Author: Technopeasant PM
A close encounter between two lonely readers at the local public library; warning, when I say mature I mean it! Seriously, read the introduction first please!Rated: Fiction M - English - Romance/Hurt/Comfort - Words: 5,526 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 7 - Follows: 1 - Published: 05-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3025265
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
By Graham L. Wilson
First written with gedit 2.28.3 on Fedora 15.
Initially written between May 12-16, 2012
Edited and re-formatted in LibreOffice on August 24, 2012.
Copyright (c) 2012 Graham Wilson.
Permission is granted to copy, distribute and/or modify this document under the terms of the GNU Free Documentation License, Version 1.3 or any later version published by the Free Software Foundation; with no Invariant Sections, no Front-Cover Texts, and no Back-Cover Texts. A copy of the license is included at this link: . #TOC1".
Introduction: I debated with myself for over a week and a half about whether or not to publish this - I had no intention of doing so when I wrote it, not due to shame but rather guidelines. However, it occurred to me that all of my other work was classified as 'teen' and this would be as good a way to break into my 'adult' life as anything else. I agonized over the definition of 'explicit', mortified by the possible implication that it would favour slang over anatomically correct terms. Finally, I decided to publish it with this notice: I mean no offence, and this is meant to be a sweet story about two lovers rather than anything explicitly pornographic. Erotic yes, but not porn. Should I receive complaint from the admins, I will section off the relevant pieces (with notes that I will send them to anyone who asks), but for now I will stand by with the view that it is properly Mature and not Mature Adult. I mean, they persecute M fiction on here in the search listings, so I find the whole thing rather hypocritical to be honest. Though I admit, my coming of age was not a particular landmark for me in this way as I have never believed in censorship - particularly on the grounds that sex is certainly not worse than violence (not to mention, I am tired of either meeting people younger or older than me here, and this might be somewhat more 'anchored' perhaps).I also do this in solidarity with my fellow writer Shelby Jacobs, who has provided me with much guidance, both for writing and living, despite our numerous differences. However, I do repeat: I will act as any admin may later command me, even if others do get away with more. I am a good boy... I am a good boy...
Note: what is it with me and steadfastly refusing to name my characters in short stories when I feel I can get away with it?
Editing Note: As can be evidenced by Test Stress, my worries later evaporated. Still...
She placed her book back down onto the table and glanced around at her surroundings. They were just about the same as they usually were, and that comforted her. She did not like anything that set her off her routine. She enjoyed the reliability she could depend on in her old trusty public library. She sighed and rested herself against the backrest of her chair. With a flick of her hand, she brushed a few loose strands of her brunette hair back over her shoulder. Enough of this, she concluded, more reading. She glanced back down at the open pages before her, only to have to use her middle finger to scoot her glasses back up onto the bridge of her nose. Assured of her surroundings, she allowed herself to focus deeply onto her text. It was a good story she was reading, and she wanted to get herself as immersed in it as possible.
She succeed to such an extent that she did not hear the footsteps leading out from the bookshelf aisle beside her, and so she did not notice the man turn the corner, books under arm in a bag whose strap he gripped tightly in his hand, and head to a table a few ones down from her. She had long since become able to isolate herself completely from the other patrons of the place, not that this really proved to be too much of a challenge most of the time. No one came here to read really anymore, other than her. No, as long as she stayed well enough away from the computer area, filled with Asian teenagers watching YouTube, she could be assured of a quiet spell to herself. It was her perfect sanctuary - away from the ridicule, the jibes and the mockery. Still, she could not claim that she was utterly at peace with herself, even here. Thus the topic of the book she was reading, even if she felt ashamed for allowing her addiction to such silliness.
