Ugh. I am so not motivated, but this research paper is not going to write itself. I grab my laptop and head to the library. Thankfully it is open twenty four hours, since I, of course, waited until midnight to start the essay.
The library is fairly quiet and I make my way up to the stacks on the balcony. Not only are the psych books up here, but I also love the old desks and green lamps. There is something about this part of the library that really draws me. The remainder of the library is state of the art, but sometimes, it is nice to be surrounded by a beautiful old building.
I drop my bag and laptop on the desk and move to the stacks. The chances there will be enough resources are slim, but I am going to try my best. This should be an easy paper to write; my topic is voyeurism in the modern sexual woman. Unfortunately, like everything else with my major, I seem to have read about it rather than experienced it. Now I am stuck trying to craft an analytical essay on a topic I chose out of some screwed up fantasy.
I find the section I am looking for and pull out a couple of books that look like no one has touched them in thirty years. So much for the "modern woman," I guess. I suppose I can use the internet for that; the professor wants book sources, though, so I will have to make do with these. I am about to go back to my desk when he enters the stacks.
Drop dead gorgeous. That is the only way to describe him. Dark hair and deep blue eyes. His sweater is tight over his broad shoulders and he picks a piece of lint from his cords. Damn. Watching a guy remove lint should not be this hot!
"Excuse me," I say, trying not to turn red as I pass. I check out his ass as I go by him.
"Do I know you?" He looks at me as if he does but I would remember him.
"I don't think so." I wish, I think.
"Huh. You look familiar."
"Sorry," I say and go back to my desk. I am here to write a paper, not to stare at the sexiest man alive. Who just happens to be in the library with me.
"What am I doing?" I mumble to myself. I should have at least asked for his number. I try to get to work, ignoring the feeling of being watched. Suddenly, he sits down across from me.
"I do know you. You have Bommer for Psych of Sex." Oh yeah. I really do not want to talk about the psychology of sex with a guy who is making me hot just by looking at him. I don't need to be frustrated as well as stressed about my paper.
"Yeah, I do. Sorry. I didn't recognize you. You're in that class?"
His smile lights up the room. Look away. I doodle on my notebook, trying not to let this conversation get my hopes up that it is anything but a casual chat.
"I'm working as his TA, for his 101 class. But I think I saw you meeting with him one afternoon. Working on his paper?" He looks at the stack of books next to me on the desk.
"Yup. What it is in a woman's psyche that leads her to be turned on by voyeurism."
He considers the topic for a moment and leans back in his chair. He puts his feet on the desk in front of him. "So what have you learned?"
"Well, my thesis is that voyeurism tends surprisingly to attract extremely introverted women. That they are drawn to the idea of being outgoing naturally, and therefore being sexual in front of others is definitely outgoing."
"How about you? Does it turn you on to have people watch?"
I am getting wet, but trying really hard not to let it get to me. I breathe and shrug my shoulders casually. "I've never really experienced it."
"You're writing a paper on something you've never tried?" He raises his eyebrows. Those sexy eyes are mischievous and I'm tempted to ask if he would be a willing volunteer for my experiment when he stands up and comes up behind me. He leans over and whispers in my ear. "As a grad student in this field, I would recommend that you are an expert on your topic."
His hands make their way down to my breasts and he caresses them lightly under my shirt. I can't believe how turned on I am. "Stand up for me and walk to the stacks. I have a proposition."
I do as he asks and he meets me in the stacks. I sit on the windowsill at the end and he undresses slowly. The entire time he does, he keeps his eyes on me. I want to undress as well and get this going, but he is so deliberate in his actions that I wait for his command. The final step in his disrobing is the reveal of his cock. It is thick and hard.
"Wow," I gasp. He smiles again at me but does not move forward.
"I want you to follow every direction I give you. Is that okay?"
I nod, unsure that I can form an actual sentence.
"First, I want you to take off your top and let me see those tits." My shirt and bra come off and he watches my every move. His eyes slide over my breasts and I see his cock twitch. "Very nice," he says. "Can you touch them for me?" I run my fingers along the nipples until they are hard. His eyes never leave me and I get wetter feeling so exposed.
"Skirt next." I undress fully and he holds up a hand as I try to step toward him. "No. I want to look at you. Turn around." I do and I feel his eyes penetrate me. "Your ass is so firm. I really want to fuck you, you know. How does that make you feel?" I turn back to face him.
"I would like that very much," I say.
"I'm not going to, though. Right now, I just want to enjoy the sight of your body. Sit on the sill and spread your legs. Let's see what you're hiding."
I do as he asks and he draws in a sharp breath when I open my legs. My pussy is so wet and I can feel my clit throbbing. I move my fingers toward the hole and assume I will be able to masturbate while he watches, but he stops me.
"No. Please. Let me just take it all in."
"I think that's my job," I say, shocked at how bold I am being.
He laughs. The sound is warm and comfortable. "Maybe later."
"Are you sure you want to wait?"
"What are you learning for your paper?"
"I'm not thinking about my paper."
"Oh? What are you thinking about?"
"How good it would feel to have you buried inside of me." I reach down to touch myself again but again he stops me.
"You're not following directions very well."
I stare at his swollen dick and wonder how he is controlling himself. I just want to ride him.
He steps back and starts to dress himself.
"What are you doing?" I cry out.
"I think you have enough to write about now, am I right?"
"No, please, you can't tease me like this and leave me with nothing."
"Oh I can. And I will. Put your clothes back on. Someone might walk in on you." And he walks away, out of the stacks. By the time I am dressed (which I do in quite the hurry), he is gone. Fuck, I think. I take my soaking pussy and my throbbing clit back to my desk and try not to start masturbating here in the library. I think they might revoke my privileges for that.
A few minutes later, I hear his voice. I look over the railing at the lower floor and he is talking to one of the librarians. I am torn. Should I go after him? Will it result in anything but more pain? He looks up and his eyes meet mine. His hand casually brushes against his bulge and I close my eyes, trying not to pass out right here. I open them again and the librarian is gone. He licks his lips and puts a hand down the front of his pants. I think he might jerk off in the middle of the library, when his hand is out as fast as it slipped in. Even thinking of him slipping in and out sends me into a frenzy. I cup my tits and smile at him. He winks and is gone yet again.
