The Center for Sex and Culture has finally acquired library shelving– solid oak too. It is a very happy, proud and monumental moment for the Center. Soon we will be unpack the two full rooms of rare, unique, one of kind, historically significant and down right randy library material.

Our future plans include; the assessing of material, open library hours, access to our material via an online catalog, and a digitization project.

With the expansion of CSC,including our library and archive, we have plans to provide a space to produce webcasts, podcasts and a host of new accessible online sexual education and dissemination of accurate information on a larger world wide basis. We dream big.

And dreamers cannot do it alone.

A million thanks to all of our kick ass interns, volunteers and donors who lift, build, haul, clean, sweat, bleed and give us funding. We love you and need more of you.

Thanks for all the amazing help you gave us in getting the new CSC library to step one!!! If anyone would like to help unbox the library collection and load these fine shelves, just let me know.

xoxo.

Library Vixen

Oh fabulous volunteers! Here’s the word on the shelf project.

At 9pm, the load-out of shelves from Borders Books at Stonestown Mall (on 19th Avenue) will begin. Trucks will bring the shelves over to CSC from there, and they will need to be loaded in. That’s TONIGHT!

Tomorrow morning at 10am the installation happens; Robert’s crew will install some new windows, and then the shelves. He can certainly use help with that.

If you would like to get an update you can email me <lbryvxn@gmail.com> or follow on twitter. Or come on over tomorrow any time after 10! We have an event tomorrow evening, so this work will not last much past 6pm. We hope it will be finished during the day. If not, another work day will be scheduled as soon as possible.

THANK YOU! We are SO excited to get the library up, and this is an integral part of finishing up the main room. We are so grateful for your help and fellowship!

xoxox
1349 Misson ST.| San Francisco, California 94103 US

I was sitting outside looking up at the six floors of library space, the big windows facing out onto our Civic Center area. In the windows were patrons and students studying or daydreaming as they gaze to the street below filled with people, cars, tourist, drug dealers, homeless, the lonely…

As I sat there I thought about the times I have worshiped sweet cocks in parked cars all in the middle of this. I love this and it’s been way too long sense I have gotten myself in to such delicious misbehavior. I like parked car action, public action, outdoor action and not like a fetish, but playful. It is just so fun when works out and happens that I get to be on my knees in the park, at the sculpture garden, or on the 4th floor in the 779.2 section. I love that thrill, all those people walking by, some seeing you, maybe lingering to watch, some seeing and hit with a tinge of embarrassment for me – but knowing they want some too. Of  course I love having men in my library, inviting men to meet me here, taking them to my secluded spots.

One of those men I even fell in love with, I will never ever forget how his cock felt next to my cheek, still covered by the fabric of his pants, I could smell him, feel the heat radiating form the heaviness in his dick, feeling him grow, his hand pulling my head in closer,   my knees on the hard library floor soon to absorb the pattern of that industrial carpet. That was the first day I met him, and I knew the instant his cock came close to me, that this man was going to mean something to me, but I digress.

I like alleyways too, especially in SF. The fog the rain, the steaming up of the windows, the abstract geometry it takes to fuck in the cab of stick shift pick-up truck– so fun! It’s time– I need me some sweet thick branch to suck, lick and kiss in the car, at the bar, behind the stacks, in front of the window glass.

I guess what I am trying to say is it’s really time for me to get some cock, sweet thick cock. The kind with the thrill of mid-day traffic, the kind filled with that sense of nervous energy that someone might see your hardness slipping out from your zipper and into my mouth.

The night of flirting was highly successful.

Those martinis sure get me going. The night was mostly spent on the dance floor to 60s soul, where I danced with all the cute boys, got my ass held and grabbed on the dance floor. I too may have done my fair share of grabbing on the floor. I vaguely recall a boy whispering into my ear…

“you know you’re making me hard.”

