Stuck Pt. 01

My university library was always pretty quiet on the top floor. It was unlikely that someone would come round the shelves to the back corner where I was sitting. Although I knew that if they did, I wouldn't be able to hear them before I saw them. Or before they saw me.

Still, I felt safe leaving my bag open beside me, making it possible for me to glance in periodically and see my pink, six-inch rubber dildo sitting at the top. Where the bag was on the floor beside my table, any potential intruder probably wouldn't be able to see inside it until they got close, so if I stayed vigilant I would have a few seconds to lean down and casually close the bag.

Over the past few months, I had started to take the dildo out with me more and more often. It wasn't that I actually dared use it anywhere except in my private dorm room, but it gave me a thrill all day when I decided to carry it around.

At the beginning I would keep it safely at the bottom of my shoulder bag, and wrapped in a T-shirt. But over the last two or three weeks I found the need to push this boundary, and had been rewarded greatly during my nightly orgasms. It had started on my commute to university. On my walk to the train, I would slip a hand into my bag, dig down to find it, and hold it tight in my hand through its T-shirt covering.

After a week of this I was bringing it unwrapped, and was holding it basically through my entire train journey, looking around at the other passengers. I would squeeze the thick rubber shaft, and let my fingers explore the rubber head surrounded by strangers.

The following week I had started to do this on the walk from the train station to the university as well, although with a lot more caution. And a breakthrough had been when I had run into several classmates and after initially removing my hand, I couldn't resist returning it while we walked to class together, fingering the bump where the shaft met the head.

Over the last week I had started bringing it to classes without a shirt protecting it, so that when I rummaged around, getting out my books and pens, I could feel the rubber touching my hand or even give it a quick, sneaky squeeze.

By the end of the week, I was taking tables at the back of my classes, so that I could slip a hand in and feel it. I even left my bag unattended a couple of times to go to the toilet.

But today was the first time I had dared to have it visible. Even though I could almost definitely hide it in time if I saw someone coming, it made my knees weak to be able to see it so blatantly at the top of my bag in public.

Coming into the library at the turnstiles next to security my stomach had started to squirm at the idea of leaving later and the alarm going off, as it sometimes randomly did. The security guys always just waved you through or asked to see your books. But I couldn't help imagining them demanding that they search my bag.

I tried to continue writing my essay, but obviously couldn't really concentrate. I had grown up in an environment where masturbation was never mentioned and even nudity between women viewed as something shameful. And all this had done was create a strong illicit attraction to my own body, and a desire to be exposed.

I couldn't help it; I leaned over and pushed the sides of the bag down so that the dildo sat completely visible. Then, smiling, I went back to my essay, knowing that now there was no way I could close the bag in time if someone came round the shelves.

It was only a few more minutes before I had reached over and had my fist wrapped tight around it, in plain view of anyone who might stumble across me. I shook it a bit, so it wobbled. And raising it in front of me, used my other hand to run my fingers over the head, feeling the curves and grooves.

Fuck it, I thought, I have to do it. I pushed the chair out so that I had enough room, and crouched on my haunches. Bending my head down so that I was hidden by the table, I licked the tip of the rubber and then put my lips over the head.

Putting a little more in, I could use my tongue to explore where the shaft ended. And bit by bit, as I had practiced, I took more of the dildo into my mouth, squeezing it with my lips, tongue roaming eagerly.

I got to my maximum of about four inches, and held it there, mouth stuffed and lips stretched. And with my ears pricked for the slightest movement, started to bring the wet rubber slowly in and out of my mouth, trying to make as little sound as possible.

I knew what I wanted to do, but did I have the nerve? This was already so much further than I had ever pushed myself. However, the quiet of library was, perhaps falsely, reassuring. And so with the dildo as deep as it would go in my mouth, I stood up.

My legs were so shaky as I stood there, degrading myself in public for any stranger to see. I pulled it out and held the soaked pink rubber in front of my face. And then it was back in. I was facing right where someone would come if they did, pushing the dildo in and out of my mouth, squeezing it with my wet lips.

