent," I said walking towards the back of the library,
the most secluded spot in the whole place.  "I'll need your help if you
want Sexual Positions."  He was quickly on my four inch high heels.
	"Oh yeah.  I want them all right," he muttered.  I looked back and
he smiled like he had said nothing.  I continued walking, feeling his eyes
exploring my body as I walked slowly down the narrow rows of ceiling to
floor bookshelves.
	The library was completely still, the books blocked out any
outside noise.  There was just me and him.  My skin tingled with
excitement.  I could hear him breathing.  Most men follow and get to look,
but this time seemed different.  It reminded me of the evening that started
me off in my naughty behaviour:  my clothes and my eagerness to help
people to _that_ bookshelf.
	One night just as I was about to lock up, I had already turned off
all the lights, the phone rang and, in a voice husky with sleep, I answered.
The line was silent.  I repeated my greeting, not able to stifle a yawn as I
did.
	"Can I help you?"  I could faintly hear someone take a breath.
	"David?"  David was my boyfriend at the time, before I caught him
giving a music lesson to one of his students in the nude.  He'd often call
and check when I was coming home; now I know the reason why.
	"Is that you David?"  I gave another yawn.  "I'm ready to come to
bed now..."
	There was a soft moan and then to my surprise I could hear the
purr of a zipper being drawn down.  Oh, I thought, so David wanted to
play.
	"Mmmm..." I murmured.  "I'm so ready to slip off my little red
dress and kick off my heels."  I cradled the phone on my shoulder and
hopped onto the check-out desk.  I shook out my long blond hair from its
tight bun.  "You know I can't stand having my bra on any longer that I
have too.  I unclasp my double D holder and let it fall to the floor.  Would
you help me with my panties?"
	The breathing was heavier now and I could the soft impact of a
hand hitting a lap.  God, David had never done this before.
	"Yeah, smell my panties as you pull them off me.  Oh, I'm so
tired...you're not going to pull me into bed and take advantage of me are
you?"  There was a pause and then the breathing got heavier mixed with
grunts.  "Please take advantage of me," I pleaded.
	I was getting really excited now, sitting on the check-out desk my
hand had been brushing my panties, but hearing the excited grunts on the
phone my fingers slipped under the cotton.  I spread my legs and found
myself wetter than I'd ever been.  It was even better then being with David
in person!
	I was rubbing my clit furiously and almost matching the rapid
guttural gasping on the other side of the phone for volume.
	"I'm such a baby when I'm tired," I said in my little girl voice.   "I'm
lying in bed all ready honey, but I need something to suck.  Do you have
something I could suck?"
	The soft impacts of hand on lap had become rapid thuds.  I could
see in my mind's eye his big hand stroking up and down his shaft.  He
sounded bigger on the phone!  I was trembling, my hand coated with my
pussy juice.
	"Oh baby, give me your big dick!"  I cried out.  "Let me wrap my
lips round your dong.  I want to slurp! slurp! slurp!"
	I was thumping the desk with my heels, the heavy breathing was
gasps and suddenly it just all came and I was crying out.
	"Yes!  yes!  Make me suck you!  Push me apart!  Fuck my horny,
wet snatch!"
	There was a beautiful liquid sound, clear as a bell, like he was
shooting cum into my ear, big pumping jets.  I lay back on the desk, my
panties soaked between my legs.
	"Oh David, that was wonderful," I sighed.
	"That's good, you hot little telephone tramp," said a strange deep
and gravely voice.  "But I'm not David."  He was panting.  "Fuck! that was
the best wrong number ever."
	"Oh no!  I thought you were David."  I couldn't believe what I had
done; I was so ashamed.
	"I think you like to get strange men off, and you're very good at it.
Maybe you should go pro!"  Before I could protest, even though under the
shame there was some sort of excitement, he hung up.
