Since Anne was a little kid, she’d always been quiet. In fact between the ages of 4 and 6, she’d been selectively mute, and her parents had taken her to see a psychiatrist. Even though she eventually began talking again, she was still reserved, choosing mostly to keep to herself. Whenever she even thought about being with other people, she got anxious. She worried about what she’d say to them, or how they might judge her, or any number of things that might go wrong and cause her embarrassment. With all that nervousness, it was just easier to do without company. Instead, she had books and music and her journals where she expressed all the thoughts she couldn’t bring herself to express to anyone else.
Anne was in her senior year at Clinton State University, where she majored in Victorian literature. She rarely spoke in class, unless the professor called on her. She preferred to save her insights on Dickens and Browning for her papers, which she always got high marks on. And when class was over, she either went to the library, or back home where she lived with her parents. She went quickly without engaging anyone else in post-class banter.
Sometimes some brave boy would gather up the courage to approach her. They’d even asked her out a few times, with some charmingly corny pick-up lines: “Are you from Tennessee? Because you’re the only ten I see. Huh huh huh!” But each time this happened she muttered some excuse or other, and turned them down. Even the most persistent ones would quickly tire themselves out in the face of her reluctance.
It wasn’t that Anne wasn’t interested in men. She wasn’t a lesbian (at least, she didn’t think she was, though she’d had about as much experience with women as she had with men). She often fantasized what it would be like to be naked with a guy, to feel him next to her, to feel his hardness against her… inside her… Despite being shy, Anne had had an active sex-drive since her early teens when she discovered masturbation. She watched pornography on the internet, and had even secretly ordered a vibrator (though she only turned it on when her parents were out of the house and she was absolutely certain the noise wouldn’t be overheard). In her fantasies no one ever judged her. She was strong and confident and always in control. Her men did exactly what she wanted them to do in these daydreams without question. However, when she considered what was required to have an actual relationship with a real guy, the amount of social interaction necessary, the nerves kicked in and made it impossible.
The Clinton State Library was Anne’s absolute favourite place in the world (apart from her bedroom at home, of course). She could sit and read for hours. It was quiet, but there were also people around – people that she didn’t have to interact with, but could still feel a sense of belonging or community with. Library people were her kind of people: Quiet, respectful, safe.
Anne had found a fairly secluded spot amongst the library stacks, in a little-visited section on the 3rd floor. She was bent over a copy of the novel Vanity Fair, but her mind was wandering from Becky Sharpe to her own issues. Almost 22, almost a graduate, but still a virgin. Most normal women had had sex by now. Lots of sex. Some of them were even married, planning families. But not Anne. As much as Anne wanted to be alone most of the time, she also felt lonely. She worried about never finding someone, getting old alone, dying alone, and never knowing the feeling of a man.
Having totally lost her concentration on reading, Anne decided to close the book and maybe get a cup of tea from the shop on the main floor. She packed her things in her knapsack and began navigating through the rows of books towards the stairs. She came around the corner of the aisle marked SZ 532-581 and stopped. Most of the way at the end of the aisle was a middle-aged man in a blue polo shirt and grey slacks. What caused her to stop in her tracks was what the man was doing. He had his penis out through the fly in his pants and was stroking it enthusiastically with his right hand over an open book that he held in his left. Before he caught sight of Anne, she quickly slipped around the corner. Her nerves had gone into overdrive, and she felt like she was going to have a panic-attack. What the hell was that pervert doing? It was disgusting. Someone should do something.
Anne’s first impulse was to go in search of a security guard and alert them to the guy jerking off into the books. She walked a few steps, but then stopped again. What if they didn’t believe her? What if he finished and got away before she got back? What if they laughed at her story? The nervousness took hold of her again and paralyzed her. There was also something else under the nervousness, too. Another feeling… curiosity? Anne had never actually seen a real penis in real life before – well, there was once with her father when she was younger and accidentally walked in on him peeing in the toilet, but it hadn’t been all big and hard like this guy’s. She didn’t know if she’d actually get the chance to see another one, with the way her life had been going. Cautiously Anne crept back to the aisle and peered around the corner of the shelves.
