Chaos

Life has been hectic this past week. A full schedule can be a blessing. For me it means being surrounded by family and friends, picnics and laughter, joy and chaos. My secret to escaping and not going crazy from it all is actually volunteering. While it sounds like more work and less down time, it is all about what you chose to do. My local library is amazing. It is huge full of texts old and new, dark and cold and quiet, except for the children’s books which constantly is flooded with sunshine and more laughter than one should expect in a sacred place of wisdom and learning. It is simply beautiful.

The library also happens to be my home away from home, the place I go to relax and run away from the outside world, where chaos becomes order, and things each have a proper place and number. It sooths my rare need for organization and allows me first peek at the latest books they have acquired. I volunteer once a week, usually for a few hours, but end up staying long after closing, as I am easily entranced.

I have my own key, as I have basically lived off and on in the library since I was twelve and have free run of the place. So whenever live gets too hectic, or I am in a pinch to get out of the drama that some people tend to pull around them, the library has an “emergency” and I go to shelf books and videos, pull articles and periodicals for research help, or sneak in and hide in the back office, reading from this text or that. I can’t tell you how many times I have wished for immortality for the opportunity to read and absorb it all.

This Wednesday was no different, after the last of my appointments I needed time to think, time to be away from stress and chaos and run away. I rushed home to quickly change, as my library time is often marked by shivering, so I pull up my long white stockings and smooth my flannel skirt that hits just above my knees. My favorite sweater, thread bare and tight fitting, the v-neck plunging low is pulled over my black lace bra. I switch to my thick black framed glasses and pull my hair up in my best librarian knot. My armor is on, I am ready to battle the thick dusty tomes and my red lipstick is ready to purse and shush all those that might distract from my calm.

I spent the afternoon shelving books in botany part of the library, each book, I glanced and read, marking in a separate book what I would enjoy looking up later. Mrs. March, the assistant librarian came to check on me once, and smiled when I jumped, her catching me kneeling on the floor, reading intently on fenugreek and pennyroyal.

“Kit, dear,” she began, as if she was ages older than me, not a mere ten years. “does your head ever come out of those books?” I simply blushed and nodded as she continued. “You have gotten a lot done. We are closing soon though, were you going to finish up your section or go home with the rest of us?” Her bright eyes were dancing and the smile on her thin lips told me she already knew the answer.

“I will stay, you know I never leave my books unshelved!” She laughed and nodded and then walked away, her round ass swaying in the tweed pants she wore. I knew she put on a show just for me, as she had caught me staring at her in the past, and after she caught me kissing Tara last week in the break room, I am pretty sure that she knew my I-think-you-have-something-on-your-sweater excuse was a bogus reason to touch the softness of her beautiful D cup breasts.

I shook myself from the naughty thoughts that kept running through my head and focused on putting up the remaining books. “K, you have a visitor!” I heard someone shout from the front.

“Let them in, and point ‘em my way!” I shouted while groaning inwardly at the thought of someone finding me in a puddle on the floor surrounded in books. Up I went, my ass bent over and my head toward the selection of books. Diligently putting them away. I knew it had to be my sister, probably needing a twenty to get her through the week, so when I heard the steps stop behind me, I motioned absently toward the table in the far corner. “Hun, my purse is over there, just get what you need and tell me how much. I should be done in another hour or two.”

When she didn’t respond I went to turn, but squealed as I felt hands wrap around my hips. The laughter I heard was unmistakable. The low sultry rumble sent shivers up my spin, and I twirled too fast and bumped into his hard chest. Looking up into Wynn’s eyes I gasp in delight. “How?? When??” I asked stuttering flabbergasted at his sudden appearance. My hands wrapped around his neck and he bent to kiss me, it was soft and passionate, yet I could feel his need radiating off of him in waves. Panting softly I looked into his eyes questioning.

“All of that later,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “You said I could have what I need. I need you Kitz, now.” And with that he kissed me again, pulling my soft body against him, wrapping his arms around my cumbersome body and pressing my hips to his so I could know how real his need was. A moan was forced from deep within me, almost painful was the lightening that shot through me as I felt his arousal. My nails dug through the simple polo shirt he wore, trying to gain balance and my lips trailed to bite his neck in a silent agreement as to his wish.

He growled and quickly smacked my ass. I moaned and writhed into him as I felt the warmth on my behind. He pulled my skirt up as he kissed me, squeezing and fondling my ass, pushing me against him, my hips rubbing up and down on his jeaned erection. His hands splayed across my ass releasing a torrent of stinging slaps, and I moaned and jumped trying to escape, only moving closer to his hard body, his stance solid against my supple body. I bit him, trying not to call out, the slaps echoing in the quiet library. He then cupped my face in his hands, kissing me tenderly, my blushing cheeks almost as red as those on my ass.

He turned me around and slowly guided me to bend over one of the smaller shelves. His hands still cupped and squeezed my ass, and he bent over me, grinding into me. I whimpered and pushed against him, needing him inside me. He pulled my hair from the bun, and slowly let his fingers twine their way through, still grinding and teasing my pussy. The excitement was so much I was sure I could cum with just a few more grinds and I pushed eagerly against him, rubbing and moaning.

He moved away, my head coming up, as he tugged me gently. He bit my neck, my ear, making me shudder. His hands snaked around me, flicking my nipples into tight buds. “Please,” I began to beg of him. “Please Wynn, no more. I need you in me” I gasp between pants, and he moved his hands to rub my belly, then pulled them back and gave me a quick smack on my ass again.


