You step out of the cold and into the warm welcoming used bookstore. The air smells of hot tea and old paper. Low ceiling, soft lighting, and books in every conceivable location. Cautiously you step between old furniture and paperback piles making your way through the cozy shop.

You spot a boulder of a man behind the counter watching you over his wire-rimmed glasses. His bearded Cherub face turns slightly red and then back to the leather-bound book in his large hands. The beige cable knit sweater hugs his round belly and as you admire his thick form you catch him looking back at you. Before you can stop yourself you give him a wink and a slight suggestive smile. His face is practically scarlet now, sternly considering the tome he holds. You decide to peruse the collection and maybe get a better look at the man.

You find yourself in a makeshift aisle of bookshelves. A vintage magazine in your hand. Artistic nude portraits of men fill the fragile pages. Being so engrossed in the images you don't hear the front door lock. You do however hear a soft and low "excuse me" from the bookseller.

He makes way down the aisle toward you with a paperback in hand. His towering figure stops directly behind you and he places one heavy hand upon your shoulder. His belly pushes up against your back as he reaches above your head. He meticulously places the book in a spot you could not have noticed.

Your back involuntarily arches and you feel his bulge press firmly against your backside.

"A perfect fit," he says and you don't think he's talking about the book. 

He leans you into the shelf. The hand on your shoulder has made its way to your chest and found your nipple. His other hand is already at your fly, his mouth in the space behind your earlobe. You hear your belt buckle clunk and rattle on the floor as his hands explore your body. The pressure of his mass has you panting into the now forgotten magazine and your body pressed against the shelf.

In a haze you find your back arches further, his hands pulling at your clothes. Your pants around your ankles, your shirt balled in his hand. His thick moustache rubs against your ear.

"I want to fuck you right where you stand," he grumbles.

"Don't stop," is all you can manage.

A second clunk of a belt hitting hardwood floors. He pushes his cock between your exposed cheeks, grinding against your entrance. Your hole is warm and sticky, wet. One hand at your waist, he pulls himself back. You hear him spit, and then your hole is probed by one of those thick fingers, gently spreading you open.

After teasing and lubing your puckering and eager hole he spits again. His hand is removed from your backside, you feel it on your chest. His cock is positioned to enter you. He pulls you close to him and gently you feel his cock-head press against the entrance to your hole.

It's big, bigger than you expected, you breathe deep and feel yourself pushing against the bookshelf and onto him. He is inside you, you take a moment to adjust. He groans deeply and you can feel it slide further in. One hand gripping your waist the other slides to your throat.

"Are you ready?" his gravely voice asks against the back of your neck.

You don't speak a response instead gripping down on him and pushing further to the base of his girth. He chuckles, squeezing your love handle and throat, and begins pulling back, an empty yearning slowly grows within you.

The emptiness doesn't last as his hips slam into your backside, his manhood filling you completely. You are out of breath, full to bursting. He pulls back again, pausing longer before thrusting back into you. Staying buried to the hilt you feel it flex and expand against your grip.

The fucking begins in earnest now. He ruts and thrusts into your ass with greedy abandon. He is speaking but you cannot understand; lost to the passion of this chance encounter. You grip the bookcase, it bangs into the wall as he ravages you. A pressure builds behind your balls.

Before you realize it your cock begins to fire rope after rope of cum. Your knees are weak, your chest and head hot. The warm liquid hits your leg as you moan from deep in your belly. His pace changes suddenly, it's been fast before but it's faster and deeper now. He says something, but you're still riding the wave and can feel another building.

"Don't pull out," you hear yourself say, "I want to feel you cum in me"

He grunts. Your face is up against the spines of books. You don't care. His pace is frantic. He growls in your ear. A hot wet feeling fills you. He gasps, pulling you back against his thrusting. He shoots more and more each time he bottoms out in your hole. You're cumming again too, hot wet gobs spray between you. He seems to howl, his nails digging into your skin. pain, ecstasy.

You come to on the floor. His arms wrap around you from behind. You're both nude from the waist down and the smell of sex lingers in the air. You roll to face him. His eyes are soft and mischievous. You share a wet kiss full of tongue and passion. He pulls back, "Would you like to go again?"