The Nympho Librarian
written by:
Naughty Miranda

Even with both hands gripping the trolley tight, it felt like he was fucking me into next week, his cock a battering ram in my ass that punched me forward with every thrust, jarring my guts and slamming every breath out of my diaphragm with a loud, choking "uh.. uh... UH!"

Hands gripped my hair, turning my head towards their owner, and another cock slipped between my parted lips, silencing my gasps as it drove towards my throat, and I simply hung there, helpless, flesh on a spit while two men I'd met just an hour ago drove their own desires so deep inside me that it felt as though they might meet in the middle two thick greedy cock-heads colliding with one another, somewhere around my solar plexus.

I had lost count of how many times I'd cum; maybe later I'd piece the events together properly... or maybe I wouldn't. Maybe I'd just allow this afternoon to hang like an abstract series of impressions in my mind, each one more visceral than the moment before, until they left me, drained, on the coarsely carpeted floor, rug-burned and bruised in a pool of my own flowing pussy juice.

Again.

Above me, fluorescent lights lit the room like a hospital corridor; around me, the debris of the day I'd just abandoned - the pile of books I was supposed to have packed and mailed to the Friends of the Library. The other pile that could not be shelved till I'd sealed them in their shrinkwrapped dustjackets. The Late Fee reminders that were themselves late, the new member applications that were already old. And the half dozen or so job applications that I may have whittled down from an original mountain, but which I still needed to get through today.

I just needed to finish these first two interviews. Or maybe they needed to finish themselves....

Graham was the tall one, six months out of school with a MLS that was still bright and shiny, and a resume that read like a TV commercial, an awful lot of bluster and very little substance. I called him in because I remembered when mine was like that, because everyone deserved to be given a start, and because he was twenty-two and I like them young. Graham was now fucking my ass.

But I also like them older, so Jeremy was asked in as well. Seventeen years of experience in a big city library, five of those as a department head, but he wanted to get back onto the front line of the job, out of the back rooms and back to the public. He was married with two children, and he was willing to relocate. Right now, he was more likely to dislocate, and my jaw screamed in joyous protest at the prospect. Jeremy, as you've probably guessed, was now fucking my throat.

And me? Right now, I'm just meat, two fuck holes balanced on trembling limbs, who will have to pull herself back together before the next aspiring applicants roll up in twenty minutes. And it's funny, I think as I remember that day, how every interview took its own unique path. Like the first guy, early morning, who gazed at me with such undisguised lust that he didn't even flinch when I told him to strip, to kneel on the floor and explain himself from there - while I unlocked the draw where I keep my supplies, and pulled out the flogger... a gift, I remembered, from a serial offender, a guy who returned so many books late that I started to think he got off on paying fines. So I asked him outright what else he enjoyed, and now he pays his overdue fees in stripes, pleading for mercy through bubbled snot tears, swearing he'll never keep a book late again, and then checking out a dozen that we won't see for two months. Until he needs to bring them back again.

The first interviewee reminded me of him, the same pathetic need to serve; the same pseudo-pouty demeanor when I told him what else I expected of him; and, strangely enough, the same hunger to obey once I permitted him to cum, and then ordered him to lick the thick pools off my shoe. Exactly the same. I told him I'd be in touch by the weekend, but we both knew that he wouldn't be given the position. I already had someone who filled it, and he didn't come out of my staff budget either.

I adjusted my glasses, rebuttoned my blouse, straightened my name tag and called in the second candidate. Susan was my age, but blonde to my brown, with eyes that sparkled and breasts that bounced. Her resume had obviously been fashioned by a professional, and her experience and qualifications were impressive as hell. So were the screams that she muffled with one arm as I fucked her from behind with my favorite, thickest, strap on, stretching her pussy so wide that it hurt, and then ramming it up to the hilt.

I fucked her slowly at first, almost gently, while she answered my questions through clenched teeth and gasps... I picked up speed as I felt her relaxing, and she relaxed more as I pushed. My hand on her thigh felt her fast flowing juices, and I smeared them on my fingers and pushed them into her mouth. She sucked hard and greedy, and she went to the top of the list for that... stayed there, too, when she cried out and came, and I withdrew just in time to kneel and bathe my face in her squirting cunt, laughing as I swallowed her cum, feeling it soaking my hair and my blouse.

I would need to change before the next candidate.

I'll pass over the next two, they were older, staid and stable. The guy was a total wash-out and would be in and out of the office before he'd ever be inside me; but the woman intrigued because, two years from retirement, she had a laugh that I knew and a mind that I recognized. She felt it too, as she sat looking prim, and told me I reminded her of herself when she was my age. And her eyes fell on the stain that was still steaming on the carpet, and she didn't need to say another word. Some traditions don't need any explanation.

Which brings me to these two, who came in and came, and I watched them dress with just enough curiosity that neither felt as confident as they probably felt they should. "I like my staff to work as a team," I said slowly, "and I see that you both have potential for that." One smiled, the other looked relieved. I paused for a moment, then spoke again. "But remember, a team is only as strong as its ability to work together and, although I see you working together to satisfy me, as your employer, I do wonder whether you would be able to make the same effort for your co-workers?"

They looked at one another, and I saw doubt in their eyes. They knew what I was asking, even if they didn't realize; I know, because I saw Jeremy's cock twitch at my words, and Graham saw it as well. Another moment of hesitation, and I returned to my desk as though they'd been dismissed. Which is when Graham sank to his knees, raised one hand to Jeremy's cock, then leaned forward to softly tongue it back to life.

Yes.

Thank you.

Teamwork.

The day went on, the interviews continued, but I think I already knew my decision, even before the final candidate of the day let out the cry that was half-scream, half warning, and pumped several sex-starved sailors' worth of cum down my throat the moment I jammed his own loudly ringing cellphone up his ass. If he didn't have the sense to turn it off when he went to a job interview, what other depths of idiocy could I expect him to descend to? I wiped my mouth on the tail of his shirt, stood and thanked him for his time. "I'll let you know by the weekend."

Then I leafed through the applications, and binned all but one picked up the phone and got the machine. "I'd like you to start on Monday," I said. "And yes. You will be expected to provide your own gas mask."