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By (user no longer on site) OP
over a year ago
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It is a truth, widely acknowledged by women, that a man in possession of manners might secretly be very rude ...
I bastardise the words of Jane Austen, but after what's just happened to me in the Library, how could I resist?
I was spending the afternoon reading an article on the sudden explosion of interest in Gothic novels at the time when Ms Austen was doing her thing. All those heaving bosoms, all those tender maidens, caught up in the evil clutches of various cunning Dukes and dastardly lords. All those blushing virgins receiving some very rough treatment...
I began to speculate on the kind of affect that these misadventures might have been having on their nineteenth-century readers ... I knew only too well the affect they were having on me. My imagination was swelling with pretty pictures ... A young woman, standing barefoot in a muslin nightdress, alone in a gloomy tunnel, wondering breathlessly which new tunnel beneath the Count's castle she should now take to escape his evil clutches ... He is coming, she can hear his footsteps, his torchlight begins to creep and flicker across the damp, mossy rocks of the tunnel walls, closer, closer ... .
It is usually at this point that the hero of the hour steps in, all shining sword and glistening goodness, to rescue both the fair maid, and her virtue, just in time ... . D'oh.
It is to be wondered if the heroine felt anywhere in her white, nubile body even an atom of disappointment at this outcome. If she felt it, the reader would surely feel it too.
Reader, I envied her. Another bastardisation. But as I sat there at the desk, the sun streaming in through the Library window, I was aware that my legs were parted and that I could feel a coolness against my snatch that could only be attributed to wetness. Wetter by far than those tunnel walls.
I grinned, suddenly aware of the glorious side benefit that my research had delivered. The fresh, musky perfume of my cunt was making its way towards my nostrils and this turned me on even more. As I sat there, I began to construct my own ending - the one in which the evil - but tall, dark and emminently fuckable - Count catches up with fair maiden, turns her unceremoniously against the wall, puts one long arm roughly around her throat and proceeds to ...
The phone vibrated at my elbow. It was my friend. My good and clever friend come to rescue me just in time. The text read 'Where are you? Are you still working? I'm in the city and I need to fuck you as soon as possible!'. I grinned again, more broadly than before. What expert timing!
We like to construct our encounters around a particular vibe sometimes, especially when time and tide mean that we may not have long together. This was one such occasion.
The phone buzzed again. 'What's the story?' What else could it be? 'Steamy Gothic!', I replied.
I stopped daydreaming about the fictional and turned my mind to the actual, that lovely fuzzy pre-fuck warmth beginning to filter through my blood. I packed up my stuff, leaving the phone in my hand so that I could await instructions from my Lord. Not a word was to be said face to face. He was outside the building, just walking in and I was to walk into the loo at the back of the Library cafe ...
I went in, closed the door behind me and waited ...
Twenty seconds later, a single knock and I opened the cubicle door to see him standing there, looking emminently fuckable, with an evil gleam in his eyes ...
He reached out and closed the long fingers of his big right hand around my throat and steered me backwards into the small space. He stared at his victim for a moment, his face utterly straight. I was too excited to manage a smile. My whole body was tense with lust and fear at the feel of that controlling hand.
He let go and turned me against the wall, pushing my face against the mirror over the sink. He was now starting to breathe hard as he closed in behind me, wrapping his arm around my throat with just enough force to make my own breathing thrillingly difficult! His breath was hot against my ear as he pushed my legs open with his knees and wrenched up my skirt. His breath became ragged as he forced three fingers deep into my cunt and felt the pearly slick of juices that had been collecting there for an afternoon ...
My own breath was now struggling to keep pace with the banging of my heart as he withdrew his fingers, unbuttoned his jeans and pushed his long, hot, massively hard prick right up into my aching tunnel in a single, vicious stroke. He steadied himself, put his free hand to my left nipple and pinched, making me want to cry out, but I'd barely the breath! He reached for the right nipple and rubbed across its erect surface through the fabric of my shirt, tenderly at first, as he soothed my cunt walls with long, slow strokes. My face was pushed against the mirror as he fucked me over the sink, picking up the pace, beginning to slam me, deeper and harder as he increased the pressure on my stinging nipple. He watched my reflection, watched himself banging the breath from my body and into steamy clouds on the mirror glass against my open mouth.
If the pain and pleasure searing through my nipple was anything to go by, he was going to blow any moment. That extra pre-blast hardness in his cock, slamming up and up into my hole now had me coming like a son of a bitch and I gripped his rigid length with the spasms that were shaking my dripping insides. He began an animal groan, deep and hoarse and I could feel the throbbing of his cock as he loaded shot after shot of cum into my trembling cunt.
He slumped against my back as I slumped over the sink, both of us exhausted with the force of spent lust. We stood for a moment, breathing hard, neither of us saying a word, thrilled beyond words by a very dirty, wordless fuck.
Just before he sneaked out of the cubicle, he stood in front of the mirror, blocking my view, and wrote something on the condensation as I tried to regain some composure. Then he left with a wink.
I looked at the mirror, and grinned at my flushed reflection through the single word he'd written there. 'Ruined!' Xx
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Cali x