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My friends had all gone on summer holidays as soon as school had ended. I had aced my classes and didn’t have to write exams. That meant I had time on my hands. Time I put to good use in the local library.
Our local branch library is an old brick building jammed with shelves full of children’s books, popular paperbacks, hard covers, as well as reading tables, chairs, and mismatched couches for patrons to sit and read at if they so desire. Most evenings it’s pretty quiet.
I was sitting in a worn-out armchair reading the dirty passages from the Library’s tattered collection of Harold Robbins paperbacks. My favorite bit is the one about the Italian assassin; he’s a young nobleman who has grown up in the country.
The young nobleman listens to all sorts of incredible stories that the soldiers who work for his father are telling. One is about a maiden and a donkey and it’s told in great detail and it really gets the young nobleman sweating.
I didn’t dare take this sort of book home. My mom would have frowned on my reading “trash books.” But what’s a horny nerd supposed to do? All the girls in my highschool seemed to be dating older guys. My solution was to go to the library and read Harold Robbins until my aching dick felt like it was growing into a redwood tree. Then I’d put the book down, go to the library counter, ask for the washroom key, and go into to the can and jerk off as images from Harold Robbins’ books burned through my brain.
The Italian assassin meets one of the peasant girls down by the river. She’s full-breasted and proud. She offers him some wine from a wineskin. He drinks and he notices her nipples are getting hard. He commands her to walk into the bush with him. She does.
My dick was throbbing now and I wondered if anyone could see it making a pup tent out of my cutoff jeans. It felt so big, so good. I looked around the library to make sure no one was watching. The library was deserted except for me and Evelyn , the librarian. Evelyn was on the other side of the building, re-shelving books. She bent over to reach a bottom shelf, keeping her legs straight, stretching her hamstring and calf muscles. I got a great view of her tweed skirt stretched over her firm round ass.
Back in the bush, The Italian assassin and the peasant girl are going at it pretty good. It’s the first time for him but not for her. She’s on top and she’s running the whole show and she’s driving him totally, fucking wild until he reaches up and squeezes her nipples hard. She gasps and he squeezes harder and she cries out and kneels and begs to worship his magnificent, reawakened body if he’ll still let her.
“Not studying for exams?” asked Evelyn . She was standing right over me.
“Uh, no,” I stammered as I snapped the paperback closed. “I aced all my classes, so I don’t have any exams.”
“Congratulations! Working hard throughout the year has its rewards, doesn’t it?”
“Uh, yeah,” I said. Brilliant.
Evelyn was about 40, petite. She always dressed very professionally, usually in a tweed suit jacket, matching skirt, pale pink blouse, and dark pumps. Today she had pendik escort a pink carnation in her buttonhole. Her chestnut hair, cut to shoulder length with heavy bangs, was straight and thick. It looked sort of like a helmet. She wore half-moon glasses that dangled around her neck on a green shoelace. Her face was angular but pretty: high cheekbones, small pointed nose, firm jaw, and a very wide mouth with a pronounced overbite when she smiled. She was smiling down at me now.
“Well, enjoy your reading.” She had a smoky voice, with a hint of a French accent.
She turned and walked to the library check-out counter. With every step, the hem of her skirt swayed as it was gently pulled into beautiful, rhythmic patterns by her shapely butt.
I waited for my erection to subside a bit before standing up. It felt like my big chubby would hang past the fringe of my cut-offs.
As I was walking toward the check-out desk to ask for the washroom key, Evelyn picked up a plastic squeeze-bottle from the counter, flipped open the cap with her thumbnail, inverted it, and squeezed. I stopped by the desk and watched.
“My hands get so dry from handling books all day,” She muttered, as an off-white button of lotion oozed into her palm.
She slowly rubbed it over the front and backs of her hands, then concentrated on massaging it into the pads of her fingers.
“Want some?” she asked, then smiled and held out the inverted bottle to me. She said it casually, but she was watching me very closely.
I reached out for the bottle, but she squeezed another bead of lotion into her own palm, then drew one of my large hands across the counter and began rubbing the moisturizer into my knuckles. Her hands were very small, pale, and warm against mine.
“Come behind the counter,” she said. “It’ll be easier that way.”
Evelyn didn’t let go of my hand as I walked around the end of the counter and sat down. The old, oak office armchair creaked. Evelyn sat beside me in a molded plastic chair and leaned forward to continue massaging my hands with hers. I could see through the gap between the buttons of her blouse. A white bra cupped her breasts, which shook slightly in time to her rhythmic massaging.
I felt lightheaded. My hands were now resting in my lap and, as Evelyn massaged lotion into my fingers, she couldn’t help but brush against my swollen groin.
I blushed, but her shining eyes gazed into mine and the corners of her big mouth turned up.
“I can help you with that, if you like.”
Evelyn pressed her hand against my erection when she said “that”and I nodded dumbly.
She lifted my hands from my lap, placed them on the arms of my chair and pressed them to the wood as if to say “stay there.” I briefly noted the ancient graffiti gouged into the arms of the chair with ballpoint pens: “jerk,” “fuck,” “cunt,” and more. Not the sort of thing you expect to see in a library.
Evelyn ‘s hands returned to the crotch of my cutoffs to rub the length of my hard-on before slowly unzipping my fly. She slid her small fingers into the gap, exploring, until she found maltepe escort the opening in my underpants. The feel of her cool, lotion-covered fingers on my hot root made me curl my toes inside my runners. She spread the fly of my pants and underpants, then carefully pulled my stiff and sweaty bone out and into the tranquil library air. She reached in again to tease out my heavy nutsack.