He was still there, still going at it. She got a better look at him. He was slender, tanned, with dark hair just starting to grey. She estimated that he was in his early 40s. He had a neatly trimmed goatee beard on his red face which by her estimation was modestly handsome. His eyes were shut in concentration. And she could see it too: all hot and red and swollen with the head purple and ripe. His hand kept running up and down the length of it in quick steady strokes. Anne, in spite of her, wanted to get closer. She quietly moved around to the aisle on the other side of the shelf and crept towards where the man was beating off. Her body tingled with excitement.
She could hear him breathing quietly but quickly on the other side of the shelf. There was space between the books where she could see through to the other side, at least a little. But she didn’t want him to see her. From what she judged was a safe distance, she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled to the place directly across from the man. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but as long as he was standing, she judged that the books would hide her from his sight. When she looked through the shelf she found her face was level with his cock. It was only three feet away from her. She was equally disgusted and fascinated. This close, it was even bigger than she thought. She watched him grasp and grip it, rubbing the shiny head repeatedly. His pace quickened. If Anne didn’t know better, she’d have thought that such abuse would leave painful bruises.
Suddenly the hand stopped and the grip intensed. Anne heard a low groan from above her, while a load of sticky white cum shot in spurts out onto the pages of the book. After about twenty seconds, it seemed like the cock was drained. The pervert wiped the last few drops from the head of his cock onto the printed paper, closed the book and put it back on the shelf.
Unceremoniously, he tucked his softening penis back into his slacks, did up his fly and walked away. Anne quickly moved in the opposite direction making sure she wouldn’t be noticed when the man reached the end of the aisle. She took the long way back to her desk. As she sat, she became aware that her panties were more than a little damp. Had she really been turned on watching the old pervert? She should report him. Some unsuspecting student would check that book out and get a nasty surprise. It was gross (sexy). Unhygienic (hot). Disgusting (exciting). She was certain she could identify him if she saw him again…
If she saw it again…
Anne sucked in her breath involuntarily. She was becoming even more turned on than ever. She decided she wasn’t going to get anymore reading done that afternoon.
Anne drove home, quickly said hello to her mother in the kitchen, and went up to her bedroom. When she was safely behind the closed door, she hiked up her dress and slipped her panties down. They had become very wet as she kept replaying the scene over and over again in her mind. She felt a need like she’d never felt before to touch herself. She let her fingers explore between her legs, pulling at the tuft of pubic hair, sliding into the slippery crack, and then spreading her lips. She rubbed at her clitoris, sometimes pausing to reach inside herself with her fingers and pull out more juices, smearing them over her pussy. She thought of the pervert’s cock, how hard he’d been beating it. She imagined what it might feel like, hot on her pussy, in her pussy.
She needed the vibrator. She got it from the box under her bed. She wouldn’t turn it on, just use it as a dildo so that her mother wouldn’t hear if she happened to walk past. She ran the toy over her pussy, lubricating it in her juices, and then slid it in, feeling the plastic filling her up.
Did real cock feel like this? she wondered as she motioned the vibrator inside her with one hand, while the other worked at her clit. In a couple of minutes she was cumming. Her whole body shuddered, and she had to put her hand over her mouth to keep from swearing loudly. Her hand was wet with her pussy juice, though and she ended up smearing it around her lips. She’d never done that before, and even though it was kind of gross, it was kind of hot, too. She inhaled the scent of herself, and lay back on her bed, feeling as relaxed as she’d ever felt.
—–
In the next three days, Anne got herself off five times thinking about her close encounter with the pervert. She’d been back to the library again, but she hadn’t seen him since. That was probably for the best, she thought. She had the memory. The real thing was just asking for trouble. Besides, what reason was there to expect him to return to the scene of the crime? It was just one of those weird, once in a life time happenings.
