I have a handful of online male companions, whom I speak with, flirt with, cyber sex with, and pass my time at the reference desk with. It’s fun, relatively harmless sexy virtual activity. There are some I share pictures of my ass and other parts with, some I cum with via IM, and some who I have deep fulfilling conversations with–about, love, poetry, art, music, film and of course fucking. Well we all want to talk about fucking. It always comes back to the loins.
My newest cohort has been naughty fun and not all just sexual, but we talk about life and the dailies of life. But, well– you know me, I always return to my wet kitty. Today I was waiting for an appointment, emailing via my blackberry, telling my invisible cyber man what I was wearing for the day. This always sets his mind to spin.
Not long after receiving my email he responds back with an “assignment” for me.
“Your assignment for the day is to get to work safely and on-time, but at 4:30, when I am leaving for the bus to go home and paint my office, you are to find a quiet place in the stacks, remove the undoubtedly cute panties, and slip them in to a book that is big enough to hide them, but one that will be checked out eventually, maybe not today, or this week, or even this month, but you will know that someday, someone will open up that book and a little bit of you will spill out….”
Wednesday at the library is always mild, I don’t get there until late, work until closing and it is my supervisor’s day off, so the setting is relaxed. I email him back asking if there is any particular book he thinks I should put them in. Should it be science, art, automotive, or the obvious sex? He responds with the Dewey decimal call number of 391.42, now I know my Dewey’s and know this is sexual in nature just not exactly of what naturere. I decide not to look it up and be surprised, well actually at this time I was not even sure I would be going to go through with his antics, but I was excited by the idea. It runs through my mind that I could just tell him I did it, describe enough to get him excited and turned on. The thoughts linger on my way to work.
Once there and I see just how mellow and slow the day was, I decide to go through with it. Once the decision was made, I began to get wet and excited; I could feel my freshly waxed pussy lips slick together with each step of friction the closer it got to 4:30. I am scheduled on the reference desk from 4-5, so around 4:20 I ask a co-worker to cover the desk for me, claiming I had to make an important phone call. Leaving the desk I stop into our small sorting room, door open to all who work there, yet still somewhat private, but anyone could walk in at any moment. I move away from the door and slip down my pale orange decorated sheer panties, slip them over one boot then the other. Once off, I see the small wet spot I have left in my excitement, bringing them to my nose I sniff. Nice sweet musk, mild and clean. Folding them neatly I slide them into my pocket, fix my skirt and head out the door with purpose.
Choosing the public elevator, so that none of my co-workers will see me, I head to the third floor. Once the doors open I take the long way around avoiding the reference desks, checking out the cute library pages on the way, winding around to the 300 section—320, 350, 370, 380, 390, where sign is placed “the 390 are shelved on the 4th floor.”
D’oh! how ridiculous, back to the elevators. The fourth floor is far trickier, Art and Music, I am up here all the time, plus my department was relocated here for a short time. I know everybody, I am almost sure to run into someone who knows me. Performing the same maneuver as on the third floor, around the back, I avoid the reference desk, winding my way to the appropriate section, my pussy wet with eagerness and freedom. I get to the section having only run into a few new staff member who do not know me, but I would sure like to get to know them.
390’s, 391.40, 391.42, found it! All the way at the bottom, I squat, my thighs spread apart, my lips open, unbound—the scent of excitement is easily detected. There are only two books though, the rest, undoubtedly, kept in the reference section as theft prevention, I choose 391.4209 A Brief History of Unmentionable. Rising, I turn and place the book on the shelf behind me out of view of passerby’s, as I flip through the history of panties. Choosing an appropriate page, holding it open I pull my panties from my pocket, dropping them between the pages, refolding them so they are contained within the boundaries of the book, and then I close the unmentionables. Once, it is hardly detectable that there is a sheer lace obstruction between the pages. It’s perfect. Squatting back down I re-shelf the book in it’s appropriate place, admire my completed assignment, spread my thighs a little, bounce back up, and head to the elevators, wetter than before. Back to my department, back to the shelving, back to the patrons, and back to the reference desk with my naughty little secret and my bare ass under my skirt.