Okay, okay, I told myself, enough. And I forced myself to sit down. But instead of putting it back in my bag, I laid it on the table, just to the left of my laptop, as visible as it could possibly be. It was still shiny with saliva. I wiped my mouth and started to reread my last paragraph.

Between staring at the flagrant six-inch dildo beside me, and my hand finding its way up my dress and pushing and squeezing my plump lips, I was not getting any work done. As I felt my soft bulge through my panties, investigating the line of my lips and the wet patch near my hole, my mind wandered.

I was dying to use my dildo and to be naked, and I couldn't help but think back on the times I had been naked or partially naked in public before.

There had been the times in my dorm that, after nervously checking the corridor was deserted, I gradually eased the door wide open until I was standing there naked. And twice even tentatively taking a couple of steps out of the of my room before darting back to safety.

And when I had been trying on bikinis in a clothes shop last year, there had been no one around, I picked the furthest stall in the changing area, and I had left the curtain more than half open as I changed between suits.

And the time I had been going for a hike with some friends, and had gone off the track into some woodland to pee while they waited. I had just been able to make them out through the trees, and could still hear them talking.

Instead of just lowering my trousers and panties to my thighs and quickly doing my business, I had pushed my jeans and underwear right to my ankles to stood facing my friends for a few moments before finally squatting to relieve myself. I still remembered the cool breeze on my bottom and privates as I stood, hoping that one of the guys would look into the trees and get a glimpse of me.

I packed up my laptop and books, put the dildo in last, and headed for the toilets. There were a few people around, hunched over a book or a laptop, but it was still very quiet. At the back of the floor was a short corridor and at the end, the doors to the men's and women's right across from each other.

In the women's was a row of sinks on one wall, with a long mirror stretching above them. And on the opposite side, six stalls. I checked each was empty, and then locked myself in the last.

Immediately, my bag was on the floor and I was kicking off my shoes. Off came my socks. I'd unzipped my dress, and after getting my arms free this dropped to the floor. I was standing in my underwear in the university library.

I could almost feel the fat head of my dildo easing my wet lips apart. The stretch of my sensitive, little hole as it slipped further and further in. But I knew the longer I put it off - the more I teased myself, put my dignity and modesty at risk - the more fantastic my orgasm would be.

Pulling my waistband forward, I looked at my shaved pubis and shivered. I tugged them down till they were off my crotch and ass, and then put my legs nearly together and wiggled my body so that they dropped to my bare feet.

Reaching behind my back, I found the clasp of my bra and the cups were loose. The straps came off my shoulders, fell from my arms. Worried that if someone did come in, they might see under the door my clothes heaped on the ground, I gathered them up and stuffed them into my bag.

I already knew what I was going to do. That as exhilarating as it was standing here nude with the cold public air touching my body, I needed more. Unlatching the cubicle door, it swung in, and I pulled it a little further so that it was wide and I could see my nervous, beautiful body in the mirror above the sinks.

I figured if someone opened the toilet door to come in, I could get back into the stall in time if I stayed within two steps. I took one step out, feeling goose bumps erupting all over my body. Another step forward, I was short of breath, my legs trembling. And then, knowing I shouldn't, one step more and I was almost at the mirror.

My cheeks were flushed, my eyes shining and wide. My dark brown hair, tied back in a ponytail, had a few strands loose. I was shivering, making my plump little breasts wobble. My nipples had contracted. Usually a bit large for my small chest, now the dark areolas were half the size, two or three centimetres across.

Five foot two and slim, I had a cute body. I didn't play any sports or anything, so didn't have the tightest stomach. But my torso was naturally slender. My legs were a little bit wide, especially at the thighs, but this meant that I had a pretty large bottom for my size, something I was quite pleased about.

And then between my thighs, under quite a flat pubis, was my long, prominent vagina. I had used to hate the way it stood out from my body, the mound protruding down further than it should, the puffy lips so visible and the escaping inner lips popping out at the bottom, the tongue of pink vulva visible even when I stood with my legs together.