The novel reached its passionate climax, and the two lovers held in a deep embrace. She read the relevant few sentences a few times in a row, allowing them to ring around through the front of her mind. She then closed her eyes and imagined the scene, as if she was standing before them. A calm pastoral land, the sun shining and everything nice and tranquil - and the young couple enjoying each other's presence as only the newly in love can. She attempted to call up the feeling, though she had no prior reference to call from her own life. Still, the imagination of a lonely soul can be quite powerful, and she was soon caught up in her own fantasy. When she did finally open her eyes, she found to her embarrassment that she had her two arms around her chest - mimicking a tight embrace. She hastily separated herself, and spun her head around in semi-circles to check whether or not anyone could have observed her having been wrapped up in her thoughts as well as her arms.
Only one other person was in this stretch of the library, and he appeared to have been too busy reading his own book to have noticed her. She tried to tell herself this, but to very little avail. So she sat, again against the backrest, her cheeks glowing red feeling like a complete and utter fool. "See, that is why I never get anywhere like that" she thought to herself. Deciding that she had for now had enough of daydreaming, she sat up and tucked the romance novel up against her bosom and headed to return it to its shelf. After that, she headed off to the reference section to look up something hard and serious to try and lull her out of her emotional spell. Selecting a book on botany, an old interest of her's from long before she ever thought of boys, she started to make her way back.
The man was still sitting at the table reading his books, though she noticed that he had moved on to another entry. She had to walk past him to get back to her to own table, or else retreat back into the labyrinth of book shelves. "No" she told herself, "I am not that much of a coward." So she took in a small breath, hoping that he would not hear her, and started to head past him. Along the way she could not help but observe the titles of the books he had, and she was quickly surprised by the variety. From technical books, to science, to mystery, speculative fiction and visual novels. This guy had a wide range of interests, she concluded. He started to turn, startling her and causing her to skitter off towards her table in what was probably an undignified rush. He kept his head up, staring into her direction, but she did not turn around to face him. She felt too terrified to.
Finally she calmed herself down and sat again into her familiar chair, and tried to pretend that this was like every other day at the library. One of those many excursions in search of text and solitude that had punctuated her young life. Unfortunately for her, she knew full well that this was not one of those days. She did not feel like herself, and she was not getting much of a feeling of solitude. He made no attempt to make his presence further felt, and just kept on reading his books, but he still made her heart pound in her chest. For as long as she could remember the only men she had seen in this section of the library had been old enough to be her father or grandfather, and he was the first young man she had ever seen down here. Worst of all, he was obviously decently read. She could not help herself but to think about him, trying to think up a way to say hello that did not make her feel like she was about to pass out.
Eventually however, fate intervened and he pushed himself up against the table and onto his feet. Alright, she concluded, that was that. He was getting up to head home, her opportunity had come and gone. Ah well, perhaps that was for the best. She would only have tripped up over her own words anyhow. So sure in her mind that he was going, she did not realize that this was not the case until he was but a few strides away from her and her table. Startled, she looked up.
"Yes?" she squeaked. The man frowned.
"I could not help but notice the feeling of two eyes on the back of my head" he said. Oh uh...
"Sorry" she muttered, "I did not mean to offend you."
"Did I say that?" he asked. She shook her head.
"No..." she moaned. He slid the book away from her grasp and into his field of view.
"Botany" he observed, "interesting..." She allowed herself to raise her head just an inch higher.
"You think so?" she inquired timidly. He smiled at her.
"Indeed, it is nice to see that there are some bookish people still out there."
"Heh" she chuckled, "I thought so when I saw you." He grinned.
"Oh?" he replied, "And what did you notice?" She regretted saying anything now.
"All sorts of things" she elaborated, quavering, "do you read all of them?"
"No, hard to find that much time" he declared, "but I do try and keep myself open to everything."
"That's good." There was a brief moment of silence, and she attempted to regain some semblance of composure.
"You come here often?" he asked eventually. She nodded.
"All the time" she confided, "I am used to being alone though."
"Well, I hope my presence has not disturbed your sense of routine."
"No" she lied, "of course not." He placed a hand on her chin, and raised her face up.
