Rodney in the Library

Rodney heard the far-off ding of the elevator and muffled footsteps approaching his office. From his seat at his desk the door was to his left and he didn't have a clear line of sight out to the corridor. He turned his attention from the email he was writing to a daily calendar next to the computer monitor, which informed him that today was National Gin and Tonic Day, and also a Wednesday. That meant it was Jasmine headed in his direction along the carpeted floor of the stacks outside his open door. Probably just to say a quick hello before beginning her afternoon shift in the Special Collections library of the University of Kentucky.

Wednesday already? Rod thought to himself. Time flies when you're having fun. Or at least, when you're comfortable and content in your work--having fun would be a bit of a stretch. Keeping track of time or even the day of the week was not made any easier by a troglobitic existence for eight hours a day down here in the windowless basement of the campus library. The Special Collections floor housed exclusively rare, valuable, or out of print books and academic journals on every subject from raptor physiology to Russian fairytales. That's what made it so special. Rod was the head (and sole) librarian for the department and had been since moving to Lexington seven years ago.

The footsteps stopped as Jasmine's head leaned into the room to check that Rod was at his desk in the corner. Then the rest of her followed and she stood in the doorway, tall and lithe, befitting an intramural soccer player, backpack slung casually over one shoulder. She wore a light, lavender sweater over a blue tee and a white tennis skirt. These skirts seemed to Rod to be all the rage on campus for the past couple of years. When he took his brown-bagged lunch outside to the quad to get some much-needed sunlight afternoons he had to be careful not to let his gaze wander. He fought to keep his attention on her face now. She wore above the cardigan a bemused half smirk that made him worry, momentarily, that she knew what he was thinking about.

"Hi," she greeted, simply and cheerfully.

"Hey Jasmine," he replied, "how's your week been?"

Jasmine was nineteen, in her junior year and was one of three undergraduate students, along with Todd and Amber, paid by the university's work-study program to assist Rod for ten hours each week. Unlike the rest of the library on the first and second floors above, which were open to all students, the Special Collections were restricted access. A key was needed to ride the elevator down from the lobby or to open the basement door in the adjacent stairwell. Rod didn't receive many visitors: a couple-three graduate students or visiting scholars writing theses on obscure topics was about all the company he could expect each semester, other than his student workers. Because hosting visitors occupied so little of their time, the librarian and his trainees busied themselves processing inter-library loans and digitizing the material in the collection to make it available online.

It was an endless task, and the work was lonesome. The grant that funded the digitization effort provided for only two of the large, high-resolution Xerox scanners they needed. With one almost always in use by Rod, and the students' busy class schedules, their working hours were intentionally staggered and they didn't see much of one another. It wasn't for everyone. Fortunately, the current cohort of helpers was solitary in nature and experienced in its work: Todd, now a senior, had been assisting Rod for three years; Jasmine and Amber were hired together a year and half ago.

"It's OK. Classes have been kicking my ass," Jasmine sighed, and her shoulders slumped away from her dark auburn bob cut. Behind her cheerfulness, she seemed tired. "It's just that time of the semester. Sorry I wasn't in Monday."

"Don't worry about it," consoled Rod. "How did that history test go?"

"It went fine, I'm sure I got at least a B." One thing Rod respected about Jasmine and all his current assistants was that while they were good students who took their studies seriously, none was obsessed with maintaining a 4.0 GPA.

"I'll bet you did better than you expect, knowing you."

Jasmine lingered in the entranceway. This was typically about the extent of their catch-ups. Rod enjoyed Jasmine's company and felt their rapport was mutual, but neither was much of a chatterbox. Now in his early forties, he felt the difference in age between himself and the undergraduate populace at UK keenly. He was cautious in his friendliness, especially with the girls, lest it be mistaken for lechery. But something was clearly on Jasmine's mind today.

"Sure you're OK?" he prompted. "Anything I can do?"