But my favorite part of the evening some nice kisses, some from a boy, but some particularly nice soft wet warm kisses from a woman. She certainly surprised me. We are close, tight even–always affectionate toward each other–but the martinis that night did something to her. On the floor, I was leading holding her in tight to me — just being drunk and warm, not sexual –then it just happened, she planted her lips right on mine. In my mind I was thinking this is odd and out of character, I should pull away, but my body and lips did no such thing. She has such soft lips.

Back at our booth, she slid in and I followed, as I did so she grabbed my around the neck by my sweater, pulling me into her. It was a bold drunk move– she was a mix of control and submission pulling me in as my body hovered over her tiny frame and we kissed again, this time she felt my breast, she caressed them, cupped them and pinched them.

Then she apologized for her behavior, and then kept doing it all night.

image by shane deruise

Sometimes we put things out into the universe and they happen, and they do so for a reason.

Of course I have my library fetish. Ever since a geeky jr. high girl who used to hide in the stacks during lunch–looking at pages of; deformities of the human body, grand master paintings, pop art, circus side show performers, and poetry have I had these fantasy of being taken in a library. My position within a library institution, I always felt, was a coincidence, a pleasing twist of fate that has helped shape the woman I am today.

For about the last five years I have invited only a handful men to meet me at the place I hold so dear, to stalk me in the stacks, another mild fetish of mine also since jr. high (the real stalkers are never as good as the imaginary stalkers). The imaginary scenario would always start out innocent; a question at the reference desk that would then lead to a material search in the stacks and would culminate with me on my knees with a cock in my mouth.

Yesterday’s fantasy was a simple email, one I have probably sent variations of –on more than one occasion. My fantasy was in actuality a request, but it took the right person to see it as that and to seize my words and make something happen. I put it out in to the technological cloud and it came back in the form of flesh, blood and hard cock.

“I am at my reference desk now, imagining you walking in, or walking beyond me, but in my view–making me aware you are here and that you want me–maybe demand me– with no words ever spoken between us.

It would only take a glance and a phone call for someone to relieve me of my reference desk duties–so that I could meet you in a secluded section of books going unread.

I went bare legs, no tights to get in way of your hands to my flesh.

intrigued by you and want to make you swell.”

Yes, I guess that is a rather inviting, but I had not with deliberate intention meant for it to be, I was not even really wearing skirt with bare legs, it was just part of the tease, part of the work drift fantasy that was happening in my mind as I sat at the reference desk. Or was it?

I sensed it instantly, the moment you passed my eye I knew who you were, even though we had never laid eyes on each other.  My heart began to thump and my breath became spontaneously erratic, yet heavy as I watch you approach my space. Sex charged, bold and in control–you walked straight up to the desk feigning a question that requires my full attention, that demands an escort to help you find what you are looking for.

As we walk the magnetism between us is powerful.

“You should really give a girl a warning, I am not even wearing a skirt.”

You tell me you believed my email to be an invitation, which I now believe to be true as well.

My section of the library is small, secluded, closed off, and always filled with patrons, but one can still can hide lovers behavior. In between the row of self help and poetry,  we touch, learn, embrace, kiss. I can feel your cock, before I even actually feel your cock. I have never been this brazen in my place of work, and really did not care, I was lost into you–your tie, your suit–I wanted to undress you–I wanted you to use that tie in other ways.

Stroking your cock over your pants I needed to taste you. Lowering myself to the bottom shelf my mouth so close, so hungry I run cheek along the shaft of your cock. I become that other women. Slightly submissive and all cock hungry. I can smell you, I can feel you harden on my cheek, by my lips and my cunt begins to throb in need.

“Would you like to come to the fourth floor with me.”

Art and Music is on the forth floor, I love this area, one can really get lost–in the seclusion, in the art, the photography, the past works of great of lives are held up here. Taking you by the arm, proud to be yours, I take you to 759.4, the isle between LPs and master painters. The fervor we felt on the first floor is boiling. Your hands lock into my hair, pulling me in–our eyes, our bodies pulled together, your lips to mine. Our first kiss and I want more. You grab my hands at the wrist place them on the sturdy metal shelves, my fingers bruising against Cezanne, my body feeling your weight.