But in the past few years I had grown to appreciate and love my labia, to finally realise that my family's principles of shame and repression were dangerous and boring. I had even started shaving bare a couple of years ago, as a sort of statement of pride and acceptance. To show to myself that I had nothing to hide.

I took another step up to the mirror, so that I was standing right at the sinks. I knew that if someone came into the room, it would be nearly impossible for me to get back into the stall without them seeing me. I let my body rest on the cold ceramic of the sink. And then I starting walking slowly towards the exit.

Keeping my nude little body well hidden behind the door, I edged it open, an inch at a time, until I could peer out into the public corridor. There was no one around. I couldn't even hear anyone. I looked at the guy's toilet door, directly across from me, eight feet away. I stood back and pulled my door wide, standing in the open doorway.

What a feeling! It was like I was flashing a hundred people. My body was quivering and I realised I was grinning. I had one arm outstretched to keep the door open, and brought the other up too, resting on the doorframe so that my arms were wide apart. In a moment my legs were apart, showing off my long lips.

God, it was a wild sensation. I was on tenterhooks, ready to jump back if the men's door moved the slightest inch, if I heard the tiniest noise. And I kept glancing along towards the library. But there was really nobody around. It was so quiet.

Fuck it, I thought, just quickly. And I took a step out into the corridor, keeping my arm on the door so it wouldn't close. But I knew I had to take another step, that I had to let the door to the toilets swing closed.

I was halfway between the men's and the women's, the door swung shut, and I turned so I was facing the library. Anyone who rounded that corner would see the whole front of me totally naked, would know I was a pervert. Would see my little pale breasts with their dark, erect nipples. My small torso and my big legs. My long, distinct, and clean-shaven pussy.

Okay, okay, that's enough, I told myself as I took another couple of steps down the corridor, away from the toilets. I could feel the insides of my thighs were wet as I knew now that if anyone came out of the guy's toilet I would be utterly trapped. But I couldn't stop.

I kept taking my tentative steps forward, until eventually I was looking into the large main library room. My heart was nearly exploding out of my chest. I could actually see someone, a guy, sitting at a table with his back turned to me. I was so close to being caught. If anyone happened to walk into this area, came round a book shelf, they would see me.

Please, I begged myself, feeling close to tears. Please, don't do this. You need to stop. The guy at the table pushed his chair back as if to get up and I bolted. In two seconds I had barged into the toilet, into my stall, and was sitting on the cold seat, shaking.

I had to spend a minute just controlling my breathing. And as terrified as I was, and angry at myself for taking such a risk, there was no hiding from the fact that had been one of the best things I had done in my whole life. I had never felt a rush like that. There was such a thin line between fear and adrenaline. An overlapping line, even.

I knew I didn't want to orgasm here, that it would be so much better to wait until I got back to my dorm, where I could take my time, where I could lie out and replay today's events, where I could even moan and scream a little. And also, that the longer I waited, the more intense the reward would be.

My body still numb and trembling, I stood up and started to get dressed, feeling a bit like I'd just had a four-hour sex session. I put my bra on first, and then changed my mind, dropping it to my bag. I pulled the dress over my bare chest, over my hips, zipped it up, put on my socks and shoes, and then I was standing in the stall holding my dildo. Maybe just for a moment?

Hiking up my hem, I put a foot up on the toilet seat and could feel my wet lips spreading open without any help. I pushed the head in and immediately let out a moan. I was starting to sweat. I eased it in, my eager hole stretching, as I bit my lower lip to stop from screaming. When it was in to nearly its full six-inch length, I took my foot down and stood straight, groaning quietly as I squeezed it hard between my thighs and swollen lips.

Standing there, enjoying the pressure so much, something occurred to me. This was definitely an idea that I had had before, but never really as more than a fantasy. Now though, still on my high from streaking down the corridor, I was wondering what the harm was in trying it. I could walk around the toilet, and test just how possible or impossible it was.