Another long sigh. Jasmine leaned back against the doorframe and lowered her backpack to the floor at her feet. Rod's eyes followed its descent involuntarily, down past the firm cup of one breast, past an exposed sliver of pale midriff between Wildcat-blue t-shirt and skirt, and finally parallel to one long, smooth leg. As it came to rest on the carpet next to a white Keds sneaker, his eyes snapped back to Jasmine's face. The whole motion had lasted only a second and he hoped she hadn't noticed, but he thought the slight smirk in one corner of her mouth had grown and that he detected a faint glint and a playful squint in her eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago, before his attention was drawn away.

Oh well, he was only human, and if she caught him looking it wasn't the first time. A few months ago, he had come around the corner of one of the aisles to find her kneeling in the opposite direction, almost prone on the ground, reaching for a book she had kicked under the shelves. "Jasmine, have you seen the gray..." he had trailed off, treated to a perfect view of her round, bubble butt, clad tightly in a pair of faded jeans. In the endless stretch of time it took him to regain his train of thought she had time to collect the lost book and straighten her posture as she turned to look at him and raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Realizing exactly what had distracted him, she had smiled smugly as he, red-faced, muttered that he had suddenly remembered the location of the book cart and hurried away. It was the ghost of that smile she wore now in his office.

"Well, actually..." she stopped. Started over, whining, "It's just so hard to find a moment to really relax with finals coming up. It feels like there's a knot in my chest 24-7, no matter how much I study."

"I still have dreams sometimes about oversleeping for an exam," said Rod, truthfully. "Finals really are traumatic." He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. He was relieved she seemed to have let his momentary indiscretion slide but he empathized with her situation. He often had difficulty shutting off from work at the end of the day.

"Hey, Amber told me yesterday she was going to this lake this weekend, why don't you go with her? Take your mind off tests."

"She's bringing her boyfriend. Nothing against Derrick but I don't want to be a third wheel. Anyway, that's exactly what I'm talking about," Jasmine closed her eyes and leaned her head back. "They have each other when they want to," she paused for a split second, "unwind."

Rod blinked. If he understood Jasmine correctly, this was uncharted territory. The image of her ass straining against denim flashed unbidden to his mind and he pushed it away. He needed to wrap this conversation up; he needed to play dumb, pretend he didn't know what she was getting at.

Instead, he said, "well, there must be someone--I mean, don't you guys all use Apps to meet each other nowadays?" Boy, he felt old saying that.

Jasmine's dark brown eyes opened and held his for a beat before she answered, deliberately.

"I haven't found boys my age to be very effective at helping me

unwind

."

Rod gulped. He tried to force a chuckle but nothing came. The image came again, but this time Jasmine wore her little tennis skirt as she reached under the library shelves. She had her head pressed sideways against the ground and her back arched, her rear pointed up and directly at him. The skirt was hiked up, and Rod imagined two perfect, tanned globes...

Jasmine broke the tension by laughing nervously. Now it was she who looked flushed. She stooped to pick up her bag and leave but then paused, seeming to steel herself, and straightened up again. Rod, who hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, was midway through exhaling with relief when she stammered out, "Actually, since you offered, I was h-hoping you could help me." Her voice wavered and she took a deep breath. More confidently now, she echoed Rod's suggestion, "You know, take my mind off tests."

"Jasmine, now wait a minute..."

Despite the obvious expression of panic on Rod's face, his young assistant left her bag on the ground and walked forward into the room in a wide arc around his desk. As she did, she slipped out of her sweater and let it fall to the floor. Rod was speechless, noticing for the first time the small, symmetrical indentations protruding through her bra and t-shirt. As she rounded his desk, he pushed weakly backward on his armless leather rolling chair, which bought him all of two feet of space before the base collided with the wall behind him. Jasmine bridged the gap and, to his horror, knelt on the floor to his side. Rod realized his tactical error immediately: in his haste to create some distance between them he had removed himself from the cover of his desk. The bulge forming in his pants was conspicuous. Jasmine put her hand on his knee and with little effort rotated his body to face her. She broke eye contact and looked down at his lap. Her eyes widened.

"We can't do this," he said. It came out much more softly than he had intended.

When she spoke next, it was to the bulge in his pants. "I've seen the way you look at me, Rod. I won't tell anyone." Her voice sank to a husky, pleading whisper, "I just need a little relief. So I can focus on school."

