Tonight I find myself among all those librarians affected by the massive layoffs around the country. It was a day full of extreme emotions. First the thrill from the video I evaluated for my investigations, which I'll transcribe here, finally the sudden termination news.
I drove home with my belongings in a cardboard box, threw myself on bed and breathed deeply. I couldn't help it: I lifted my skirt, pulled down my panties and my hands never went back up.
My left hand caressed my pubis hair and my right one slowly rested on this familiar spot of my groin. I had suffered some dampness between my legs all the way home, but now I was soaking wet. My fingers toyed all over my pussy with surgeon's precision. I left out no folds and revisited all those spots that made me shiver with pleasure. Two of my fingers explored my love hole. With all the juices I scooped out from the entrance of my tender vagina, I rubbed just above the fleshy hood noticing how fast my pleasure built. In no time I was out of control. When my legs stopped trembling and I recovered my breath, I stood up kind of dizzy and headed towards my kitchen.
After three most needed orgasms I was exhausted. With no prospects of a future, my glass of wine feels different. Yes, the government finally decided to close libraries: They are a waste during these times of efficiency; no one reads anymore. Publishing houses going broke at an alarming rate.
The official internal research concluded scrolling social media and poor education. We tried to promote reading at schools but even textbooks were no more. Meanwhile, interest groups had taken over institutions and led obliging crowds with their ideas. Our last guideline was a desperate call to do anything to bring people back at any cost. We didn't know they had already decided there was no turning back.
My predecessor, Edna, had been on sick leave for a year. After several temporary replacements she returned for some months and conducted some fine research before retiring. A long line of librarian generations in her family ended there.
When I joined, my goal was to raise campaigns to attract students. I worked really hard renewing full sections and getting out to engage with potential readers. I received devastating disdain, though. I also had to deal with those hate groups that wanted books burnt; they constantly tried to get me fired. Even one night, during one town hall assembly defending my position, I had to cope with a rain of rotten eggs on me.
I revisited official results. Being wary of statistics based on averages, I used the old data with more metrics and isolated interesting corner cases. Especially: avid readers whose habit had ended suddenly. Finally, after crossing results with the citizens register, I found that most were close to their dead-beds: illnesses, moving to elder residencies, etc.
There was this 46 years-old man's case though that captured my attention. His interview was in video. Thanks to new OSes tracking of deleted files, I was able to follow a document link into the trash folder. Frank X, we'll call him. I pressed play.
"All set." Edna warned. "Let me read through the details Frank: You signed the disclosure document. I'll use your information to help me with the survey results, but no contents from it will ever be released."
"Ok, I thought about this earlier. Are you sure? I'll try to be brief but..."
"Look, an advice," interrupted Edna, "don't worry. Act as if this is a visit to your therapist. My duty is just to extract reading habits conclusions."
"Even if sexual content?" he insisted.
"We're both grown ups. I won't judge. Seriously, don't spare anything."
This all sounded intriguing, so I reserved some time to watch it calmly. The following transcript is Frank's testimony. Judge yourselves.
VIDEO TRANSCRIPT
The very root cause of this Edna is that my wife and I have great sex, however she has difficulties coming. I know it's said to be common but, before it became an issue, we decided to work on a plan where she'd straddle me to try to find her ways to reach climax. Cowgirl allows me to control my enthusiasm better while she's in full command, so we thought it was a good idea.
She rode me on daily basis. She told me that things were improving and I had to be patient; something that's not easy with an erection. Some days we finished in other ways, other days we didn't. I remember having blue balls often.
But let me explain how come this relates to books.
Last summer, after our cowgirl sessions, we usually took a shower together and headed towards the library. You know our town hall has always ignored culture at large. As an example, this year the building's A/C stayed broken. As we spent tons of time there we are aware of how unpleasant it was.
The temp librarian was a friendly lady. We would chat at her desk. Me standing while she sat provided an astounding view of her ample rack. She was not a slim woman but had reasons to show off. She didn't, but the steamy room invited her to wear summer dresses with deep cleavage while she hid behind the desk next to an old fan.
One week, when we had had several visits in vain finding the building closed during working hours, we decided to ask. She explained that her mom was old, with health issues and no much help except hers. As expected, the town hall didn't offer any support, leaving her risking her job constantly with absences.
As we were regulars and loved it there we offered to cover her. That'd allow her over an hour out. She hesitated but was thankful and ended up accepting. It was a relief for her. For us, feeling like real librarians was a dream come true.
It now feels obvious that after several days observing how weird it was for anyone to come in and in the solitude of the place, adding our unsolved turn on from our earlier practice, and the hot temperature... Too many temptations: we started making out over there. As soon as our friend left, we hurried towards our favorite aisle. I'd be on the floor trunks down in no time, cock all hard for my wife. She'd simply roll her panties out of one leg. With her summer clothes up, her sweet pussy already wet as she sat on my lap impaling herself.
We developed a full plan. The entrance door was noisy so, in the weird case of a visitor or the expected case of our friend's return, we had time to go our ways. One would stay around while the other would casually go back to the counter. In my case, I'd wear two pairs of underwear to hide my boner. My wife concealed her erect nipples holding books over her chest. Sure we looked sweaty and red-faced, but the temperature of the building served as a plausible excuse.
The thrill of public sex had effects. In me, it'd be harder to hold back; indeed a couple of times I couldn't. She used to fill herself up grabbing my cock hard from the base so that my turgid erection became fully swollen. When she took her hand off and slid it all down inside her pussy, it was so tight that she would uncover the head, folding the foreskin down in a wonderful grab that was difficult to endure.
For her she confessed that she felt more on the edge. We swapped the home routine for the library hour but I could still feel her frustration. Later, when we made it home, she was desperate to get off. Anywhere, anyhow, it was amazing how wet she was for so long. Also, the sweat running down and dripping from the tip of her nipples or crawling down her belly coming from her underboobs and giving her shivers. I tell you she could endure a sex marathon and was really loving the tingles all over.
One day during time between the shelves I noticed a shadow. I got slightly worried but not enough to interrupt anything.
The following day the same happened. Later, when we checked out some magazines, I noticed a furtive smile from the librarian and started to suspect. Once at home, a note fell down to the floor as I opened my magazine. I picked it up and read the handwritten text: YOU'RE A SPLENDID MALE SPECIMEN FRANK, YOUR COCK IS GORGEOUS. XOXO
