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She sat at her desk in the library, bored beyond belief. She had taken the job initially as a temporary arrangement after her previous relationship had broken up. With her two children she could no longer work the night shifts that she had been while she was involved, and she needed a day job so that she could work while they girls were in school. It was only supposed to last until she got something better, but the days turned into weeks and suddenly it was several years later and she didn’t seem to be going anywhere. The job paid well, but spending her days finding books for retirees and preschoolers was not how the attractive 25 year old had envisioned she would spend her life.
She sighed, and turned the page of the book she was reading. It was a copy of Hunter S. Thompsons “Hell’s Angels”, a book that had been written in the sixties during the height of the motorcycle gang craze. Part of her longed to be in that lifestyle. To be a biker “mama,” without responsibilities or care. Just driving around the country on the back of a thick, vibrating machine with her arms around a dirty man who wouldn’t expect her to be all prim and proper. Who would, in fact, be angry with her if she did so. Someone who would ravage her at night, even if she wasn’t in the mood. A man who knew what he wanted, and didn’t take any crap from anyone. Certainly someone more exciting than the creepy old men who did everything they could to look up her dresses as she filed the books away.
“Interesting book, a little dated though” a deep voice said from behind her, startling her and making her jump slightly in her chair. The pencil that was holding her long black hair in place fell out, causing it to cascade wildly down around her face. She turned angrily, but her sharp retort was stopped dead in it’s tracks by the intimidating figure that was behind her. A man stood there, who looked to be slightly over six feet tall. He was big, obviously overweight, but he looked strong. Thick. His hair was cut very short to his skull, and it was pretty clear that he was balding. He had a full moustache and beard, also cut short, drawing out the lines of his face and giving it a very angular look. Without the beard, it would almost be a babyish face. Very smooth, very pale.
He was wearing a black T-shirt, some sort of concert shirt from a band she had never heard of. Jello Biafra? There was an image of toilet on the front with a fist coming out, and the words “I Blow Minds For a Living” underneath it. His jeans were tight, nothing special, but as she looked she couldn’t help but notice the bulge between his legs that was fairly close to her face as she sat there. What distracted her the most was that she could swear that she saw the slight outline of his penis there, as if he were semi-erect. He was wearing combat boots, that looked old and worn out, and he was carrying a backpack slung over one shoulder. What she noticed the most, though, was his eyes. They were dark blue, and piercing. Very clear, even behind the glasses that he wore. He was looking at her intently, and she couldn’t tell if the look in his eyes was one of curiosity or amusement. Or both.
“Excuse me?” she said, clearing her throat.
“That book. Hell’s Angels,” he replied. “It’s a great book. I really like Thompson’s stuff. But it’s a little dated. I mean, the worst those guys did was drive around the country and beat people up. We’ve got gangs today that regularly mow down entire families with fully automatic weapons. Kind of makes the whole biker gang thing seem a little quaint, don’t you think?”
“Yes, well. That’s very valid, but..” she began, but suddenly trailed off as she realized that his blue eyes were no longer on her face, but had trailed down to her chest. She had been playing with the buttons on her shirt while she was reading, and as she looked down she could see that the top one had come undone, exposing the top of her breasts for this interloper to look down on. The bra she was wearing today was a half cut, covering only the bottom half of her breast. The black lace barely came up Sivas Escort over her nipples, which were unfortunately quite stiff at the moment, and the soft flesh of her cleavage was clearly exposed to him. She gasped, and her hand rushed to fix the button as she stood up. Her voice was icy as she glared at him and said “Is there something I can help you with, sir?”
His mouth opened slightly, a mischievous grin on his face, and he seemed to be about to make a comment when he smiled, shook his head and laughed almost to himself. “No, thanks. Sorry to bother you.”
The man sauntered off and threw his backpack down on a table not far from where she had been sitting. He reached into his backpack and pulled out what appeared to be a well worn paperback book. Leaning back in his chair, he propped his booted feet down on the chair across from him with a thud and began to read. Curious, she squinted at the book he was reading in order to read the title. “The Claiming of Sleeping Beauty” by Anne Rice. She blushed, hard, and looked away. She was familiar with the book, having read it on a dare when she was in high school. Every page, it seemed, was filled with bizarre sexual situations, each more shocking than the next. Why it was even called Sleeping Beauty seemed beyond her, as the importance of the story seemed to pale in comparison with the sex inside. She cleared her throat, picked up her book, and tried to begin reading again.
