He was deep in the stacks tracking down a book for his term paper in Nineteenth Century Novels when he heard the soft sigh.
Or was it a soft moan?
He kept searching down the aisle for the call number. Then he heard it again, as his eyes found the right number. He pulled the monograph on nineteenth century erotic photography in London off the shelf. He leafed through it and felt his cock stirring in his pants. He wondered how his professor would react to a paper by a guy on the rise or erotic photography and literature. He liked to think of himself as a feminist, but it was touchy subject. He put the book in into his shoulder bag and continued on.
Then he heard it again. Definitely a moan. Stifled. But a moan.
At the end of the aisle, a row of carrels stretched along the wall. Down at the end he heard it again.
He turned that way, stepping quietly now, still scanning the ends of aisles for the call number range for the next book he was searching for, a comparative study of erotic literature in Europe. When he came to the right aisle, he heard a deep sigh.
He kept going, still scanning the aisles of empty stacks.
Then he saw a slight movement in the dim aura cast by the reading light in the last carrel against the wall.
He stopped and watched. A blond head leaned back slightly in the chair. He heard another moan, this one lower and longer.
He quickly turned down the nearest aisle to move out of sight. At the end of the aisle he stealthily moved to the last row and peeked around the corner.
The woman's figure was backlight be the carrel light. But he could tell instantly even with her back to him. It was his English professor. She had a book in her left hand. She was slouched down in the chair leaning back. He couldn't tell where her right hand was but he could see her arm was in steady slow motion.
Then she let out another soft moan.
He moved closer. Just that morning she had been lecturing about the rise and fall of genres across Europe. At the end of the class, she always said something to leave them hanging. And this morning, she had said they would briefly survey the rise of erotic genres next week. Was this her prep?
He moved slowly closer, staying in the shadows of the dark aisle of books.
She raised her right hand to turn the page. And when she lowered it, he could see it went right between her legs. Then she rocked ever so slightly in the wooden chair.
As he moved closer, he worried less about her noticing. She seemed to be in a reader's trance. Her short skirt, which had distracted him in class, was pushed up even higher on her thighs as her hand moved between her legs. Her gaze was riveted on the page.
He felt his cock hardening in his pants. Then he saw the cover of the book, 'Fanny Hill: Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure.'
The movement of her hand between her legs was quickening, as she grunted under her breath.
His right hand grazed his hard cock lengthening in the leg of his tight jeans. He leaned back against the book shelf and watched.
Her right hand came out from between her legs. Before turning the page this time, she put her fingers in her mouth, sucked them for a moment, and moaned softly. Then back between her legs they went, glistening with moisture. Her pace slowed. As did her breathing. He watched as her breasts heaved. She stopped for a moment and sighed, but kept her hand between her legs. Soon she was moving quickly again. This time a barely stifled moan escaped from her lips.
He unzipped his pants and felt for his hard-on as he backed a little farther into the shadows. He pulled it free, raised his hands to his own lips, moistening his fingers with saliva, and then began slowly circling the head of his cock. As her pace quickened, he began stroking the length of his cock, now slick with precum.
When she raised her hand to turn the page again, he took the opportunity to lubricate his hand with more spit. When she resumed rubbing herself, he did, too, imagining his dick sliding between her wet pussy lips, as her creamy thighs squeezed him, and her black boots wrapped around his back. He imagined squeezing her breasts in the semi-sheer black blouse, and then pulling it back and freeing her hard nipples from the black bra underneath.
He let out a moan.
She froze, and turned quickly, while keeping the book up in her left hand, and slowly removing her right hand from between her legs.
He froze.