A knowledgeable, sensual older librarian is the perfect matron to instruct this clever young couple in the carnal pleasures of their first ménage.

When I hit my thirtieth birthday, Chris asked me if there were any fantasies he could help make come true. We were extremely open in expressing our wants and needs, but there was one fantasy I’d been keeping close to my chest.

I studied his kind face and then brushed my finger over his lower lip. His tongue darted out automatically to touch my fingertip. Heat and desire curled in my belly and settled lower in a mere heartbeat.

“I have one,” I confessed. I dragged my fingers up his cheekbone and stroked his eyebrow so he shut his eyes. Then I combed my fingers through his light brown hair, liking the soft feel.

“Why haven’t you told me?” he asked. But then he hummed with pleasure because I’d touched the front of his jeans. Just thinking of confessing my heart’s desire had me revved up. My pussy was wet, my nipples hard. The excitement that surged inside me every time we were intimate was ever ready and utterly present.

“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t think about it … until you asked. It seems so completely ridiculous. The things you see in movies but not in real life.”

He opened his bright blue eyes and regarded me patiently. “You’re getting me all worked up and haven’t even told me what it is.”

“Another woman,” I said. “With us.”

He cocked an eyebrow and took my wrist in his hand. His big fingers pinning my pulse beneath his grip made my pussy contract. I knew this conversation was going to end in fucking, but somehow the anticipation was as delicious as the conclusion would be.

“Well, isn’t the fantasy du jour another man? Because if you’re afraid to tell me … ”

I shook my head before he could even finish the sentence.

“Nope. Not changing it for you. It truly is my fantasy.”

As I talked, he put his hands on my hips and lifted my short cotton skirt up my thighs. When he exposed my candy-cane striped panties, he smiled.

“And why a woman?”

I shrugged and tried to continue breathing as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of my panties and forced them down. I was so wet I marveled at the sensation. “Curiosity, I guess. I’ve never been kissed by another woman.”

His fingers dragged slowly across my already swollen clit. He pushed his hand down further and slid a finger inside me. My hips shot forward, and I gasped. Then I laughed.

“Not even a single kiss? Not even a long time ago as an experiment?” His voice was a deep rumble that turned me on incredibly.

“Nope. And I’ve often wondered,” I went on, “what it would feel like to have a woman’s mouth on my pussy. Her tongue. What she would do and how she would do it, as opposed to a man.” I looked at him and touched his face again. “No offense.”

“Jesus. No offense taken, baby.”

He dropped to his knees, and my heart stuttered. My skirt and my panties were now around my ankles, and he put his hands on my feet and leaned in. His breath hit me first, warm and soft, and then his tongue invaded me. I felt as if I’d buckle, so I put my hands on his broad shoulders to steady myself somewhat.

“What’s this?” I asked with a sigh. “I thought I was confessing to you.”

“Keep going,” he mumbled. His lips and tongue were working me so that my mind had grown fuzzy, but I tried my best.

“I want to know what a woman’s hands would feel like on me. And I’d like to know what it would look like … ” I paused.

He sucked my clit, and then soothed it with his tongue. His eyes were open and regarding me. His stare was penetrating.

“What it would look like to what?”

“See you with her. If you could get into that. I don’t know if I’d feel jealous or turned on or what. Probably both.” I laughed. “It turns me on to think of it. But—”

“What?” He sucked my clit again, and my brain went blank.

I shook my head. “Nothing. It sounds selfish.”

He lapped at me, taking my moisture and adding his own. His hands skated up my inner thighs, which promptly began to tremble. He pushed a few fingers inside my pussy and started to thrust them in and out.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Mostly me,” I said. “Obviously, it’s my fantasy so it’s mostly about … me.”

He thrust his fingers deeper, flexed them, brought me up the highest peak and then he dropped me off. He licked my clitoris relentlessly until I was coming, grasping his shoulders as if he could save me.

My knees dipped, and he took advantage of the movement by grabbing my wrist and tugging me down to the floor with him. He removed my blouse and then my bra. His mouth was decadently sweet on my nipples. I raised my hips and wrapped my legs around his waist. My pussy opened to him, and he pounded into me fast and hard. My body clutched at him, and pleasure—swift and wonderful—flooded my system. Gorgeous shades of purple, pink and red swarmed behind my eyelids. I hummed and drove my body up to meet his.

