A rare book dealer teaches one of her customers about the erotic power of the written word.

Weirdly squeamish was how I felt when I went into the store and requested the dirty book. That was ridiculous, of course. The establishment was run by a respectable dealer in rare editions. I was there to pick up a volume of adult literature that my employer, a corporate exec, had been trying to locate for years.

But I was as nervous as a youngster buying his first smutty magazine.

It didn’t help that the woman who ran the store was conspicuously attractive. She had hair as dark as a raven’s wing and eyes that smoldered. Her face was sculptural, with high, elegant cheekbones and elfin features that somehow managed not to appear delicate. She wore a loose button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and snug jeans which, when she turned, gave me a view of her rather shapely backside.

She moved easily through the cramped store, where shelves nearly groaned with ancient books. A pleasant scent of aging paper filled the air. She brought a package to the counter and started opening it.

“I had a colleague in London send me this,” she said.

“My employer authorized me to pay any additional shipping fees incurred.”

Her eyebrows rose, and amusement quirked a corner of her enticing lips.

“That’s generous of him, considering what the item already costs. Have a look at this beauty.” She finished opening the box. Inside was a large, leather-bound book, obviously quite old. On the cover was a faded illustration of two naked people entwined.

I squirmed some more and held out my corporate credit card.

“That’ll be fine,” I said hastily.

The amused look stayed on her face as she ran the card. “Do you not like this sort of thing?” she asked quietly.

“My boss has quite an interest. I’m just here as his personal secretary.”

I heard how stiff my words sounded. Under any other circumstances I would have tried to at least make small talk.

“Adult literature has a long, rich tradition. Some of the greatest writers in history have had a hand in it. Have you never read any books like that?”

Before I could answer she bent down and rummaged under the counter for a moment, then came up with an old paperback. On the cover was a nude woman. She handed it directly to me.

“This is for you, free. It’s not worth anything, but it’ll give you an idea of how evocative this kind of writing can be.” She smiled. “By the way, my name’s Jenny.”

I think I actually blushed as I told her my name was Wes. Stammering thanks, I took the items and left the shop. But Jenny’s comely image stayed burned into my mind. I kicked myself again for not chatting her up. I would have liked to see her again.

When I handed over the volume to my grateful employer, it occurred to me that this well-off man, with a nice family, didn’t seem like a stereotypical perv. Yet he was plainly delighted with his new book, which he’d told me in advance was explicitly erotic. It was so salacious, in fact, that it was originally banned, existing only as an underground text. This book was one of those clandestine editions.

That evening, back at my apartment, I considered the paperback Jenny had given me. I told myself that I liked porn as much as the next person, but I was used to photographs and videos — not that I overindulged my taste for either. But erotic literature was something unfamiliar.

Feeling like I was doing something naughty, I poured a drink and opened the paperback.

Within a few pages I knew this wasn’t some cheap piece of knock-off writing. It had been written in the 1800s, and was full of baroque language. Some of the phrases were quite beautiful: “autumn leaves like molten gold caught by the black fingers of oaken branches” and “crisp air abrading the cheek as of a stranger’s stolen stubbled kiss.”

Then the hot stuff started. The main character was a high society woman with an apparently highly active libido. In the first chapter she made her first conquest, seducing a kitchen lad. The sex was amazingly candid, though I had to puzzle over a few terms. She cornered him and sucked him off, swallowing his seed. Then she pulled aside her complex underclothes and had him lick her “quim.”

My cock stirred as I devoured more of the words, really getting into the story. It suddenly occurred to me that the book’s heroine, as described, rather resembled Jenny, with her dark hair and bewitching eyes. After that, I couldn’t help but visualize the woman from the bookstore as the one going through these many and varied sexual adventures.

I felt a little guilty about that, but as I tore through page after page late into the night, I got more and more excited. My cock was throbbingly hard. Unable to stop myself, I undid my fly and started tugging on my meat.