“Put your hand down your pants, then in my mouth I want to taste you.”

I comply eagerly, slick I pull them out and into your mouth, then back in, so I too can have a taste. My fingers coated in me fill my mouth– becoming a mix of our lips, tongues, and fingers. Again, your hands lock around my strands of curls, forcefully you guide me to my knees, to your cock and that feel, that laden need consumes my body, my mouth. The want is painful and almost scares me–and still does.

“I need your cock.”

You comply, giving me what I need. The twitching, throbbing red head of your cock passes my lips, my tongue tasting your drippings. That is the moment when your cock became and extension of me. I refused to let it go, whether in my mouth, hands or thoughts.

We walk, our bodies tightly connected. I see patrons looking at me, they can see it, they know I have just had cock in my mouth, they can smell the pussy. 779.092, photography.

Gone. My need at that moment are about your cock, about my cunt, about this need. When I get in this space, I feel everything fragment around, like all else crumbles around me except this one exclusive moment.

My hands find your cock inside your pants, your dripping, viscose strands from my fingertips to the head of you cock the fabric is not even absorbing it anymore. To my knees I drop, my mouth loving your dick. You begin to feed me, thrusting slowly, filling my mouth, pulling me by the hair into you. Pulling me off and taking step back you taunt me with you cock, so red and blatant pointing at me the row of books. My mouth hanging open in needy want. I am so turned on, all I want you to do is bend me in half and plunge, stab, fuck into me. Not caring who is watching, wanting them to watch, wanting them to get hard, touch their cocks while they watch me fuck you and while you fuck me.

Begging, with my lips, you oblige and give me more, and my pussy continues to thump. I stand turning my ass to your cock, your hand works down to the back my jeans and into my pussy and you administer a sweet finger bang. I have to stop you, I need to gain control of the situation.

In my ear you whisper, “are you going to have an orgasm right here?”

It was a question and a command at the same time. In my mind I thought– no way, but his fingers where pulling it out of my tiny little hard clit. I did come; as I held tight to your body hard, strained, with barely a audible sound.

I had to return to my post, I beg you to come back next Wednesday.

The remainder of my shift my cunt stayed wet, with every move I could feel my full and needy pussy and I drifted around in some sort dream–not sure what had just happened even happened.

I wish it were it were Wednesday again.

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The crazy train has left the station.

This week, I have been back to my frisky, good natured, helpful library girl self. Most of all– my smile is back and when I smile, I flirt.

My confession this week–I have been playing on Craig’s List. I have refrained from such behavior since December. That was a long stint away from the instant gratification Craig and List can provide. I posted an ad and I responded to an ad. There is just something about getting a shit ton of email from eager dripping cock that make the days at the library fly by and it has seemed to keep me in a state of perpetual horny–ok so it doesn’t take much, but this week has again proven–my pussy is insatiable.

At my library this week, rather than the drug addict homeless population we normally serve, there seemed to be a slew of hot city boys, in all shape and form in need of service. So many adorable, sizzling, time on their hands, lost the library city boys. Melting from my pussy out, at the thought of all those men milling about aimlessly, in need of cute librarian help.

“How may I help you,” and you, and you…?

I am the kind of woman that can find attractiveness in all. I love brains, brawn, brutes, gangsters, scientist, underdogs, and nerds. While you may not be physically the most handsome, or your cock might not shatter in girth and length…you are still a man with drive and desire; and it is this, which propels my urgent pussy to be a flirt.

The multiplicity of men that came in this week set my mind on wanderlust. I started to imagine one of these boys could be you. Then I thought, well– I better be on my best behavior, just in case you ever do stop by. I want be on my game, my best vixen conduct. Sweet, helpful, deliciously teasing am I, lead by my insatiable cunt.