Chris pressed his mouth to my ear and whispered, “It should be about you. All about you. Whatever you want, I want to give it to you.”

Love made my chest ache because I knew he meant it—100 percent.

He hiked my hips up high and angled me so that every single inch of his cock brushed my most sensitive places. I clenched my pussy around him, triggering a growl. “I wish I knew someone,” he said, his face serious. He was so close, and I was right there with him.

“I have a person in mind,” I confessed. “At least fantasy-wise.”

“Who?” he demanded, his rhythm becoming faster and more intense. My back scooted across the carpet in the brightly lit living room. We were screwing right there in the middle of the floor like newlyweds.

“Ms. Kadrey.”

He paused, staring down at me. The pause only served to heighten my pleasure. I could feel my cunt beating in time with my heart.

“The librarian?”

I nodded, moving my hips greedily so that we both groaned. It felt so good. Nearly too good.

“She’s in her late forties,” he responded.

“So?” I laughed. “She’s a repressed sexpot. And smart, too.”

“You want us to fuck Ms. Kadrey?”

I nodded.

He hung his head and grunted, then his hips were in motion. “Jesus Christ,” Chris said. “I’m going to come.”

And as usual, I was right there with him in a moment of perfect pleasure.

I couldn’t tell what he was going to do. I’d have been a nervous wreck, addressing a sexy older woman and propositioning her for a threeway. I’d never have been able to utter the words. But my husband is well spoken and brave beyond measure.

He’d texted me to say that he’d be stopping in the library after work. He was going to talk to Ms. Kadrey, if she was there.

Part of me hoped beyond explanation that she was there. Part of me was terrified she’d be working. I wanted this ménage à trois more and more as we discussed it. The confession part had added considerable fuel to my fantasy fire. I’d had several dreams about what it would be like to have Ms. Kadrey in our bed. What it would be like to have her elegant hands, always bejeweled in fantastical rings, gliding across my skin. Parting my pussy lips. Stroking me to orgasm.

I pictured her lips, always painted a vibrant red, on my pussy. It was all too easy to imagine her taking charge. The persona she emitted is one of confidence and control.

I insinuated my hand into my slacks and breached my panties. I painted the moisture waiting for me there over my throbbing clit. I let my imagination run wild. Ms. Kadrey sucking me. Licking me. Ms. Kadrey with her face buried between my legs, eating me as my husband fucked her, driving her forward over and over again until the inevitable conclusion.

I delivered one more tender stroke to my clitoris, and the orgasm shook me to my bones. It skittered through me and stole my breath. I heard Chris’s car door slam and hurriedly tried to put myself back together, though I knew there would be no hiding the spots of color in my cheeks or how flustered I felt.

His key turned in the door, and I stood there frozen, awaiting the verdict. He walked in and a grin lit his face. “What have you been doing?’

“Nothing,” I lied.

He was on me then, gathering my right hand in his and pulling it to his face. “The scent of your fingers says otherwise.”

“Okay, you caught me,” I blurted. “And?”

“And?” He mocked me, torturing me on purpose for fibbing.

“She said?”

He smiled even more broadly, the sight going straight to the center of me. He kissed me once, almost chastely, which drove me crazy—and he knew it.

“Hazel said yes.”

“Hazel?”

“That’s her name.”

“I never knew.”

“Me, either,” he said. “But since we invited her into our bed, I figured I’d ask.”

“She really said yes?” I sat on the sofa, feeling weak in the knees.

“Lucky for me, it was dead in there. I told her I had an unorthodox request. She said shoot. So I shot. I laid it all out for her, and much to my shock and amazement … she agreed.”

“When?” I queried, hands shaking. We were going to make it happen.

“Tomorrow night. I invited her to come for a drink and then stay for a come.” He chuckled, amusing himself.

“Wow.”

“Yes, wow,” he said. “Now stand up.”

“What?”

He took my hand, and I stood as he said, “I want to pick up where you left off. You started without me, but I can make up for lost time.”

He was right. And he did.