"You don't have to stare down at your book." She blushed an even deeper hue.
"I did come here to read" she considered, but he did not retract his hand.
"I could not help but notice you were reading something else before..." he remarked.
"Is that so?" she returned, not sure what to be expecting at this point.
"Do you come her to leave people, or to imagine them?" he asked. She was taken aback.
"I don't know what you..." she stated flustered, desperately trying to bring her head back down. He held her chin steady, his grip surprisingly strong. Eventually she stopped trying, and let her neck relax. He grinned again, but finally released her.
"Sorry" he imparted, "but I just wanted to see what you'd do if you could not hide in your book again."
"This feels like a book" she noted, "you can not possibly be real." He nodded.
"Alright" he agreed, "then there is no reason to fight it." He placed his hand back under her chin and brought her face up as he leaned down and kissed her. The sensation of his lips against hers radiated throughout her body, a tingle that was felt down to the tip of her toes. He held her like that for a while, with her merely letting him continue. A reader has no control of the story in a book, and so she just let events run their course as the author intended. He pulled his head back, and observed her as she opened her eyes and licked her lips to try and get rid of the quiver. He then took her hand and hoisted her up and standing. "Let's go find somewhere more private" he said to her, to which she could only continue to blink and gape. He lead her away into the rows of bookshelves, until they found a far corner of the building that was utterly surrounded save for where they had come in.
"I..." she began, but could not come up with the words. He put his back against the corner walls and faced her directly.
"If you do not feel comfortable" he declared, "you may leave, I won't stop you." She shook her head.
"No" she decided, "they never back away in the books." He smiled at her, and she found herself smiling back.
"I had been hoping to give you a good dose of reality" he imparted, "you seemed to be in need of it."
"You have no idea" she agreed, as she looked him up and down. There was a reason that it had taken her so long to ascertain his age, as there were a few aspects of him that had thrown her off. He was quite tall, and she could at best only reach over his shoulders on the tips of her toes, and his face was stark and rough. He lacked the loose soft skin of adolescence, and instead showed more as someone who had been through a lifetime already. A man with a lifetime for a girl with no life, it seemed to work. He could feel his eyes making a visual inspection of herself, from the top of her brown covered head, to her shining blue eyes and small nose. Down over her chest, which was presentably small but well formed, and on either side thin pale forearms. Down her tiny waist and over her skirt, to her bare shapely legs and even down to the white socks and sneakers on her feet. It felt weird to be the object of admiration, even if only physical.
"You are honestly telling me that there are no other men after you?" he asked, edging closer and wrapping an arm around her waist. She shook her head, and placed an arm onto his thick shoulders. He leaned forward and kissed her again. His other arm came around her in a rapid succession and she soon found herself enveloped into his embrace. He flipped her around and now she found herself supported against the far wall, as he pressed himself against her. There was no alarm bells going in her head, it felt natural, it felt right. It was about time that something like this happened to her, she was now eighteen years old and all she had ever done was read about it. He pulled his head back and away from her face to gauge her feelings. She smiled at him, and slid her free arm against the small of his back.
- Warning: here is the part that may be cut off if I am ever told to -
"Take me to 'reality' or a 'fantasy' or wherever" she stated, "I want you to take me there." He stared at her for a few moments, surprised by her sudden change in tone, by her sudden confidence. He did not know at this point what would constitute as overstepping his bounds, as he had already been fairly bold with her already. She had just seemed so lonely, and he had wanted to try and make her realize that she was not on her own. He had not honestly expected to have gotten here so fast. However, he, like her, held no regrets about it - it felt right. He kissed her again and slid his right arm away from her upper back and onto her shoulder and then let it go down. She reached out for his hand and slid it over onto her belly, and he could feel a sudden primal urge to move either which way - up to her breasts above, or down to her private parts.