Flitting around the men in the room, I slowly shelve lowering my body here and there. Feeling the heat of yours next to mine. Is it you? As I bend at the waist, to slyly place an item on the shelf that your lower body is blocking. I offer a gentle touch on the shoulder, a secret rakish smile…
“excuse me—no…no, your fine–stay where you are, I can work around you.”
Lowering myself toward the shelf, my cheek getting closer to your cock. Do you twitch? Do I fluster you or do fluster me?

The contemplation begins…the taste of you, of your reaction as my hand slides over your thigh across the progression developing. What would the removal of your pants be like? Teasing? Slow, as my hand explores what is about to be reveled? The unbuckle, that anticipation, the sound the metal makes as you are about be released and realized. The pulling out of the strap from the loops one at time builds to the beat of my cunt.

Thoughts start circulating more than the library material. Will your eyes close as my mouth lowers towards your throb, will your head sink back as my lips pass over? Or will you watch every lust filled move I make? Will you let a soft moan escape as I breathe in the scent of your boxers and cock? The smell of clean laundry and sex encompasses. Will your hands grasp my head or will your fist tangle in my hair as I lower the fabric from your body?

The thoughts begin to make me pulsate and I sense the wetness beginning to materialize between my thighs. Here I am again, wet a work, my daydreaming becoming reality, as my panties get damp. Squatting, in my tight little corduroy skit with winter thigh high socks, shelving on the lower unit, I spread my legs apart slightly. I can see the point where the socks end, thighs begin and can smell the mild scent of the subtle whore I am.

And I drift…
How would it feel if your fingers slid through the slit of my lips?
Would you create even more of the sticky gloss to flow?
As the crown of you dick brushes my lips would I liberate my own moan of want?

Originating a pool of saliva my lips finally slide around your tip, as my hand reaches around to grasp fully at your base, cradling your balls, anticipating the downward sink of my mouth around your beam. The place I want to stay. Your cock lodged in my throat, actions that can seem so aggressive and violent turn to utter tenderness and purity, as I slowly rise back to the crown and then–right back down.

As the cock strolls in and out of my little wing of the library, I ponder each one. Would your cock be too large for me to take or would I be able to devour you with ease? Would you idle and let me worship or would you impel my mouth on to your pounding substance? Face fuck. Do you moan, grown, howl, breathe that heavy breath of yearning? Do you command me with words? How do you thirst for your cock to be sucked?

My wants range from swallowing and gulping your substance as it glides down my throat Swirling it around, keeping your still twitching cock between the tight grip of my lips. Do you want to pull it out and cum all over my civil servant face, my glasses, breasts, belly? Maybe you want me to bring you to the point of almost bursting, stroking as my eyes glue in anticipating of your spurting all over me, leaving me a messy sticky girl.

“How may help you, Is there something I can do for you”

or you, or you, or definitely you?

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Most days at the library are busy enough to keep my pussy on the job, but Saturday’s are a different story.

Friday’s are my day off, usually spend lingering on porn and my pussy, so that by the time I have to work on Saturday I am mellow (from all the cumming) and still horny (Ms. get a little need a lot), wanting to continue the pussy fun I was having the day before. Saturday is also Ass Appreciation day on the tumblr, so a good portion of the morning is spent looking at hot ass. Well a few hours of tumbling ass, with my fingers often finding their way to the junction between my thighs, checking on that sweet slick I have forming is enough to set the stage for a frisky horny Saturday.

Work has a different atmosphere on the weekend, less supervisors and more actual workers. There is actual down time, unlike the week days. Therefore, Saturday is my favorite day to bring the toys to work and spend some quality time in bathroom number three. I can take my time to cum, not like a mid-week rushed bathroom three cum, but a linger day tripping cum. I usually set myself up with a frisky email friend or another to keep me in mood, to play with, to ploy their mind for my cunts sake, to tap into their virtual cock–so I have more of a reason to tease my own pussy.  Sometimes it is more than one cock I like to play with, sometimes two, three and sometimes it is a cock and his pussy. But, this Saturday there was only the one.

