The Scholar's Forbidden Lesson
By Jacinta Anderson
Published by Jacinta Anderson at Smashwords
Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Jacinta Anderson
Discover other titles by Jacinta Anderson at Smashwords.com
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this ebook. This book remains the copyright property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoy this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
I don’t know what it is about the mixture of metal shelves and the dusty smell of a library that makes my panties want to drop. I feel the heat building between my legs as I walk around the tall stacks of books, all piled in perfect order. It’s so neat and orderly; it needs to be dirtied a little.
Perhaps it’s just that it’s a public place, the thrill of getting caught in the act. The silence is just begging to be broken by grunts and groans from the back corner, with a florescent light flickering above you. Oh yes, maybe that’s the reason.
The university students all work quietly for the most part. A stern look from me quietens those who are being naughty. They always recognise me for what I am, a librarian. I don’t look like the others; they are mostly in their forties or fifties with sensible shoes and black slacks. They'd never be caught with a flash of delicate black pantie lace showing while reaching for a book on the highest shelf. That is my favourite activity, oh, and crawling on the floor searching for something on the bottom shelf as I am doing now. I feel my skirt pulling tight across my hips and ass. I can’t help but grin as I imagine the pleasure of those watching from behind the cover of their books.
I have had more than one romp amongst the shelves in my university years. Since I graduated, I now work in the library full time and I know all the best places to hide. Sections no one visits with low lit corners. I savour every second I have alone, knowing no one will come to patrol the stacks. I haven’t learnt all of this alone of course. No, I have a teacher, someone who defiled this space of learning long before I arrived. Her time however has ended, and I am only too happy to take up her mantle.
It’s dreary outside today, which means more people have walked through the doors leaving me no time to sneak upstairs. Every second I sit behind the loans desk is a second I think about running my hands down a man’s hard flexed back. The scent of his neck, aftershave, and that purely male smell that can’t be bottled. It isn’t until after my lunch break when I spot my young buck. He is a nice, innocent looking young man who can heat up my long shift until closing time. I have tasted this particular man before. I remember his hands on me, the smell of his sweat, the smooth sound of his groan. It was only last week when I sampled his pleasures and I am eager to repeat the experience.
My gaze roams the desks of hopeful punters around him. I never go for the jocks, although they have lusted after me more than any other. Maybe they see past my black-rimmed glasses and librarian's bun? Maybe my black three-inch heels hint at something the jocks can't resist? My heels are both a tease and a necessity as they give me extra leverage when in awkward positions between the shelves. I'm not one for carpet burns.
Eyes follow my progress to the second level where I take my time in replacing a large volume on the top shelf. A chair scraps back, its owner hoping for a glimpse of the forbidden lace and soft tender folds of skin beneath.
Long taught muscle, brown hair, toned arms, round brass rimmed glasses; he is a scholar for sure. I’m the fantasy of all of his years locked in these halls with nothing but silence wrapped around him. Now when he gets bored as he studies, his mind roams quickly to what lies beneath my blouse and the hot moisture between my legs.
To be sure he doesn't leave before I have my playtime, I turn an accusing glare his way. Bringing my finger to my lips I stroke them in a quietening motion to silence his chairs moment of noise seconds ago. The fire already blazes behind his rimmed glasses, his hair standing adorably on end from stress. He will stay for me. He knows what I want, what I offer. One agreement we both decided on when we started this endeavour was that we could be anyone we wanted to be in public. Today, I am the mistress and he is my student.
I take a moment to lean on the rail, which separates the great room below from the volumes of knowledge above. I see the staff area, fast emptying as the sky grows dark outside. Adding a small twist to my hips, I push back off the buffed, brass railing and stalk past the man. I feel his eyes search my body through the thin layers of fabric covering it as I leave his sight.
The patrons slowly trickle out of the library as closing time looms. Apart from the cleaner and the head librarian all tucked up in her office, I am the only staff member left in the building. I sit exactly on the edge of the chair. My black pumps rest on the loans bench in front of me as I rock backwards, setting the old chair up onto its rear legs. My knees are clamped firmly closed; it would not do to give the man a glimpse before he can have the whole package. His eyes watch me from the second floor rail where I stood earlier. He holds a leather-bound book before him, still studying, even though his attention is focused on tastier prizes. I run a finger up the outside of my thigh, up the split in the side of my skirt, drawing it until my finger rests just below my panty line. My pulse throbs, like another demanding part of my anatomy.
I can smell my fragrance and it excites me. My errant hand slips between my legs and strokes the damp patch on the crotch of my panties. My gaze flicks to the second floor where my man stares openly now, his hands gripping the rail. His five o’clock shadow makes him look worn and tired. He is nearly ready to be satisfied. The final call sounds over the PA system, one hour until the library closes. Not long now.
***
I smile sweetly at the elderly woman as she collects her books from the loans desk and exits the library. My next customer approaches the desk. I look up into the green eyes of my scholarly man and scowl.
‘Can I borrow this book, please?’ he asks, watching my face for some sign of approval.