By the 4th day, Anne had just about convinced herself she’d never see the guy again. She was still slogging through Vanity Fair, not one of her favourites, when she glanced up and saw him. He was at another one of the desk-kiosk things across from her. She thought he should look more suspicious, but sitting there, he just seemed like a normal older guy studying for midterms like everyone else – not some book defiling pervert. Anne kept casting glances in his direction over the top of her book. Luckily his back was turned to her, or she would surely have been noticed.
After half an hour or so the guy got up and walked into the stacks. Trying to contain her excitement, Anne tailed him as inconspicuously as possible. She was sure he’d turn around and catch her following him. Then she’d be embarrassed. Mortified. He’d probably scold her, tell her to fuck off or something. Maybe he’d think she was a pervert trying to spying on him in an intimate moment. But still, Anne wanted to see it again. She wanted to be near it, and watch it cum all thick, white and sticky between the pages.
The man twisted and turned randomly through the stacks at a wandering pace until he ended up in a section that was more or less deserted. Finally, he stopped, and grabbed a book from one of the shelves. He opened it, and looked like he was deeply engaged with the subject. Anne passed by the aisle pretending to be preoccupied with her own literature hunt, then doubled back. Once again, she secretly crawled down the aisle on the other side of the book shelf, sheltering herself from his view. Once again she watched the man jerk off into a book, and then place it back on the shelf, do up his pants and walk away.
Over the next month, this happened four more times. The fourth time, Anne started to become bold. After the man left, she actually went to where he’d done his business, and searched for the book. She eventually located it, the pages still wet with his semen. She was so curious. She looked around nervously. No one was there. She lifted the book to her nose and smelled it. She’d never smelled cum before. It vaguely reminded her of the ocean. She looked around again – still no one. She stuck her tongue out and gingerly dabbed it at the cold page. How many women had swallowed how many loads of cum in history? And now, she knew a little of what it was like. The taste was salty, but otherwise not like anything she’d ever tasted before. She wondered if it was better when it was fresh squeezed and still warm. The thought of it shooting down her throat direct from his cock, and dribbling down her chin and onto her breasts made her wet all over again.
Anne suddenly got an idea. She wanted to know what it was like for him. What was it that made jerking off in library books so hot for this strange man? If he could be a pervert, maybe she could be a pervert, too. She looked around again, but she was still alone. She stuck her fingers down the waist-band of her jeans, and inside of her panties, and began fingering herself. For a minute she let herself enjoy the feeling, but a banging noise from a few aisles away interrupted her, and she quickly yanked her hand out again before she could be caught. But no one came to catch her. After a few seconds, she shoved her hand back down her pants again, she slipped two fingers deep inside herself, getting them nice and wet. Then she took them out and wiped them on the pages of the book, letting her fluids mingle with his. She closed the book firmly, and considered how the weight of the pages pressed her juices together with his semen. She replaced the book on the shelf — a dirty surprise for some student of international economics.
Never had Anne ever done anything so uninhibited and risky. Never had she been so turned on. She needed to cum badly, and didn’t think she could make it home. Instead, she went to the women’s washroom, and locked herself in one of the stalls. She pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet, rubbing herself energetically. At some point she heard the voices of two other women entering the washroom, but she was too much into her own pleasure to stop. She could see them, through a crack between the door and the frame it hung on, checking make-up and hair. They were totally oblivious to what was happening just a few feet away. Anne’s fingers intensified and quickened on her clit. She felt like she would explode at any second, but was powerless to stop it. Just as the two women left the washroom, Anne came hard. It was all she could do to keep herself from screaming.
“Fuck!” she growled through clenched teeth. The orgasm was so intense she nearly fell off the toilet, and had to put her hands up against the walls of the stall to steady herself.
When she came out of the stall, she saw her reflection in the mirror. Her face was all flushed from pleasuring herself. She wondered if people would know what she’d been doing.
———-
After that day, the library got really busy with students cramming for final exams. Anne was spending most of the day every day at the library looking out for the pervert, but he stopped coming. By the time school closed for Winter break, Anne decided the pervert’s run was finished. Maybe he’d been caught, or maybe he’d ascended to new heights of perversion, and gluing the pages of library books together with his semen was no longer doing it for him.Whatever the reason, he seemed to be gone.