He has been inspiring my kitty for quite some time now. He knows how to push my buttons from afar, knows the words to type to make me want more, to make me want to give more, to make me wet.

I started by sharing a shot of my work toys charging on their base (a simple tease), followed by an image of my ass in a pair of soft brown and blue ride between my round ass cheeks lace panties. His response, of course, instantly drove me mad in the best possible of ways. He can get me with just the mere thought of his cock beginning to grow heavy. He makes me beg for it, even only in words, I still beg.  He likes it when a woman begs for his cock.

He asked me to promise (words he doesn’t use to often), so of course I oblige, to think of him while I stoked and cooed the kitty. More precisely he asked that I think about him making me crazy with cock tease, till he bends me over and makes my kitty his. I have on a few, maybe more, occasions fucked myself while thinking about him, but this is the first time I can recall him asking me to think about him while I do so.

It was quite easy, and absolutely a pleasure to keep you in my mind while I took pictures as I brought myself to the edge and then over.

I only use bathroom three to cum in, I have yet to find another suitable location. It is off the path enough to not be noticed, but may heard if I got too loud by a random passerby. I try to keep it as quite as I can, which can actually lead to stronger orgasm, I guess the restraining of my voice and surrounding is released mainly through my pussy rather than my whole being.

I like to wear skirts on Saturday’s so I can easily stroke the kitty throughout the day, by hiking it up each time I make a trip to the bathroom, or to the copy room, or the closed stacks, or the sorting room, or wherever the mood should strike.  When the time comes to actually get in my pussy, I take my skirt off and lay it across the ugly orange vinyl chair provided in each bathroom.

Skirt off, I begin taking a few phone cam shots in the mirror of my body, my ass, my pussy, my hand on my pussy inside my panties. I move to the chair and prop my feet wide on the wall and begin to make my lips pump full of blood. I imagine you watching me, watching how I pet my pussy on top of the lace as I watch you grow heavy in the jeans as you shift around attempting to accommodate the growth of your cock.

I keep the phone cam snapping as I move from fingers to toy and some combination of the two. I am easily aroused and wet already. Drifting–I think about you rubbing your heavy cock. It think about unbuttoning your fly, feeling that curve fill my hands, run my fingers across your root, my tongue licking the fabric of your boxers feeling you twitch, as your lean against the wall watching me work your cock.

Further I sink into the vinyl chair my head tipping and eyes begin that slit. I lift my ass off the chair a bit to pull my wet patch of lace fabric to the side and slide my fingers in. Creamy and smooth–lately I have been more of a soft cream consistency that builds to that slick state. Bringing the soft pink end of my Gigi to my mouth I get it nice and wet, then slip it between my ripe pussy lips–and I my mind ambles into your cock again, rub it on me, on my lips, my cheeks, my tits, my tongue–yes my tongue please-please give me some.

I have stopped taking pictures and am deep in my pussy, my finger fucking deep inside, and the Lelo is vibing my clit out. The friction of your cock against the lace, press into my junction is too much, I need now.  I need to fuck to now. I snap a few more action shots of me fucking and coming close, then let the phone slide away and concentrate on your cock and my cunt and bringing myself to the brink. Soft moans and heavy breath fill the air of bathroom three. I whimper jolt and cum nice solid and hard. That orgasm smile comes to my face, my head spinning and crazy. I love that rush. I take two last pictures–the smile on my face and the cum covering my fingers.

When I have pulled myself together I walk out onto the floor, that post cum smile still  flooding my face, that floating  on a cloud feel, that smell still on my finger and between my legs, my pussy wet being absorbed into the already wet lace panties– then I begin to wonder which one will be able to tell what I just did in bathroom three.

I had a fantastic, lazy weekend. The first one in about three months. It felt odd having absolutely nothing pending, nothing vying for my time.

