Lainey Loves Books

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There are no underage characters in this story. All characters portrayed are 18-years-old or older.


Lainey likes books. She loves them, actually. She loves everything about them. Their look, their feel, their heft in her small hands. She loves the soft worn canvas cover of the eighty-year old hardbacks in her grandmother’s collection. She loves the delicately decaying paper dust jackets of the novels from the sixties that gather dust on her mother’s shelves. And she loves, just adores, that particularly musty odor of paper and ink and stale air of times gone by in the stacks at the University Library. Many an hour has been spent wandering through them, aimlessly, adrift in in the oppressive silence and pungent rank that only exists in academic archives. She felt lucky to not only grow up in a college town, but to be the daughter of two professors, and so to have access to these catacombs of antiquity, and their quiet, potent voices from the past.

One of her earliest memories, maybe when she was four or five, is of wandering off from her father in the stacks, her tiny fingertips tracing the spine of each and every book she passed as she trotted down the aisles, mesmerized by their towering height and their endless corridors. When she was ten she would sit for hours alone with a book, off in some corner of these literary cathedrals, delving into unseen worlds. And when she grew a little older, when she started to come of age and her young body began to catch up with her mind, she discovered the incredibly moving power of a well-turned physical phrase. Nin, Lawrence, James, even Jong and Robbins, began to stimulate not only her thoughts but also her body. And the printed word, already a potent psychological conveyance to unseen treasures, became a corporeal pathway to pleasure as well.

She’s not exactly a comely lass, as the books would say. Lainey, who got that name at the age of four from her little sister who couldn’t manage the ‘E’ that came before it, much to her parents’ delight, was never a stand out of any kind, either by looks or by nature. She was a quiet girl, well behaved but keenly attentive, and always, always looking for ways to disappear or escape into her own imagination, to both hide from and rise above the ordinary. These escapes, as innocently as they started out, took her wherever the words would lead her. But once they transcended from the intellectual to the erotic as well, they began to lead her body as well as her mind, and her hands found a new way to occupy themselves between turning pages. She gradually came to realize it was easier to read in skirts, and so even being as plain and bookish as she was, she always dressed with a little flair.

By the time she was a senior in high school she was a regular at the graduate library, and the girls at the desk ¬- they were almost always girls – would simply wave her in with a subdued but cheery hello. Over time of course these undergraduates would come and go, but the primary staff remained mostly intact over time, and there was one in particular, Angelina, who had been working there since her graduate years from the time Lainey was little. She’d watched her grow up and always kept an eye on her both in a sort of protective way, but also as a fellow bibliophile, and she often gave her advice on books or topics she might be interested in. It was, in fact she who had surreptitiously pointed her towards the more mature content, because in Lainey she saw herself as a younger girl, one who would have enjoyed more mentoring than she’d gotten, particularly as she herself started coming of age. So when she started showing up in skirts around the same time, Angie had a good idea why. Introverted girls like her weren’t really interested in drawing attention to themselves, after all. She wasn’t dressing for the boys, she was dressing for herself.

Sure enough, Angie was moving through stacks one afternoon when she heard the slightest little whimper coming from only and aisle or two away. She stood stock still for a moment, hoping to here the noise again, listening intently for the rustle of clothing or perhaps the deeper grunt of male, because it wasn’t entirely uncommon to catch young coed couples having an adventurous quickie. But she heard nothing for nearly another full minute, when she heard the same soft whimper again, just over to her left somewhere. She dropped down a bit and peered between the shelves, and padded silently over a few feet; no one knows how to move soundlessly more than a librarian. And there she was, leaning against the books three aisles down, facing the opposite direction. Angie could barely make out the repetitive motion of her elbow, but knew instantly who’s it was. She listened for another few minutes, willing her to make another sound, but the girl was good, and perhaps well practiced, because the only other noise she heard was the sudden rush of a foot sliding across the floor, followed by a stifled gulp, almost bahis firmaları a choking sound. In her mind she visualized the young girl’s leg flexing forward and the full body shudder of orgasm, and she very much wished she could see more, but knew this time she’d missed the show.