At first it was just a playful kind of toying. But as I reached the final chapter, where the fur was definitely flying, I jerked myself more deliberately. Jenny’s face — and what I imagined her body looked like — kept intruding on my thoughts.

I pored over the last fevered words, and with a cry I shot my load. Another twinge of guilt hit me. But on the last page of the paperback a surprise waited for me. Jenny had written her name and phone number, with a simple message: CALL.

I did call — the very next day, and we set up a date. Dinner at a decent restaurant. I put on some nice duds and went to meet her that evening.

My squeamishness from my visit to her store had been replaced by a more adult anticipation. She looked fantastic, wearing slacks and a blouse, her dark hair done up in some complicated arrangement.

Over dinner we talked about our careers. Hers sounded like more fun, but she seemed genuinely interested in what I did as a personal secretary for a corporate executive.

“I drank in her body, noting every curve, dimple and hint of lean muscle.”

Eventually she asked, “So… did you look at that book I gave you?” White teeth flashed in a mischievous smile.

I answered as frankly as I dared. “I read it cover to cover. That was how I found your phone number at the back. Cute, by the way.”

But she wanted to know what I’d thought about the story. Omitting the jerk-off session I’d treated myself to, I told how I’d liked the novel, how surprised I was by its literary depth.

“Did you think it was hot?” she casually asked as we enjoyed dessert.

“Oh, hell yes,” I murmured.

“Good. That book is one of my favorites. I’ve got a huge personal collection back at my place. You want to see?”

In a flurry of expectant giddiness we got out of there and headed to her condo. My heart was thumping, and my skin tingled. As we entered her place I eyed her, appreciating her classical beauty.

She showed me a wall of old adult books as I stood near her. Her perfume was subtle, mixing with her natural scent, which was already quite alluring.

“I’m glad you’re not a prude,” she said.

“Hardly.” The air seemed to crackle, and I sensed we were moving toward our first kiss. I started to shift forward.

Jenny suddenly stepped away and grabbed a book from a shelf. She flipped to a page, grinned at me, and began to read out loud. It was more Victorian-era smut. She recited the words of the sex scene she’d opened to with relish. Some guy was boning a woman on the dark steps of a train station, plunging his “steed” into her “cunny.”

It seemed a strange move on Jenny’s part, but the text excited me, like the book had last night. My cock unfurled in my pants, making a noticeable bulge.

Jenny saw, her eyes bright. She swapped one book for another off her shelf and read me a whole new fuck scene. As she did, she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. This story was about a redheaded woman who was getting off with the blonde wife of a magistrate in some stuffy drawing room. Translating the vocabulary as well as I could, I gathered she was enjoying a 69 with the cuntstruck wife on top of billiard table.

Frankly, I was more interested in what Jenny was doing. She finished unbuttoning her top. Her breasts pushed through the opening of her blouse, smooth hillocks of flesh, topped with stiff pink nipples. With her free hand, she caressed her left tit, squeezing it gently.

Not to be left out, I rubbed my swollen cock through my pants. A simmering pleasure had awakened in my balls. Jenny grinned, liking what I was doing.

She tossed away the blouse as I shed my shirt. She grabbed yet another book and started in on some other imagined erotic scenario, flinging the salty language at me. She unzipped her slacks, and I undid mine. We dropped trou simultaneously.

I gasped at the sight of her shaved pussy. Her gaze was riveted on my hard cock. She put back her book, and her witch’s eyes glittered. I drank in her naked body, noting every curve, dimple and hint of lean muscle.

We grinned at each other. The erotic language from the books still seemed to swirl in the air around us. I moved toward her. We still hadn’t yet kissed, incredibly enough.

She stepped up against me, cinching her arms around my waist. I pulled her into my embrace. My cock pressed her abdomen, and her tits pushed against me. Our mouths hovered an inch apart, the anticipation building until my ears started to ring.

