Why did Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix have this sequence of numbers, but my favorite book of dinosaurs had that one? Why did the storybooks my mom loved reading have another, and the histories my dad read yet another? It made no sense.
So I learned it. Not the whole thing, obviously. But enough that I could pinpoint exactly where I was among the library shelves, simply by looking at the number.
So the first time I made out with a boy, we were standing between Science & Religion (215) and Humankind (218. Did you know the classifications for Evil, 216, and Prayer, 217, are no longer in use?). The first time a boy fingered me, we were up against Etymology (412) and I was hissing for him to stop in case somebody walked by.
The first time I saw a cock, I was browsing Celestial Mechanics (5211) - not because I cared about the subject, but because I'd never seen anyone in this aisle, and it was only a quick flash anyway.
The first time I touched one, we were in the same general area (Ephemerides, 528). The first time I jerked one, we were in the corner close to Shorthand (653), which was also handy for the bathroom when I needed to run for some tissues. I know there's no sign up anywhere saying "please don't cum on the library books," but they have plastic wrappers for a reason, and it was only a couple of splashes. The rest went on the carpet, and he ground it in with his shoe.
And before you ask why, oh why, did all these so memorable events take place in the library, I'll tell you. Because it was old, it was vast, and - at the time of day we chose - it was all but empty. Of every place I could think of in the whole of town, the library... which, by that age, I considered to be my library... was the one that guaranteed the most privacy.
Not that the place was under-used. There were times when the library was seething... weekends, lunch times, after school and rainy days, you'd think they were giving away free money with every book you checked out. But then summer rolled around, and the library - like the town - more or less emptied out. Except for me.
Oh, and Paul. I'd arranged to meet him there at 4, but of course I had a quick chat with Sarah, staffing the check out with her nose in a book, and hellooooo-ed through the office door to Mr Richards at his desk. The pair of them had worked here for as long as I'd been coming, and I knew they were the only ones working that afternoon. Knowing that they were both occupied meant Paul and were less likely to be disturbed.
Not that we had anything especially shocking in mind. Even the handjob had been enacted with his jacket draped over one arm, and hanging down in front of him, while we stood side by side, ostensibly looking at books. I felt a sudden thrill in my chest as I thought about doing that again, and maybe I walked a little faster as I passed through the stacks.
He was in agriculture (630-639) when I found him, his nose buried in a boo about animal husbandry (636). Which makes sense, because his folk own a farm, and he's helping out there most weekends and evenings. But he placed it back on the shelf as I turned the corner, and we were making out before we'd even said hello. My t-shirt was bunched up and he was squeezing my bare breast; my hand was on the front of his jeans, rubbing his stiff cock. Just another afternoon at the library, in other words. Except, because we knew we were the only patrons in the building,, and could hear Sarah and Mr Richards talking at the other end, we didn't feel quite as inhibited as usual.
I felt his hand brush mine, and unbutton his jeans, around the same time as he stooped a little and placed his mouth over my nipple. Damn, he'd never done that before, and the moment I felt his cock spring free, I gripped it and started to jerk.
Now he was sucking and I'd never felt anything like that before, leaned back against the bookshelf (638, Insect Culture) and looked across the aisle at Management and Public Relations (650-659). My free hand pressed hiss head closer to me, my other hand was a blur in between us. And then he broke away, straightened and whispered three words in my ear.
"Now suck me."
Oh. Okay. I abandoned his cock, and began fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, opened it and let my tongue graze one of his nipples, so tiny that I had to take the surrounding flesh into my mouth as well. Wow. This isn't as easy as it looks.
"Not there."
I looked up, confused. Then where? And he replaced my hand on his cock. "There."
Oh. Again.
I hurried to the end of the aisle. Mr Richards had returned to his office, Sarah was back to her book. I turned, and Paul was leaning now against the shelves. To his left, I saw the beginning of our old friend Shorthand (653); to his right, "Advertising and Public Relations" (659). Chemical Engineering (660-669) then stretched towards the wall. If I walked to the other side, Manufacturing (670-699) got underway. Metalworking processes (671), Iron, Steel and Alloys (672), Non-ferrous Metals (673)...
I was dithering. Even as I crouched down, my mind was flying across the shelves, recalling the numbers for every category there was. His cock was in my hand, and my eyes were locked upon it. But my thoughts were in Leather and Fur Goods (685) and heading towards... I admit it, I smirked. Wood Construction (694). I held his wood and proffered a light kiss. He twitched, so I did it again. Then I licked, lightly and uneven. I heard Paul exhale. 698. Detail Finishing. I licked him again, firmer this time, and I caught my first taste of his flavor.
