The first day back to work from a vacation is always a bit rough, almost like you are starting the job all over, even though I have been there for a short lifetime. I felt loose, sort of like a child, stunned at my work environment, at just how fucking crazy it really is.
Libraries are supposed to be bastion’s of knowledge, peace and information. Right? Wrong.
They are the holy grounds of the depraved, insane, drugged and down right depressed. There are those that wail, cackle and howl and you. Some that smile and call you an angel, and then there are those that scream from the top of their lungs what a fucking bitch I am, and that if I insist on fucking with them, I will die, but only after being raped in the most brutal of ways.
All in a days work serving the public. I try not to let that shit bother me and have this coping mechanism of treating those diametrically opposed patrons the same. Those patrons who love me are the same as those who hate me, the freaks, geeks and strait demented of the underground library world.
I pose tough, well, I am tough, but I don’t always like being that way. Sometimes, I take it home with me. My stride is carried with an authority of don’t fuck with me. My dress, is always with just hint of slut.
Yesterday I wore this tight tight low cut green sweater. The kind that causes men not to be able to ask me a question, all questions are addressed to the the tits. Titty La Rue. It is a camouflage, I prefer when they don’t look me in the eye with their maniacal ways. It gives me the control, my tits give me control. Do you like it when men leer at your tits? Yes.
I flirted a lot yesterday, online and real time. Slut. It is cock hunting season in San Francisco.
Mid through my day I had no choice but to take matters into my own hands. I go to my favorite bathroom number three, locking the door behind me, then unlocking it and re-lock it again. Who’s maniacal? As I wash my hands I look at my tits in the mirror, smashing them together with my upper arms as I continue to wash, they look good, my stone necklace hangs just above the cleavage, but my ear buds from the pod gets lost between the flesh.
I unbutton my pants, knowing how wet I already am, I waste no time plunging them in past my waistband and panties, straight into my pussy, wet and sticky, the pubes overgrown, but soft. My lips part easily, my clit already popped, from me grinding it into my reference desk chair earlier. My pussy accommodated the searching of my fingers and hand easily. With my free hand I cup my tits, then slip one hand into the pierced nipple side and pinch. Sigh, breath. Pinch again.
Faster I immerse–fucking my pussy, watching my self, legs spreading wider to contain the fingers I am imagining to be your cock, my lips opening up and surrounding. The sounds of my fucking. For a moment I sit on the orange vinyl chair, my foot propped on the sink and I fuck, circle my hard little clit and slow stroke the wetness of my full lips. When I get close, I stand–pushing the chair away with my foot, my legs part wide in that familiar inverted V and again a solid, slightly wet cum consumes my whole body. I grow stiff, shudder, then relax.
Packing myself back in I head out to the library world, where they all seem to know, they are looking at me like they know I just came. They can smell it.
Your coworkers must just LOVE you. I’ll bet the men (if there are any) have the hots for you and the women all despise you for your poise and effortless sexuality.
I’ve a few other librarian friends and I can’t understand how they deal with rude and stupid patrons day in and day out without snapping. Perhaps they use similar methods to you….a little time in the bathroom never hurt anyone, and makes a nice recharger too.
– PB
I think that one of the most erotic thoughts in this post is that last one . . . that someone might actually be able to smell the sex on you. Like the soft, lilting scent of freshly-baked bread, or the smell of the ocean . . . it’s instantly recognizable, and conjours up pleasurable thoughts in people immediately.
Very nice, and very powerful.
XO
Having been a school librarian and having had one of my earliest indoctrinations into lust and heartbreak amongst the stacks of John D. Piece Junior High, I can say a library has this wonderful tension about it…you just think of all those minds, hardly in repose, running riot in their enforced contemplations. “Shhh!” opens up all kinds of pervy possibilities for a ripe imagination.
Someday I’ll have to troll the libraries of SF, wondering which of those delectable bibliophiliacs is you…
– G
Simply mesmerizing Vixen. I sights, sounds and scents you describe. I am throbbing in appreciation.
Sometimes, after a roll in the hay (or on the kitchen counter or in a secluded room at a party) serves as a prelude to a public appearance, my lover will purr “Do I look freshly fucked?” in my ear. I absolutely love that one.
“They are the holy grounds of the depraved, insane, drugged and down right depressed.” – So true. Now, as to your dress code and use of bathroom space policy violations. It is starting to sound very much like a supervisor might have to start coming along on your bathroom breaks to make sure no rules are being violated. *cough*
The Panserbjørne: oh my co-workers are so on to me and probably a bit over my crazy sex ways. At least my immediate co-workers. My Library is huge though, about 400 employees in just the main, so perhaps I should take my pussy pedaling ways to other floors, beyond my own.
Jim: thanks sweets, you know what is funny, that I did not mention was that when I came out of bathroom I did put my finger to my nose, the scent of me, the smell of my kitty having just cum. I could still smell it as my hand lowered back down to my side.
Greyrake: oh my fellow library girl, thanks for the read and the little glimpse into your life. The library is an amazing place in many ways. And yes full of heartbreak. I often call it the loneliest place on earth.
James: thanks sweet stuff. It was almost nice to go back to work.
Oversexed Librarian: ah yes, the fresh fucked look, always good for a party. I like the just fucked hair.
Coyote: it is well known I have an authority issues, it would take a real firm supervisor to make me comply, and even then who knows…
Ahhh, but my dear, sweet Vix, I’m not a girl (for all my admiration of them), but my co-libes were, which is what made it so achingly sweet…
Greyrake: well now–that does change the dynamic. You comment reminded me of the many many lonely luch hours I spent in the library, an outcast, an wierdo, an artist…
lost in the page of fact and fiction blurring the lines between the two. Hours would pass with glossy images of art, photography, painters, UFO’s, the strangeness and beauty found in the stacks. Thanks love for the clarification or should I say classification.
xxoo.
Vix.