The Librarian

It was one of those hot summer Saturday mornings where the temperature hits 90 degrees at 10 a.m. and keeps climbing.

On this day, I was headed to the city library for its annual summer children’s carnival. I am a big patron of the library — and a certain head librarian.

When I arrived, there were already hundreds of children there. I worked my way around the many activity booths and finally spotted the person in charge.

She was wearing a wide-brim hat to protect herself from the sun. She wore a beautiful yellow summer dress that modestly showcased the outline of her body and which hung below her knees.

I approached her from behind, lightly grabbed her arms and whispered in her ear: “Why is there not a “Kiss the librarian” booth?”

This librarian, who also happens to be my wife, turned around and grinned. “You’re a goof.”

I whispered to her again: “But an honest goof. I would buy enough tickets to build you a new wing to the library.”

“You are still a goof.”

For the next three hours, I volunteered at the carnival, carting materials, escorting children, answering questions, and working in booths.

Finally after all the prizes had been given away, children had left, and everything had been put away, I headed home. My wife said she would be home in 30 minutes.

That gave me time to get home, go upstairs, take off my sweaty clothes and jump into the shower. The cold reinvigorated me, my skin — and yes, something else.

By the time my wife got home, I was dressed in a T-shirt and boxers. She walked in, sweating, red, and tired. Her yellow dress was still bright, but was now clinging to her body. It was a good look.

”I am going straight into the shower and may not come out for hours,” she announced walking by me and upstairs. She did not stop in the bedroom but rather went straight to the bathroom and shut the door.

After waiting to hear the water start, I poured a glass of her favorite wine and took it upstairs. Luckily, the bathroom door was unlocked. I went in, left the wine on the counter, and picked up her sweaty clothes. After depositing them into the hamper, I went to the bedroom, sat in my rocking chair and waited.

As she promised, my wife was in the shower for a long time. Finally, I heard the water turn off. As she got out of the tub, I heard this “Oooh…”

The bathroom door opened and my wife, with wine glass in hand, walked into the bedroom, adorned in all of her natural beauty.

“Was there a particular reason you left the wine?” she asked.

I could feel my boxers rise.

“Well, I thought you deserved wine after your long, hot morning,” I said. “And just as importantly, I like to watch you walk naked around the house.”

My wife laughed. She sat down on the edge of the bed, drinking her wine, legs crossed at the knee, and arms crossed in front of her breasts.

We talked about the library, the day, our pending summer vacation, and other things—normal couples’ talk. The only difference was that she was naked, and I had the start of an erection peeking out of from my boxers.

Finally, my wife finished her wine, put down her glass, and swung her feet onto the bed.

“I am going to take a nap,” she announced. “Want to join me?”

“Yes, please. I was hoping for an invitation.”

My wife pointed at my enlarged organ. “Of course, we may have to do something about that eventually.”

“Hope you don’t mind,” I said.

“I don’t mind.”

Stripping off my clothes enabled my member to swing fully free. I joined my wife on the bed and gathered her into my arms.

“Thanks for helping out today. I appreciate it,” said my wife as she snuggled in tight.

I hugged her tighter.

“My pleasure, it was fun. But I do have a confession to make.”

“What?” asked my wife, the slightest concern detected in her voice.

“I forgot to bring back the last book I checked out, and it was due today. Now I am going to have to pay a fine.”

My wife’s body shook as she laughed.

“I’ll talk to the librarian,” she said with a giggle. “I am sure we can come to a suitable resolution.”

Then I felt my wife’s hand move down to my throbbing erection.

“I am sure,” said my wife as she moved her hand down my shaft, “we can find a suitable way for you to work off the fine.”

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