For Christmas, Anne got the usual gift from her parents, a pile of books. By the time she returned to school, many of them carried her personal scent. She couldn’t get the pervert out of her head. She knew he was just some weird guy with a weird fetish, but she missed him. Was that even possible, with someone who was pretty much a total stranger? She didn’t think it was logical, but she couldn’t deny it.
When school started again, Anne returned to the library. Each day she would wander the stacks, thinking about the older man and his big hard cock. Each day, she would touch herself secretly, and leave her juices in one of the books, like a calling card for him to find. But for three weeks, there was no sign of the pervert. Anne became depressed, thinking the closest thing she’d ever had to a boyfriend had just vanished.
It was the first week of February when he returned. She spotted him sitting in the cafe speaking with a woman not much older than herself – maybe a grad student. He may have been her professor. The grad student seemed focused on showing him something on her laptop, but Anne saw the way that the pervert’s eyes wandered from the computer to the student’s prominently sweatered chest. Under the table, hidden from the student’s view but clear enough to Anne, she could make out a sizeable bulge in the man’s pants. ‘She doesn’t even notice, the stupid cow,’ Anne thought to herself. She wished it were her there with him. She’d give him what he clearly wanted…
She stopped, and wondered at herself. Where had these thoughts come from? Usually, she’d be deep in anxiety imagining having to interact with this person. But… but… “But he’s a pervert… Just like me…” she whispered out loud, catching herself off guard.
Anne decided to leave the professor to his ignorant student, and climbed to the third floor of the library, where she occupied her usual kiosk. She felt restless. After twenty minutes, she was about to get up and go do her ritual, when the man appeared at the top of the stairs. Anne watched him cross the floor and disappear into the stacks without even sitting. She got up herself, and followed him at a distance. His pace seemed quicker than usual, his route more direct to his destination.
Anne felt excited, anticipating what was to come next. She took her place on the other side of the shelf, kneeling as the man unzipped his pants. She could see he was already hard. It must have been some kind of meeting. She felt her own juices begin to flow as his penis made an appearance in the open air. He began stroking it quickly. Anne slipped her hand inside her pants and began to finger herself as well. She could hear him breathing pretty hard. Her own breathing had also become more intense. She hoped that he wouldn’t hear it. What if he caught her. What if…? An idea occurred to her.
Anne crawled back to the end of the aisle, then stood and walked back to her place on the other side of where the pervert was jerking off. She saw his face through the books. It was tense with concentration and pleasure. His eyes were closed. She was so turned on, knowing that she was visible to him. She again started to touch herself. A small moan escaped her. The pervert’s eyes suddenly sprang open in surprise. He stopped mid-stroke and stared at her. It looked like he was about to sprint.
“No, wait.” Anne begged. The man froze. “Keep going.”
The man looked very confused. Anne began unfastening the buttons on her blouse, exposing her black bra and ample cleavage . Slowly, the man pulled his cock back out of his pants and resumed stroking it. She loved the feeling of being the object of his desire now. She stood back so he could get a better view of her, letting her hands wander over her body, caressing her breasts, her stomach, her thighs, the sensitive spot between her thighs. Oh God! She undid her jeans, sliding them down slightly to show him her black underwear. Could he tell from where he was, how soaking wet she was ? It seemed to her impossible for him not to know. She pulled them down a little, first showing her little trimmed patch of hair, then some more. Anne once again slid her fingers inside herself, while he watched. The feeling was so good, she felt like she was on the path to cumming.
The man stopped again. Anne listened and heard a couple of voices approaching. Shit! She quickly pulled her blouse down and pants up, buttoning them just a second before a couple of frat boys appeared at the end of the aisle. They were complaining about the bullshit reading assignment their professor had given them. One of them gave Anne an appraising look as they passed, then they were gone.
Anne peered again through the book shelf. The man looked back at her and gave her a sheepish grin and a shrug. Then he disappeared down the aisle. Anne began worrying. Had she scared him away? Was he rejecting her? What the fuck was going on? She was on the verge of tears when he appeared at the end of her aisle. No longer having the book barrier between them, Anne’s nerves threatened to overtake her. But she was still horny as hell.