It didn’t however, mean she couldn’t still go see her, and she waited a few moments for the girl to compose herself before she took a stroll over to where she was. She came around the corner as if she’d had no idea anyone was there and pulled up short in feigned surprise, smiling brightly at the still seated teen who quickly pulled her knees up and pushed a book behind her on the floor. Angie knew the book, and knew it well. Anais Nin’s Little Birds. It was an ancient hardbound copy nearly iconic, well worn and well-thumbed by countless freshmen girls for years on end. She put her finger to her lips indicating ‘Shhh,’ and gave her a wink, a deliberately vague gesture that may or may not have meant she’d heard her, or seen the book. Then she came over and squatted down to one knee next to her for an innocent conversation.

“What are you reading back here all by yourself?” she whispered, barely audible. She tried to lean in, wanting to catch a lingering whiff of her scent, or maybe find an excuse to touch her pleasuring hand. A subtle aroma of sex passed her nose, and she quietly inhaled as deeply as she could without being obvious.

Lainey blushed but tried to act indifferent. “Nothing really,” she whispered back. “Just sitting here enjoying the quiet, trying to decide where to go next.” She found her gaze being held by Angie’s, and was somehow unable to look away, partially to not betray her guilt, but also in noticing for the first time how nice her eyes were, friendly hazel pools that smiled around the edges. Angie noticed this and leaned in even further under pretense of being even more quiet, but also to inhale more of her piquant bouquet.

“Ok,” she purred, her eyes just inches from hers, “but try not to have too much fun!” She was struck with the urge to give her a kiss, but resisted, and instead placed her hand upon the girl’s knee as a way to boost herself back up to standing, giving her a soft squeeze before letting go and padding off without another word. Only as she turned the corner did she realize how wet she’d become.

Lainey sat there, frozen, watching the older woman walk away, wondering whether or not she’d been discovered. Angie’s comments seemed rather telling, but then she never really came out and said anything directly about it. So as her heart pounded from fright, she watched Angie leave, regarding her form without even realizing it. Part of her felt she’d just had a bonding moment, but she wasn’t sure how exactly. And another part of her was checking her out. She’s so much like me, she thought. Plain but cute, confident yet unassuming, and smart. Very smart. She’d been helping her out for years, and each time seemed to find just the right fit for what she was interested in. But now, now maybe she’d discovered her biggest secret, that she’d been masturbating in the library these past few months, almost every time she came in. Unconsciously her hand had returned between her legs, and she found herself once again rubbing herself through her panties. Only this time she wasn’t thinking about a passage she was reading. This time, she was thinking about Angie. And this time, she didn’t stay silent.

Angie was just about to leave the stacks when she heard it. The unmistakable sound of Lainey cumming. She’d heard it once already, and this time it was louder, so there could be no doubt, however short the outburst was. She stopped and thought for a moment, driven by two basic feminine instincts. The first was to help this girl from getting into trouble, to protect herself from herself so to speak, so that some oaf wouldn’t come along and find her with her skirt all bunched up and do who knows what to her, or just as bad, to say who knows what to whom. But her second inclination was almost at odds with the first. The second was to rush to the girl and join her, to seduce her. Her loins had been on fire and melting just from being next to her. But now, hearing her cum again, hearing it echo though the corridors, now she was weak-willed and aroused, and the sexual side of her brain was telling her to take action, and in that moment she became the second person in the room to discover her own hand on her own sex.

She thought for a minute or two, sort of half pacing in and out of the doorway, unwilling to leave but unable to convince herself to stay. Her mind was running through scenarios of how to handle it correctly, how to let her know she’d been caught without the irreparable damage of humiliation, how to coax her out of the bookshelves without being obvious, and where to take her, and for what purpose, after that. An idea finally occurred to her, and she checked her watch before walking back down the corridor to kaçak iddaa where she’d left her, although this time not quite as soundless. When she rounded the corner Lainey was hurrying to her feet, leaving the worn book on the floor, with a telltale look of guilt and apprehension on her scared little face. Angie’s heart sank knowing what must be going through her mind and how miserable she might be feeling, so she did her best to assuage her fears.