“MMMmmm, nice,” she murmured and gently ran her fingers over the growing length of my dick.
Her small white hand contrasted with my brown cockflesh. One of her hands held my shaft straight up, away from my T-shirt, while the thumb and index finger of her other hand rolled back my foreskin. I gasped as the glistening, mauve head of my glands blossomed with a small, wet sound. She ran a finger thorough the clear fluid she squeezed from my pee slit, distributing it around the tender knob of my cock. It reared up against her gripping hand and I squirmed.
“It’s okayyy. Relaxxxxx ” she crooned as she began to slowly move her small hand up and down my hard shaft.
Inside my T-shirt, I could feel sweat trickling down my ribs. My knees were trembling with an amazing mixture of fear and anticipation.
While still stroking me, she reached behind her and took the bottle of lotion from the counter top. The plastic bottle made a wet sucking sound as she squeezed more of the thick salve into her palm. If she’d rubbed that cream onto the sensitive head of my cock, I’m sure I would have shot off, but she must’ve known this, for she switched hands and eased the hot friction on my dry shaft with the lotion. I closed my eyes in pleasure, and my head lolled back. I felt like I was in a dream; this was so different from what I normally experienced.
When I jerk myself off, and the pressure starts to grow, I can’t help speeding up my hand motion. But Evelyn was slow, steady, and patient. Her left hand kept up a relentless, methodical rhythm while the agile fingers of her other hand caressed my tightening nuts, then drifted over the root of my shaft, teased my pubic hair, and caressed my bulging sac, before returning to the length of my aching dick.
I opened my eyes. Evelyn was gazing down at my hard, hard cock. Her eyelashes were very long. The expression on her angular face was a mixture of fascination, determination, and lust. Her mouth hung open wetly, her nostrils were flared, and her large eyes were riveted on her tiny hands as they continue their knowing ministrations, stroking me deliberately, forcefully, relentlessly. “That feel good?” she asked.
“Amazing.” I croaked.
It felt strange to be talking when I was so close to cumming. Years of solitary masturbation had trained me to enjoy my pleasure in silence. Now, I was stifling groans, my eyes squeezed shut, rolling my head around and twitching my ass. My fingernails were digging into the wooden arms of the creaking chair.
One of Evelyn ‘s hands cupped my balls, and could feel them rising and contracting in their sack. As I got closer to cumming, she was actually slowing her stroking down! Her tight fist glided over me, kartal escort pushing the lotion in a thin white crest above her fingers as they gripped my veined hardness. It felt like my heart had stopped. The buildup was so intense. I felt like I was going to cum from somewhere deeper inside of me.
“Nowww” she said, licking her lips. “I bet you don’t get anything like this from reading books.”
She kept slowly stroking me but, with her other hand, she put her half moon glasses onto her nose and looked around.
She reached into a cardboard box and pulled out a large, preschool childrens’ book and opened the soft, cloth pages. She placed my straining root between the open pages, folded the book shut, and began stroking me even more slowly. I looked down to see my raging bone enfolded in smiling fluffy lambs and fluffy clouds! The cloth illustrations danced in a denim blue sky that poled up and down my aching mahogany shaft. At the end of each agonizingly long, slow stroke, my burning knob peeped from behind the fabric clouds like an angry, red sun.
I had never been this hard in my life. A wave of molten metal seemed to be slowly pushing through my spine and hips and into my iron-hard dick. Evelyn smiled widely at me, her big brown eyes drinking in the frantic, pleading expression on my red and sweating face. I was so close.
I was panting, begging her with my eyes to finish me off. I raised my ass off the chair, higher and higher, thrusting wildly into the book’s soft flannel folds.
“Cum for me, baby. I want it.” She gave my tight nuts a final, gentle squeeze and I went off like the Fourth of July.
My hips jackknifed and a long, white streamer of lava geysered into the air. It splattered against Evelyn ‘s left cheek and glasses, braking into beads in the bangs of her hair. She flinched involuntarily but kept pumping me while trying to cover my spurting dickhead with the cloth of the book. A second stream rocketed all over her blouse and jacket, drilling the carnation in her buttonhole, before she could get a page of the book over the head of my leaping bone.
The feel of the fabric was incredible. My ass continued to clench. I shot again and again into the warm, soft pages of the book.
Finally, I couldn’t hold myself up any more and crashed back into the chair, gasping for breath. Lightheaded with pleasure.
When Evelyn pulled the cloth pages off my cock it was still throbbing and oozing thick white cream. Heavy rivulets continued to roll from the purple crown, down my length, and over the painted fingernails of her small, miraculous hand. Silvery spunk puddled and glistened in the flannel folds of the book.
“Mmm! You certainly needed that!” Evelyn ‘s eyes shone and she grinned devilishly.
She tried using the rest of the book to dry the shaft of my dick and her hands, but there was simply too much cum everywhere.
“You drenched me!” She smiled and gestured to her cum-soaked blouse, jacket, and dripping bangs. “There’s some towels in the washroom.”
I stood up, my cock still fat and hanging from my fly.
We walked down the short staircase to the washrooms. On the way, Evelyn locked the front door to the library and flipped the sign in the window to “closed.”
To be continued???
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