Secondary Education Chapter 7
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There’s this one bookstore I have been going to since I was a kid. An old rambling house right on Route 1. Room after dusty room, endless stacks of books, some probably haven’t been touched in decades. It’s easy to spend the day there, to get lost in those endless stacks, running your fingers over thick leather spines, the golden titles barely legible.
Josh and I had only been seeing each other for a few weeks when I took him to the bookstore. We wandered together for a while then went our separate ways, each of us looking for our own leather-bound jewel. The separation was deliberate. All day we had been consciously avoiding physical contact, trying to “get to know each other”.
In reality, we had known or at least known of each other since high school. It wasn’t until I’d moved back to our hometown that we had discovered a mutual attraction. From the very first time we’d met up for coffee, the slightest contact between us had ended in a hot, sweaty mess. The backseat of his car, every room in my apartment, more than one public restroom, anywhere and everywhere was fair game. Now I had it in my head to find a way to defile my favorite bookstore.
I watch him from the end of the aisle for several minutes without him noticing. It’s funny how the nerdy high school boys always end up being the hottest. I see the corner of his mouth curl up as he realizes he’s being watched. He turns to face me and using one knuckle pushes his glasses back up his nose. I’ve seen him do this a hundred times in the past few weeks and every time it makes the breath catch in my throat. I want to tackle him right there, knock the books out of his hand and have my way with him.
“Can I help you find anything?”
I gasp, I hadn’t heard the little old lady that has run this place since forever, come up behind me.
I hold up the pile of books in my arms, “No, I think I’m doing okay.”
She looks at Josh, then back at me and winks before turning away.
Josh chuckles as I approach, I can feel my cheeks burning, the old woman clearly knew what I was thinking. I slide my free hand into his back pocket and lean my head against his shoulder.
“Find anything good?” I ask.
“Mhmmm,” Josh mumbles in reply, pulling another book off the shelf.
I shift so I can see the books he has gripped in his right hand. Our tastes couldn’t be more different. My books range from anthropology to environmental essays. Josh’s pile is all poetry and nineteenth-century literature. He sticks the book back on the shelf and turns so he can bury his nose in my hair. That’s all it takes. He shoves his pile onto the shelf and taking my face in both hands, kisses me deeply, his tongue seeking mine.
I put my own books on the shelf and press my body tight against his. I can feel his cock already pushing eagerly against the front of his jeans. I run my knuckles over the bulge and he gasps, pulling his tongue out of my mouth.
“We can’t, not here,” he whispers, his glasses almost completely fogged up.
“Oh, I think we can.” I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again.
I turn away and indicate that he should follow. Josh grabs both piles of books and comes after me, his mouth still slightly open, his cheeks pink.
We go through a room full of antique manuscripts in glass cases, another room full of old maps and posters, room after room of every book imaginable. At the very back of the store is a tiny room where volumes are stacked double deep on the shelves, piled haphazardly on the floor. Dust motes float lazily through a beam of sunlight coming through a window high up on the wall.
I pull Josh behind a shelf sagging under the weight of hundreds of unread masterpieces, their musty smell overwhelming in the small room. I kiss him again as my hands work his belt buckle.
“Jesus, Katie are you sure?” he mumbles against my mouth as I begin to work on the button of his pants.
I can tell by the way his fingers are tangled in my hair, the sharpness of his breath, that sure or not, he’s willing.
“I’ll be quick,” I whisper and bite hard into his bottom lip, before sinking to my knees in front of him.
As I coax his cock free of his jeans several books on a shelf above us shift.
“Shit,” Josh says quietly, trying to pull away.
I look up to see a cat, as tattered and dusty as the books, staring down at us from the very top shelf. I giggle and try to shoo it away. That cat doesn’t move.
“Well, I hope you're okay with two pussies in the room.”
“Mhmmm,” is the only response I get. Josh’s head is leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. I’ve been slowly tracing circles around the smooth tip of his cock with my thumb and he is quickly getting past the point of caring who is in here with us.
I inhale deeply, the musty vanilla smell of the old books turning me on almost as much as the actual cock in my hand. I slide my free hand up under my skirt and slip my underwear aside, pressing my middle finger hard against my clit. I’m dripping wet.
I take him all the way into my mouth. There isn’t time to tease him, to bring him right up to the edge again and again until he’s begging to come. This time has to be quick, a proof of concept that we can explore in more detail later.
He’s holding the sides of my head, thrusting hard into my mouth. Looking up I can see he’s chewing on his bottom lip, trying hard to stay quiet, his eyes squeezed shut. He’s so close already. I grab his hips and pull him even deeper into my mouth. There’s a rush of wetness between my legs and I moan, too loudly, but it’s too late now.
“Fuck it, oh Jesus Katie.” One more thrust, his fingers dig into the back of my scalp and he’s coming down the back of my throat.
I rock back on my heels, smiling up at him as I wipe my mouth.
The cat is gone.
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