There’s an epidemic of horny young students from Oxford getting it on in the musty confines of one of the city’s vast libraries, and it’s the bored and frustrated librarians job to stop them. One day, however, when the librarian comes across a fornicating couple in a dark corner, she chooses to secretly watch them instead, and completely aroused by the experience, she sets about finding a man to make her own erotic fantasies come true in the classic literature section.
I knew from the moment I started work this morning that there would be another copulating incident in the library; these bloody students couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I suppose they didn’t have anything else to do, God forbid they actually study or something. One would have thought that getting a degree at Oxford was difficult enough, without the additional challenges posed by a pastime of shagging in public places. What has amazed me since I started working here is how many of them are at it – I mean, the occasional opportunistic couple once in a blue moon, I could understand, but in reality it was a pretty frequent occurrence, and it was getting to be a real nuisance for me, not least because I wasn’t getting much action of my own.
It was only 11 am, and already I’d been asked to head down to the archive reference library three floors underground in Harold Hall Library, one of the city of Oxford’s largest and most distinguished libraries. I, the skilled and experienced librarian with a master’s degree and expert knowledge of two hundred works of antiquity and over four hundred literary classics, was reduced to the combined role of school ma’am and hall monitor.
As I descended the last block of stairs and entered the vast low ceilinged room, I lamented the criminal waste of talent that was my six-year employment at this library. I could have been put to much better use – giving talks to students or at least something more cerebral than playing chaperone to a bunch of horny college kids. I quickly quelled the voice that piped up in my head, which suggested that perhaps the fault was mine, and I should have broken free from the dark musty confines of the library years earlier and carved apposition out for myself in the academic world. That perhaps, if I’d been willing to leave my comfort zone, I might have made something of myself. The voice sounded suspiciously like my father.
I passed rows and rows of books stacked neatly on floor to ceiling shelving as I strode purposefully down the center aisle of this floor, which hardly anyone ever visited, except myself and the occasional randy young couple looking for a quiet and undisturbed corner to get their rocks off. I used to love these rooms, I used to think them magical, so possessed they were of the millions of beautifully crafted words that lay within each tome. The buzz that I used to feel at having free access to these chambers had long since faded as my resentment and boredom grew.
I heard footsteps and looked up to see Jerry walking towards me, the intern librarian who didn’t at all have a look that I approved of. He was only nineteen, but he was simply too broad shouldered and stocky looking to be a librarian. He also wore skinny jeans and a kind of ‘geek chic’ tank top, as if trying to pull off an ironic librarian look. He simply wasn’t serious enough for this place.
“Looks like there’s another couple up there Miss,” he said as he strolled up to me, gesturing back where he’d come from with a jerk of his head. As if I didn’t already know, what the hell did he think I was doing down here?
“Yes Jerry, thank you. And I’ve told you before not to call me Miss, I’m not your teacher.”
“Well you sort of are Miss,” he said with a boyish smirk that I knew was simply designed to irk me – and it succeeded. He was an intern here supposedly to learn about books and the importance of the information held therein, but I wondered if he actually had any real interest in the books or if he just wanted to watch out for frisky couples.
“Just go back upstairs, I’ll deal with this,” I commanded, and I stomped on.
The muffled grunts and moans were audible as I approached the furthest corner of the room, a spot particularly favoured by these lustful couples. As I reached the end of the aisle, I slowed. Usually I would deliberately make noise, stomping loudly and clearing my throat and then announce my presence before I caught sight of anything too disturbing. I don’t know what possessed me this time, but I peered through the books on the shelf to see what I was dealing with.
I wondered if maybe it was one of our repeat offenders, returned to their mating ground despite a previous ban. That’s what I told myself, anyway, as I peeked through the books at them. I tried not to let out a gasp at the sight of them, my hand flew to my mouth as if to stop me from making a sound. A young woman stood with her back against the bookstand, her hands clutching a shelf behind her, her face distorted in either agony or exquisite pleasure – given the moans she was emitting and the situation she was in, I’d have to hazard a guess at the latter. A man was in kneeling on the floor, his back to me, with his head between her legs, the woman’s tight black skirt was pulled up around her waist, she appeared to be wearing no underwear, and she had one leg cocked over the man’s shoulder. Oh my, how on Earth did she hold herself in that position? I felt my face flush at the same time I felt my nipples tingle.
