Nothing gave me a raging hard-on like the smell of old books. It had everything to do with a sexy encounter I once had in the library basement where I worked during the summers between college.
I’d often go downstairs on my lunch breaks to nap or read. One particular day, I sought out my secret spot, expecting to find it empty of everything but the tall stacks of non-circulating books that shielded from view of the rest of the room. What I found was the Frat Boy who shelved books on one of the upper floors. He had his naked cock in his hand. I’d walked in on him in the middle of jerking off.
Stunned, I did and said nothing. I just stared at the thick flesh that overfilled his big hand. Just when things couldn’t get more awkward, he shrugged and began slowly stroking himself again, in tight, slow movement that held me as captivated as a snake-charmer with his deadly snake.
He liked having my gaze on him. It seemed to make him harder, bolder as his seductive green eyes shot heat through me while he fucked his meaty fist. If it had shocked him that I wasn’t acting like the average homophobic male, he didn’t let on. I’d seen my share of wood up-close, but his cock was beautiful.
Watching him undulate his ass with each stroke, I knew he was putting on a show for me. Not wanting him to stop, I continued to just watch, my shallow breaths in synch with his short pants and intermittent groans. I felt my face flush as his pleasure continued to build in time to the thick, rhythmic sound of flesh hitting flesh.
“If you’re going to stay, come and make yourself useful,” he said through clenched teeth. “Come spit on my cock.” He said this as his hand picked-up speed, his dreamy eyes never leaving mine.
He was sexy as hell, standing there with his pants open at the fly, displaying his rock-hard erection to its best advantage. He was exactly the length and girth that I liked, especially the head of his big purple tip, that had begun to ooze pre-cum on his fingers.
Watching me watch him, he sucked air in between pursed lips in response to the pleasure building up at the base of his balls. Isolating his fist to pump over his engorged tip, his stroke was faster, more frenzied than the one he’d used for his shaft. The feeling had to be getting more intense because I could see his blue-jeaned ass and thigh clenching in response, which pushed his cock forward to me, as if in offering.
I knew then I’d take him in my mouth. I’d gaze up into his heavy-lidded eyes and watch his face contort with the agony and ecstasy of my hungry mouth attempting to suck him dry. And as his spunk shot down my throat, I’d celebrate the sound of his release. I’d bask in the musky smell of him and of all the old books around us, knowing that the sweet taste of him would ruin me for any happy ending I’d ever experience from a book. ■
2017 © ThePinkSeam