“Shhh! sh, sh, sh,sh,” she reassured, “It’s ok, sweetheart. It’s ok. Promise.” She could see the girl go ashen as her attempted words of comfort only verified her wrongdoing, and saw her lip begin to quiver. She put her hands on the girl’s arms and did her best to put her at ease. “You’re not in trouble. Not at all,” she said. “It’s just…, this isn’t maybe the best place for this sort of thing.” The girl looked up wide-eyed and uncertain, but calming slightly. “Come with me,” she said talking her by the hand and turning to go before stopping short. “Oh, we mustn’t forget Miss Nin on the floor here.” She reached down and grabbed the book, and gave the little hand in hers a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn’t leave her if the building were on fire.”

She led her back to the main corridor, then proceeded to wind and wend her way back into a vast labyrinth of official rooms and storage vaults, using her key card to move through the various restricted areas. She finally came to a tiny little office in the back of a larger room that had obviously not been visited in some time. Inside it were a desk, two desk chairs, and a quaint little couch. Angie clicked off the light in the main room and shut the door to the office, then sat in the chair next to the desk. Lainey just stood still near the door.

“You can stand there if you like,” Angie said to her, putting the book down on the desk, “but I’d take the couch if I were you. Much more comfy.” She stood still a moment longer, then slowly sat down in the middle of the sofa looking terribly sheepish and out of place. Angie’s heart again melted, but she thought she knew a way to break the ice.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?”


“Masturbating in the stacks.” Lainey’s eyes dropped, even as she processed what Angie was saying. “I used to do it all the time in high school. Just like you. I was a wallflower with a big imagination and an unslakable thirst, and I’d sneak off where no one could find me and get my own special relief.” The girl was looking up at her now, not as afraid, but still unsure. “When I was in college here I used to come down here a lot, no pun intended. Not here in this room exactly, but back in the stacks there, just where you were. I may even have had this very book in my hands at the time. Well, one of them anyway.” She eased back in her chair a little and spread her legs just slightly, her hand moving to the crux of her thigh, caressing ever so slowly. “I know lots of girls who’ve done it, and actually lots of them whom I’ve done it with.” She was pressing her hand against her mound in earnest now, gauging the young girl’s reaction. She was staring, breathing shallow, and her body had become taught and attentive, even as her hips twisted slightly atop closed thighs.

“Books can be such an incredible turn on,” she said, unbuttoning her pants and opening the short zipper, slipping her fingers down beneath the blue lace panties peeking through. “It only makes sense to me that you’d want to touch yourself with the right book, or among thousands of them for that matter.” She sighed and slid her hips further down her seat, easing a finger into her slit as she massaged her clit with her cupped palm. “So you see, Lainey, it’s absolutely right and natural for you to be doing what you’ve been doing, but at your age, you have to be a little careful where you do it, and definitely conscious of who might catch you.”

Lainey couldn’t really believe what was happening, but she was completely turned on by it. Watching this older woman, her friend maybe, masturbating in front of her as casually as if she was eating her lunch, telling her everything was going to be alright. She’d been wet all day long, and super aroused at nearly getting caught earlier, but this, this was a whole new world altogether, and a whole new level of sexual exhilaration. She was just waiting for her invitation to join in.

“I have to tell you, I masturbate every single day,” Angie continued. “Sometimes multiple times. Sometimes even here at work. Not often, but I will if the mood hits me. And I’ll tell you another secret. I’ve spied on the kids making out down here, either when they’re alone or in couples. I find it so much fun to watch when they’re completely unaware of an audience.” She took a few moments to stoke herself in silence, before adding, “But of course, it’s nice to put on a show now and again, too.”

She sat up on the edge of her chair and hooked her thumbs into her pants, drawing them down her legs and kicking off her shoes, kaçak bahis then sat back in her lacy panties and continued to rub herself in long slow circles. Lainey could see the neatly trimmed bush beneath her fingers through the fabric, and Angie reached down and pulled her panties to the side for a better view. Her fingers moved a little faster, rubbing back and forth across her clit and occasionally slipping inside two at a time. She knew her young friend was enjoying the show, and was surely dying to join in, but she wanted to cum for her first. She wanted to be watched.