A strange sensation began to flood my body as I watched the man’s head moving – only very slightly but very methodically – as the woman began to whisper encouragement – “Yes, go on, that’s it, oh fuck yes.” – that kind of thing. I felt a sudden rush of heat between my legs, a melting sensation. Without even realizing what I was doing my hand found it’s way down between my legs and I started rubbing myself through the material of my skirt, as I watched the woman throw her head back and moan even louder, her hips starting to gyrate against the man’s face, while still holding herself up on one leg with just the bookshelf behind her for support.
I’d never witnessed anything like it in my whole life and it was as if something had possessed me, I couldn’t stop watching. It had been so long since any part of a man’s anatomy had come close to my naked flesh, and the thought of a man’s tongue on me – on my sweet spot, licking, sucking. Oh goodness, I was getting really wet down below thinking about it.
I watched the couple intently, all rational thought leaving my brain as my breath quickened and I melted into a haze of white lust. The man moved his hand up the woman’s top, feeling her breasts. I caught a flash of one of her bare breasts as his arm caused the material to shift. Coffee coloured skin, a dark nipple. I bit my lip to stop myself moaning as my clitoris started to throb a little.
Suddenly they were stopping, moving, and I found myself almost wanting to cry out for them not to go. Still rubbing myself, more fervently now, I could feel all my cells coming to life, every one in my entire body. But they weren’t going, the couple, they were just shifting positions. The woman knelt down on all fours right there on the brown carpet of the library floor and stuck her butt up in the air, arching her back and looking behind her, smiling up at the man. He knelt down too, gripping her bottom and looking at it with such desire I was in awe – oh to evoke such want in a man.
I have to admit that my rather barren sex life had never extended much beyond the missionary position with the lights off. And that had only been with one man – four years ago. He’d been a student doctor, and after a month of museum and theatre dates, we’d ended up in bed together for the first time. I’d been eager to experiment and explore, but he hadn’t been quite so keen, leaving me wondering if I just wasn’t the kind of woman who inspired passion in a man. The relationship hadn’t lasted long, and I’d put a lid on my short-lived sexuality, convincing myself it was something I could live without.
If I wasn’t quite so hot and flustered right then I could have viewed this moment as a learning curve, maybe taken some notes even. The man positioned himself closer behind the woman and for the first time I saw his enormous erect penis. The couple were at right angles to where I stood, so I could see his penis clearly, sticking out from his unzipped chinos, standing to attention like a soldier reporting for duty and ready for action. Suddenly he thrust it into the woman, pulling her towards him by her hips, and they both moaned with pleasure. A new pang of desire bolted through my insides like an electric bolt.
Oh how I ached to join in – to kneel before him and feel him thrust that thing inside of me. My body was hungry, pulsing with the need to be filled. I rubbed myself harder still, gyrating against my own hand. I watched him pumping into her, thrusting harder and faster with every second. The sound of skin slapping against skin was strangely erotic, and their groans and moans got louder and louder, a cacophony of lust. I slipped my hand down my skirt and inside my knickers, feeling the wetness down there, rubbing my clitoris in little circles with my fingers, a sensation building and growing more intense with every movement. I never took my eyes from the couple. The woman was bucking back against the man as he pumped into her, and then suddenly he thrust forwards hard and cried out, and I could tell they were both climaxing.
