Marian

 

 

           

            I had been surfing the web for hours, looking for a site that would have a listing of books about sexuality after fifty.  I hadn’t had much luck, and was about to log off.  One more link, I thought.  If there’s nothing there, I’m going to quit searching for the day.  I’ll get back on line tomorrow.  When the webpage opened, I saw it.  At the bottom of the list was a title that sounded promising—Sex at Sixty and Beyond: A Reference Book for Sophisticated Women.  I looked at my watch—5:50 PM.  The library was five minutes away, providing I hit all the lights when they were green.  I grabbed my car keys and ran out the door.       

            Luckily, I found a parking place right in front of the old building.  The librarian had just gotten to the door as I ran up the worn limestone steps.  She had the key in the lock by the time I got to the top step. 

            “Shit!” I exclaimed.  It was Saturday.  The prospect of having to wait two days to get that book made me sick.  I put on my best puppy-dog expression and put my hands together as if I were praying.  I hoped she might let me in for a few minutes, even though it was closing time.    

            The odds of her letting me in weren’t good, I guessed.  Her appearance and demeanor suggested she wouldn’t make any exceptions.  Sixty years-old—at least; gray hair in a severe, unflattering bun; a dark, baggy pantsuit and sensible shoes.  No makeup.  She peered at me over too-large horn-rimmed glasses and tapped her finger above the sign on the door.  “HOURS OF OPERATION: 9:00 AM – 6:00 PM, MONDAY THROUGH SATURDAY”.  I pointed to my watch and yelled, “Its 5:57!”  To my astonishment, she unlocked the door.

            “I’m sorry sir”, she began, “the library clock says six o’clock sharp.”  My heart sank.  But, despite her seeming intransigence, I decided I would try to get her to bend the rules.

            “Please, ma’am”, I begged.  “I’m in the middle of writing a paper, and I found a book I need on the internet, and if you would give me a few minutes to see if you have it, I would appreciate it.  I just can’t bear the thought of waiting until Monday—I’m really on a roll, and…”

            “OK, OK”, she said, interrupting my pleas.  “C’mon in.  I know how exciting writing can be.”  I took a few steps inside the old library and stopped, staring up in amazement.  Although I had been in the cavernous old reading room many times, its ceiling had escaped my notice until now.  The librarian had turned off all the lights, and the only source of illumination were the rays of the late afternoon sun, pouring through the skylights.  To my amazement, I saw stained glass illustrations of mythological figures; surprisingly muscled nymphs, satyrs, dragons, all of them brightly-colored and exquisite in their execution.

            I was so captivated by the sight I hadn’t noticed the librarian’s approach.  “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” she asked, touching me on the arm.  “Sometimes after I close up”, she said, running her hand up my arm, “I climb up on my desk, lie on my back and stare at them!” she said, giving my bicep a squeeze.  “I like to pretend I’m one of the nymphs!” she laughed.  Her fingers explored my muscle—she seemed to be taking an inventory of it.

            “Really?” I asked.  Her revelation had taken me completely by surprise.  She was the last person I would expect would have such a fantasy.  I was tempted to ask her for the details, but, considering she had done me a favor by letting me in, I thought I better get right to the point. “The book I saw on the internet, Mrs.…”

            “I’m not married”, she interjected.  “Besides”, she continued, offering her hand, “I don’t like formality.  My name’s Marian Black.  What’s yours?”

            “John Hamilton”, I answered.  I gasped when I took her hand.  It was as thick as a man’s.  I swallowed hard, regained my composure and continued.  “Anyway, Marian, as I was saying, I saw this title, Sex at Sixty and Beyond: A Reference Book for Sophisticated Women, and knew it would be a good source for the paper I’m writing for my course in Human Sexuality.  And I rushed down here in hopes you’d have it.”

            “You’re in luck,” she said, staring at me with more than a little interest.  “We have it.  In fact, I have it in my office.”  Marian took off her horn-rimmed glasses and folded her arms across her chest.  She tilted her head slightly and asked, “If I might be so bold, what would be the nature of your interest in that book, John Hamilton?”

            Quite unexpectedly, I found myself in a situation I had dreamed about for as long as I could remember.  I loved older women—especially if they were strong.  And, judging by the feel of Marian’s hand, she was strong.  Having sex with a strong older woman, I imagined, would be wonderful beyond imagining.  And to top it off, she seemed as interested as I.  But for reasons I didn’t completely understand, I vacillated, even as my ultimate fantasy stood before me in the flesh.  Should I tell her that I wanted that book to nourish my fantasies, or should I play it cool, and pretend I wanted it for strictly academic reasons?  I opted for the latter.    

            “Uh,” I began clumsily, “my professor kind of suggested I research that area…its, uh, kind of a pet interest of his, I think.”  My lie sounded especially obvious, spoken as it was in front of hundreds of old books full of truth.     

            “I see”, Marian said, her voice full of skepticism.  She knows I’m lying!  “Well, as I was saying,” she continued, “I have it in my office.  C’mon, I’ll get it for you.  Follow me.”  With that, she turned and strode off through the darkening old reading room.

            Funny I didn’t notice how broad her shoulders are, I thought, as I lagged several steps behind.  Or how narrow her waist is, or how solid her ass seems to be.  Jesus, she moves with the ease of a woman in her thirties!

            Marian opened her office door and flipped the switch.  Light from a green-shaded library table lamp illuminated floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, chairs filled with books, and her desk, piled high with manuscripts.  “I think that book you wanted is right here”, she said, reaching over her desk, lifting one leg to enable a few more inches of reach.  The outline of her haunches was clearly visible.  They had the squarish shape only years of heavy exercise could account for.  I wonder what she looks like naked.