“Is this okay?” he asked.
“Shh. Don’t talk,” Anne ordered.
The pervert shut up, and instead came closer to her. She reached out for his pants. He hadn’t managed to do up his fly, and her fingers found their way inside. What was in there felt nothing like her vibrator. It was hard, but fleshy. She pulled it out and held it in her hand, surprised by the weight of it. It was getting harder in her grip. She kneeled to get a closer view. It had veiny ridges all around it, while her vibrator was smooth plastic. She imagined how it might feel inside her. Anne tried moving her hand up and down the shaft gently, feeling its contours.
The man began to softly move his hips, guiding his penis closer to her face.A tiny pretty little dew drop of pre-cum appeared at the very tip of the head. Cautiously, she licked it. Salty, but warm this time. So much better. Then she kissed it, wetting it a little more with her saliva. Her lips parted, and she took the head into her mouth, and some of the shaft, too. She knew porn stars did deep-throating. She didn’t think she could do it, though. It was her first time, and what she had now was already filling up her mouth. If she took in anymore of him she worried she’d gag. Instead, she began to suck what she could. She liked the way it felt on her tongue, the taste of it, the way she sucked the pre-cum from the head of it. With her hands, she grabbed the shaft and started jerking him as she gave him head.
“Oh fuck, that’s good,” the man softly muttered.
Anne had been worried that she wasn’t doing it right. Now, she picked up the pace of her motions. She became even more aroused at the feeling of him growing harder in her mouth. She wanted more. She was almost greedy about it.
Just as her arms were starting to get tired, the man pulled away from her. A string of saliva stretched from the head of his cock to her bottom lip. It broke and landed on her chin and throat. She looked up at him with a questioning face. Had she done something he didn’t like? She didn’t know. The man simply reached down, grabbed her hands, and pulled her to her feet.
He spun her around, so she was facing the bookshelf and he stood behind her. She could feel his hard cock pushing into her ass through her jeans. His hands began to roughly roam her body. He grabbed her breasts through her blouse, then they were under her blouse, clutching her bra. From there, they migrated down to her jeans, and fidgeted at the button there. Anne was loving the feeling of having her body handled this way. His hands her much larger than hers, and stronger in their touch. They reached inside her soaking wet panties and went right inside of her without hesitation, as if they had all right to be there any time they damn well pleased. Anne shuddered at the sensation. She could feel his breath on her neck and down the collar of her blouse as he bent over her. Her hips instinctively began to grind against his hand. He responded by applying even more pressure. His other hand had returned to her breasts, groping one and then the other. He planted wet kisses on her neck, her cheek, nibbled her ear. There were so many sensations all at once, that Anne couldn’t concentrate. She just surrendered herself to him.
The pervert’s hands moved back to the waist band of Anne’s jeans, this time pulling them down. Suddenly her bare ass was exposed to the air right in the middle of the school library. The man gave it a playful smack, and then stroked her pussy again from the back side. Anne bent over further, sticking her ass out as far as she could. Soon, his fingers were replaced by his cock. The large head of it slid over her clitoris, and she wondered if she could really fit it all inside her. It was bigger than her vibrator, and much bigger than her fingers. The pervert pressed it against the opening of her pussy with some force, and she felt herself stretched as it slid inside. She gasped involuntarily. It was a little painful, but the pain felt so good.
He started with short strokes, each time getting a little deeper. After a minute, Anne had taken all of him in. She felt full of him. As his strokes lengthened, he pistoned in and out. He became more forceful, fucking her harder, grabbing her by the hair, her face was pressed against the books on the shelf. For one crazy moment she had an image of the shelf toppling over and starting a domino effect. Then he slightly shifted his position and started hitting a whole new place inside her that she didn’t even know existed.
Her orgasm came suddenly. She felt her pussy throbbing around his cock as her whole body spasmed. The man pulled out, and Anne felt her own cum running down her leg into her half-off jeans.