It was... different. I suppose I'd been expecting, even as I counted down to Arts and recreation (700-799) that it would taste like the rest of him. Like his lips, like his neck, like all the other parts of him that I'd kissed or licked or bitten in our clinches. Like his nipples. I expected it to taste like Paul.
But no. This tasted of something else. Tart, maybe, but earthy, too. Dark, maybe even...dangerous was the wrong word. But challenging. He looked bigger from this angle. In my fist, he was a comforting handful. Down here, not so much. I parted my lips and spread them over the tip, then drew back.
Should I pull back his foreskin? Would it feel better if I did, for him and for me? Or should I leave it where it was. I'd never even thought about his foreskin before this moment, it was just there, and it slipped back and forth when I jerked him. But now I could see it stretching, enfolding half his knob end, but clearly intending to complete its retreat. Gently I tugged at his shaft and it rolled back.
His knob glistened in the fluorescent lighting. I touched a finger to it and felt wet, sticky. Dewy, even, I punned to myself, and I smiled even as I wondered what was happening..
Was he cumming already? No, because this was clear and that was.... 752, Color. 753 Symbolism and Mythology. 754... I tried to roll the skin forward again, but it refused. It didn't fit any longer. For a split second, I wondered if I'd broken something, but no. He'd been hard before - maybe not this hard, at least not in my company. I'm sure it's okay really.
I wondered how much time had passed. I wondered why there was no longer a category assigned to 756, and what might once have been placed there, smack between Religion (755) and Human Figures (757). And then I had a wicked thought. Religion involved a lot of kneeling. So, from my angle, did the human figure. I wondered if anyone had ever painted this moment, or sketched it or run off lithographic images. 756 - Drawings of Blowjobs. And the thought excited me so much that I didn't even realize what had happened. All I knew was, it felt fantastic.
He was in my mouth. How far, I couldn't say. It felt like I was full to bursting, but my hand was still wrapped around his shaft, with a little room to spare. Maybe an inch, then? I thought of the length of my thumb. Was that all? I pushed forward... could I at least touch my lips to the edge of my hand?
Yes! But only for a moment. Then I pulled back... just a little, just enough to relieve the pressure on my jaw. I wondered if Id ever had my mouth opened this wide in the past? For any reason? I couldn't think of one. But I could still think of category 756. Drawings of... and then another thought. Where did the "blowing" come into it? Sucking, yes. That came naturally. But blowing?
A horrible thought. Was I doing this wrong? I removed him from my mouth, blew gently on the tip. Again. He moaned softly, and then his hand was on the back of my head and the lightest pressure moved my head forward. So, no blowing. Or not much. A suck job, then.
I sucked.
He pushed.
I panicked, but then caught myself; calmed myself. 758 - Nature. This was natural. My entire body told me so. The pounding of my heart, the pulsing of my blood, the moistening of my cunt. Natural and fun! Still a challenge. 756. Or go forward a little. 770-779, Photography. 775. Digital Photography. That's what I'd do. When I got home, I'd go online. Google... what should I Google? Photos of...
His hand was on my head, gently rocking me. His cock was in my mouth, rocking too. I love this. The way it feels, the way it tastes, the way he moves in my mouth, the way my teeth graze his skin and my tongue rolls around him. He was rocking me harder and pushing harder, too. I could do this forever - but could he?
A number formed in the back of my mind. 221, Old Testament history. Noah's flood. Paul;'s flood. He was going to cum and the only place for it to go was... I released him, jerked him, felt his body tense and then release, and a jet of white shot into the air and then down on to my hand and wrist. My forearm. I was so glad I'd worn a t-shirt today. And thought to bring some Kleenex of my own.
I wiped up while he tidied up. We kissed for a while, then I chose a few books. He picked up the one he'd been looking at before, and we made our way to the desk. Sarah checked us out, gave us both her trademark broad smile and a "see you next time," and out into the sunlit street we stepped.
Neither of us said a word. Me, because I couldn't wait to get home and fire up my internet search; Paul, because... well, to judge from the beatific smile that still creased his face, I think I'd rendered him speechless. Well, he'd better get used to it. Only next time, I'm going to suck him in the next stack but one. 780, Music. 788, to be precise. Wind Instruments. I just had to decide, am I playing the flute? Or is it more like an oboe? I'm leaning towards the latter.
Hi everybody! This is my first story in way too long, so I hope I haven't lost my touch. Please write and let me know what you think - and I'd love to be included among your favorites, too. I have plenty more ideas cumming soon!"
|
Note from the webmaster: authors always appreciate feedback about their stories, so by all means write the author a note if you liked the story! The author of this story: Chrissie Bentley |