            “Here it is!” she said, a bit out of breath.  “John?  Mr. Hamilton?”  She asked, waving her hands in front of my face.

            “Oh!  Sorry, Marian.  I guess I was thinking about something else”, I apologized.  “Thanks.  I appreciate it”, I said, turning to the door.  “Hey!” I said suddenly.  “Whose are these?” I asked, pointing to a set of 35 pound Hexbells, lying in the corner.

            “They’re mine” the librarian responded.    

            “Really?” I asked.  This is too good to be true!

            “Yeah”, she said, her voice suddenly an octave lower.  “When I have a few minutes, I come back to my office, pull down the shade, and do some sets—curls, flies, triceps extensions, whatever.  If it’s a slow day, I can usually get in ten or fifteen sets.  Then, before I leave, I do a few more sets for good measure.  Sometimes, if it’s been real slow, I spend more time lifting than I do working at my desk.  On those days, my muscles are still swollen when I go to bed!”

            “Really?” I asked again.  I can’t believe what I’m hearing!  This woman is the embodiment of my ultimate fantasy. 

            “I have the feeling you have more than a passing interest in what I’m saying”, Marian speculated.  “Am I right, John Hamilton?”

            You’ll never have this chance again…tell her everything!  “Yes, Marian, you are right.  For as long as I can remember, older women, especially if they’re strong, have turned me on.  May I go on?” I asked.

            “Please do”, she said, sitting on her desk. 

            “I imagine having sex with an older woman, especially a strong older woman, would be wonderful.”

            “Well, John”, the librarian began.  “I’m glad you showed up when you did.  You see”, she said, slipping off her jacket, “We’re a perfect match—I adore young, strong, college-aged boys such as yourself…especially ones who like older women.”

            “Really?” I asked again, stupidly repeating myself.  John, you have got to improve your vocabulary!

            “Yes, John, really!  And what’s more, I simply adore lifting weights with young, strong boys.”  With that, Marian pulled down the shades.  “Unbutton my blouse, John”, she commanded.  I did as I was told and stood there gaping—her arms were as muscled as a stevedore’s. 

            “Can I feel your muscles?” I asked.

            “Let’s do some sets first”, she answered.  “Then you can feel to your heart’s content!  Would you like to do curls?” she asked.  The thought of seeing her baseball-sized biceps straining was almost more than I could bear.  My dick throbbed in anticipation.

            “Yes”, I squeaked.

            “Glad you said ‘yes’, John, I love biceps!  I’ll go first.” 

 

            Ten sets later, our arms were shaking.  On our last three sets, we had given each other negatives, exhorting each other to do two more, then one more rep.  My biceps were so fatigued I could hardly move my arms. 

            “Marian”, I said, “my arms are wasted.”

            “Mine too” she smiled.  Rivulets of sweat ran down her ivory body.  “Can you undo my hair?” she asked seductively.  “I want to pose for you, and I’m prettier with my hair down.”

            “Yes, if I can bend my elbow!”  The length of her gray tresses surprised me.  Unbound by the black silk ribbon, they fell to her waist.

            “OK, John, take off your pants and have a seat behind my desk.” Marian ordered.  “Just sit back and relax.”  She undid her belt and her trousers joined her blouse where it lay.  She unfastened her bra. 

            The old librarian was as graceful and as muscled as a catamount.  Being watched by a young man with a hardon seemed to re-energize her.  Muscles that had been fatigued only minutes earlier seemed renewed.  Her biceps were like river rocks, rolling under her skin; her triceps as thick as hawsers, straining against their agonists; and the veins under her thin pale skin became heavy as nightcrawlers.     

            I felt a familiar surging in my loins.  “Marian!” I yelled, “I’m gonna come!”

            “Not without me, you’re not!” she yelled, jumping on my lap.  She slipped me inside her and began to heave back and forth like a bronc.  “Feel my muscles, John!” she yelled, flexing both biceps.  “Feel me everywhere, boy!” she commanded.  Everywhere I felt was like feeling hard rubber under silk, and the rougher I was, the more vigorously she thrust herself on my pole-stiff dick. 

            “It feels like lava is coming out my asshole, Marian”, I gasped. 

            At that, her breath caught in her throat.  She bent to kiss me, and the moment her lips met mine she began to come; spilling out her hot wetness, her old librarian’s pussy gripping my dick like a vise.  Iron strong arms squeezed me until I saw stars. 

 

            The library clock striking eleven awakened us.  Marian had fallen asleep on my lap.  We rubbed our eyes and laughed in embarrassment at our awkward situation.  After a few moments, the old librarian flexed her biceps, patted the bulging mass and said, “John Hamilton, my muscles are a well-kept secret.” 

            I looked at her curiously.  “That’s the way I like it”, she went on.  “The baggy clothes, the severe hairstyle, horn-rimmed glasses, no makeup—that’s part of the turn-on for me.  Keeping this surprisingly muscled old body concealed from all but a privileged few has been great fun.”

            “How long have you been doing this?”

            “Over thirty years.”      

            “How many have there been, Marian?”
            “Oh, that’s not important.  What is important, my sweet, strong college boy, is that both of us enjoy my little secret.”           

            “How does it work?  Are there rules of some kind?”

            “There are…or is, would be a better way to put it.”

            “Well, how many, and what are they?” I had the feeling she was playing games, and I didn’t like it.

            “There’s just one.”  Marian said, clearly enjoying my perplexity.            

            “What is it?”

            The old librarian kissed me on the forehead and laughed, “You have to join the Book of the Month Club!”