He did not know what to do, he could not tell how serious she was. This shy girl, this complete and total loner, had somehow managed to turn the tables on him. He was no longer the seducer, as he was enthralled by her sudden forward manner. Of course, that was the secret - she had daydreamed this moment for so long that now that it was coming true she felt like it was a dream fulfilled, while he was still caught up in his 'reality'. He decided to let go like her and just let things continue, and so reached up and grabbed her right breast and squeezed it in his grasp. She shuddered, but made no means of protest. He tightened and loosened the fleshly mass in his hand, his mind ignoring her blouse and bra. She leaned her head back against the wall, and the top of her blouse thrust itself up to him. He let go of her breast and started to unbutton it gingerly, tenderly motioning the cloth around each button. Even so, he soon found himself faced with pale flesh and white lace.
She felt him slide his hand into her bra cup and scoop her breast out from within, and then hoist it up and place her tender nipple into his mouth. He suckled her like a newborn baby, and she could not even begin to describe the experience. They never quite mentioned this in the romance novels, even the more adult ones she had guilty glanced upon. She slid her hand onto his chest and let it fall down along it until it reached right down onto the bulge of his pants. She let it hang there, over it, as she suddenly could not contain a deep long moan as he sucked her harder and harder. As she reached her loudest, he steadied his efforts and brought her back down from the peak of erogenous euphoria. He brought his face back up high enough to match her's again.
"This the place you had in mind?" he asked, but she shushed him by tugging the elastic of his pants and pulling it down underwear and all. What was before her now was a sight she had never witnessed before, a sight she was not supposed to see. His erection thumped upwards into the air, and against the fabric of her blue skirt. She gripped her hand around it, and felt it over - it was warm, and hard and soft all at the same time. He closed his eyes and simply let himself focus on her attentions as she pulled her hand up and down along the shaft, it growing larger still. Eventually she had gotten it so long and had gotten him grunting so hard that she knew that if she continued he might burst right onto her then and there. She thrust her head back up, and stared him in the eye.
"I get the feeling this is new for you too" she observed, and he grinned.
"Well, I will admit I was not expecting this." She grinned back.
"So what now?" she asked, feeling a little stupid to have to say it. He shrugged.
"I don't know" he stated, "but I am really wanting to fuck you." She nodded.
"I know" she replied, "I have been kind of leading you that way." He unbuttoned the final bit of her blouse and pulled it away from her, letting it flutter down to the floor. He gripped the lace bra and slid it down onto her belly, revealing her bare bosom to the world. She smiled at him, feeling completely at peace with his motions. "We're inverted" she chuckled, causing his brow to tighten.
"How so?" he asked, not expecting the comment. She tapped his protruding tip with her forefinger playfully.
"I have my shirt off, you have your pants down" she explained, to a small smile on the edge of his face. He placed his hands on her shoulders and pulled her down to the ground. The bookcases towered above her, and the shadow of his erection fell down onto her face from the dim fluorescent light above. Did he want her to suck it? She did not know if she was ready for that. It was one thing to let him suckle her and for her to take it in her hands, but it just felt icky to put it into her mouth. To her relief, he crouched down to her level and faced her. She watched him with intense curiosity as he crawled back a few steps, and slid his hands up her legs and under her skirt. She felt him tug the elastic of her panties and pull them down to her ankles. The only garment on her now properly was her skirt, and that was not the most conclusive of clothes.
"Are you ready?" he asked her, to which she could only blink.
"Shouldn't we..." she began, "we should protect ourselves." He frowned.
"Do you see a condom anywhere?" he asked, "I need to fuck you, you're so amazing." She shrugged.