At that very moment I felt myself beginning to climax too, every muscle down below started to pulsate and a powerful buzzing sensation radiated from between my legs as the orgasm rippled through me, my breath coming short and fast as I gripped the shelf with my spare hand and watched the man pulling out of the woman and sitting back on his heels, his penis still semi erect. My body trembled, and it took a while for me to regain my composure, to become completely present in the room again. Never before had I experienced anything so intense, not even in the privacy of my bathtub where I usually had my alone time. I knew I should probably feel ashamed of what I’d just done, but I didn’t, I felt delightfully satisfied. Well, everyone else was having all the fun, why couldn’t I have some?
Afterwards, I rearranged my clothes and wiped my fingers on my skirt, putting on my most stern librarian face. I marched round the corner to where the couple was still canoodling on the floor semi naked.
“Hand over your library cards and get out of here. You’re both banned,” I said quietly but firmly. They jumped up, quickly pulling their clothes back into place, and then scurried off sheepishly.
“We should just install CCTV and be done with it, that would soon stop the problem,” Marjory insisted. At nearly seventy five years old, Marjory could well have been retired and enjoying her garden or a caravan trip around the world with her husband, but instead she chose to be here discussing the copulation issue and other general day to day library duties. She’d worked in this library for forty years and I very much doubted she would leave it until they carted her out in a coffin.
“That would be illegal surely, we have no real right to spy on people. There would need to be justification, and possible fumbling isn’t enough.” Jerry seemed pretty adamant. “ Anyway, who are they really hurting?” he added with that grin of his, and Marjory giggled.
“Jerry! That’s not professional at all,” I interjected. “It’s just not proper, allowing people to get up to that sort of thing in such a historic place.” Even as I said the words I felt myself flush at the memory of my earlier voyeurism, and the things I’d got up to myself. My phone buzzed in my pocket, indicating a text message.
“Well he does have a point,” Marjory said. Oh I could tell you some stories.” They were like the kiss of death, those words, Once Marjory got started on her stories you could kiss the next hour of productivity goodbye, there was no stopping her.
“Well I think we’ll have to call an official meeting about it, with the whole team present, before we can make any final decisions,” I said. “Consider the issue parked for now. Let’s all just remain vigilant and firm.”
Firm. The word brought to mind the man’s huge erection, and a ripple of something electric fired through my belly, like an aftershock. I shook my head to clear it and retrieved my phone from my pocket as Marjory attended to a customer who’d just entered and Jerry went back to the books he’d been organising into a tray, ready for redistribution to their appointed shelves.
Dinner tonight, your place? The text message questioned. It was from Norman, my sort-of boyfriend. I couldn’t help a flash of the young eager man from the library popping into my mind again, and how vastly different he was to Norman, a thirty five year old stamp collector who lived with his mother and rarely left the house to go anywhere except here, to the library on his bi-weekly visits. I didn’t even really know how we ended up in a relationship. Norman used to come in and ask me about all the classics. He made me feel valued; coming back each week with new questions that only I could possibly answer. When he was still here at closing time one day it had only been natural to continue the conversation over dinner in the pub down the road. That was two months ago.
Since then we’d kind of fallen into a routine of eating together once a week. I’d been hoping for something more exciting to happen but so far, I was still waiting. Even when I’d put on a romantic comedy movie last week that, according to some of the girls I’d heard chatting in the library, sounded quite steamy, and plied him with wine, moving in close to him on the sofa and snuggling up, he’d blatantly turned down the clear invitation, looking at his watch and remembering that he was supposed to get home and put the bins out because if he did them too late he would disturb mummy after she went to bed. I sighed.
I was twenty-nine years old, and okay, I had never been the prettiest girl in class, but I wasn’t some kind of ogre, just plain and natural looking, and my body was slim. But so far I hadn’t had so much as a peck on the cheek from him. Maybe tonight would be different. Maybe tonight I’d try a little harder.
