Tag: long post

This is part 2 of an TBD-part continual story!  You can check out part 1 here.  Thanks for reading!

Venice could barely breathe as she gently pushed the library’s heavy double doors closed and turned the deadbolt.  She stood on her tiptoes and peered into the nearly-empty parking lot.  Parents ran in circles, rounding up sleepy but determined youth shrieking about the library’s puppet collection.

The quiet, scholarly young man who had kept to his corner all evening caught Venice looking and raised the corner of his mouth in thanks.  His mane of curly black hair was almost irresistible, but she’d managed.  Venice blushed and dropped back on her heels, reassuring herself that the deadbolt was secure.

Now.  She took a deep breath, turning to face her library.  Shelves heavy with knowledge strained towards the ceiling, and the silence made her quickened breathing loud and obvious.  Tonight it was just her and her library.

Clever girl, she thought, crazy, stupid, clever girl.

Because it wasn’t really just her and her library, at least not for long.  She looked down at her watch.  Quarter after eight.  Just enough time left to straighten up and finish her day job, and then the real work would begin.

Tonight was the second indulgence.  Venice had spent a lot of time justifying the original act to herself—the first time was a fluke, a taste to drive her wild.  What she wanted now was a feast.  She wanted to be filled with cocks, with cum.  She was hungry and she wanted to sate her appetite.  This, she told herself, was just sexual release.  Just an exploration of her sexual identity.

She was not, she told the insistent little voice, a whore.

Her gaze fell to the stack of unpaid bills on her desk and she flushed with irrational anger.  A librarian’s salary was barely enough to keep the lights on.  If she did have to turn elsewhere for additional income, well—that was her business.  The little voice could go shove it.

She bagged up the trash and checked her phone.  She dumped all the paper waste cans into one and checked her phone.  One message this time, confirming the library address.  Her face hot, she pocketed the phone, heaved the trash over her shoulder, and scooped up the paper waste can on her way towards the back door.

Venice was just tossing the trash into the dumpster when the sound of a pebble kicked across asphalt made her whirl around.  She screeched as she stared through the shaggy black hair of the scholarly young man.

He threw up his hands, clearly realizing he had nearly traumatized her.  “Totally didn’t mean this to come off like it is right now.”

Venice clapped a hand to her heart.  “What, fucking creepy?  Jesus.  Only rapists and how-to-catch-a-whatever cops hide in the bushes like that.”

“I wasn’t hiding in the bushes,” he protested, but then dropped his hands to his sides with a half-chuckle.  “Okay.  This is not going better.  Let me try again?”

“All right,” Venice said warily, because she couldn’t deny the tingling his earnest face summoned between her legs.  She folded her arms and tried to strike an intimidating pose.  “Your best shot.  Go.”

Hiding his relieved grin, the young man approached with a hand extended.  His brown eyes barely glinted through his mop of hair.  “Hey.  I’m Tavis.  I stayed for six hours today because I kept looking at you.  I looked because you’re beautiful and you love books and, well, I’m a sucker for those things.  But I couldn’t get up the courage to say anything inside, so—I decided to gamble on your being attracted to creepers who wait for you to take out the garbage.  Again, that’s Tavis, and the number’s two-four-three, seven-seven-zero-nine, in case the, uh, the police need it.”

He stood sort-of grinning with his hand out.  In the twilight, he was irresistible.  Venice took a deep breath and giggled.  It was time she unleashed her own awkward demons on a stranger, come what may.

She took the tips of his fingers and shook them.  “A pleasure, Tavis.  I’m Venice. In a sec I’ll text you my number because I’m already rather fond of you, but you should probably know that I’m staying late tonight because I’ve arranged a gangbang in the archive section.  You’re welcome to join.”  She rushed through the last sentence with all the breathlessness and gravity of a child offering their greatest possession to a friend.

Now it was her turn to gaze solemnly, hopefully at the other.  Tavis’s head began to tilt slowly until he was looking at her at a 90-degree angle.

“Wow.”

“Wow what?” Venice said, snappier than she had intended.

