Lust in the LibrarybyChristian_Damore©
I spent last Christmas Eve trying to have an orgasm in public. I told myself it was a new holiday tradition but I was really trying to forget my loneliness. My parents had split up earlier in the year and had started their own Christmas traditions, my mother with her boyfriend and my father on a company cruise. Being away from my dad hurt the most since I always considered myself daddy's little girl, and I hoped that in between his bouts of boozing and bedding waitresses he had time to think about me.
With the students and staff gone for the holidays I could've masturbated almost anywhere without being seen, but the deserted campus only reminded me of how isolated I was. So I spent the afternoon in the basement stacks of the library. It was the only place open on campus, and since the stacks were always deserted during the year I didn't feel like anything was amiss. The only other person was the batty old librarian three floors above.
I had brought my favourite trashy romance, a tale of shirtless pirates and bosomy wenches that never failed to get me off. I reached under my skirt as the youngest wench was taken up in strong arms, powerless against the one-eyed pirate, his throbbing member plundering her virginity. I could feel myself getting hot as he plunged into her and squeezed her breasts. But no matter how many times I touched myself under my panties I couldn't get wet. It was all too fake, the macho pirate, the helpless belle. I was in the mood for something, or someone, real, someone like my father. He was thinner and older. I imagined him in his swimming trunks on the cruise, boisterous with booze, hitting on some blonde airhead, grinning his sheepish smile. And suddenly I imagined him smiling at me. I had never had thoughts about my dad like this, but as the damp patch grew between my legs and my scent wafted up from under the table I didn't fight it. I reached under my skirt again, closing my eyes, tracing the outline of my swollen lips, picturing my father telling me what a good girl I was...
And then a man coughed. "Oh, pardon, sorry."
I closed my legs and spun around. He walked out from behind the shelf into the main aisle behind me. He was in his late thirties, slim, with thinning hair and a goatee, dressed in khakis and a black polo shirt. It was a typical dad outfit that could have easily been dorky if he hadn't filled out the shirt so well. He must have come down to the basement and towards my table while I had been distracted with my fatherly thoughts. I should have been mad at him, but he was blushing so hard I had to smile. He clutched his black bag and coat strategically in front of his groin.
"I'm so sorry," he said. "I wasn't watching you. I mean, I was just getting a look, I mean, BOOK." He plucked a dusty volume off the shelf. "Here it is!"
"It's alright," I said, still smiling. I motioned to a chair at the adjacent side of the table. "Would you like to sit down?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." He fumbled with his bag and his book and his coat as he set them on the table and sat down. "I didn't think there would be anyone else here. Usually no one's in the library this time of –"
His eyes fixed on my face and then dropped to the plunging point of my v-neck sweater. Then he blushed even harder and looked down at his book. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me."
"I don't mind at all." I couldn't get the grin off my face. I raised my hand. "I'm Maya."
He looked at the hand and then back at me. He knew exactly what I had been doing with that hand. "Ryan," he said. He had a secure grip. As we shook I noticed his wedding band.
He gazed at me for a moment and then quickly let go. "Well," he stammered, "better get back to my book."
"Alright," I said with a lilt in my voice.
I raised my book and he opened his. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him glance at my breasts. His adam's apple bobbed up and down. I slowly leaned forward, in case he wanted a better view. He spent the next fifteen minutes on the same page occasionally stealing a peek at my chest. I was on the same page too. The pirate was still ravishing his whore but now I pictured myself lying down, looking up at Ryan who stood between my legs, thrusting his cock into me, wearing an oversized pirate's hat and a pirate's outfit that hung off his slim frame. It was cute, but hot, and I shifted my legs to accommodate the tingling between my thighs. I could smell myself again and when I looked up at Ryan he was wearing a toothy grin at looking right at me.
"So, what's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?"
It was a lame line, as lame as the lines my dad used. I always wondered how he had been able to cheat on mom with lines like that. Now, as Ryan smiled at me, I was beginning to understand.
"Just trying something new," I said.
"And what would that be?" He motioned towards my book and I realized that this whole time he could see the breathless maiden draped across the bare chest of the pirate on the cover.
"Trying a change of scenery?" he said. "I can dig that."
"You, sir, have a dirty mind," I said coyly. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be home with your family?"
He fumbled with his wedding band. "You'd think that, wouldn't you?"
"What do you mean?"
"I just wanted some time alone. Things are stressful at home." He took a deep breath. "I didn't think there would be anyone else here."
"Do you want me to leave?"
"Not at all," he said quickly.
He blushed again. I leaned forward further this time, but instead he twisted his head away.
"Maybe I'd better leave," he said.
"No, please stay." My desperation surprised me; I had forgotten how lonely I was.
"What's so funny?"
"It's the way you asked me to stay. It was just like the way my daughter used to beg me to stay with her when she had nightmares."
"I bet she felt safe with you there."
"I wish she still wanted me around. Now she wants to spend Christmas with her boyfriend and his family and of course I couldn't say no to her. You young women grow up so fast."