‘You may not. You've been a nuisance in the library today, creating so much noise.’ I take the books from him and tuck them up under my arm. The action causing my breasts to push together, a large cleft forming between them. His gaze goes to my chest for a second before returning to my facehis hungry look burning through my resolve for just a moment. I feel like a school girl, an innocent woman, eager to please. Gathering my composure I resume my strong stance, gazing right back at the face that I have woken to every day since university.
‘Shall I leave then?’ he asks, a smile turning up one side of his soft pink lips.
‘No, you must be punished.’
He looks surprised for the briefest second before the smirk returns. ‘Whatever Miss desires,’ he replied, holding his arm out to allow me to pass.
‘You will return these to the shelves. I'll watch to make sure you do not shelve them incorrectly.’ He was being a very good playmate, performing in my game like an old pro. His hair has the first signs of grey at the temples from the stress of years of study. His face reflects the good skin of someone who spends his time indoors. His clothes suggest a scholar in the making, jeans and of course a jacket wrapped around a pale-skinned body. His rolled up sleeves show his deliciously muscled forearms.
He turns to look at me. ‘Eyes forward boy,’ I scold. He obeys with a grin, which makes me sigh in anticipation. The tight fabric of my sensible grey blouse rubs against my breasts, my erect nipples tingle with each step. The sharp clack of my heels on the marble stairs ring out through the c
avernous library as we climb to the second floor.
‘Shall I put it back now?’ he asks, gesturing to the shelves before us.
‘Make it quick,’ I snap at him.
He removes his jacket and flexes his shoulders. The muscles under his tight shirt ripple through the thin cloth. I move in closer behind him and grasp a handful of his hair. He gives a surprised grunt, which turns into a chuckle as I bend his head back and brush my lips lightly over his collarbone and up his neck. My heels add just enough height to ensure my mouth is at his shoulder level without having to stretch.
‘Put the book back,’ I repeat as he tries to clasp my waist. He places the book on the shelf as I ease my hold on his hair. ‘Good boy, now you are going to do an errand for me. I’m always scared of checking the back fire escape doors all by myself at night.’ I rake my nails down his scalp, his body visibly shudders with anticipation as small goose bumps appear on his forearms. ‘You will be my escort for the night,’ I tell him.
I place a hand between his firm shoulder blades and push him towards the back of the level. He seems the controlling type so it won't do to have him follow me as I do with some boys. I want him to lead.
‘Remove your belt,’ I order him. He turns slightly as he fumbles with the clasp. ‘I didn't say you could turn yet, boy.’
The grin is back as he makes a show of turning and dropping his belt between the shelves. ‘Good, keep walking. Get rid of that shirt too.’
‘Whatever you say, ma’am.’
He is a quick learner this one. He guides the shirt off slowly, first down his shoulders, than even slower down his back until it slides from his arms and pools on the floor. I reach up and cup my own pert breast in my hand, squeezing it as my nipples tingle with pleasure at the sight of his firm, pale back. The top button pops from its cage on my blouse giving me better access as I slip my finger beneath the cup of my bra and spiral it around my hard, beaded nipple.
‘Stop,’ I order as we reach the far corner of the room. Its shelves provide privacy on each side. There is only one way into the nook, and we are blocking it.
‘Turn,’ I instruct him.
He turns and growls deep in his throat at the sight of my open blouse, the black lace of my bra protruding over the crest of my breasts. In one stride he gathers me into his arms and shoves me back into the shelves. The pain mingles with my heightened arousal and causes a wave of passion to flow through me. His hands grasp my chest roughly, and I allow him to peel away my bra cups and latch his lips to the hard pink areolas. His tongue lashes out, flicking the hard nub, sending flashes of electricity down to my pussy, which is already drenched with sweet sticky fluid. My nails rake down his back. He arches in pain. A sharp hiss escapes his lips.
‘On your knees,’ I order, applying pressure to his shoulders. He drops to the floor on one knee. His eyes bore into mine with a passion only the danger of the unknown brings. His cock strains against his pants creating an enticing bulge.
‘Release it,’ I point with one manicured finger to his groin. With deliberate slowness he lowers his fly, massaging his heavy cock, before releasing it from his pants. It springs free with a groan from the boy. He breathes heavily with lust and the drive of his male ego to conquer the me. I gaze down at my prize, his cock jutting out from a body, which gives no clue to the sheer weight and length of it. I long to reach down and squeeze it, just to feel so much meat fill my small hand. That pleasure would have to wait though, it is bad manners to keep a woman waiting.
‘I want you to suck my pussy.’ The lust is heavy in my voice, layering each word with meaning and building pressure in my core. His hands trace my outer thighs as he raises my skirt. His face nuzzles against my sodden pussy lips as he growls, the vibrations seeping deep into my body. His tongue lashes out and brushes the crotch of my panties.
He knows how to tease almost as well as I do.
I squirm against him, pressing against his face with each lace of his tongue. As I move against him with urgency, his fingers draw the cloth of my panties to the side and his tongue traces the length of my pussy, penetrating its depths. A whimper escapes my lips and I press my hand to my mouth to smother the sound.
‘Mmmm, want more?’ he purrs, breaking his teasing to look up at me.
