Fiction: Succulent Sutra Finale

Claire was still feeling smug as she and her boss climbed into the cab home. The shocked look on Mrs. Lepin’s face would be a treasured memory forever. Mr. Dillon’s grudging smile as he read the first recipe had made Claire’s cunt clench in excitement. She had loved explaining how Mrs. Lepin’s husband had been able to conceal his greatest work from his disapproving wife. It had made Claire feel superior in a way she hadn’t felt for a long good while.

Mr. Dillon told the cabdriver their destination and then settled back into his seat. His hand casually pulled up her skirt to expose her lime green thong. Claire closed her eyes. She was embarrassed by the public display, but the words she’d overheard earlier made her think differently about her embarrassment. This, too, was a lesson.

“Ms. Currie, I must say I am disappointed at your speed,” Mr. Dillon said. He casually pulled aside her thong to reveal her cunt.

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She spread her legs wider for him. “How so, Mr. Dillon?”

“It took you 34 minutes to report your discovery,” Mr. Dillon said. His hand was stroking her cunt, rubbing up and down her brown lips. “I expected it to take no more than 15 minutes.”

“You knew?” Claire asked. Then she sighed because his fingers penetrated her rather wonderfully. Her wet sex was more than ready for him. She glanced up at the rearview mirror and saw that the driver was watching.

“Certainly,” Mr. Dillon said. “In our business, you learn 100 ways to hide erotica. Jealous wives, curious children, disapproving servants and shy demeanors drive pornography into the shadows. The Torchida method of breaking apart a work and hiding it among several other works is one of the classics. As soon as I saw the scribbled ingredients in ‘The Busty Secretary Pool,’ I knew what Mr. Lepin had done.’

Claire’s cunt clenched in memory of the book’s title. Mr. Dillon’s finger were fucking her in earnest now, and it was all she could do not to climax in the back seat of the cab. She was tempted to ask if she could climax, but she refrained. Claire could hardly stand holding off her climax, but the thought of being outright denied was even worse.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?” Claire asked. Her tone had no accusation, only pure arousal.

“Pure charity, I am afraid,” Mr. Dillon said. “Yes, charity. The sweet discovery of unraveling a puzzle is one of the few delights our profession gives. I wanted to give you a chance to figure it out yourself so you could relish it. Also, like a well-made appetizer, your discovery will tease you into being hungry for more. Now, you will approach every collection as though it might contain a secret delight.”

“And you didn’t have me look so you could fuck Mrs. Lepin?” Claire asked. The cabdriver’s eyebrows rose at that comment.

In response, Mr. Dillon vigorously finger-fucked Claire. She gripped the arm rest hard as Mr. Dillon thoroughly used her. She felt an orgasm build within her, and she had to bite her lip. The sharp pain from her teeth kept back the longed-for climax.”

“Fucking horny widows is but another delight of our profession,” Mr. Dillon said. “Besides, you needed to learn to deal with your jealousy. I thought you had learned that lesson when you eavesdropped on us.”

“You knew I was there?”

“Ms. Currie, a librarian must be as silent as a ray of light striking a white page,” Mr. Dillon said. He ground his fingers into her sex till the wet sounds filled the cab. “You, on the other hand, are as loud as a tap dancer wrapped in cellophane.”

“Did — did you mean what you said?” she asked.

He leaned in close. The rhythm of his finger-fucking never changed as he brought his lips to her ear.

“Every word,” he said. “And you may climax now.”

Claire did. She let go and climaxed within seconds. Her fingernails bit into the cab door’s arm rest, and her eyes clenched tight as the orgasm rocked her. She tried to be silent, but she couldn’t hold back the low, full-bodied moan that escaped her lips.

Mr. Dillon removed his fingers from her cunt and smoothed down her dress. He placed his fingers at her mouth, and she gladly opened her lips to clean them. The cabdriver watched this all with a goofy grin on his face. Claire couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I’m glad you like our driver,” Mr. Dillon said. “You’ll be tipping him with a blowjob.”

Claire kept smiling. “Certainly, Mr. Dillon.” It was a fitting dessert for a long day as a librarian.

The end.