Hazel showed up at our home the next evening in one of her signature wrap dresses. A taupe-and-black number in a pattern resembling brocade. The collar and cuffs were black, and her shoes matched the taupe tone perfectly. Her dark blonde hair was artfully arranged in a French twist, her lipstick was red, and in her elegant hands she held a dozen roses and a bottle of prosecco.

“Gifts?” I murmured, nervously. “Shouldn’t we be giving you gifts?” I took the roses with shaking hands.

She smiled and cocked her head. A single lock of hair slipped down and brushed her cheek. “Oh, but you are. I haven’t had some good old-fashioned dirty fun in a long time.”

Her voice made me smile; it was low and soothing. Fitting, obviously, for a librarian. I handed Chris the wine and let him go about opening the bottle.

“Were you shocked?” I asked, trying my best at small talk. It was hard not to focus on the generous but tasteful cleavage the dress showed off. Her waist was a bit softer than it probably once had been, but the lushness of her body made me want to touch her more.

I imagined her touching me. Naked. On her knees. With Chris behind her.

My cheeks reddened; I could feel the heat. And she caught it, too, because she reached up and ran her fingertips over the red blossoms of my excitement.

“A little. But just at how bold your husband was without really knowing me. He loves you very much.”

I nodded, swallowing hard, as her hand slid down my neck, eliciting goose bumps as it traveled. I felt my nipples spike in my bra and my pussy clench with arousal. I was barely breathing, and tiny white dots swam in my vision.

“I hope you don’t think me bold, but now that I’m here, I think the wine can wait. Like I said, it’s been a long while for me. Too long. I’m always busy and some would say”—she laughed in self-deprecation—“a bit fussy when it comes to lovers. But something about the sincere, forthright nature of your man made me decide to go for it.”

Her hand traversed my shoulder, detoured over my collarbone and slipped down to caress my breast. Her thumb found my nipple with ease. Her touch was everything I’d imagined it would be. She hefted my left breast in her hand and ran her thumb over my nipple again.

Chris walked in with the wine and froze. “Are we skipping wine?” he asked.

I stared at her, half-mesmerized by the fact that she was there and touching me. Hazel smiled and nodded. “I do believe we’re skipping wine. Or rather,” she said, glancing up at Chris, “postponing it.”

She moved closer to me, and I could feel Chris, there in the doorway, holding his breath. Our living room was furnished with a large L-shaped sofa, a chaise longue and two big overstuffed chairs. It was at the back of the house and looked out on a yard with a privacy fence. I was perfectly comfortable with our threesome developing there. I preferred it even, seeing as the bedroom felt like too much of a space imprinted with my energy and Chris’s. The living room was where we entertained. And that day, we were entertaining Hazel.

She unfastened my navy blue dress, one silver button at a time. She kept those warm brown eyes on me, and when I was least expecting it, she leaned in to kiss me on the mouth. Her lips were firm and perfectly in control.

My panties grew wetter, and my legs quivered enough for me to worry about falling. I smiled, and she laughed.

“You’re very pretty. I’ve noticed you before.” She pushed my opened dress back and swept it down—somehow still elegant—to tug at my demi-cup bra and take one of my nipples into her mouth. What felt like an electric current ran beneath my skin, and I found myself pushing my hips forward as she sucked that tender nub of flesh. She took advantage of my state by cupping my mound through my panties.

My eyes shot to Chris, and I saw him leaning against the wall, his hand nonchalantly on his hard-on. He watched every move with avid eyes and a half-smile on his handsome face.

Finally, when I thought I might expire, Hazel pushed my dress all the way down until it puddled at my feet. I stepped free of the fabric as she took control and unhooked my bra and then slid my knickers down. I kicked those off and stood before her utterly nude.

“Like I said,” she whispered, “you’re very pretty. How about you sit on the sofa.”

“I was wondering … I don’t know what Chris said, but—”

“Oh, me and you, him and me. Him and me and you.” She winked. “Don’t worry. We’ll get there.”

I inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heartily. Having her in charge was nice; it helped me relax.