"This is a dream" she stated, dismissing all realistic considerations. A foolish thing, but she felt safe. He pushed himself forward on his knees, with his penis in his hand, and slid it under her skirt. He pulled his hand back and spat on it, before placing it onto her already excited vulva and smearing it with his saliva. That alone got her going. Slowly he induced it to open up further and so be ready to take him in. It came into her slowly, precisely. It was not painful, as she had first imagined, but different. She had never felt anything like it before. It dug further up into her crotch, and she felt as if she was completed by his presence. Finally it came in as far as it would go, and he held it in there for a moment and stared into her darling blue eyes. She smacked her lips, and released a whimper of satisfaction as she focused on the plugged feeling she had down below. He knew she was ready then, and so he started to pull back and thrust. Over and over, faster and faster.
Everything was a blur, as they writhed and groaned and moaned. All the past sensations built up into something greater, something grander. He kept driving in and and out, letting himself build up. She could feel a bubble of pleasure start to amass within her, and her entire lower body ached with it. She let herself release one continuous vocalization, culminating in a screech as she orgasmed. Moments later, as she still burned from within, it ended as he thrust back just in time for him to cum down onto the rear of her skirt. With him still panting, she finally opened her eyes again. It took him a while to catch his breath properly, and so she simply spat onto her hand and rubbed it down onto his still perfectly hard penis before talking again.
There, that was not too hair raising was it? -
"Thank you" she breathed finally, "that was wonderful." He frowned.
"I should not have done it" he said, "I very nearly couldn't control myself." The girl chuckled.
"Did I ever say that I wanted you too?" she stated cheekily.
"I am not going to get you pregnant." She leaned forward and kissed him.
"You're not, relax, just enjoy the moment - they never talk like that in the books."
"I am starting to wonder about those books of yours" he commented, returning the favour and pressing her back down onto the ground. She let herself go limp against the ground, her head pressed up against the wall. Her breasts pressed into the folds of his shirt, and his erection writhed among the fabric of her already soiled skirt. She did not mind any of it. He pulled back and eyed her adoringly.
"I am sorry for making such a mess of your evening" he expressed, looking down at her legs guiltily.
"You are a funny man" she chuckled, "just put it down to animal instincts." He pulled himself up and rolled up his pants and underwear, once again the respectable young gentleman - just a sweaty shaken gentleman. She rolled her panties back up her legs and around her hips, and then accepted his outreached hand to pull her back up. They kissed again for several moments standing, with her protruding her left leg out in imitation of any number of her read upon heroines. She used her right hand to pull her bra back up over her mammaries and fit the cups back onto their targets. He then helped her button up her blouse.
The spectacle was complete: nothing had ever happened. Unfortunately however, both of them knew that was not true. On her rear was a wet stain, encrusted through with patches of white semen. She blushed as she noticed him staring, and grabbed the far fold of her dress to tug around it - causing the front of it to pull and ride up against her knees. She blushed further, her shame returning to her at last. He smiled and ran a finger over the tip of her knee, causing her to giggle, letting go of her skirt again and having its folds form a distinctive pattern over his hand. Still, the problem remained.
"What are we going to do with you?" he asked, "I would hate for you to look like you wetted yourself."
"I'll be alright" she stated, though she was nervous about making her way to the exit.
"No" he replied, "I think I have an idea." She blinked at him.
"Oh?" she asked, "What are you thinking?"
"I'll go first and scout if the coast is clear, where we can avoid people we will, where we can't I will cover you."
"Elaborate" she noted, "but so sweet of you." He nodded.
"I clear up my mistakes." She shook her head.
"For the last time: no mistake." His mouth twisted.
"Alright" he conceded, "no mistake." They kissed one last time. "We'd better get you out of here."
"Okay" she frowned, sad for it be to be over, "I'll be alright once I get onto my bike." He nodded, and turned and started walking away, staring out around the corners of the aisle of books. He gestured for her to follow, and so she did, keeping a safe distance behind him. She felt a bit like a secret agent, which only added to her pervasive feeling of absurdity about her situation. So things continued, until for once the coast was by no means clear - not that either of them had expected it to be. This was the tricky part - they had to get past the main lobby and out the door, to where her mode of transport, and modesty providing seat cover, should hopefully still remain. He gestured for her to get behind him, and so she came close and wrapped her arms around his waist.