At 9 o’clock that evening I blew out the candles that I’d set up on the coffee table in the lounge to make it look all pretty and romantic, and carried the two plates of microwaved lasagnas back to the kitchen. I wasn’t much of a cook, and I was glad I didn’t bother going to the extra effort of even trying for Norman, since he’d just cancelled our dinner. I mean, I wasn’t under the impression that I was irresistible or anything – I did know my shortcomings – lips too narrow and hair too straight, but I always do what I say I will, unlike Mr amateur boyfriend Norman the depressing disappointment. He was meant to arrive at 7:30 but neglected to tell me until 9pm that I had been ditched in favour of a stamp. He hadn’t even bothered phoning, he’d just sent me a text – an hour and a half after we were supposed to meet, as if I was some kind of after thought. Apparently his mother was driving him to Manchester to collect a rare stamp that had just become available. That was a rather clear indication of where I came on his list of priorities, if I needed one.
Why did I even bother? I wondered. He was a complete waste of my time anyway. I scraped both plates of lasagna into the bin with a sigh, my appetite lost. No, I wouldn’t let him get me down, I resolved. I could do better. There must be a man out there for me – a man who would appreciate my intellect and my physically attributes. I would find myself a new boyfriend, I decided, as I brushed and flossed my teeth, though I had no idea where I would start. It wass at times like these I felt it would have been nice to have a close female friend – or even a group of friends maybe, like those in the rom-com movie last week. I’d never really found it easy to get close to other females though – at school and college my focused attention to my studies had cast me as a bit of an outsider. By the time I’d graduated University I was used to being a loner.
Climbing in to bed a whole hour earlier than usual – well, it felt like a day for breaking routines – I wondered about perhaps going to a social event with my sister, who was a rather lively party animal. I quickly dismissed the idea – I wanted a boyfriend, not alcohol poisoning. There must be a good way to meet intelligent but adventurous men, perhaps someone like the student in the library with the big dick.
Oh yes, I’d really like to experience some intimate time with a man like that. I’d dedicated myself to intellectual pursuits for long enough, it was time my physical needs were given equal attention. I slipped further down between my clean white sheets and inhaled deeply – it was laundry day and I love the scent of freshly laundered linen; I found it quite erotic actually.
My mind wandered to the episode earlier in the day – the situation with the couple in the classical reference section. Turning onto my back I closed my eyes, imagining what it would feel like if I was in that’s woman’s place and his head was between my legs as I leaned back against those bookshelves. How would it feel if he was licking and sucking my intimate parts as he had been doing to her? I imagined him running his hands over my breasts, then turning me around so I was looking at the books as he caressed by buttocks, gazing upon me with desire unleashed as I gazed upon the books. I loved those books and knew each one. That couple had been in a Charles Dickens section and in my fantasy I was too. I loved Dickens. Groaning slightly, I delved further into the fantasy…
I gripped the oak shelf tightly as the man bent me over and pushed his big dick into me right up to the hilt. I loved every inch as it filled up my hungry pussy, as he fucked me with it, bringing me to the edge of my senses, to the edge of everything. Then, when I could take the exquisite sensations no more, he withdrew and nuzzled my butt with that stonking penis of his, bringing a feeling of pure delight so intense I was dizzy with it.
I encouraged him, this wild adventurous carefree me, to push it inside – urging him on until I felt the head, which was well lubricated with the juices of my arousal, push gently into my tight hole. I reached out and pulled a book from the shelf – Great Expectations, and I gently held the thick leathery spine against my clit, rubbing myself against it softly as I pushed back against him and he worked his way into my arse with that beautiful cock. I loved Great Expectations, and I loved his cock.
“I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be,” he growled, pumping into me with each line until he burst inside me on the final word, quoting Dickens as he made me cum like I’ve never cum before.
After some time, I came back to Earth from this erotic fantasia, to find myself spent and with very sticky fingers. I slept extremely well that night.
The next day, which was my day off, I had made a big decision. It was time for a change. Clearly something wasn’t working in my favour, and my recent heightened sexual energy led me to the conclusion that I needed a man, and fast. So if I needed to change I order to get one, I was willing to do so. Starting with my attire. I didn’t really have a clue about things such as fashion, and I had nobody I could ask for help – if I asked my sister she’d probably have me geared up in leathers and lace. No, I wasn’t quite ready for that just yet. Instead I had looked online at the Next clothes models for inspiration and seen one person that I thought looked acceptable. I’d ordered the exact same outfit she’d been wearing and it had arrived the same afternoon. I was very happy with it.
