My first Literotica submission! Comments are welcomed, but please go easy -- this is the first erotica I've managed to complete, and been pleased with the result. I'm hoping you share in the same pleasure.
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He sighed, the laptop screen blurring in his vision. He was just too tired for this. Too tired, too bored, too apathetic. Sitting in a library, surrounded by piles of class-relevant books, was not his first choice of a time consuming activity. There was a reason the word 'studying' was primarily composed of 'dying', he thought, stretching in his seat. Today was a particularly draining day; the class was necessary but boring, and the work pompous and heavy going. He rubbed his eyes gently, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment. Sighing again, he bent forward to his keyboard, idly typing another few words.
He needed a break. Maybe checking his emails would help to clear his head, give him something different to focus on. But even then, there was nothing interesting in his inbox at first glance. He idly deleted some junk mail and was about to close the window when he realized that there was a new message flashing, sent only a few minutes ago, from his "flirtationship" friend.
They had met at university at the start of the last semester and become good friends. As both were single and found one another attractive (but were not interested in a relationship), they often enjoyed teasing one another via emails and texts. Their conversations had initially been relatively innocent, but had soon developed in to discussing sexual fantasies, histories, positions, outfits, and turning one another on. She had become the subject of numerous fantasies late at night, as he stroked himself to orgasm, especially after she had teasingly assured him that she did the same with him. On one particularly memorable night they had hung out together, bitter at the state of their lives at the time, and become drunk beyond belief. Their conversation had inevitably led to sexy fantasies and stories, which turned them both on immensely, and they had ended up in bed together. The next morning, hungover, the situation was awkward for a moment - but they had both agreed that it had been
just
what they needed, and damn fun at that. With a wink she had mentioned doing it again sometime, but since then it hadn't happened. Just the tease of the possibility.
The mental image of her bouncing on top of him was still a favorite of his though; the way she arched her back, the swing of her breasts, the moans that slipped from her lips as she rode him hard...
The message subject read "
Your Eyes Only
". Presuming it was another leading comment, maybe a fantasy that was meant to evolve into a dirty conversation, he decided to read it immediately to satisfy his curiosity and reply to it later. As a reward for studying, he could get into the spirit of it without feeling guilty for getting so distracted.
He wasn't expecting a photo.
A photo of her, leaning provocatively against a library shelf.
A photo of her wearing black heels, white thigh-high stockings, a short -- his breath couldn't help but catch -- a
very
short plaid skirt and a tight white blouse. The perfect not-so-innocent schoolgirl. The fantasy he had told her, that she had been teasing him with, only a few days before.
For a minute he couldn't do anything but stare, feeling his blood rush south. Images of her in the outfit, pressed up against the library shelves, came immediately to the front of his mind. How good she would look, how good she would
feel
as he pressed her to the dusty shelves...
He came back to himself with a start as someone a few aisles away dropped a book. Shit, he was in a public place, he couldn't be seen staring at...this. As stunning as it was. As he closed the window hurriedly, trying to calm down, he caught sight of the words above the picture.
Catch me if you can.
All thoughts of study forgotten he could only stare blankly at the essay he had been working on. What did she mean? Catch her? Where did she take that...
No, surely not.
It was dirty, it was risky, it was adventurous... it was very her.
Quickly, with a furtive glace around to check he was alone, he brought up the image again. This time, attempting (and partly failing) to ignore her body, he forced himself to focus on the shelves. The camera had been framed so the end of the shelves was visible -- and along with it, the section number.
It was the floor above. She was on the floor above. She was wearing
that
on the...
In a flash his laptop was packed away, his notes shoved into an inside pocket of his bag. The books he had been using were still strewn on the table, left to be someone else's problem.
He swung his bag slightly in front of him as he walked, trying to hide the slightly perceptible bulge in the front of his jeans. He had to get up there quickly, so he abandoned the idea of using the lift and bolted up the (thankfully) abandoned stairs.
The idea of ravishing her in the shadowy bookshelves -- while she was dressed as a
schoolgirl
-- made him all the more turned on. Trying to walk normally with a growing erection was difficult, but he didn't want to arouse suspicion from anyone else in the library. He resolved to cross the floor of the library as calmly as he could, weaving between the shelves, to where the photo had been taken. Where she was waiting. Where he could get her back for the teasing, make her quiver under his touch, feel her against him...he could barely keep himself from sprinting to the shelves.
His breath was quickening as he made the last turn, and found himself face with -- an empty aisle. He double-checked the classification sign on the end of the bookshelf, he was definitely in the right place. But she wasn't here. Disappointment and annoyance descended onto him heavily.