	My face was red and hot, but my pussy was wetter than ever.  I
never told David and tried to forget that I could be such--such a slut.  But
every time the phone rang I started listening for heavy breathing.  Another
'wrong number' never came but my desires kept on dialing my number.
Finally I couldn't take it any more I changed my conservative clothing for
wild chick wear, let down my hair and volunteered to be the keeper of the
erotic bookshelf.  But those who wanted a book from that shelf had to
satisfy my desires too.
	So Trent's heavy breathing was music to my ears.  I stopped
abruptly and he collided with me, his hand caressing my ass for a moment
and then releasing me like I was scalding hot.  I pretended not to notice.
	"Sit there."  I pointed to a long red plush couch that sat underneath
the erotic bookshelf which was ten feet up, where only officially
sanctioned hands could reach it.
	I unlocked and rolled the ladder over to the shelf, sliding it so the
steps were right by Trent's head.  He was trying not to watch me too
intently, at least when my eyes weren't watching him.  I stood in front of
him and slipped the key to the ladder back around my neck, letting it's red
ribbon cord fall back between my breasts.  He couldn't help but watch that
and then he found himself being watched in turn.  I kneeled in front of him,
between his knees that were akimbo.  Was he trying to make room for
whatever was making him shift uncomfortably?
	"You're not an artist, are you?" I asked.  He grinned.
	"No, it's my girlfriend, she likes-"  I reached up and touched his
lips.
	"Is she pretty?"  He nodded.  "Is she as sexy as me?"  I trailed my
hand down his jaw, his chest.  He shook his head slowly.
	"That's the right answer."  I got up.  "You sit right there and make
sure I get you the right book."
	My heart trembled as I gripped the ladder.  I had done this before,
but usually I played it straight, let them think it was an 'accident'.  I'd
never teased a man so.  I was getting worse and worse and loving it!
	Being careful in my heels I went up the ladder.  Step by step, past
the tamer books to our x-rated section.  There was a small gold plate:  The
T. Tamer Bookshelf.  I thanked the generous donor, the shelf attracted
exactly the kind of men I desperately needed.
	I could feel Trent's eyes on my slender legs, the white cotton
stockings were irresistible, but that was only half of my usual show.  Big
hunky Trent was going to be different, I could feel it.  I'd reached the top
step and could see the books, they were bound in leather with fiery gold
lettering.  I leaned my bottom back and spread my feet a bit further apart.
	"What was the book you wanted?"  I asked, looking down.  There,
as I expected, was Trent, his mouth open looking up my skirt--up, up my
suede skirt to see my busy little beaver, wet with the anticipation of
feeling his eyes.  He didn't say anything, he just stared.
	I'd started trimming my bush since I started showing it off to these
horny men.  It was a pretty little blond diamond with full red lips, rather
than the unruly patch of cum soaked fur it had been in the beginning.
	Trent's hand was on his crotch, squeezing himself.
	"Trent?"
	"Oh, I wanted..." His hand and his eyes never wavered.
	"Was it..."  I turned back to the shelf and looked at the titles,
spreading my legs further.  I was really wet.  "BIG PRICKS AND HUGE
HOOTERS? Or THE HORNY HOSPITAL?"  There was a giant one that
I loved called THE BEST OF ASSM, but I never lent that one out - I used
it too much myself.  My free hand glided between the slit in my skirt and
began to play with the curls of my pussy.  Trent moaned.
	"Oh yeah," I cooed.  I looked at more titles.  "How about JOHN
OR JENNY: CONFESSIONS OF A FORCED SHE-MALE or
BUSHWHACKING or THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF EBONY?"
My fingers began to trace my pussy lips.  I sighed.  "Oh!  Here it is
SEXUAL POSITIONS."  I pulled it from the shelf.  And as I did Trent's
hands gripped my hips.
	"What are you doing?" I moaned.  With a sudden lift he turned me
around on the ladder and pushed my skirt up, revealing my wet pelt,
glimmering in the light.