Tavis raised his hands in defense again.  “Wow, I’ve never met a woman so brave as to actually live out her fantasies.”

“Oh.”  She dropped her guard, and with it the paper waste can.

“Now,” Tavis said, rubbing the back of his mop, “while I would love to be a stud and join you, what I’m actually facing is a two-year drought and probably the lowest self-esteem of my life.  Can I take you out on Friday night instead?  After your shift of course.  I wouldn’t dare take such a beautiful woman from her books.”

Venice was blushing furiously, and her now-free hand twitched towards her pantline.  “Yes,” she said, “you may.”

“Oh thank god.”  Tavis passed the back of his hand across his brow, leaving just a faint sheen under his hair.

He looked ready to say something else when Venice added, “But won’t you come in?  I mean—if this is how we’re going to start something, then maybe you should know.  What I do.  Sometimes.”  Venice’s mind churned.  She knew she could be ruining her best chance at serious stability, but—her newfound lust (and with it, courage) demanded that she be true to herself.

He hesitated.  She watched him process, biting her lip as he turned slightly to look at his dumpy pickup truck.

Finally, he sucked in his breath.  “All right. But promise me,” he said, trying very hard to be stern, down to the wagging finger, “that I won’t embarrass myself.”

“I can’t promise that,” Venice said, relief giving her the spunk to pop forward and kiss his cheek, “but I can promise you ought to have a good time.”

She led him through the back door.  In the half-light, Tavis caught her wrist and stole their first kiss.  Venice’s whole body lit up with heat as she returned it, sucking in his smoky breath.

—-

The others arrived almost together.  Venice sprinted across the library to answer the tandem knocks at the back door and found that the beefy ex-football player and the hunky construction worker were exchanging grunts about their alleged reasons for being there.

Furiously tucking her hair behind her ear, Venice pointed to each of them.  “You’re both here for the same reason.”

“Ahh,” the ex-football player said, his dark eyes sliding up and down her body as his equally dark hands rubbed together.  “Let’s do this then.”

The construction worker simply nodded.  Men of few words, Venice thought, shivering with anticipation.  She led them inside and to the archive section, where Tavis was sitting on the floor, a book spread across his crossed legs.  He leaped to his feet and offered both the newcomers a hand.

“Tavis,” he said.  They looked at his hand, at each other, then over at Venice.

“No names,” she said, wincing.

“Ahhh.  Ehhhh.  That’s my stage name.”  He grasped his crotch with a cheesy, toothy grin as if demonstrating the size of his package.  Venice dove between him and the newcomers and held his wrists.

“Shhhh,” she said.  “Just—they’re here to fuck me.”  Hearing herself say it aloud made the anticipation harder to contain.  “So help them out and just fuck the shit out of me, okay?  And I’ll tell you about my childhood and where I went to school and all of that stuff later.”  She touched his jawline with affection that shocked her with its strength.

Tavis nodded furiously and drew a line across his jugular.  “No talking.  Just humping.  Got it.”

Venice rolled her eyes with a smile and turned around, right into the grasp of the construction worker.  He raked his gaze up and down her body, her upper arms clasped in his sun-cracked hands, then he spun her around and slowly undid the zipper on her skirt.  Venice froze as his fingers explored past the thick black fabric to the insubstantial lace of her underwear.

Soon the dark hands of the ex-football player were exploring her pale legs.  Venice knelt down on the ground and presented her face to both the newcomers.  The construction worker flipped his dark hair out of his face as he slid his hard cock out of his pants.  He rested it on her cheek for a moment, then slapped her with it.  The black man did the same; they took turns leaving tiny stinging welts on her cheeks.

Venice slipped her hand past the welcoming lace and fingered herself.  She was already sticky and throbbing, and even a delicate touch made her spasm as the cocks slapped her face.  Abruptly, the black man grabbed her face and twisted it towards him, offering her the tip of his cock.  She flicked out her tongue and traced the circumference of the swollen head, her eyes rolling back to seek his approval.  His lip curled in response and he shoved her face away.