Well besides the City and County of San Francisco, I do and probably will always work on Saturday’s. It’s an interesting day at the Library, consisting of our usual mix of mix of oddballs and drug addicts, but there is also the weekend library users. Cute city boys and men with their adorable impatient girlfriends, the hot dads with their kids–teaching them how to use the library and those lonely introverted artist types looking for those obscure Czech films. Of course it is my role and pleasure to serve these patrons.

Just coming off of my period always makes it a horny time for me, not as horny as when I am actually on it or as horny as I will be in about a week, but definitely a perpetual state of want–flirt want, cock want, make you want to smile kind of want–just a basic all around want.

I knew this was going to be the case, so I planned accordingly, by packing my not so little glass ass plug. I actually have been bringing this with me for a few days, but it is sort of bigger than I am use to–I have actually been a bit intimidated by it. But Saturday, intimidation was conquered by my libido. After a few hours of serving the public, flirting, pondering the packages–the delineation of cock on all the cute city boys, ogling all the overly styled women in heels and tight skirts, and flirting with my NYC man via hand-held technologies–I knew the time had come, I needed to feel full, stuffed, I needed to have a pseudo cock fill me up.

Digging around my purse it’s easy to locate-the heavy cool glass finds my hand with ease, but then I realize–no lube! I am determined though and I know by now my pussy is so wet and slick, I can use my own juice as lube for the plug. I get into my favorite bathroom number 3, lock the door, wash my hands and the plug. Removing my skirt and legging I fold them over the edge of that ugly orange vinyl chair. Back at the sink at the mirror, I spread my legs wide, stroke my belly down to my bush–yes bush, kitty needs a wax–my middle finger glides into my slick folds of skin–I’m primed to be fucked, I can easily smell my needy self. Running the plug under the hot water I get it nice a warmed up, then slide it down into my wet pages, coating it in my gloss. I get aroused even more so, I plunge it into my cunt while I simultaneously push a finger into my ass, getting it ready to swallow this bulb of hot glass.

When I pull the plug from my swollen lips I notice it’s shiny in a coat of my cream. I let a drop of spit land on the tip of the plug and slide it toward my ass, I try to firmly push it in, but pain washed over me at the half way point in and I pull it back out. Looking at the clock I know I have only five minutes to get the plug in and get to the reference desk. I have to do it now, or give up the idea. My pussy is determined. I run the plug under the hot water again, then back into my wet pussy, take a deep breath, and push it in. I am so close. To diffuse the pain, I stroke my slick lips and push the plug in, I think about your cock and one last time I push and let out a moan of pain and pleasure, my body is on fire. It was such a rush. In the mirror my face is pale and flush, then slowly becomes filled with heat, my cheeks and breast bone glow red with aroused pleasure.

I am filled. Stuffed, my cunt is open and needy. I get dressed and head to the reference desk my ass ready to serve.

There are a variety of men employed at my library. Being the insatiable twat I am–I have, of course, analyzed each in an overtly sexual manner and on an occasion or two have perhaps tasted for myself the kind of men they are.

I have a special affection for the security staff. Our saviors! I work in a big city library these men and women are literally, our saviors. We have a hot button directly to their office. They rescue us from the unsavory, the jilted, the too high, the too low, the smelly, and the unruliest of unrullies. Therefore it is only natural for me to have a fond affection for them.

However; I have an extra fond affection for one in particular. His name is– well that is not important, his badge number is–let’s say 69.

69 has saved me countless times. He also happens to be, almost as big a flirt as I am. We fit well together, and we play off one another sluttish ways, in only the best dirtiest way possible. He will come around to my section and I do my little book shelving routine, that involves a lot a squatting and meandering, I do a little bend over ass up number. Another one of my favorite moves is to be pretending to look at his record on the computer and really I am just showing him naughty images of my ass.

