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The Village Librarian

Quaint is quiet little village in rural England. The kind of place that time ahs forgotten about but the tourists haven't yet heard of. They played cricket on the village green, in summer, drank locally brewed real ale in pub, ducks got fat on the bread thrown to them on the village pond, dutifully raising clutches of ducklings to amuse the village children each spring. The houses were mostly stone, and thatched, containing the same family that had owned it for generations. It could have been the place that William Blake wrote about when he penned Jerusalem. It was in fact quite boring, especially for a thirty something divorcee nymphomaniac who'd moved there to run the library! Ms Kimble stroked the head of her assistant Natasha as she lazily tongued her pussy under her desk. "What we need my dear is a man. One with a big cock, which can even satisfy your insatiable needs." In her mind a plan was forming. But right then she could only think about the orgasm that was boiling up in her loins as Natasha's very talented tongue battered her clit.

P.C. Matthews received the call about an hour later, trouble at the library kids being rowdy and rude. He jumped in his police car and sped off images of a very grateful Ms Kimble in his head as his siren wailed above. He arrived minutes later. And strode purposefully into the little village library. "What seems to be the problem mam?" He asked of Ms. Kimble's pretty blonde assistant Natasha, not seeing anything ...

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