Hard Times At The Library

I discovered him in the stacks of the library (the theology section to be exact), with his pants down to his knees, bent over a library trolley being fucked by Simon, a new attendant I’d had my eye on for a while myself. My colleague David (the one being fucked) had been a longterm object of desire, and to find him in such a delightful situation was the stuff of dreams!

The 200s are a pretty safe bet if you’re looking for a bit of privacy in a library, hardly anybody ever requests anything from those dusty shelves, and since they were moved to this new out-of-the-way location even staff looking for a quiet place to kip have pretty much given up on them; much more comfortable in the 500s, and almost as little used.

Now you may be wondering what I was doing visiting this neglected corner of the campus library, and truth to tell I was intending to have a wank, having been as horny as fuck all day. The staff toilets were no good for such activity (cubicles clearly designed to deter such mischief), and just about every other staff-only place was closely monitored by CCTV, as if we couldn’t be trusted. I’d discovered the theology stack early on in my time and had used its musty privacy on any number of occasions when I felt the need for a bit of hand-relief.

The boner in my pants had been problematic all day, and I thanked the gods that most of the morning had been spent in meetings where various desks and tables had provided some much needed cover. The situation wasn’t helped any by my unaccountable decision to wear boxers instead of the normal y-fronts, which would at least have put up some kind of resistance.

But of course, resistance is futile. Time to grasp the nettle and relieve some of the pressure, at least for a few hours until I could get home and head off to the sauna; my usual Friday night destination.

But seeing David with his smart white business shirt rucked up to his extremely suckable nipples, his beautifully tailored work pants crumpled around his shoes and his delightfully hairy bum stuck out and receiving what looked to be a good 7 inches of very hard cock, thoughts of saunas and other pleasures rapidly receded. 

Fortunately they hadn’t seen me arrive, secreted as they were in a small sorting area at the back of the room, and I was able to position myself behind a row of books directly adjacent to it, choosing a spot where my view of the show was helpfully camouflaged by some worthy religious tomes.

The show was a good one too, and it must have been going on for a while if the increasingly determined pounding of David’s arse was anything to go by. They were being comically silent (as well they needed to be) but stifled groans, moans and grunts still managed to escape their lips from time to time, adding to the moment; as did the rhythmic slapping of Simon’s balls against David’s arse and the moist squelching sound of his slippery cock as it slid in and out of that tight hole.

Meanwhile my cock desperately needed some attention, and when I unzipped my pants it sprang out like a wild beast released from a cage. It was slimey with precum, the foreskin already rolled back revealing the swollen purple knob. Grasping it firmly I began tugging, careful not to bring myself off too soon, in order to fully enjoy the rest of the performance.

Simon, clearly working himself up to a powerful climax, had lifted his faded check shirt to his chest revealing a hairy stomach, athletic but inclining to a slight paunch which suited me just fine. His jeans had dropped to his knees and I could just make out a pair of y-fronts resting on top of them, faded and worn and much loved. Yet another fetish object to add to my burgeoning hope-chest.

David, sensing his partner’s extreme situation, was pushing back against the battering ram with every thrust while Simon in a show of bravado was withdrawing his swollen shaft to the knob every few lunges before slamming it back in with a force approaching violence.

I couldn’t hold off any longer and felt my orgasm well up through my legs and balls before exploding with equal violence in wave after wave of thick pungent jizz. My body buckled and spasmed with each spurt and it was all I could do to keep myself from crying out in agony and pleasure as I continued to watch my two colleagues rutting like bulls on heat.

Their time had come as well. David’s cock, which had been limp and flopping about in a very pleasant manner while Simon’s business backstage claimed his attention, had hardened to the point where it looked painful. Without warning, save for a startled gasp, he started ejaculating thick strands of spunk (hands-free!) as Simon buried his tool deep within him and started pumping his own juice into his passage, only the slightest motion of his hips indicating the intense release occurring within.

They had both stopped breathing while their orgasms sucked the air from the room, and only after the spasms started to diminish could I see and hear their deep breathing begin again, as did mine.

Once it was over David rested his head on his arms atop the book trolley while Simon collapsed forward against his back, neither of them quite ready to break the connection. Minutes passed, not a word was spoken until Simon, rousing himself, kissed the back of David’s neck before straightening up and stepping back, allowing his limp cock to slip easily out of David’s arse with an approving fart. 

Pulling his jeans back up Simon dug into his pocket and brought out a handkerchief which he used to catch the dribbles of jizz leaking from David’s hole, a strangely tender act. He wiped his dick with it as well, before tucking himself back into his undies and fastening the studs on his jeans. David, straightening himself up, reached across and took the soiled hanky, wiping his own cock with it before pocketing it with a wry smile, which Simon acknowledged with a chuckle.

They left hurriedly, after an oddly shy kiss, adjusting themselves as they went. I remained motionless until I was sure that the coast was clear and then proceeded to put myself back together. Looking down to see what sort of mess I’d made I noticed that a wad of my spunk was dribbling down the spine of a leather bound volume, “The Tribulations of Faith: Muscular Christianity and Temptation Resisted” by the Rev. A.L Smallbone F.E.P.A., L.N.S.M. 

I could only wonder what the Reverend Smallbone would have made of this recent activity as I furtively left the scene of a temptation most decidedly unresisted.