Admiring myself in the mirror before I left for work the following morning, I smiled at my new look, satisfied. The skirt, still knee length and therefore appropriate for working in the library, was made from a slightly thinner cotton than I usually favoured, and hugged my hips in a way my more rigid corduroy skirts didn’t. The deep blue colour with a floral trim was rather eye catching, I thought. Instead of my usual plain t-shirt, I’d chosen a white fitted shirt with short-cuffed sleeves. I did look a lot more womanly than usual, I had to admit, even to myself.
The tights I was wearing (well I couldn’t lose them altogether – it was getting chilly on these autumn mornings!) were a much thinner denier than my usual brand, and had a sheen which showed off my legs quite nicely, enhanced also by the kitten heels I had chosen to replace my flat comfortable shoes. My legs looked much longer and shapelier, even with just a one-inch heel – I was amazed. I’d never before seen it as proper to deliberately show off ones shape and had often sneered at those women who did so in order to garner the attention’s of a man – but, you know how the old saying goes – if you can’t beat them… Okay, so it wasn’t much of a departure from the norm, apart from some brighter colours and a few more inches of skin showing, but it felt like progress for me. I added a touch of mascara to my lashes before I left. I didn’t usually bother with makeup for work, but I figured I might as well go all in with my efforts to change. Instead of tying back my silky brown hair, I left it lose so it fell around my shoulders.
The second step in my plan to change was an adjustment in my attitude. I mentally made myself available, giving myself a little pep talk on the bicycle ride to work, and I started my working day in high spirits. I smiled more, to the extent that only two hours into the day my cheeks started hurting but if that was the price to pay for finding a partner then it was a small one, and I was determined to be nicer, more open, and to look out for opportunities at work to make links with men.
I was even nice to Marjory when she’d commented on my sunny demeanor and I asked her to tell me again about her grandchildren – a subject I usually outright avoided. It wasn’t enough for me to just be nice to men, I had to craft an altogether nicer personality, less conflicting and stern, and maybe that would make me overall more attractive to the opposite sex.
“You look very pretty today dear,” Marjory said, when I was laughing at one of her stories about her middle grandson peeing in a pool on holiday (even though secretly I was cringing!). I beamed with the compliment. Maybe I needed to laugh more around men; I’d have to remember that.
I tried to be nice to Jerry that morning too, even though he was particularly gifted at irritating me! Especially the way he insisted on calling me Miss, like I was some old teacher even though at nineteen. It made me feel ancient. I was only ten years his senior!
“But I like calling you Miss, it feels proper,” he said when I admonished him again, trying to keep my tone light and jokey.
Just after lunch a man came to the desk who had been using one of the computers. I’d noticed him when he came in a while before; I’d been particularly vigilant for possibilities all morning. This man was quite attractive, in a college lecturer older man kind of way. I wasn’t fussy – and I had to admit he reminded me a little of my history lecturer who I’d had an enormous crush on and had masturbated over more than once whilst in my college years
“Hello, could somebody help me to print something please?” he asked, and though Marjory or Jerry often dealt with the computer station requests, I made sure to be the first to respond.
“Of course sir, no problem,” I said, remembering to smile, and followed him back to the terminal he’d been using. He sat back down in his seat and I leaned over him to take the mouse, clicking through to the print options screen.
“Is this the document you’d like to print?” I asked, leaning over further, trying to give him a good view of my cleavage.
“Erm, yes that’s the one, thanks.”
I smiled wider and clicked the necessary buttons to send his document to the printer, at the same time moving my body a little closer to him. I’m sure I read somewhere that close physical proximity could spark an attraction between potential mates. He jerked backwards, nearly knocking his chair flying, and I felt my cheeks flame with embarrassment.