“Reading is like watching, isn’t it. You’re looking in on someone’s world, watching all the things they do, however banal or extreme. Sometimes you’re even reading their thoughts. It’s the ultimate voyeur experience if you think about it. Unless of course you have a real live someone right in front of you who’s telling you their thoughts at the same time.” She was really panting now, breathing hard and heavy, and edging herself as she spoke in deep, husky tones. She stared at the young girl’s eyes, whether they were looking back or staring at her hands, and her brow began to furrow as the impending orgasm became a serious concern.

“Would you like to know what I’m thinking, Lainey?” It was a rhetorical question, but the girl nodded anyway. “Other than how soaking wet and on fire my cunt is right now, of course.” She let out a brusque moan as she held herself back, turned on by her own words. “I’m thinking about your pretty little body back there in the stacks, fingering and squirming to your tender little-girl orgasms.” Another determined gasp, staving off what was now inevitable. “And of how coy you are, sneaking in here, how innocently you act, only to be such a dirty little girl when you think no one’s watching. Mmmmmmm.” Cresting the edge now. “And I’m thinking as soon as I’m done cumming for you, you’re going to return the favor. You’re going to put on a little show for me, too, and maybe you’ll let me help…”

Her words trailed off and the orgasm crashed through her as her fingers moved in a blur over her sloppy wet cunt. Her body contorted forward in the chair, once, twice, and again as her legs lifted off the floor and her toes curled up as tightly as her eyes were shut. Mouth open wide and moaning, breath coming in gasps, sweat breaking on her deeply furrowed brow. The hand on her pussy stopped moving finally and just held still. Lainey watched as Angie shivered a few more times before slowly uncoiling herself in the chair, and gradually resumed a normal, seated position. After a few quiet moments punctuated only by Angie’s heavy breaths returning to normal, she looked over and smiled.

“I told you it was fun, didn’t I?” For the first time, Lainey smiled. “Ahhh!! There’s my happy girl! Now, why don’t you part those precious ivory thighs of yours and have some fun, too.”

Even though she’d just watched the woman at her most intimate best, and was in fact completely turned on and soaking her panties, she was nervous now that it was her turn. She put a tentative hand to her mound, but suddenly didn’t know how to move, or where to look, and all the eroticism seemed to leave the room at once. Sensing it, Angie asked,

“Would you like me to read a little something from Anais to get you started?”

“No,” came her tiny reply.

“Would you like me to come over there and join you?” The girl thought that would make her even more nervous, and declined again. So instead, Angie sat back and removed her panties, spreading her legs wide to idly toy with her swollen lips. “Take a look, sweetie,” she instructed. “Look at how wet you’ve made me.” She dipped a finger in and drew back a long dangling string of wetness. “I know this turns you on to see how pretty I think you are. How sexy your body is. Take a good long look. That’s it. Now close your eyes for a moment, and remember what you’ve seen. Good girl. It’s all still here for you if you want to peek again, but keep thinking about it, and touch that pretty little pussy of yours for me, because you know you want to. Perfect!”

Lainey let her head fall back against the cushions and pushed her fingers deep into her cotton panties. Angie could see them bend and press inward, then emerge again to move vertically along her slit, stopping now and again to circle her clit. She leaned forward in her chair and eased her way across the room, bottom less, bringing her warm half naked body closer to this girl’s.

“Mmm, that’s it, baby girl. Keep thinking about my soft, wet, warm pussy. Aching and hungry at just the sight of you.” She’d closed the gap by half, and knew her approach was noticed. “Think of my happy fingers sinking deep, deep inside me, wet and inviting.” She was on her knees now, slowly crawling up around her as she lay back on the couch. “Oh, yesssss! Such a good, dirty girl!” She put her hands at her waist but her eyes stayed shut. Angie slowly tugged at her panties, and Lainey’s hips willingly raised to facilitate their removal. “Mmmmmm, look at her! My god, she’s perfect? How do you ever leave the house with a perfect little pussy like that? Oh that’s right, you take her out to play.”

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