Keeping my legs tight together, the dildo in place, I crouched to get my feet into my panties, and brought them up. I could feel the dildo had slipped out a bit, but the panties seemed to be keeping it from going any further. I pushed open the stall door, and took a few experimental steps, ready to catch the wet rubber dick if it suddenly popped out and tried to escape through one of my panties' leg holes.

I walked the length of the toilet a few times, loving how the rubber shifted around inside me. Amazingly, my underwear seemed to keep it from slipping too far out. I reached under my dress, and could feel that it was only sticking out by an inch. I looked over my shoulder at the mirror, and confirmed that it didn't make a bump at the back.

But could I really risk this not falling out for my whole journey home? Before I could really give this too much thought, I was getting my bag from the stall, stuffing my bra deep in, and leaving the toilet. The feeling of being publicly penetrated in the library was making my legs wobbly again.

I felt so dirty as I walked past the guy at the table with his back to me. And then before I had reached the exit to the stairwell, I had gone past two more people. The stairs were thankfully empty, as it slipped out quite a bit as I walked down. I had to keep putting a hand up my dress to keep it in.

When I got to the ground floor, I knew I should head straight to the toilets and remove it. It was much busier here, and I could see quite a few people that I would need to pass, hanging out by the turnstiles at the exit. I was about to stop, and seriously consider what to do, when I head someone calling my name.

I turned around and my heart started to flutter painfully as I saw Donnie smiling and coming towards me. I'd been on a few very casual dates with him over the past month. And although nothing physically had really happened between us, I had kissed him the last time we went out.

"What are you up to?" he asked. "Just leaving?" His eyes paused on my erect nipples and then politely darted away.

"Ah, hey. Yeah. Just going back to the dorm."

"Cool. Me too. Want to take the train back together?"

Oh no!

"Ehm. Yeah... Sure."

I couldn't think of any way out of this. I knew I should say I needed to go to the toilet before I left, but he was already heading to the exit and the pressure of the fat dildo between my lips in his company was so incredible, that I started to walk with him, feeling the rubber move around deep inside me.

Trying to act normal and wondering how flushed my face was, I kept up conversation with him best as I could. There were a couple of people waiting at the two old, waist-height turnstiles, since one was out of order. After they'd gone through, Donnie let me go first.

I scanned my library card and pushed the top metal bar of the turnstile, making the three arms start to turn forward. It was insane having Donnie behind me, and I was so aware of the dildo slipping out by a few centimetres, that I must have pushed the bar in an odd way, because it seemed to be stuck.

Panicking, I forced it forward, and as I did I felt a pressure on my dress, like someone was tugging it up and to the side. Frantic now, feeling the rubber slipping, I pushed with all my strength. The turnstile moved forward but for some reason I couldn't move, and as the bar behind me came up to my lower back I fell forward, bent at the waist and trapped.

My face was burning with embarrassment as I heard several concerned voices and Donnie asking if I was okay. I tried to struggle free, to wriggle my way out, aware of my big ass pointing right towards who knows how many onlookers. I looked down to see what the hell was happening and saw that somehow the side of my dress had gotten caught in the rotational mechanism of the turnstile.

From the chatting behind me, I could tell more people were wandering over to look. And then one of the security guards came rushing over and was telling me not to worry, that he had called maintenance and they would be here in ten minutes.

But without my legs together, bent over like this, I could already feel the dildo starting to slide out of my wet hole. And there was no way I was going to let Donnie have a prize view of that falling onto the floor.

I tried to reach down to where the mechanism had caught my dress, but trapped like I was, I couldn't get my arm far enough. Blocking the only exit, the collection of people behind me was even larger now. Ahead, I could see people slowing as they walked up to and used the entrance turnstiles next to me.

Giving it everything I had, I pushed down on the bar in front of me, and it clicked forward by one notch before catching, lifting my rear even higher, my feet off the floor. All at once, I felt the cold air on my buttocks and lower back, heard the eruption of gasps and whispering, and felt the thick rubber start to leave me at an alarming rate.