I sat back on the sofa, and Hazel moved toward me slowly. She sank to her knees, and my body shivered from head to toe at seeing my fantasy coming to life. She dragged her fingernails down my belly and my sides, and my muscles jumped. She caressed my inner thighs, and I heard Chris make a noise. He began to unbutton his shirt as Hazel descended on me slowly, allowing me to watch her every move. Her tongue was small and rosy, and she arched it to deliver a single lick to my clitoris.

Another tremble worked through me, and I gripped the tan sofa cushions in my hands. She licked me again before pausing to suck my clit between her lips. Captured in the velvet heat, she nudged it repeatedly until I was writhing, despite my best efforts to stay still.

She began to pet my thighs again, and I mentally begged her to put her fingers in me. She obeyed my unspoken request and slipped a digit into my dripping slit. I raised my hips again, my concentration only broken when I heard the snap of a condom as Chris sheathed himself.

He moved behind Hazel and hiked her dress up. I guessed that he pushed a finger inside her to test her wetness when she let her brown eyes drift shut. Then Chris began the erotic dance of undressing our guest.

When he took her bra off, her breasts spilled free. Her nipples were large and pink. Despite the distraction of the constant whirls of her tongue, I thought of how the pale color reminded me of roses.

Soon she was nude and adding two more fingers to my cunt. She expertly manipulated me until I was gasping for air, curling her fingers over and over until I was coming. I stroked her hair, enjoying the texture beneath my fingers.

Chris entered her, gripping her hips in his hands. Them on the floor, me on the sofa. He began with a slow, even thrust that drove her forward against my pussy. Her lips nudging me that way, just after an orgasm, drove me mad. I watched him fucking her and reached down to cup her heavy breasts in my hands. I pinched her nipples, and she inhaled sharply.

“Again,” Hazel said, and I obeyed. I pinched her now-hard nipples until her face reflected her pleasure clearly. Chris drove into her harder, and her tongue was at me again. He rotated his trim hips in the way that always makes me come. Hazel slammed her body back to take him; she suckled at my tender clit and then licked me lazily. The easy rhythm was precisely what I needed.

Chris sucked on his thumb and slipped the wet tip into her ass as he bucked behind her. He slowed and then sped up, keeping her off balance. Her mouth never stopped moving on my pussy lips and clitoris. I thrust up to grind my cunt against her lips, and when I came, I cried out loudly, unapologetic.

She came with me, the sound of my climax triggering hers.

“I think, I’d like for you to go down on me,” she said, smiling. She was calm, cool and collected, tucking that stray strand of hair behind her ear.

I nodded, waiting for the sensation to come back into my limbs. When I stood, I saw Chris remove the condom. He winked at me, and my heart leapt. We were fulfilling this fantasy together, and it was better than I’d anticipated.

Hazel took her place almost primly, spreading her trim thighs. I ran my hands up and down her legs, feeling the softness of her skin. I spread her pussy lips and studied her rosy cunt. I blew across it even as Chris levered me forward and entered me.

My cunt gripped around him, eager to be filled. I leaned in and smelled the musky but sweet scent of her. I touched my tongue to her pussy, and she practically purred. Subtle flavors filled my mouth, and I began to lick. I concentrated on delivering to her the pleasure she’d given me. I did all the things with my tongue that I adore Chris to do to me.

I licked her swollen clit, holding my tongue pressed flat and broad, until she began to wriggle. Then I tickled her clit with the rigid tip. When that triggered a response, I sucked her button. Her breath rushed out of her quickly, and I almost smiled, feeling victorious.

Every time Chris thrust into me, he brought me closer to another orgasm. She reached down and stroked my nipple with a feather-light touch. I whimpered against her pussy, never pausing with my tongue. I pushed my fingers into her and reveled in the grip of her cunt.

“Jesus, babe,” Chris said. He was so close.

I nodded, suckling her and fucking her with my fingers. She moved quickly and grabbed some of my hair, tugging it as she came with a long, low sigh.

I had done that, and the knowledge set me off. I tightened my cunt around Chris and embraced my orgasm. Pleasure rushed over me as he cursed and followed suit.

When my senses swam back to me and my focus returned, Hazel was watching me, stroking my hair.

Smiling, she glanced at my husband. “Now,” she said, “about that wine.”