For some reason, she couldn’t concentrate on the words, and her mind kept drifting off. She was wondering what the man was thinking. Why he was reading that particular book. Was he reading it on a dare like she had been, or was it something he had read before? She risked an occasional glance at him, and found it interesting that the more he read, the more uncomfortable he seemed to become in his seat. He was shifting around, sometimes reaching down and adjusting the crotch area of his jeans. A fine layer of sweat began to form on his bald forehead. He was getting excited as he read the book, a thought which she found amusing and, much to her surprise, intriguing.
Reading being out of the question now, she got up and crossed to the cart of books that needed to be put back on the shelves. As she began to walk the cart around the aisles, putting the books back in their respective places, she would occasionally glance over at the man as he read. Once or twice, she thought she saw him looking back at her, but she couldn’t be sure. Then, at one point when she was up on a ladder, she glanced behind and knew for sure. His eyes were locked on her semi-exposed leg on the ladder, the garter showing through the slit in the side of her dress. She cleared her throat, in order to let him know that she saw him and did not appreciate his glance, but he did not look away. In fact, he closed his book, eased back in his chair and left his eyes exactly where they were.
She flushed, and for a moment stood there unsure of what to do. As always, she felt slightly violated when someone took the liberty of ogling her while she was on a ladder, but something about this man was different. His lust was more open and honest. He was sneaking a dirty peek, but sitting there with a smug look of satisfaction on his face, fully enjoying the view. She decided that, for the moment, she would just ignore him and that maybe he would stop looking.
After a few more minutes, she looked back and was surprised to find herself happy that he hadn’t.
Pretending that she didn’t notice she bent over a little farther than normal on the ladder, causing her skirt to lift up even higher. She knew that from where he was sitting, he could now see her inner right thigh and her garter on her right leg clearly. She knew she had nice legs, and it had been so long since she had anyone gaze at them that didn’t have one foot in the grave, it felt nice to be showing them off. She lingered that way for a while, sometimes swaying slightly, enjoying the little show that she was giving to this odd man in her section.
She looked back over her Sivas Escort Bayan shoulder to see if she could see how he was enjoying the show, and much to her dismay he was gone. The chair he was sitting in was empty, his backpack gone. As if he hadn’t been there in the first place. To say she was disappointed was an understatement. She was embarrassed. Here she had thought this man would have been at least interested in watching her expose herself, but instead he had bolted. She huffed slightly, and quickly scooted down the ladder, having had the stupidity of men proven to herself once again.
For the second time in the day, she was scared out of her wits again, when that same gruff voice said from behind her “The view was much better from back here.”
This time she audibly squealed as she spun around, the books in her hands falling to the ground as she did so. There he was, in the dark corner of the poorly lit aisle, leaning against the stack of books to his left with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He had that same smirk on his face, a mixture of confidence and lust that she found ingratiating. She wondered how such a big man could move so quietly, but as he unfolded himself from the book case and walked towards her she knew. He had a quiet grace to him, and his motions were very fluid, almost rhythmic. She had to stifle a laugh as she got the image of this huge man taking ballet lessons, but for some reason she thought that image might not be too far from reality. He seemed to know his body well, and he moved confidently in it.
“I don’t appreciate you staring at me like that, sir” she snarled at him, backing away as he approached. She didn’t have far that she could go, though. She felt the cold metal of the ladder press up against her ass, and she realized that she was practically backed into a corner. At this point she could get away from him, but she would have to whip around the ladder to do so, and for some reason she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that he had scared her like that. She knew that part of his amusement was coming from the fact that he scared her, and she wasn’t going to feed into that any more.
“Are you sure about that?” he leered, stopping just inches away from her face. She could smell him now, his breath hinting slightly of coffee as he leered there in front of her and the faint musk of sweat from his skin. She couldn’t stop looking in those eyes. The seemed to bore into her. Took away all the mystery of what this man was about. He wanted her. She knew that as sure as she knew her own name. His eyes had undressed her already, and as they danced over her skin she knew that he wanted to use her to live out the images from the book he had been reading. She had to get away from him, right now! This was becoming too much to take. She turned, released the brake on the ladder, and started to push it when she felt his strong left arm encircle her waist and pull her back. She cried out softly, feeling the thickness of his cock press against her ass through his jeans. Terrified, not knowing what to do, she stood there rigid as he nudged his nose in close to her ear, breathing deeply as he smelled her hair. Her ear tickled as he whispered into her ear and his facial hair rubbed against her lobes. “What is your name?”