The library has a stereotype of being dreadfully slow, quiet and boring, but really it is far from that image. The place is off the hook, I must wear invisible armor to my job. The public will eat your ass alive (not in a good way), sell your only child for one more fix, steal your granny’s car and then ask to have their fines reduced in a matter of minutes. I am forced to be at times a dominatrix librarian, which goes against my vixen grain. I am the one who wants to be controlled, or perhaps the job has made me this way. Perhaps I am forced to be so dominate on the job that when I am not “on” I want to just be taken, handled, ruled, and told what the fuck to do by my man. Now I am not saying this is something I live by, because that is not me either. What I am saying is, I like a man who knows what he wants and takes it. If he possesses this character I am more than willing to give it all up to him.

Back to 69; he is the kind of man who knows what he wants.

I was having particularly rough day. The regular addicts had already spent their dole on their vice of choice and are coming down and doing so at the library. Not pretty, not fun and sometimes dangerous. When I finally did get the chance to take a break, it was much needed. I walked up the stairs toward the side entrance, as I approached the automatic doors 69 was coming in, he took one look at me and gestured for me to follow him. Security has a magic key card that allows access to every part of our giant 7 floor building. He immediately opens a side door, which I had probably past a million times and never even noticed. The door opened up to a long hallway with one side being completely made up of windows. They are a combination of large frosted glass squares surrounded by a band about 2 inches wide of clear glass, making the visual both visible and invisible at the same time. The windows look down on to ground floor, the fiction reading room and express internet terminals (porn stations), an area that is always crawling with patrons, who I could clearly see through the clear band of glass. If any one of them were to look up they too could make out the forms of our bodies.

As we walk the hall he pulls my ass into him so I can feel his stiffing cock, I slow my stroll and lift the back of my skirt so I can asses the situation a little better. 69 has this incredible way having his dick out quickly, like it was always out of his pants, so that by the time my skirt was lifted my stocking covered ass was touching his flesh already. I did mentioned he is man knows what he wants. I let my skirt drop and grasp his cock with my two hands; I feel him begin to grow solid between my clutch. As we approach the end of the hallway, 69 nudges me toward the window my back facing the glass, my hands still wrapped around his cock. He flashes these eye at me, that any other time and any other man I would think to myself “are you fucking kidding me with that cheap shit,” but today I will let him have it, this kitty wants to taste security. I slowly begin to lower myself toward the floor, my hands running across his shaft, his striking green/hazel eyes watching my slow descent to his dick.



I reach just the right level and am facing my savior’s cock. He is a long, low hang of a man and curves inward so from the position I was currently in, with his dick not yet fully erect it easily dropped directly down into my throat. As he slides the tip in I taste pre-cum, I begin a slow gentle suck hands sliding along the soft skin of his shaft. The man behind the badge lets out a low moan and his dick begins to rise and grow in strength. I must raise myself up a bit to accommodate the new angle. Our pace begins to flow as his cock enters my mouth at a more deliberate tempo; more of him is slipping down my throat, with each thrust I can taste more of that that pre flavor. 69’s hands are firmly planted above me on the glass as he plunges further in; he is now fucking my mouth driving it in deeper. My cheeks stuffed. Saliva is flooding around his hardness his breath becomes deep. He says things to me like “suck that dick, that’s the way, you know how I like it, damn girl,” (things that I would normally find amusing and not hot somehow seem hot when he says them) as he pushes himself in even more. I grasp my hands around his balls and pull him into me. Like a giant trophy. I can feel his whole body begin to tighten, his thighs, his abs, his balls all pull in and we begin to move in slow motion. His hands begin to slide down the glass leaving sweaty palm trails behind.





My own hand has slipped up my skirt and down my panties sliding around while the suck has slowed to a savoring crawl, he moves in and out, lingering with each pull back. As I run my tongue along the inside of his curve I visualize him sliding slowly into me. My fingers work my imagination and my cunt. I feel 69 twitch unyieldingly I know his time is approaching. His hips drop, his hands still holding him up pressing resolutely onto the glass as he plunges and rides into my lips. Everything ceases…I can hear the humm of the electrical, my head is spinning and 69 pushes one last time as a gush fills my throat. Ohhh my savior you taste so fucking good.