"I'm sure she misses you. Take it from a daughter."
"Why aren't you with your family?"
I told him about my parents, the divorce and missing my dad.
"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe he just needs some time to clear his head."
It was exactly what Dad always said before the divorce.
"Is that how you feel about your wife?" I ventured.
"Something like that." He rubbed his finger where his ring was. I took his hands and stroked his finger for him. He didn't pull away and knowing he wanted to touch me made my heart pound.
"It must be nice for your father to have an understanding daughter like you. I bet he can't get you out of his head." He looked into my eyes as he spoke.
"I'd like to think that was true."
"Any father would be crazy not to be thinking of a daughter like you. Take it from a dad."
He was brushing my hands now. The damp patch between my legs was growing and my panties stuck to my lips. I shifted my legs, staring at his mouth.
"Do you think about your daughter a lot?"
"All the time."
"What do you think about?"
"How much I love her, how I'd do anything for her."
I reached under the table and undid the button on my skirt. "She sounds like a special girl."
"She is: sweet, pretty, gorgeous smile."
"She sounds sexy too."
"Yeah, but a dad isn't supposed to notice that about his daughter."
"Well, sometimes it's nice for a dad to notice his daughter. It makes her feel special...and sexy."
"Is that so? In that case, can I tell you something?"
"I think you're sexy."
He nodded. "Very sexy."
I stood and let my skirt slip down around my feet. He looked down at my legs and sat back as I walked towards him. I slid my hand up the bulge in his pants and knelt on his lap, my knees on his thighs, my hands on his shoulders. "I think you're sexy too."
And I kissed him, slowly, opening my legs. He brushed his hands up my thighs, lightly, letting his fingertips linger around the edge of my panties. He kept his eyes closed as I lowered myself between his legs. I opened his belt, unzipped his pants and gasped. His penis was thicker than any of the ones on the boys I had dated, with a huge head and veins branching up the side. It was a warm pulsating pipe in my hand. He groaned as I slid my tongue up the underside and took his head in my mouth, inhaling his sweat, letting the saltiness slide down my throat. He cradled my head in his hands as I moved up and down. Knowing that I was pleasuring him, that I was making him happy, made me even wetter. I spread my legs further and I could hear him inhale. He bent over to raise my skirt and his penis pushed deeper down my throat. I gagged.
"Sorry," he said.
"I don't mind," I said. "I want to."
He smiled and ran his fingers down my cheeks and across my lips. "This face is too pretty for that."
He stood and lifted me on the table. We kissed some more, my arms around his neck, his fingers pushing under my panties between my thighs. Then he lay me back, lifted my sweater and bra and sucked my nipples. I whimpered as he squeezed them between his lips. Then he kissed down my chest, my stomach, and slid my panties off my legs, the dampness bushing down my thighs. He started licking over my mound and then over my lips, gently at first, then harder, lapping up my juices. I squirmed so hard the table wobbled. He thrust his tongue in, still slurping, his goatee tickling my clit. I grabbed the back of his head and pushed him deeper into me until my insides quivered and I bucked against his face, twitching and begging him to fuck me as the pleasure flared through my body.
I was still coming as he stood up and pushed himself inside me. He felt bigger than he looked as every inch stretched me open. I gripped the sides of the table when he hit bottom. Then he pulled out and plunged all the way in. I knew I was moaning loudly, not caring if anyone heard of if anyone came down to the basement and saw his bare ass at the end of the aisle, my legs wrapped around his waist. Just feeling him inside me was too much to handle. He leaned over, his goatee glistening, and kissed me so I could taste myself as he fucked me. I whimpered into his mouth and slid my hands under his shirt, up his sweaty back. He raised the front of his shirt and I squeezed him into me. My nipples, still hard and wet from his sucking, pressed into his hairy chest. The squishy sounds of sex echoed though the stacks.
When I felt him stiffen I pressed his ass so I could feel him come deep inside me. He shuddered and groaned. Our mingled juices ran down my thigh. He collapsed on my chest between my breasts, softly gasping as I clenched my thighs, milking the last drops out of him. He stayed inside me as we caught our breaths. Then he looked up and smiled.
"I've never done anything like this before."
"Me neither." I stroked his hair and gave him another kiss, long and slow, and I felt him growing inside me. He lifted me off the table and sat me on his lap in his chair. We made love, this time slower. He sucked my breasts as I rode him, taking them completely in his mouth, his arms around me so I wouldn't fall, pacing himself so that we came at the same time. When we were done we sat in silence, our faces close, and I asked him if he would come back to my place. He nodded and kissed me again.
He helped me off his lap and got a handkerchief from his bag. He wiped down my legs, cleaning me, and helped me into my panties and skirt. I gathered my things as he dressed and then we kissed some more before walking down the aisle and up the stairs. When we passed the front desk the librarian saw us and blushed and quickly looked down at her book, trying her hardest not to look up. On the way to my empty dorm we stopped at a convenience store and Ryan bought me some candles and a blanket, and for the rest of the holidays I didn't feel alone.