He backed away and I whimpered, looking back at him through the disheveled mess he had made of my chestnut hair. But he was unzipping his pants, and then let his cock escape through his boxers. I moaned at the rigid length and turned bending further over, spreading, showing him I was ready for him. The black matching thong I had worn was soaked with my wetness, and he moved it aside, then let one finger slide in-between my folds. I moaned and pushed against him, his finger slipping deep inside of me. I tried to ride it, but he withdrew.

My protest was quieted as I felt his thick head move up and down my lips, wetting himself and spreading his pre-cum on my swollen lips. I heard him growl, as if his reserve broke, and he plunged into me hard and fast. I screamed out in delight, and then bit my lip, trying to control myself, but almost immediately shuttered and orgasmed around him. I gasp as I began to shake, my very core splitting into pieces of light and shattering across the heavens. I arched back and he held me as I clinched and moved around his cock, and he moaned appreciatively.

Yet he continued moving, his cock hard and velvety sliding in and out of my wetness with now slow and deliberate strokes. One hand tugging my hair, the other guiding my hips, he pushed me higher and higher. Wynn’s movements became quicker, and I could feel his moans like a tuning fork in my spine. I pushed harder against him, his hips harder against me. In and out, his balls hitting my clit, his massive cock, reaching and teasing every spot inside me.

I felt my own breath quicken, and as I drew close I began to clinch around him harder and harder, urging his cock to release within me. His moan was deafening, like I had ripped his soul from his body, and he shuddered and twitched on top of me. As I felt both hands guiding my hips pushing me, all of his energy pulsing through me, I rose to my own climax again, and called his name over and over again.

Spent and exhausted, I rested my sweaty brow against the cold wooden shelve and as he pulled out I shivered again. He replaced my thong, as if it might do some good to stop the cum that would surely leak out of me. I giggled at the thought, then began to giggle more uncontrollably. He turned me around after he pulled his pants up and clasped them, then kissed me fully, softly hugging me up into his embrace. I beamed at him, although bashful, and he kissed my forehead.

“Mmm, my sweet little Kit, I have missed you.” I giggled at him again, never fully understanding how someone of my girth could be small, yet enjoying his endearment too much to argue. He held me at arms length and tsked at me. “You are a mess.” He moved to pull down my tight shirt from its rumpled position and tucked one breast back into its harness. I moaned softly as he tweaked each nipple once more for good measure. Then he smoothed my skirt down over my hips and underwear and reached between my legs, trailing softly down with his hands on my inner thighs and pulling back up each stocking.

My face was flushed, and I tried putting my hair back, but it was of little use. The knot was at best bumpy and messy and one look at me and anyone could tell that I had exerted myself recently. He kissed me again. “It’s your fault.” I said pouting, and quickly put the last few books away. He laughed and offered to assist me.

“I know, that is what makes you so beautiful right now.” To this I just stared, shaking my head at this insane man by my side and pouted before giving in to kiss him softly.

“Your nuts.”

“You like it.”

Again I merely nodded, not even bothering to deny it.

“What are you doing here!” I exclaimed as I finally realized that this encounter was a bit odd considering he lived half a continent away from me.

Wynn just smiled at me, as if amused that it took me so long to get my wits about me. Infuriating man. “Work. I just happened to have a layover at the airport, until tomorrow morning. I thought I might sneak up on you.”

I beamed. “I love surprises!” I said as I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him again. We locked up the library and headed home, where he made love to me this time, nice and slow, kissing each inch of my body. I think we fell asleep sometime around four, then were up again at seven to see him off. Seeing him was bittersweet, but honestly the perfect distraction. Today I have did nothing but stare off and daydream, even going by the library and blushing as I moved past the botany section, almost still feeling his heated breath on my neck, his hands in my hair.

I am muddled. In a state of constant confusion. Thinking of him and Tara and Jackson and wondering how long I can have all three of them before it comes tumbling down around me. Each of them is an addiction to me now, more than I care to admit.

Wynn my ocean, the calm, the chaos, ever churning, changing, mysterious and dangerous, yet so very alluring. Untamable, wild, his very essence a mixture of dark and light, mischievous and full of life. When I am beside him, there is something so, raw and real, so beautiful that I can’t explain it. His laughter contagious, his playful way reminisce of the god Loki, always a tease, a taunt, life a large and amusing game in which he moves each piece this way and that, gleefully watching us in our own self destruction.

Tara, my wind, the breeze on my neck, soft and giving, nurturing and uplifting, moving silently and gracefully as she entwines herself in my soul, bit by bit, until I have become certain the only true breath is one that I share with her, our lips touching, panting and gasping as our releases have swirled away from us, leaving us shaking and spent, only holding on to reality by the small thread that connects us.

And Jackson? He is fire. I can’t even call him mine yet. His mild manner a disguise for the passion that burns so fiercely within him. When he touches me, the heat and electricity sear my very soul, the intensity leaving me breathless, the need so powerful I am drawn like a helpless moth as his hands and lips assault me. Blazing, so powerful I feel it will consume me, the lust I have for him. More than just a physical flame, as if each bright flicker is fueled by an ageless spirit, powerful and full of wisdom. His very soul known to me as if it has sheltered and kept me a million years in his glow.


What have I gotten myself into? Musing I think of who could be my earth, then perhaps I might find balance, or then again they might all fade away, leaving me cold and dry and without air of which to breath or land on which to stand, falling into oblivion. Yet, musing is often interrupted and put on a back burner as life speeds up again, and the demands of just being me overwhelm again. I will call Wynn tonight, after I get back from Tara’s. She makes the most wonderful strawberry concoction of rum and berries and white cake. I wonder if she will let me eat it off of her soft belly…