Dirty Thoughts: One for the Books


Some library erotica for your Friday

My hands are on her hips and her hands in my hair as I push her up against the bookcase. her halo of tight dark curls shakes slightly with each heavy breath, even as we desperately try to keep as quiet as possible.

I don’t know her name but I feel like I know her intimately. Every glance while pretending to study, each knowing grin shared over 3am cups of coffee, each time our eyes have met over stacks of books- all of them have been leading up to this. We’re somewhere in the geology section, because nobody ever comes here, and the loos are too far away, my hands holding either side of her face and hers holding my hips as we kiss. We kiss once, twice, again and again, until our lips are open and our tongues in each others’ mouths. I can taste coffee on her lips, feel her arms wrap around my shoulders and pull at me, smell the perfume that she dabbed on her neck this morning, and which is starting to fade away.

We’re kissing, and we’re kissing somewhere in the geology section, where nobody ever goes, but anybody could. Kissing in the geology section where anyone could come, anyone could see us pressed up against each other, all but fucking up against the bookshelves. And I don’t care that anyone could see us, I don’t care at all because all I care about right now is her. How soft her lips are against mine, how rough and cruel she pulls on my hair, how she smells like incense and vanilla, how breathless she is when we finally pull apart, looking each other with wide eyes that can’t quite fathom what’s happening.

“I want to make you cum”, I hear myself murmur, conscious of how loud each sound is in the quiet of the library, and she laughs, hot breath spilling over my mouth. “Please let me help you cum.”

She places a hand against mine, gently moves it from her cheek to her hip, digits tangled in mine as she toys with the hem of her skirt with both our fingers. Her teeth bit down on my bottom lip as she kisses me again

She pushes my face away from hers, looks at me again. Her smile is poised and elegant and dangerous even as her glasses are pushed out of place to one side, and when she speaks, I very suddenly feel like I’m prey being toyed with. And I love it.

“Then make me cum”, she says, and pushes my head and the rest of my body with it, until my knees are on the wooden floor and my face level with her cunt. I can smell her, wet and warm and musky, and fuck, I want her. I want her so badly that everything aches.

“Come on”, she says. “I said make me cum.

Her skirt is hitched up, knickers down around her left ankle, and I’m pressing my tongue against her clit, hands cupping the curves of her ass. I use my tongue, then lips, then both at once, the slick sounds from the mix of my saliva and the wet of her cunt loud and filthy. I’m fucking her with my mouth, and I’m fucking her somewhere in the geology department, and if somebody else was here they would hear us for sure. Somehow that makes it better. I want somebody to hear, want somebody to see how desperate I am to make her cum, to make her happy.

She bites down on her lip to stop herself moaning out loud, and she’s beautiful and flushing red and perfect, fingers digging into the back of my head as she wraps them tight in my hair. My chin is wet from her cunt and I can feel my cock ache to be touched, but I don’t care.

“Good boy”, she says, and I whimper against her cunt. The wooden floor is cold- the library doesn’t turn on their heating until October- and my knees shiver against it.

“Such a good boy”, she says again. “Fuck me. I want you to fuck me.”

The words spill out of her through clenched teeth, hissed under her breath, as if somebody could hear her speak but not hear our heavy breaths, hear the bookshelves creak as we fuck up against them. I’m back on my feet now, her hands toying at my jeans, the sound of the zipper obscenely loud in the cold silence. She brushes the O ring of my harness gently, spare hand cupping my face and gently coaxing me forward. She kisses me, mouth open, and I know she can taste her cunt on my lips and tongue

She brushes my face with the back of her hand once we pull apart, like I’m a precious treasure.

“You brought your dick, right?”

I glance towards my bag, deposited unceremoniously against the bookshelves to one side, and nod. Nodding is all I can do- my throat feels too clenched up for me to speak. She smiles, and there’s something predatory in her grin that makes some old instinct in me light up.

“So put it on, and fuck me with it.”

It’s not fair how she can play my body like a violin so easy and so quickly. We’ve spoken maybe twenty words to each other, but she touches me like she’s known me forever, hands training up my cardigan and her nails digging into my back as she pulls me closer. She snakes a hand between us, rubbing her clit in time with my thrusts, filthy glint in her eyes as she keeps eye contact with me the whole time.

“You’re doing so well”, she coos, and I feel like I’m melting under her touch. Her fingers make circles on my back, right over the dents her nails have left in my skin. “Such a good boy. You’re such a good boy for me.”

I don’t even care about getting myself off any more. I want her to cum, I want to be able to make her cum, I want to be able to please her so much the desperation makes me want to cry. I shift my grip on her hips, biting my bottom lip to stop myself from crying out or, worse, coming.

One hand barely manages to cover her mouth in time, to muffle the sound that forces its way from the back of her throat when she comes, low and loud and husky, and my throat is dry. I kiss her again, more chaste than before, lips only just parted, and I wonder how it feels for her. If she can feel the spines of the books press against her own, feel the firm silicone of my dick still inside her as the weight of my body rests against hers.

We pull apart and look at each other for a moment, mouths twitching into wide smiles we aren’t quite in control of, and we’re still holding each other. We’re holding each other and leaning against a bookcase in a post-fuck haze, and her knickers are down around one ankle, her skirt hitched up, and her glasses pushed out of position. She doesn’t say anything, and neither do I, but after I pull out, wriggle the dildo out of my harness and place it in my bag, she kisses me.

She kisses me, and we’re kissing somewhere in the geology section, where nobody ever goes.

This piece of smut is pure fantasy, and any resemblance to real situations or people is unintentional and coincidental.

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