Out of the corner of her eye, Venice saw Tavis.  He was hunched awkwardly, sometimes shifting as if to move forward and join in, but every time he hesitated.  She desperately tried to catch his gaze; finally she did, and gave him as encouraging a smile as she could with a dick between her lips.

He moved forward, stop-start, stop-start, until finally he was close enough to press his palms to her breasts.  His entire body relaxed as if an electrical current had just been switched off and let his limbs be, and with a shuddering sigh he leaned into his newfound task.  He rolled her nipples between skillful fingers and soon Venice’s hand was working over time on her clit as she was yanked towards orgasm.

 She gasped for air and turned to take the other cock in her mouth.  The black man only let her suck that for a moment before he jerked her off her feet and laid her down on the ground.  Whimpering, Venice flattened her legs open, lotus-on-her-back, and was grateful for those yoga classes, somewhere in the back of her foggy head.

A huge cock teased her entrance with just its tip and she leaned into it, moaning.  It lingered there, stroking her to silkiness, then suddenly retreated.  Venice vocalized her displeasure, but was swiftly silenced as the construction worker swatted her face and then dropped a fistful of balls on her face.

Venice’s tongue swirled between them; she nearly gagged on the smell of Axe soap but was grateful he had showered.  Meanwhile, the cock tip had been replaced by a heavy pair of lips, mercilessly sucking her clit and mouthing her whole pussy.  A thick, muscular tongue dove between her lower lips and sought another orgasm, a wave made more powerful by the heavy palm that ground into her clit.

Again, delicate fingers descended and teased her nipples.  Venice arched her back, scrunching her face into wrinkled pleasure.  “Fuck me,” she said, breaking the otherwise wordless soundtrack, then realized they were alone and cried out, “Fuck me!”

Someone obeyed.  Someone hard and ridged and powerful, slamming into Venice’s pussy with the enthusiasm of a stallion.

Her eyes fluttered open and she saw Tavis.  But it wasn’t Tavis. The same mop of hair, the same brown eyes, but he seemed to steam with dark heat and a fiery single-mindedness that left Venice breathless.  She arched her feet, her pussy in the air, and he reached beneath her and grabbed each ass cheek in his long but assuring hands.  He hissed, and the air by her ears crackled.  Venice squeaked and wriggled into his crotch, grinding her nub into the coarse hairs beneath his belly.

She came so explosively that she vaulted off of his cock.  His hands were still on her ass.  Just as the lights began to dim in her vision, Tavis pulled her back down, smeared her juices downward, and eased into her ass.  A thrill lanced through Venice.  “Tavis—fuck,” she said.  Again: “Fuck fuck FUCK—”

He slid her up and down his shaft, and his ridges rippled pleasure through her ass so she could feel every fiber of muscle, quivering with readiness.  She opened her eyes enough to see Tavis stretching out his neck to take the black cock deep in his throat before the construction worker blocked her view, straddling Tavis to bring his cock down to her pussy.

His eyes, too, were brown, but they glinted with shards of sunlight from his hours outside.  His rough hands were not gentle.  He jerked her on his cock, disregarding the strain on her asshole, which sent rivers of ecstasy gushing down the dick deep inside her.  Three men moaned, each their own sound: throaty and angry; dreamy and determined; clanging and earthy.

Venice’s voice lashed across them all, culminating in a shriek that might have been a name.  Her nails curled like claws into the carpet and her spasming anus squeezed an orgasm out of Tavis’s rigid cock.  He gagged with the intensity and his throat made the black man come, his hand descending to palm Tavis’s curly head of hair.  The slick walls of Venice’s pussy swallowed the construction worker’s cock and coaxed free a hot load of thick cum.

Slowly, they sagged and extricated themselves.  Venice lay on her back on the wet carpet until she heard the door closed twice.  Then, in a tiny voice that shook out of her trembling body, she hoped out loud: “Tavis?”

“I’m here,” came his voice, very close to her ear.

She reached up without looking and found his hair.  Her knuckles collected his curls.  “Oh good,” she said.  “I hoped you wouldn’t run away.“