Le Bibliothécaire

The library was becoming less busy. The only people we ever got were the old, bookish professors doing research. Young kids didn't read anymore and I was sure they never would -- at least not until video games become extinct.

My nose was buried in a Zane novel, and I was enjoying the scene so well I didn't notice him come in and stop in front of my desk.

He coughed discreetly and I looked up sharply, a little annoyed at being interrupted, scared perhaps that it was my boss and he had caught me reading Zane. My feelings of animosity melted away when our eyes met.

'Hi,' he said shyly.

'Hello,' I nudged my glasses up a bit. 'I'm Marsha O'Donnell. How may I help you?'

'Um...' he scratched at the stubble under his chin. 'I'm looking for a book called Riders of the Purple Sage.'

'Riders of the Purple Sage,' I repeated mechanically, checking out his features. He couldn't have been more than 24, all of 6ft 3, and the boyish grin had a certain charm to it. Final verdict -- gorgeous.

'It's by a writer called Zane,' he continued. 'I've spent two hours looking for a Z-section.'

'There's no Z-section in the Library of Congress cataloging system,' I informed him as I put the keywords into my computer. 'There you are, Riders of the Purple Sage by Zane Grey.'

I scribbled the call number on a piece of paper and handed it to him.

'How do I find it?' he asked, still looking confused. That was when I noticed the accent.

'Mr...' I prompted.

'Professor Cohan,' he corrected.

'I'm sorry,' I gushed. 'You look too young to be one... I mean, I've never met one this young. I'd never have guessed...'

'That's okay,' he reassured me gently. 'I'm sure you were wondering why a professor couldn't find his way in a library. You Americans don't exactly use the same cataloging systems as the British.'

'You're British?'

'Irish,' he replied. 'If you're not married, I'd say you've got some Irish blood on your father's side...'

My face tightened when he mentioned my father and his voice trailed off.

'Here,' I interrupted him, snatching the paper from him. 'Let's go find your book.'

Together we headed for the P shelves. The P shelves are almost always the largest section of every library (if you leave out the newspapers and journals) as they contain Language and Literature.

We spent a while looking for the catalog number probably because I wanted to spend some time with him. I finally 'located' the book.

I never realized how close he was to me until I bent to pick the book. My ass brushed against something hard. I heard him suck in his breath. For a moment we didn't move or speak. I swiped my ass against his crotch again, and he let out a low groan.

Suddenly, the pressure against my bum was gone. Before I could turn around to find out why, I felt the cool air from the air conditioner fan my thighs as he flipped my skirt over my back.

He rolled my panties down and began to plant soft, feathery kisses all over my ass. I felt my cheeks being spread. The cold air hit my sweaty asshole and I cried out as his tongue plunged into my honeywell.

Riders of the Purple Sage tumbled to the floor. I moved my hands behind me to help hi spread the lobes of my buttocks, moaning as his playful tongue flicked in and out of my cunt.

I shut my eyes, allowing myself to enjoy his pleasuring. His tongue moved up, hesitated, then moved up again.

'No,' I whispered as his tongue lapped at my rosebud. 'No!'

He kept at it and my pleas gradually weakened until I fell silent, listening to the slurping sounds as his tongue swabbed my anus, enjoying the incredibly nasty feeling that came with doing something so naughty. For a moment, his tongue left me, and then his finger jabbed in sending a massive shock wave through me. I grabbed the shelf for support as my orgasm hit, biting on my lower lip to stifle a cry as the waves of pleasure washed over me.

I straightened up and when I turned around, he already had his trousers down and his cock sticking out of his shirt tails. His dick was average, but the balls were something else -- huge and covered with hair. I got down on my knees and stroked his cock slowly, licking on the underside before taking him into my mouth.

His nuts wouldn't fit in my small hand so I contented myself with rubbing them gently. After a minute he held my head away from him, stopping me in mid stroke. He pulled his cock out slowly and I could tell he had been about to come.

'Condom?' he asked, then realized how silly the question was.

Before I could say Jack Robinson he had me bent over touching my toes as he slammed me for all his worth. My glasses kept dropping to the end of my nose and I kept nudging them up. I took them off and was about to drop them on the shelf when he stopped me.

'Leave them on,' he said.

I put them back on and he turned me around, entering me from the front.

'Someone's coming,' he whispered in my ear.

A thrill shot through me and I held on tight to him. Within seconds he had me coming and then quickly pulled out.

'Get dressed,' he whispered urgently, stopping to pick his trousers. I saw his cock jerk once, twice, shooting his come all over the floor and the books on the bottom row as he worked his trousers up his legs.

The footsteps were closer now. I quickly yanked up my panties and let my skirt fall in place, then picked up Riders of the Purple Sage and handed it to him.

'Thank you Marsha,' he said, giving my bum a squeeze and then he was gone. I never saw him again.