Something inside Rod shifted. His instinct to protest was subsumed by another, deeper instinct. He quieted, waiting to see what would happen next.

Jasmine noticed the change in him. She shuffled forward slightly on her knees and her hand moved up his leg to make contact with the impression of his stiffening erection that was materializing down one leg of his loose khakis. She clasped her hand around the outline and looked up for him to tell her to stop. When no reprimand came, she began to rub it tenderly through the material, feeling it twitch and continue to grow in response to her touch. Heat radiated through the fabric. She reached forward with both hands to undo his belt and pant button and pull down the zipper of his fly. Her hands went to his waist and grasped his pants by the belt, her fingers slipping under the elastic of his boxer shorts. She looked at him again.

Rod was suddenly aware of the reverberation of his own heartbeat against his eardrums and the silence all around them. This was his last opportunity to put a stop to everything. He couldn't think straight. His arms, which had been hanging stupidly to his sides, reached up. He knew he should remove Jasmine's hands from where they held his clothing. Instead, he braced against the edges of his oversized chair seat and flexed his hips forward towards the girl, lifting his butt up off the leather. Jasmine smiled and pulled on his trousers and underwear, struggling slightly to wiggle them down over his hips and ass. With those hurdles cleared, she continued to pull them down his thighs, until Rod's now fully erect penis sprang up before her like a jack in the box.

"Oh wow, Rod," she gasped, "if I'd known were hiding this I would have made a move sooner."

She abandoned his pants and as if in a religious trance reached for the totem before her. Rod groaned as her petite hand wrapped around his shaft and greeted it with a slow, investigative pump: up, down, up again, as if testing out the elasticity of the skin. Precum precipitated at its tip and transfixed Jasmine's attention as her hand descended a second time. Her smile had slackened and the tip of her tongue poked out of her mouth in concentration.

She let go abruptly when she felt his legs working. They were bound close at the knees by the partially removed clothing, but he was only sliding off his shoes using his heels. Taking the hint, Jasmine pulled his pants the rest of the way off. Freed from the constraint, Rod parted his legs and the girl scooched between them, closer to him still. Her right hand returned immediately to its work, the grip firmer now, no longer testing; her left hand rested absentmindedly on his thigh, but even that point of bare contact between them did not go unnoticed by him. She coaxed his sex now with a steadier rhythm only a little more fast-paced than before. He groaned again in satisfaction.

Rod's size, if above average, was not exceptional. He could not know that it was the biggest and certainly thickest cock Jasmine had ever personally encountered, but her complete fascination with the object of her ministrations was apparent. She could feel its veins bulging under her thumb and fingers and she stroked it. The head erupting from her grip with each downward pump was an engorged, fleshy geyser. Every movement sent an electric jolt through Rod's body as he slumped backward as far as his chair rest allowed. He let his unfocused gaze float upward to avoid staring at the girl. As if his looking might embarrass her, as if she were paying any attention to his face at all. Her left hand crept smoothly up his thigh as she worked her supervisor's stiff member. As its fingers made contact with his abdomen, he felt the hand removed, and the pumping of its counterpart slowed although its grip did not release. A moment later, the left hand returned to cup his balls. Just as Rod glanced down to try to offer some expression of appreciation for this new delight, Jasmine angled his erection toward her and he witnessed the swollen and glossy head of his penis disappear between her supple, parted lips.

"Oh fuck," he let out, placing one hand gently on her shoulder with his thumb on her t-shirt at her collarbone and his fingers at the back of her slender neck and shoulder. He applied no pressure--he had no desire to interrupt her--and his touch was received as it had been intended: a tactile show of appreciation for the sensations the young woman was delivering.

Jasmine moaned as the salty taste of his precum filled her mouth. She sucked on the mushroom glans with aplomb and her tongue lapped back and forth under the sensitive ridge beneath its tip. At the same time, she resumed jerking him off, the range of motion reduced now so as not to disrupt her oral efforts. She fondled his balls with her left hand. They were hairier than those of the boys her age, and they filled her soft palm with a satisfying heft. Somewhere behind the animal fog of lust that filled her head, she reminded herself that she wasn't pleasuring a boy. She was on her knees in her place of work pleasuring a man twice her age. The growth she herself had elicited in the throbbing tool in her hand, the sounds and expression of obvious enjoyment from her older colleague who held onto her tenderly by the neck, and the briny fluid he continued to spew into her waiting mouth were all the testament she needed. She felt as though he was under her control. She felt powerful.

