My fingers traced the gold gilt on the leather bindings. Never before had I seen more than a dozen books in one place. M’lord had thousands, many in languages unknown. Per instructions, I removed each one, dusted and cleaned the shelf, then moved to the next. I was on the penultimate step of a rolling ladder. A pail swung from a hook. My hips twitched, my buttocks visible, my front thatch peeped: I continued to weep arousal. Voices from below, tenors and bass, alto and sopranos, I stared forward and worked without cessation. I wanted a hand… betwixt my thighs.
This link goes to The Bumhampton Chronicles category so you can catch up at any time.
You have almost made me want to dust the library.
Almost? I guess I’ll have to try harder. 😉
I was talking about my own! No rolling ladder though.
But you have enough kids to make a pyramid. 🙂
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