‘Don’t you dare stop,’ I hiss, fighting to regain my control.
‘What if I bend you over my knee and spank you?’
He stands quickly and true to his word he pushes me over his lap as he kneels back down. I struggle at the indecency of it. I am supposed to be in control tonight!
His first slap comes loud rather than hard. His fingers brush my swollen pussy lips as he withdraws his hand. I rear back in pain and pleasure. I have never been spanked before and I am beginning to see the allure of it. He brings his hand down again and again; each time punctuated with a whimper of pleasure from me. Damn!
I quiver in his lap, wanting to regain control but I'm overwhelmed by the sensations spreading through my body. In this position his hard cock presses against me, just below my breasts. Each time I move, I feel it twitch and throb against me. I feel a wetness on my skin as the first drops of pre cum bead on its tip.
I want control. Forcing my own passion back, I slide down his lap and run my tongue along the tip of his cock, tasting the first traces of salty cum. Not wanting to surrender completely, he grasps my hair to hold my head down, giving me a taste of my earlier teasing. I comply, gently licking and kissing the bulging head. When he starts thrusting up, I push him back with one hand to give me better access. I switch to pumping his throbbing mass with my hand, marvelling at how I can't get my whole fist around its swollen flesh. The mingled smell of the dusty shelves around us and his intensely male scent heighten my own pleasure, reminding me that I am at work. Here I am the mistress.
A chair scraps back, echoing around the second level of the library. The cleaner has arrived. The knowledge that we may soon have an audience only serves to heighten my arousal.
I never fully undress in my encounters; that way I could make the act look more innocent than it is, should we be caught. I am simply asking an inappropriately dressed client to cover up, is my usual excuse, and I have been caught on many occasions.
His hands push down harder on my head, I know what he wants but don't want to give it to him that easily.
‘I want you to fuck me, big boy.’ I stand, not bothering to straighten my clothes. My pussy is exposed to the cool library air, my panties still resting to one side from his earlier attentions. He doesn't need more encouragement. I back him up to the shelves, which border the corner and back onto the walls. I push him back, hard against them making the books they hold shake and tumble to the floor. Wrapping one leg around his hip, I line myself up to his protruding sex, shivering at the thought of that huge cock filling me. I remember the feel of its hot mass rubbing against my slick tunnel from last week. He rubs the tip of it along my soaked inner lips to gather lubrication before sliding it in. The resistance is tight. I feel every inch as he slides home, his lightly furred scrotum brushing against my pussy. I never feel so full as I do with him. His penis stretches me so far that my g-spot is stroked with every movement.
He grasps my ass firmly and begins sliding into me. I am more than ready for him and we move together with ease. Each stroke sends waves through my nerves making me shiver all over with pleasure. I smell our combined sex alongside the musk of the books behind him, the sense heightening the forbidden nature of the encounter.
The smooth whirring sound of the cleaner vacuuming the floors starts up just metres from us. I ignore it and was not even sure the boy heard it. His mouth descends to mine as he picks me up and starts forcing my hips against him with every thrust. I link my heels behind his back, kicking aside more books with little regard to damaging them. I grip his strong shoulders as they flex under my hands from my weight. Changing the rhythm and the angle of my hips ensures he is brushing harder against my g-spot with each movement.
He pic
ks up speed suddenly, moving with urgency against me. The sound of our bodies wetly slapping together is clearly audible in the silent library. He grunts, his breath hot against my chest.
The sudden silence around us peaks my attention. I look around, aware that the vacuum cleaner noise has stopped. The cleaner stands at the end of the aisle. His mouth open as he watches us. His dick is in his hand as he pumps in time to our movements. I feel the familiar slutty rush deep in my spine before I come hard against my man. His own body shakes hard with orgasm as his thick cum fills me, my muscles clenching around his cock, milking him. I feel the hot fluid slide from my stretched hole as he now moves slowly inside me, milking the last drops from his still hard cock.
A groan from the cleaner makes my man look up, his concentration broken from the moment of release. His face shows anger at first but turns to one of question as he notices, I 'm not bothered by our watcher. It was his roaming eyes, which have brought me to such a quick climax. My man seems to realise this as he gazes into my eyes and a smile creases the corners of his mouth.
I gesture to the cleaner with one finger as I am set back on my feet, my husband's still hard cock slipping from my body. He has stamina, I think to myself as the cleaner makes his way tentatively over. He is not the best looking of men, not my type at all. He is young, in his early twenties maybe, and sadly built like a rugby player. His arms did impressive things to my imagination and as long as I didn’t look at his crooked nose, I could imagine he wasn’t a jock.
The library often takes on students for part time work. He must be in his second year at university, most likely studying sports science. That meant he would at least know his way around the human body. I wonder how well he knows his way around a woman’s body.
A simple fact of why I preferred the geek type over jocks, no matter how many conquests jocks say they have had, they have never been with one long enough to be properly trained in pleasuring a woman. What makes us pant in the night, the subtle art of stroking and licking until the fire is at its peak inside of us.
Scholar's Forbidden Lesson Page 1
