She turned slowly around, and began to lower her body, sitting on the couch. She pulled my cock out of my underwear, barely, stroked it very deliberat...ly, looked at it longingly. She began to slowly lick the head of my penis, then opening her mouth slightly, she took in the head, almost as if kissing it. I admire the way she turns her head; it is as if she contemplates every sensual move, not just for how it feels to me, but for how it tastes and feels to her. I see an upturn in her flushing. I try to return to my book, but my mind is elsewhere, following the sound of The Angel as she moves between the stacks, then I realise I haven't heard her for a couple of minutes, she was in the travel section and now there is just silence, the sort of silence that is impossible to ignore. In an instant I'm back in my parents garden, the scent of roses my mother held for me to sniff, their soft, velvety petals brushing my nose and cheek transporting me there in a flash; and I know she is behind. More

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