	"I have to taste," he growled and then buried his face in my pussy.
I was so juicy and my lips were already parted, so his tongue, rough and
big, slipped into me.  I gasped with the pleasure, clutching the book with
one hand and Trent's head with the other.  There were cum stains on the
cover.
	"Is, is this - oh, oh, is this the book you want?"  He was noisily
slurping me, his tongue slipping up and down my lips, finding the nub that
was my clit and tickling it, sending me into paroxysm of pleasure, and then
going back down to my pussy lips again.  The bastard kept me so hot,
letting me rise almost to orgasm and then licking me down and then up
again and again.  I arched my back and filled my lungs with air, my blouse
burst open, my boobs bouncing with each impassioned gasp.
	He looked up, his mouth covered with my juice.
	"Yeah, that's the book, with its pretty book holder."  He tossed me
over his shoulder and carried me to the couch.  His hand found the zipper
on the back of my skirt and he roughly pulled it off and then my blouse.  I
lay back on the couch feeling the softness of the red velour as he stripped
in front of me.
	"This is just-" he pulled off his t-shirt, revealing bulging bronzed
muscles "-what I need.  My girlfriend is driving me fucking crazy."  He
pulled off his shorts and his cock was so beautiful, a big vibrating fire-
hose.  I gave a hoot of pleasure.  "I need me a nice little librarian!"  he 
said,
swooping down on me.
	His sex pushed my legs apart and went into me like a bull goes into
a doe.  He was rutting, fucking me oh so hard.  I cried out - the pleasure 
so
intense, my nails bit into his shoulders, which flexed and released as his
cock pleasured every inch of me.
	My eyes were wide as I opened and enfolded his dong.  Suddenly I
spotted another pair of eyes watching us.  They were female, with long
lashes and as wide as mine where being fucked by big old Trent.  Was it
Mrs. Permstir?  But then Trent shoved me down and all I could do was
take him.  The next time I could look up the eyes were gone.  If they were
somewhere else I didn't see them - I didn't care, I wanted everyone to
watch.
	"You fucker! You rock-hard fuck!"  I writhed under him.  He
grabbed me by the shoulders, his hands squeezed me, his cock flexing and
expanding.  I went into a spasm of orgasm, thrusting myself up and down
his shaft and he began to fuck even faster and deeper and faster.  And he
throbbed and began to shoot into me, I could feel his hot cum filing me up.
We kept going for a full ten minutes.
	After, he lay on top of me gasping.  I could feel the cum and pussy
juice begin to ooze out of me, a large pool under my bottom.  Trent
grunted and slid out; his cock head popping with an overwhelming
pleasure as it freed itself from my snatch.  The cock was at half-mast after
any other man's would be all milked out.  He looked down at the pool on
the couch and grinned.
	"We should clean up," he said.  He pulled a towel from his pack,
wiped up the pool and then turned me over and gently toweled my ass and
my pussy.  I sighed.  Then he took me by the hand and led me to the
ladder.  He climbed to the top rung and sat facing me.  His cock gleamed
with cum and pussy juice.
	"Now your turn, Cindy."  He pointed to his cock.
	I smiled and leaned myself against him, my boobs on his thighs, my
pussy tickled by his toes.  I opened my mouth wide and slipped his meaty
cock into me.  The taste was so odd on my tongue.  I've tasted both men
and women, but to have myself mixed with Trent and then to suck it was
new and delicious.  He began to stiffen immediately and as I began to
slowly bob my head, he took a book down from the shelf and began to
read to me.  The book was THE LOST ARABIAN NIGHTS, tales so
pornographic even Richard Burton hadn't been able to find them for his
translation.  He read a tale and spurted all over my face.  Then we
switched and he ate me out as I read in a voice that rose and fell as he
lapped me.
	It seems only fitting that I leave this story on the same shelf that
gave me such pleasure.  Enjoy.

-FIN-
tom9211@hotmail.com

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