“There you go, all done, if you go to the desk your documents will be waiting for you.” I mumbled and rushed to the ladies room. Marjory would just have to sort him out. I hid in the ladies room for a while, to make sure the man had sufficient time to leave before I emerged. Whilst in there, I wondered if this was all futile and I should just forget the whole thing. But then I thought about that couple, and my ensuing fantasy, and I bolstered my enthusiasm again.
I couldn’t let one man get me down, I couldn’t fall at the first hurdle. There could be plenty of reasons why he’d responded the way he had, and not all of them involved me being repulsive. Maybe was gay, or married. Yes, perhaps that was it – I would have to make sure to check for wedding rings before I attempted flirting again. I smiled at myself in the mirror, and returned to my mission.
A while later I was back at the front desk feeling completely frustrated. I was getting nowhere with any of my attempts to flirt, and there had been a few. Most had resulted in strange looks and quick exits and I was feeling frustrated, all but ready to give up again, when Marjory pointed out a suspicious looking couple heading downstairs. They were a good-looking pair, him dark skinned and buff, her blonde and curvy, and they kept looking over their shoulders furtively as they headed down.
“Give it a few minutes, then head down to see if they’re being naughty,” Marjory instructed. I really didn’t take kindly to being bossed around and usually huffed when told to be on watch, but this time I was secretly pleased. I was keen to catch these two, but more keen to watch them as I had last time.
I walked down the stairs silently, my heels muffled on the carpet. I could feel the blood pumping around my veins a little more enthusiastically, my body responding to the expectation of what I was about to witness, to the memory of what had happened last time I’d been a spectator to such a carnal adventure.
I approached the corner of the vast room usually utilized by these conjugating couples, but I couldn’t immediately see or hear them. Instead I noticed a lone figure standing in the aisle ahead of me, peering through the books on one of the shelves. What was going on? Was the man perhaps watching the woman do something? As I got closer, I realized it was Jerry, and he was spying on the couple through the books. Shocked, I wasn’t sure what to do, but my body seemed to take over.
He hadn’t noticed me approaching, and as I crept up behind him I could see that his hands were in his pockets, and they were moving up and down. My body reacted to this with a delightful quiver, and I moved closer. I positioned myself behind him, and he was so lost in his activity, it was only when I was a hair’s breadth away from him that he noticed my presence and turned his head, his mouth a wide ‘O’ of shock. I held a finger to my lips, telling him to be quiet.
Standing behind him, I reached around him and unzipped his jeans slowly, releasing his cock. I wrapped my hand around it. He wasn’t by any means as big as the man from the other day, but he was more than a handful and hard enough to make my pussy wet. I started to stroke him from behind as he watched the oblivious couple in the next aisle, gripping him firmly and running my hand up and down the length of him. I could feel his breath growing ragged and I liked the effect it had on me.
After a few moments, I dropped down to my knees and encouraged him to turn, so he was facing me, his erection right in my face. Looking up at him I could see him watching me with a look I couldn’t quite read – confusion, disbelief maybe, and definitely, definitely arousal. That look caused my own arousal to skyrocket. I took his cock in my hand again, and put it in my mouth. I’d fantasised about doing this so many times – I’d even practiced on a banana whilst rubbing myself with the other hand – but I had never actually done it to a man for real. He tasted salty and slightly metallic, and I loved the heat of him in my mouth. I played with the head a little, licking and sucking, and Jerry’s hands tightened in my hair. I liked that. He wanted it further in my mouth, I could tell, so I clutched his buttocks with my hands and let him push it in deeper until it was near the back of my throat, almost hitting my gag reflex.
There was something so thrilling about having my mouth full of cock. I started to suck on it, moving my head backwards and forwards so it would feel as if he were fucking my mouth. I could tell he liked it, I could hear him moan ever so quietly. I could also hear the moans now of the couple in the next aisle, but I was gratified when I looked up, to see that Jerry was watching me and not them. I moved my hair out of the way to ensure he had a good view of his cock going into my mouth as I sucked it in and out, harder and harder.
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