College Library

I went to a small liberal arts college in the Midwest. It was a classic sort of place, modeled after Ivy League schools, with the lawns and the walkways and the buildings arranged around the “quad”. It was the end of my sophomore year, and it was almost the end of the semester. We were coming up to finals week, and we were all studying long hours to prepare. I was particularly worried about a linguistics class I had gotten myself mixed up in, which ended up being way over my head.

So I was in the library a lot. My dorm was too noisy and there were just too many distractions. Our library was a cool old building, six stories high. The upper floors where the stacks were arranged had seating areas on either end with windows looking out over campus, then rows of tall book stacks. The center of each floor had more study areas. Three rectangular tables in an open area just past the book stacks, then a center area two steps down with a row of privacy desks (“carrels” we used to call them) on each side, and some big armchairs in the center with side tables and lamps. It was all very cozy and old-school, kind of Hogwarts-y. The other end of the floor was the mirror image: two steps up, three tables then more stacks running to the other end of the floor.

I was sitting at the middle table just past the book shelves. To my left were three giant arched windows broken up into small panes. You could see the tree-lined quad and Old Main on the other side with its stone facade and white painted cupola. To the right, some restrooms and drinking fountains.

I was doing my best to concentrate, but I was already in hour four and the law of diminishing returns was setting in. There were only a few people here and there, not many. A lot of people had already left, but there was this guy, sitting in an armchair down in the sunken area.I’d noticed him a couple times daydreaming instead of reading. I was studying linguistics, after all. Not exactly a thrill ride. Anyway, this boy was cute.

I’d seen him around, but we’d never actually met. He was a runner. Not tall. Like, 5′ 6, barefoot. He was wearing jeans with a threadbare spot on one knee and a white Oxford cloth button down shirt. He had removed his shoes and gotten comfy, with his feet tucked under him. We were facing toward one another, with a clear line of sight. And I noted that whenever I looked over, he was always looking my way, too–not making eye contact, but he definitely wasn’t reading.

I slipped off my tennies and tucked one leg under me. I was wearing a linen skirt, full, that fell at my knees, a simple cami with lace straps about an inch wide, a little rose like you might see on a bralet, at the front. Over that, a cropped cardigan, black, and my signature white ruffled ankle socks.

Anyway, when I adjusted my skirt as I changed positions I realized that since his chair was in the lower area, he could see under my table. No wonder he wasn’t making eye contact, I chuckled to myself! Well, that gave me a naughty idea, that immediately got my heart rate up. I felt my face warm at the thought. Checking around the room I could see there weren’t many others around. At the table to my left, there was a guy who had filled the entire surface with papers and open books. There were one or two people on the other side, past the sunken area, in the corresponding tables from where I was sitting –one sound asleep, his head resting on his arms.

Just to see if my admirer was really paying attention to what I thought he was, I reached down and raised my skirt above my knees, opening my legs a little. He was definitely looking. His eyes darted up to see where my attention was, and we made eye contact for an instant. I immediately looked down at my book. He had definitely caught me, but I wasn’t going to “discuss it” right then. I just looked down. But I moved my hand down again and slid around on my chair a little. I played at scratching my leg “absentmindedly,” raising my skirt more. I rubbed around my neck and upper chest too, like I was having a little circulation check. I was sure to do some absentminded rubbing of my under boobs, as well. I wasn’t wearing a bra. This was library time, and we were all dressed for comfort.

I noticed he changed positions, too. He took his feet out from under him, scootched his butt forward on the chair, leaned back, and stretched his legs all the way out, crossing them at the ankle. He had also been in the library a long time, so it was not out of character to have a full body stretch right there. Anyway, he was kind of displayed that way, and I was just watching intently.

We made eye contact then. We sort of said, “Ugh, finals, right? It’s too much!” But he also seemed to say, dang, girl, you’re a pretty little thing! Well, actually I was taller than him. LOL! Almost 3″ taller! Then he did some absentminded rubbing of his own, his hand roving around his lower stomach. He was very slim. I could tell he had nice pecs, too. Well, now we were just staring at each other. I reached down and moved my skirt out of the way. He could clearly see my light blue panties had a large dark wet spot. I roamed the flat of my fingers over it, and he responded stretching his legs, flexing his core to bring his hips off the chair like a sexy plank. His hand was clearly touching his hardness through his jeans. I slipped my hand into the leg of my panties and laid my middle finger the length of my wet Pussy. I was so wet. The end of my finger slipped in.

Then he was up. He was sitting forward, feet under him like he was going to stand up. I’m like, where are you going?? He crossed toward me, stepped up the two steps and dove under my table like he had dropped his best pen and was on a mission to recover it. He moved a chair out just enough to slip under the table, but the chair was still close enough that he was a least a little concealed. It was absolutely bold. And I was stunned. I could not believe it. I immediately started looking around me. Were there people down the rows of stacks who had seen him move? The guy at the next table had disappeared. I never even noticed him leave. He was off gathering more books, who knows?

So, now this guy is under my table. I slipped my hand out from touching my wet Pussy and I could feel his hair and his breath on my legs. He took my two fingers in his mouth. That’s how we said “hello”. Suddenly I could feel my fingers were surrounded by his warm wet mouth. Then he was between my legs. He just wanted it. He put his face against me nose first. He was breathing hard and he was inhaling my scent. He wanted to sniff my wet panties. And I was pretty sexed up. Even I could smell my sexy pheromones. His hands slid up my legs landing on my hips. A shudder rolled up my spine. He kept his nose buried in my Pussy as he trailed his hands all the way down to my feet. Much later, we engaged in all kinds of foot play, but that’s getting ahead… LOL!

I could feel him inhaling my scent, pushing in, rubbing and nudging with his nose and lips. He obviously wanted my juices all over his face. He wanted it. Then he moved aside the crotch of my panties and put his mouth on my sopping wet cunt. I tried not to moan. I was breathing kind of loudly and I consciously reined it in.

There must have been a puddle on the chair by now. I didn’t care. He kissed my cunt like a mouth–like he was looking into my eyes and kissing me on the lips. He made Love to my dipping Pussy pulling at my lips with his and pulling his tongue across me with long wet strokes. Then he kissed my clit and started sucking at it like a little cock. And I was hard.

I started pushing back, fucking at his mouth. I could hear little whispers of encouragement from under the table. That was so sexy. Hearing him hiss, “Use me. Get me wet. Oh god, you’re so wet… Cum on my face. Don’t stop…” His quiet sexy whispers put me over the edge. I felt my Orgasm rise up and flood through me. I leaned forward violently, I’m sure someone must have heard me then!

With my Orgasm a small flood erupted from my Pussy. He just kissed me deeper and held me to him. Another spurt of juice squirted into his mouth. For the next few minutes I was full of aftershocks and little twitches. I don’t know if I’d ever cum so hard. I slipped my hand into my bag and sent down a cotton bandana I kept in there. He wiped his face and emerged. He looked like he was going to swoon. He started to head toward the restroom and gave me a nod to follow in his direction. I abandoned my table.

To be continued…