I had to return some books to the library today, and when I went up to the AudioVisual section which is located upstairs at the library, there was a new person at the check-out desk. He's about my age, you know, middle-age, good-looking. Lost some hair, greying a bit, and a little paunch. Comfortable. He introduced himself as Peter, and said that he had transferred here from the Middleton library. I asked him how he liked working here, and he said that the women in this new job were prettier. As he said that, he looked me up and down, appreciatively. I blushed, especially because I don't think that I am "all that"! I was wearing very comfy clothes, my jeans and t-shirt, jacket, and Reeboks! I was also wearing my reading glasses, so I hardly looked the "siren". Anyway, we got to talking about the Victorian poet, A.

H.Clough, and Peter told me that he had a rare copy of Clough's works in the storage room. He beckoned me back there, and I thought: "How cool, I've never been back there before." So I followed him, and we walked through this narrow hallway to a storage room full of shelves with old books and records. The room was rather dimly-lit, and when he showed me an old copy of the book, I had to lean close to the book-and to Peter-to read it. I felt Peter's breath as he read one of the passages from the book, and I felt my pulse quickening. He read: "When panting sighs the bosom fill, And hands by chance united thrill, At once with one delicious pain, The pulses and the nerves of twain.....", and as Peter was reading this poem, I could smell his scent, a mix of cologne and sweat, which turned me on. I was inexplicably drawn to this man, and when he handed the book to me to read another passage, he also put his hand around my shoulder. I started to read, and felt Peter's breath upon me again, only this time I impulsively looked his way, to see if he was reading along. At that moment, he leaned in and gave me a kiss, a long, drawn-out kiss, which knocked the wind out of me. I was startled at first, but then got into it, dropping the book as I reached around and caressed Peter, lost in his firey kisses. I felt him pulling my jacket off, which fell to the floor, and I unbuttoned his cardigan, which I pulled off of him, which made him smile...the cardigan wound up in the heap on the floor, with the rest of our clothes, I kicked off my shoes, and took off my jeans, winding up clad only in my bra and panties. The book of poetry was buried under it all. Peter's hair what was left of it was rumpled, and we were both breathing heavily, and were flushed, I acted on instinct, pure feeling. Peter had undone his trousers, the belt buckle clattered a bit, as it fell to the floor, and I woke up enough to ask: "What are we doing?" "What we are meant to do", said Peter, as he picked me up, and placed me on top of a shelf of unsorted books, where he deftly unhooked my bra, which released my full breasts from their captivity. He was slightly mesmerised for a minute it seemed, as he lightly put cupped his hands around my breasts, almost reverently at first, then leaned closer, to swirl his tongue around one nipple, then the other. He toyed between my breasts, which gave me an unexpected jolt of pleasure, then he sucked each nipple until my nipples were left standing out straight and hard.

Peter sighed lustily that my breasts looked like two round mounds of vanilla pudding, topped with rosy cherries, then he then pinched each nipple, so that it sent a thrill through me, straight to my softness, like a lightning bolt of a charge.

I noticed then that Peter's boxers had a large protrusion in the front, and I lifted my legs up and took my bare feet, and grabbed hold of those boxers with my toes, and slid them off of him.

As I was doing this, Peter's eyes were glued to my softness, which was wide open when I was performing this task.

"You shave it!", he growled, and he looked at me even more appreciatively. "You would never know, by the way you dress, what a seductress you are!" I didn't know quite how to take that for a minute, shrugged, and realised that it was true.

I looked down at Peter's length, standing straight out, pointing right at my softness, as if to say: "I WANT IN!" Just then, we heard a noise, and it was the head librarian, she asked if there was "...anyone back there?" Peter casually replied: "Yes, Maggie, I'm taking inventory..." I was afraid that Maggie would discover us, as we were only a few shelves away from the door.

"Oh, okay, Peter.....

you can go on your break now, if you want." "Right, will do, Mag." Peter then turned his attention back to me, and I said: "Maybe I'd better go, I don't know what got into me...

" Peter grabbed my bottom, pulling me closer to him by each butt-cheek, and said: "Don't go, let me put something into you", and then he instructed me to put my legs up on his shoulders, as he was standing facing me, he plunged his length into me. Oh, the feeling was incredible, as Peter pumped his rock-hard tool into my softness, which was soaking by now with plenty of lubrication to facilitate easy access, but tight enough so that I could feel every bit of pleasure from being played by this powerhouse.

With my legs up on his shoulders, Peter could see his length going in and out of me, and he took his thumb and rubbed my personal place, while he put a finger in my soft place! This was unexpected, but I was lost in feeling, and what Peter was doing to me was so intense, that when I noticed a young man of about 19 hiding in the shadows behind the shelves, watching us intently as he had his own length out, masturbating I no longer cared. When I stared to cum, my softness went through spasms which squeezed Peter's length hard and hot, pulling him up into me.

I couldn't believe how explosive my orgasm was, it went through my body in convulsive waves, which brought on Peter's own climax. It took awhile for us to catch our breath, and our faces were flushed. Peter held and kissed me, he said that I was fantastic, then he gathered our clothes, which we put back on. He picked up the book of poetry, and told me that the old classics always affect him that way. He then asked me for my phone number, and we made a date for the following Friday to go out. I noticed that the young man who had been watching us was gone, but as I left the storeroom and was back out into the light of the AV room, I noticed the young man stacking the CDs on a shelf, and he turned around long enough to give me a sly smile, and a look of admiration at Peter...who for all appearances, looked like a pleasant, middle-aged fellow. And me? I looked like a nice middle-aged lady, ready to check out her books. You would never know how passionate a person is by the look of them.......

as you know, you should never judge a book by its cover.