Then we kissed, hungrily, almost violently. Our lips smeared together and parted. Her tongue zapped out at mine. We tangled, mouths grinding back and forth. She moaned, and I drew her even tighter against me, thrilling to the soft feel of her skin and the wiriness of her musculature beneath.

My hips moved, and I rubbed my cock on her belly. Her hands reached down and cupped my ass, fingers sinking in. She shifted a bit, even as we continued our furious kissing, and she set her shaven crotch against the solid pillar of my thigh. I felt her wetness on my leg, and her body trembled with pleasure in my arms.

Finally, we had to break for air. I panted, with my cockhead throbbing against her navel. We were in the spacious front room of her condo. I glanced at the nearby sofa, considering, but Jenny took my hand and led me away from the wall of books, toward a doorway.

Her bedroom was dominated by the wide bed. Still holding my hand, she tugged me up onto it. We lay down, facing each other. I put a hand to her breast. Her chest rose and fell as she was still getting her breath. I gently squeezed the sumptuous knoll of flesh, and watched the pleasured reaction wash up over her elfin features. I flicked her engorged pink nipple with my thumb.

She responded to that by reaching down to cradle my balls. Her palm was warm, her fingers delicate as they played with my sac. Heat bloomed deep inside me, spreading upward and outward, making my toes and fingertips tingle.

“I slipped a finger into her slit. She gasped and started pumping my cock.”

I fondled her tits some more, then moved my hand down to touch her between her legs. She lifted her thigh, and I traced my fingers softly along the brim of her quim, just teasing her outer lips. Where our kiss of a few moments ago had been ferocious, we were handling each other’s genitals with almost virginal daintiness. It was strangely sweet.

Her hand slid up from my balls to wrap around my swollen shaft. I grunted, liking the pressure. She tightened her grip. I slipped a fingertip into her moist slit, feeling her silky-smooth interior. She gasped and started pumping my cock.

I fingered her deeper. The pleasure was like a visible energy I could watch roll up her lovely body. I saw her muscles tighten, and veins popped out on her here and there. Her face grew flushed, and I dipped a second finger into her.

Her clit pulsed as I stroked it, while she jerked my veiny staff with more authority. Excitement hit a new stage inside me. I was already aware that this woman was something special. My attraction to her was beyond the physical. I liked her intelligence and wit. But right now her body was of paramount importance to me. I wanted her to experience the highest pleasure possible.

I had to have a taste of her. Her scent was in the air, luring me helplessly. I broke off my fingering and shifted down the big bed. I shouldered between her smooth thighs. She turned eagerly onto her back, giving me full access to her pussy.

It was a beautiful sight, gleaming and impatient. I lowered my head and gave her wet furrow a long savoring lap of my tongue. She made a yipping sound of pleasure, and her hips jerked. I slipped my hands underneath her ass, holding her in a slightly raised position, like someone about to sip from a chalice.

I licked her again, exploring her folds and parting them. Then I put my tongue where my fingers had already been. Her taste hit me like a jolt of electricity. I delved deeper, then focused on her swollen clit once more. I set about caressing it with my tongue tip.

Some detached analytical part of me wondered how this scene would be rendered in the old-fashioned language of Jenny’s erotic books. I couldn’t even guess at the terminology, except what I’d picked up in my reading of last night. But the quaint flavor of the literature washed through my head, casting this sexual act in pompous yet titillating terms. We might have been two people from centuries ago, engaged in carnal actions for the pure pleasure of them.

Jenny’s shapely ass squirmed in my cradling hands. Her hips bucked, at first randomly as she made raspy sighing sounds. Then she began to hump rhythmically against my face. I licked and sucked her clit harder as she reached for a fistful of my hair. I let her drive her pussy forcefully on my mouth.

Suddenly, her body stiffened, every muscle hardening. She cried out, and I stroked my tongue deep into her to taste the surge of her juices. I savored the moment until she finally went limp.