“Jesus,” the man whispered. He pulled Anne by the arms, and pushed her back down into a kneeling position facing him once more.
Anne grabbed his cock and started sucking it again. In the heat of things, she’d forgotten that he was just inside her. Now she was tasting herself on him. She decided it was fine. She actually liked the way she tasted on him. She worked on his cock with more enthusiasm as if she owned it. The timidity had gone from her, at least for the moment. She needed to make him cum for her. She wanted to know what it tasted like. She felt like it was her right to have his cum in her mouth, and she’d take it from him. The man was moving his hips in time with her head bobbing. She sucked and licked and stroked his cock aggressively, forgetting where she was. Her face was wet with her own saliva, but she didn’t care. She only wanted his fucking cum in her throat.
Anne didn’t know how she knew it, but she sensed he was close. She moaned. Not loudly, but deeply enough to vibrate the head of his penis in her mouth. That did it! The man stiffened and she felt his cock pulse. Suddenly there was his warm sticky cum coating the back of her throat. It did taste salty, and much better than the cold cum she’d tasted from one of his used books. It seemed like he was going to cum forever. Blast after blast of it filled her mouth. When he was finished, he pulled out, and some of it dribbled down her chin.
Anne pulled a book randomly from the shelf, opened it to the middle and wiped her chin with it. Then she spit the load she’d held in her mouth into the crease, closed it, and placed it back on the shelf. The man smiled in approval, though he also looked a bit dazed as if he was still trying to figure out what the fuck just happened.
Anne stood, and pulled her pants up. “If you mention this to anyone, or say a word to me after this, I’ll report what you’ve been doing,” she threatened.
“But-” the man protested. He seemed shocked.
“Not a word,” Anne reinforced. “I don’t know you, you don’t know me. We’ve never met. This never happened. Stay away from me. Understood?”
The man looked shocked, but nodded. Without another word, Anne left the pervert in the aisle and went home, no longer a virgin.
——
“Hey, Anne, right?” It was a boy from her non-fiction class, Justin. He was kind of awkward and nerdy, but in a cute way. And he always had good comments about her work. Then again he was positive about everyone’s stuff. Still it was better than the usual assholes who feel like they need to trash everything to show how intellectual they are.
“Yeah,” Anne affirmed noncommittally.Â
“I really liked what you wrote this week.”
“Thanks, Justin.” She nervously touched her hair.
“The whole thing about leaving your mark on the world, it’s like, I really identified with that.”
“Thanks,” Anne said coldly, and started walking again towards the library. Not taking the hint, Justin walked with her. Anne didn’t want to be rude to him – he was actually a pretty nice boy- but she was feeling the nerves again. Justin was oblivious to this, though, making small talk, mostly just campus news and gossip. It was the first warm day of Spring, and they had to dodge around several joggers.
“Oh! Did you hear about what happened?” Justin asked as they reached the library.
“Uh, no.”
“Apparently, some creep has been going around masturbating in the books here,” Justin filled her in.
“Ugh, gross!” Anne protested falsely. The memory of it made her feel tingly. “Who would do something like that?”
“They don’t know, you know?” Justin explained unhelpfully. “They didn’t catch the guy. They just announced it in the campus paper that they were looking for him.”
As they walked through the doors, Anne looked across to the coffee shop. The pervert was there, sitting with another student, talking about something or other. He glanced in her direction, and recognizing her, began to smile. Anne shook her head discreetly at him. His smile disappeared, and he returned his attention to the student. Anne felt the tingle turning into dampness between her thighs.
“…so, there’s this poetry slam on Friday,” Justin, was saying, totally oblivious. “I was wondering, you know, if you’re not doing anything.”
“Umm, I don’t know,” Anne said, looking for an excuse. She glanced one more time at the man. He was definitely checking out his student’s legs in her short shorts. Then she checked out Justin, as if seeing him for the first time. “You know,” Anne continued, “maybe it would be alright.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE: This is my first story for Lush Stories. I hope you enjoyed it.