“Why should I tell you that?” she trembled, her voice quavering as she attempted to find the strength and resolve that was fleeing from her rapidly.
“It’s not like it matters” he said, and with that his right hand snaked in front of her and began to pull up the front of her skirt. Her eyes darted around the library, looking for help and finding none. It was empty in her section. She knew she could cry out, but she wasn’t sure if there was anyone who would hear. What’s more, she wasn’t sure that she would want them to. She closed her eyes, the fear and lust too much for her to handle, accepting her fate when she realized that something odd was happening. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she could tell. He was hesitating. This bold man, this stranger Escort Sivas who had entered her space and violated her, seemed to be waiting.
He wasn’t going to just rape her, she realized. He was going to make her prove that she wanted it.
She started to pull away, started to take the escape that she thought she wanted, when she felt a trickle of moisture run down her legs. With a start she realized that she was soaked, her cotton panties clinging to her cunt as if she had just come out of the ocean. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to take her. Right then.
She pushed her ass backwards, and started grinding it against his rigid cock through his jeans.
That was all the incentive he needed. In a blur, his hand was up between her legs, his fingers greedily pushing past the damp panties and finding her lips. As he bit down on her neck, he traced the labia up until he found her clitoris, swollen and hot. He began to frantically rub against it, his left hand scooting under her blouse and cupping her right breast through her bra. Before she knew it she was coming, hard. Her legs quivering and almost giving out as she leaned back against him.
Without even pausing, he pushed her forward so that her hands were resting on the steps of the ladder. It started to roll forward, but he pushed the brake down with his booted foot and it stayed still. He lifted her skirt fully, exposing her ass to the air. She was looking around again, desperately afraid that someone would discover them, but he didn’t seem to care. He pulled her panties down, just past her ass, and she was satisfied to hear him groan in pleasure as he saw it before him. His fingers cupped her from behind, and she could feel them enter her, probing her softly, exploring her. He was taking his time now, taking a moment to appreciate what she had to offer, and she was loving it. She arched her back, and tried to spread her legs a little further and give him a better glance.
His fingers came out of her, and she could hear him sucking on them, tasting her juices. She wanted him, now, and she whispered back to him with a thick voice “Do it.”
She was surprised at how quickly it started. Right after she said that, she could hear his zipper being pulled down, and then the flesh of his penis was pressed up against her ass. It was so hot. So hard. She couldn’t remember even having had one touch her that felt so good, so right. He didn’t even bother to unbuckle his pants as he found the her cunt once again and slid the full length of his shaft up inside of her. She moaned, feeling it go all the way inside, feeling the cold, rough zipper press against her flesh as he buried himself in to the hilt. He grabbed her hips and began pumping vigorously, grunting as he slammed into her again and again. She could feel herself building to orgasm again, their position allowing him to reach deep inside of her, slamming so deep inside that it almost hurt. She bit her lip and pressed her forehead against the stair, mewing as she fought to keep from screaming in intense pleasure. As she got nearer to orgasm, she could feel him building to it as well. Feel him pumping faster, feel his breath getting thicker. His fingernails were practically buried in her flesh as he rammed her again and again. She couldn’t hold it back any longer! She began to shake, and a long deep moan escaped from her lips as she came yet again. That seemed to push him over the edge. As her orgasm carried on, his began. He drove him self deep inside of her, the deepest he had gone yet, all of his weight pressing down on her and threatening to topple them both. He shook, and she could feel his hot cum erupting inside of her, filling her up. He came so long and so hard she could almost instantly feel it seeping out of her.
He stood there for a minute, breathing hard, before easing himself back out. She sank to her knees, exhausted. She heard his zipper go up, and then she could tell he was picking up his backpack. She wanted to stop him, wanted to find out who she was, but she couldn’t catch her breath to speak. As he walked away, she sank all the way to the floor, leaning back against the bookshelf and feeling his cum trickle down her legs.
“Misty,” she croaked through dry lips, “my name is Misty.”
But he was already gone.
To Be Continued…
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