Rod had never experienced such exquisite and multifaceted fellatio. His knob was being buffed, waxed, and polished--all at once! "What are they teaching you girls at this school?" he queried between ragged breaths.

*shwop*

She pulled off, breaking the suction. She leaned back and pulled her tight blue t-shirt up over her head, exposing a no-nonsense cream-colored athletic bra. Her fairy tale breasts were neither too big nor too small and they filled it out perfectly. It pushed them together to exaggerate her cleavage. Rod's cock twitched at the sight of her.

"Some things can't be taught. Guess I'm a natural," she retorted coyly, the confidence in her own voice surprising her and turning her on even more. "God, I'm so horny, but I don't want to stop."

Reaching out to grip him now at the base of his shaft she took him hungrily back into her mouth and began to bob her head up and down, emitting small slurping sounds as she swallowed more and more of his length with each crane of her neck. Her not-quite-shoulder-length hair swung and brushed her ears as she blew him. She was able to take a little more than half of Rod's penis without gagging and so descended no further, bobbing to that point like a high water mark two or three times in quick succession and then once slowly, applying suction. Rod relished the feeling and ran his fingers through her hair as he watched his member emerge from and disappear into the coed's hot mouth, watched her flushed cheeks pucker when she took him in deep, almost to her throat. Her saliva dribbled down to where her fingers, nestled in his dark pubic hair, clutched him to hold his appendage steady. She carried on like this for over a minute, pausing twice to catch her breath and run her tongue slowly up the underside of his dick from bottom to top. Now he couldn't take his eyes off her, and occasionally she looked up and locked eyes with him as she sucked him off.

Rod began to worry about upholding his end of the bargain.

"Please," he suggested, putting his hands on her bare shoulders and pushing her softly off him. "I can't hang on like this much longer."

Wiping her lower lip against the back of one wrist, Jasmine stood and climbed onto his lap. The seat of his office chair was just large enough to accommodate her knees on either side of him. He reached behind her and unclasped her bra. Momentarily shy, she held it in place, hands cupped over her breasts. Rod brushed the straps off her shoulders one at a time to fall at her side, and Jasmine lowered the garment, revealing her breasts to the man she had worked with for the last year and half. Her softball-sized tits hung perfectly in place as their support fell away, defying Newtonian physics. Her nipples, small and pink with only a modest areola encircling each, pointed up and out, her arousal plain to see. With Jasmine kneeling at her full height they hovered just above Rod's head like celestial bodies, twin suns, radiant to look at.

Rod's hands went to either side of her narrow waist and imprinted into its taut, smooth skin. He pulled her lower by her love handles to gain access to those orbs, and both gasped and locked eyes when the head of his penis first bumped against her pantie-clad crotch. It nestled in her cleft behind the damp fabric there. He felt a great heat emanating from her through the thin membrane. Jasmine felt she was on fire, the need to be filled by him was overwhelming. Almost unconsciously, she paused in her descent to flex her hips and buttocks, rubbing herself with minute motions against the tip of the would-be intruder. She felt it push, barricaded, in vain, against her most sensitive and intimate opening. She felt sparks shoot through her as her incremental movements dislodged it from that hallowed place to crest over her concealed clit and back again. By now she was dripping wet.

Rod held onto her waist but otherwise lay back in his chair, allowing the sex-crazed college student to stimulate herself against his cockhead. He couldn't see what was happening beneath the tennis skirt but he could feel the need in her movement and in the state of her now-soaked undergarment. He knew he was continuing to secrete also and that Jasmine was smearing his precum against her panties as she maneuvered herself against him. Her eyes were closed and her pert boobs heaved above him. After a time he reached for them and she willingly settled down more firmly onto the stiff penis between her legs, feeling first its bulge and then its entire length rubbing along her pussy through her underwear as she did, finally coming to rest with his enlarged member pressed between her groin and his belly.