True Sex Stories: Inspiration, It Comes

A dirty librarian takes a midday break in the bathroom.

Today, I was a whore and with that realization, inspiration.

Thursday is normally not a trying day, but there was something different in the atmosphere today. Maybe it was Spring's first taste of humidity, poking her glistening head out from behind a dark cloud… or maybe I just wanted to be fucked. Around 3, I began to shelve some older music texts in the back corner of the stacks. Due to the emphasis on digitizing, certain texts are being relegated to the lower level of our lovely organization. As I'm wont to do, I began daydreaming about a particular fantasy of mine (hint: it involves foreign objects). I became more and more distracted from my task. I could feel my thin, cotton panties absorb the wetness leaking from my cunt. All I wanted was the opportunity to slip away for a few minutes to take care of some business.

There is a sort of abandoned ladies' room on the lower level. I say abandoned, only because no one thinks to come down here. It's my favorite area of the library. After checking the stalls, I chose the one farthest away from the door, and as I closed the door, the heavy frame brushed across my shirt front, agitating my already-hard nipples. I undid the tiny buttons on my shirt and rolled my bra over my tits. I pressed my nipples against the cold, metal door frame and watched them pucker up even more. The familiar ache had settled into something more insistent between my legs. I wanted to touch myself, but I waited. Pressing my tits harder against the cold metal, watching the now pebbled nipples grow flush, I reached my hand under my skirt. Feeling blindly for my wet panties, I pressed hard through the fabric feeling for my clit. By now, I was breathing hard and had almost my entire weight resting on the door of the stall. I shoved my panties down my legs and heard them make a muffled, wet plop sound on the floor. My fingers were soaked with my own juices. Tentatively wondering what I tasted like today, I snuck a taste of my own pussy. Strong, sharp, and human were the first things that played across my mind. I wanted someone to come in that bathroom and see me. I wanted someone to watch me brazenly taste myself, and lean against the door with my titties pressed hard against the cool metal, my legs splayed wide open, and a hand inside my cunt.

I dipped a finger in experimentally, and sought my clit. Trying to stifle the little moan of pleasure that escaped me, I bit my hair. I added another finger and sandwiched my clit between the two. Pulling and stretching the hood back and forth. A wet, sloppy sound penetrated through the haze of getting off. I could feel the hot pussy juice run down my thighs. Surrendering all my weight to the stall door, my other hand joined its mate and I slipped a single digit inside myself. My pussy was so tight, I resolved to not go solo next time. I wanted to be stretched and filled. I wanted to be someone's bitch. Another finger joined and I finger-fucked myself into submission. One hand rubbing and pulling my clit, the other hand penetrating me, it was perfect piston system. I can't tell you how long I continued. I'd forgotten about biting my hair, so I just grunted and moaned liked a bitch in heat. I don't know when I came, but I kept on fingering and stretching myself, milking my pussy for all it was worth. A finals gasp, a final upthrust of my finger, and I was done. Spent.

Cleaning myself up, is always a melancholy task. I like the way I look after I've come. There's a pink-tinged satisfaction there that makes me look mild, less imperious. I lick my finger a final time, tasting my juices once more before wiping away the slickness. I put away my breasts, now heavy from use. I debated on throwing away the cheap, cotton panties, now thoroughly soaked, but the opportunity to wear them in public, wet and sopping was too much. I smelled like sex.

Republished with permission from The Dirty Stacks. Want to see your true tale of lust on Fleshbot? Contact Lux Alptraum. Photo by John B. Root.