"I did not mean that close" he noted, and she smiled.
"I did" she replied directly. He glanced over at the ways they still had to cross.
"You are going to have to stay behind me, as I take up most of the view." She nodded.
"You really are sweet - no one probably would have noticed anyway."
"I owe this much to you." They kissed, one last penultimate time, before the final operation ensued. He made his way, striding confidently and with purpose past the outer chairs inhabited by idle readers or those listening to recordings on compact disk through earphones. He had gotten a few steps ahead of her before she remembered something important, something critical to her future.
"How will I know..." she started, before realizing and quickly lowering her voice. He spun around to face her, also eyeing to ensure that they had not been noticed. "How will I know how to find you again?" she half-whispered. She did not know if he heard her exactly, but he winked and waved his hand in the air dismissively, which gave her the impression that the matter had already occurred to him and he had a plan. That made her feel more secure, and so she started making her way, with him the main spectacle, past the chairs, the surrounding racks, the front desk, the bar-code scanner and then out the push doors and into the parking lot.
She had been so focused on making it out the door that she quickly lost track of him, and had already made it to her bike and had started to unchain it before it occurred to her to look around. No luck, he was already long gone. Oh well, she felt for sure that he would return to her life soon enough. She finished freeing her bike, set her damp rear onto the seat and started peddling off into the gloomy evening air back home to her house, and to a shower and change of clothes. This was also her usual routine, but far more significant than any other time she had done so in her life - that was the way she felt, this was her life improved. She fell asleep that night with more peace than she had in years, without first reading one of those books of hers. She had no need for fantasies now.
Her initial optimism had faded somewhat after he had not returned those first few days afterwards, and she had gone back to her usual solitary routine: first her fantastical romances, now cutting into her with potent memory, and her hard cold factual books, which instead only made her think of his pointed intelligent eyes. Why had he just abandoned her like this? First to make her burn for him so thoroughly, and then to not even properly say goodbye? What had it been that he had thought she had said? Oh, what did she care anyhow? She did not need him - she had her books. She always had her books. So she went back to her reading, after one last desperate glance over her shoulder. She had lost her virginity for nothing, and nothing was ever going to correct that. She flipped another page, trying to forget. It was then that she heard the scooting of a chair and the thud of a book bag landing on her table. She raised her head, wide eyed, to see the face that she had so wanted, and yet now dreaded, to see again. He grinned at her.
"I told you that I would find you" he explained, "a creature of habit like you." She glared at him.
"It did not need to take three damn days" she growled, "I thought you had left me." He raised his hands in the air.
"I can not make it out here all the time" he stated, "but it did not matter: I knew where to find you."
"Alright" she muttered, turning another page, "whatever..." He frowned, before pulling something out of his book bag and sliding it towards her. She lifted her eyes to identify what it was. She took it up into her hands and flipped through a few pages: it was a book of pictures, pictures of roses and other flowers. She lowered it and finally smiled at him widely.
"I thought it would be more appropriate for you than the real thing" he observed. She reached out and took his hand from under the table.
"Okay" she grinned, "I forgive you then." He nodded, his eyes darting away guiltily.
"I had hoped so" he began, again going for his book bag. What on earth did he have in there this time? It emanated a plastic crinkle, causing her eyebrows to shoot up her face in confusion. This time it was him who was blushing, as he retracted his hand and again slid an object towards her side of the table. It was a small white plastic package, with circular outline. He smiled nervously. "Up for a rematch?" he asked, "With the proper equipment this time?" She said nothing, as she knew that nothing needed to be said. She got up out of her chair and pulled him up by the arm and lead him out and away eagerly. Yep, again that confidence had returned to her again... that was the result of facing reality for you - to overcome doubts. This time it was not until a half hour later that the two 'readers' returned, sweaty and shaken, but without any other concerns in the world - you could not learn everything from books.