He kisses down to my belly button, nosing it, and I start when I feel his soft, wet tongue against my clit for just the barest of seconds. He looks up...at me, eyes dark, from between my legs, and then climbs back up again, looking into my face, not touching me anywhere.I know what’s going on. It’s the question, the irrevocable decision: do we do it? We haven’t done it, yet ... there’s time to say no.I keep his gaze, on fire inside for him, and nod. When he reaches to the bedside table I stop his. She was right handed, and to return a book down low, her right shoulder would drop, and I would watch her left boob bang agaist her right one as she did so. I nearly came several times, and frequently when I went home, and thought of that cleavage. Nowadays, I suppose k**s are taking pictures of librarians' cleavages.One day, I did a mean thing. I dislodged a lot of history books on the very bottom shelf and left them lying down, hoping she would come along to tidy up. There was every chance. More

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