Author's Note: This little story of mine was written mid last year as a gift to a friend. I've since edited and expanded it for wider publication (notably, the original version was only nineteen hundred words long and written in the second person). I hope all of you enjoy it! She certainly did ;)
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I'm supposed to be working right now.
I'm supposed to be--but I'm not. Not really.
Instead I'm fidgeting at my desk, all because of a pink bullet vibrator making a mess of my pussy.
I'm doing a good job of hiding it, more or less. As the only librarian available today, I handle my tasks dutifully enough, cataloging new arrivals, filling out paperwork, answering emails, and helping patrons find their latest book to read, all from the safety of my desk. Nobody can tell I'm perpetually on the verge of orgasm, although they
also
can't help but wonder why a sheen of sweat is on my face even in the air conditioned chill. Five minutes ago someone asked me if I ran a marathon before coming into work, and I just laughed. No, I said. I am just... a little distracted.
The library is so quiet. My heart is pounding so fast. My boyfriend, Marcus, is supposed to come in and fuck me today. Where is he?
The vibrator is buzzing again, one setting higher than it was before. I draw in a deep, long breath, then exhale as if the air is steam, relieving the pressure building inside me somewhat. It's torture, what he's been doing to me. One moment the vibrator is on, teasing my pussy for what feels like an eternity--then the next moment it's suddenly off as if he never turned it on at all. There's no pattern to it, as far as I can tell. Marcus may as well have the app set up to activate it at random. Knowing him, I wouldn't put it past him.
It would be easy to manage if it were only that. But no. Each time, the buzzing gets a little stronger, and a
lot
more difficult to ignore. At the start of the work day I could at least pretend to be professional sitting here at my desk, in my knee-length pencil skirt, fishnet stockings, and conservative white blouse. But now? My pussy is fucking
throbbing
. My panties are absolutely soaked, and my entire attention is devoted to keeping my hands at my sides. Working productively now is out of the question. All I can do is think about touching myself. I know I can't touch myself, especially not here. I
know
I can't... but I want to, I
need
to, so
fucking
badly.
God, it's been so long since I've cum, hasn't it? Days. Weeks, even. At this point I've lost track. My boyfriend, he really likes orgasm denial. And he especially likes denying me.
It's been so
long
but every time I ask him, he just keeps saying
no
.
Marcus said earlier, before I left for work, that he'll give me permission to cum once he's pumped his cum deep inside me. Right here. In the library. Somewhere in the middle of the bookstacks--with the ever present possibility of being seen. I thought he was absolutely
insane
to even suggest the idea. How could we possibly fuck
here
of all places and not get caught? But he was insistent as always that he could find a way to make it work--and safely. He didn't give me any details before he gave me a kiss goodbye this morning. He just said to trust him.
Doesn't exactly inspire confidence, now does he?
The vibrator is back on again. It must be on its max setting by now. It's so loud between my legs that I wonder for a small moment if the whole wide world can hear it. It's unbearable. Underneath my desk, right where I'm confident nobody can see, my hand motions for my panties--but at the last possible second I pull it away. No, I can't touch myself. I'm not allowed to cum. Good girls don't get to cum. Good girls--
"
Fuck.
"
The moan rushes past my lips so easily. Realizing what I've done, I bite my lip and throw my hand over my mouth, hoping to stop any other sound from alerting the patrons perusing the bookstacks. In a quiet place like this, even the tiniest sound can ring out like a gunshot. I wait a second, waiting for the inevitable, but thankfully nobody hears it. The coast is clear. Marcus hasn't gotten me into trouble just yet. But I know that if this vibrator stays inside me any longer, my next moan might be so loud it could shatter glass.
I need to find him. He needs to fuck me. Now.
I rummage inside my purse for my phone and quickly flick on the screen.
Where are you?
I text Marcus. I'm getting impatient now, to say the least of it.
I clock out in an hour. You can't torture me with this thing forever.
Minutes pass and I don't get a text back, but I know he must've seen it when the vibrator buzzes again. I gasp--and just barely stifle another moan when I seal my mouth closed with my palm. Every part of me wants to rip my clothes off and fingerfuck myself to finally release all of the built-up pleasure burning like a furnace inside of me. I want to cum so fucking
badly
now that nothing else in the world matters more, especially not this job.
My nipples are poking through my blouse as hard as glass. My skin is goosebumped all over. My thighs are
shaking
and deep down I feel like I might explode, my accelerating heartbeat like a ticking time bomb. I can't think about work at this point: I'm constantly daydreaming about Marcus's cock pushing deep inside me, the two of us back home in bed in a passionate embrace as his hot cum fills my pussy. I imagine his little kisses all over my bare shoulders. I fantasize about his hot breath rushing down my neck. Each imagined touch from him feels like it may send me into a frenzy and I want nothing more than for him to fuck me over this desk, now. Fucking now. Not later--
now
.
I reach the edge. I can't take it anymore. Any more of this vibrator and I'll cum no matter how hard I try and fight back against it. A desperate gasp leaves my lips that should attract attention from everyone around, but thankfully the library is empty today, the only signs of life coming from the computer lab on the opposite end of the building, well out of eyeshot. The vibrator stops buzzing again, and seconds pass. Just barely, I'm able to stop myself from cumming as I slow my breathing.
Good girl
, I fantasize Marcus whispering. I hope he's happy with himself.
The vibrator doesn't come back on any time soon, granting me a small moment to think and an even smaller moment to get back to work. Before I can make progress on either, though, my smartphone pings so suddenly in my purse I nearly jump out of my seat. Wiping the nervous sweat off my face, I grab my phone and turn on the screen, my heart thumping. Marcus's text is just one word:
aisle
.
My first thought is to ask which one. The library isn't big by any means, but there's still several rows of bookstacks here. Where does he expect me to go? If Marcus
is
here, then he could be in any one of them. God knows I've been so flustered and distracted this entire time that he could've waltzed in through the door whenever he pleased.
I stand up on weak, wobbly knees and straighten my skirt as I leave the protection of my desk. I'm almost concerned to move knowing the vibrator may start buzzing again, but as the clock ticks on the wall, I feel confident Marcus has the vibrator turned off for good. Acting as professionally as I can muster, I enter one of the aisles and pretend to be busy, checking for misplaced books or other oddities that need fixing. A wad of gum infuriatingly glued to a hardcover sticks out to me. Perfect. A welcome excuse for my being here.
My heart is still racing. God, I need to be fucked so badly. My mind wanders helplessly to one dirty thought after another. I need Marcus to pump his cum inside me. I need him to kiss me like I need his lips to live. I want him, crave him,