I sat up, wiping my dripping chin. Desire shivered all through me, finding its most intense focus — naturally — in my throbbing cock. Jenny’s captivating eyes briefly fluttered, and then she seemed to regain her composure.

I was about to move forward to slot myself into her pussy, but she put a hand on my chest. She pushed, and I let myself fall onto my back. Her hand seized my cock once more, and without further warning her head swooped down and her mouth engulfed my organ.

Sucking air through clenched teeth, I felt a mixture of joy and surprise. Her dark hair had long since spilled out of its arrangement and was flung every which way, but through the curtaining locks I could see her lips sealed around my shaft, her neck straining as her mouth worked me.

Maybe she had a strong sense of fair play. Maybe she just wanted to taste my cock, the way I’d wanted to have a sample of her pussy. Whatever, her oral skills were amazing. I felt her tongue writhing along my staff. She sucked me deep with every plunge, taking my bulbous cockhead into her throat. The pleasure was extreme.

When her head finally lifted, I reached for her arms to pull her onto me. She climbed up. She took my spit-wet cock in her hand and lowered her pussy toward it. The first touch of my swollen crown against her slick entrance set off new delights in me. Here was the ultimate connectivity. I had desired this woman from the first instant I’d seen her in her bookstore. Finally, we were going to fuck, true and proper.

With each inch of myself I saw and felt snaking up into her, a new burst of elation erupted inside me. Her internal muscles grasped me, and I felt myself welcomed within. I put my hands to her hips as she wiggled and settled, taking me all the way.

She hovered there a moment, and again I beheld the flagrant pleasure twisting her delicate features. Such a beautiful woman she was. I knew I would want to see her again after this, to know her through and through, to experience her charms and intellect in full measure.

But for the moment our bodies were carnally joined. She put a flat palm to my chest and began to lift and lower herself on my straining pole. She moved at an easy tempo, her pussy gripping me with slippery heat. I fell into her rhythm, gently thrusting up against her downward lunges. It was cooperative and sublime.

Then something tripped in her, in both of us, as darker, more urgent needs surfaced. She started riding me harder, slamming down onto my cock. I lifted my ass off the bed, spearing upward.

“I licked and sucked her clit harder as she reached for a fistful of my hair.”

Inarticulate sounds escaped her mouth, and I heard similar exclamations coming from me. The mounting pleasure felt primitive and untamed. She threw her head back, and her hair flew in a dusky spider web as her fingers dug into my chest.

When she came this time, I felt the serious clench of her. Her whole body thrashed above me. I drove upward, to her deepest point, letting her ride the crest of her climax until she cried out and her limbs slackened.

I shifted hurriedly beneath her, catching her and laying her down, keeping my cock inside her throughout all the maneuvering. On her back, her eyes locked onto mine. I was poised over her as her mouth opened soundlessly.

With a single thrust, I buried myself to the hilt in her pussy. She jerked with the impact. Her hands went out on either side and clawed the bed, while feverish pleasure swamped through my skull.

She lay beneath me, spread wide, taking every stroke of my cock. Once again, the text she’d read earlier flowed into my thoughts. This time the words seemed alive. They spilled onto Jenny’s gorgeous writhing body in my mind, black letters pouring across supple skin, erotic phrases by the hundreds. They gushed across her breasts and belly, thighs and face. They described what we were doing, chronicling this glorious encounter as though for an audience of two centuries ago.

With the phantasmagoria of verbiage swirling, I continued to fuck her furiously as she shivered and moaned.

I was beyond myself, tumbling over the edge. Sweat stung my eyes as I heard Jenny howling. In that same instant, ecstasy ripped through the abyss of my being. My balls tightened and come jetted from me. Each spurt was a wrench of fantastic pleasure, and I lost myself in that rapture.

Afterward, I smiled tenderly at her, and she returned a similar look. The words had disappeared, but they would somehow linger, recording this ultimate erotic tale for all time.

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