I’ve always loved the smell of old books. If wisdom had a smell, I believe that would be it. As I walked down the streets of DC with a friend, we came across an old bookstore. I suggested we go in and give it a once around. It was one of those good bookstores set up in a way that if you really wanted to duck off and enjoy a book you could, with different nooks and crannies to disappear into. Overall it was the Narnia of bookstores. After a self-guided tour of the store, my friend and I divided into our own little worlds, being captured by the titles of the books. After a while, I realized I hadn’t seen my friend. I attempted to track him down in the midst of the bookstore’s labyrinth, not succeeding whatsoever. I paused my search for a brief moment and admired the history section. Really I was admiring the middle-aged white man who looked like he could be an extra in “Sons of Anarchy”. For a man in his 50s, his body was well toned. I began to plot how to get his attention. I picked up a book with the word “Wood” in the title, hoping it would have some sexy line I could use about “hard wood” and how much I needed some. The book was a fail. Didn’t provide any segue into a conversation whatsoever, which is impressive given how easy it is to make sexual puns out of damn near everything. I bent over and put it back on its low shelf. As I stood up, I noticed the man watching me. Oh yeah! I forgot I’m Black! The sundress I wore that day accentuated all my God-given curves. I’m over here trying to think of a corny pick up line when really “Hi, my name is..” would be half the work and twice as effective. I introduced myself to the man. He told me he was 54, retired, and recently divorced. I told him I was 23 and trying to knock off a few items on my “Fuck-It” List.
“I’ve heard of a bucket list, but you said Fuck-It List?” He said, humored.
“Yes, my ‘Fuck-It’ List! The list of sexual things I want to do while I’m young, tight, and ready! Two of them being fucking an older man and fucking in a public place.”
I don’t think he was prepared for that kind of bluntness.
“Old? You think I’m old?” he grinned.
“Older than me at least,” I giggled.
“Well young lady, you’ve intrigued me. I would love to help you knock a couple pegs off your Fuck-It List.”
“Why thank you, good sir. It’s an honor. Follow me.” I led him into the back corner of the bookstore where they kept the Shakespearean era novels.“We should be good back here.”
Luckily, there were chairs for people to sit in all over the bookstore. I was starting to suspect this place was secretly set up for patrons to fuck with all the seating and hiding spots, but maybe that’s just the way my freaky mind worked. It was a good thing I’d worn a dress, though,because this was not a place to get naked. If it was really intended for sex, they’d have dusted more. With my back against the bookcase, Mr. Anarchy lifted me up and placed himself inside me; he’d strapped a condom on quick. His force made some of the books topple over; we were starting to cause a slight scene. He eased me down off the bookshelf and onto the floor without exiting my body. I rode him back and forth like a rocking chair. Mid-stride I realized he was actually helping me knock a third thing off my Fuck-It List: fucking a white boy. This was my chance! “Once you go Black, you never go back” was how I heard it, and I didn’t want to be the exemption to the rule. I had to fuck this man like his dick gave out reparations. I perfected my mount and began steadily bouncing up and down. Eventually my legs began to get weak; I think he noticed, because he started fucking me back. As I bounced on him, he thrusted up towards me. I think at one point a lady walked past us, but chose to ignore. I was grateful; this man was giving me way more than I expected. I guess by this age he had mastered how to get a woman off, or maybe this wasn’t his first dip into some chocolate. Just as my climax was coming to a head, he stopped our production. “Let’s move to a chair,” he grunted. “My ass is starting to get rugburn.”
We moved into the armless chair in the corner and I mounted him once more. This time I placed my right leg upon his shoulder, my left providing steady leverage for me to bounce on top of him with vigor.
He looked impressed with my flexibility and my endless amount of energy. I think that at his age he was used to doing all the work. I held it down for the cause in the end as I brought him to orgasm just strokes before I came myself. “Well, young lady,” Mr. Anarchy panted as we got ourselves together, “thank you for letting me be a part of your Fuck-It List. I didn’t know I had one, but you’ve helped me cross something off, too: I’ve never had a Black woman. I hope I can go back. Or hell, maybe I don’t.” We laughed and said our goodbyes as I set out to find my friend.
He happened to be in the same spot I left him in, reading. I’d just failed to see his body past the bookshelf.
“I’ve built an appetite. Trying to get some food?”
“Cool with me!” He put the book down and stood up. “Where you been?”
“Looking for you actually, I didn’t see you in between these two shelves so I assumed you went down stairs and then..” I blushed trying to determine if I should tell him about my recent excursion just below us.
‘I’ll tell you over some food, I’m starving!”
We headed out of the store and started walking towards my car when I noticed a small hole in the wall called “Meat in The Box.” So very aptly named, considering why I was hungry in the first place. I mean I’d have had to go in anyway, but still. The moment was ripe.
“Let’s eat here!” I propositioned.
After we annoyed the cashier with our soft-core jokes about the name of the establishment, we sat down and started on our food.
“The meat in this box ain’t that good,” my friend complained.
“Well the meat that was just in my box was actually pretty good,” I relished.
“Why do I feel like you’re not talking about your steak kabobs…”
“ ‘Cause I’m not!” I took a sip of my drink and leaned in to tell him the story of Mr. Anarchy and our blissful moment in Narnia