Author’s Note: I got so horny writing this! This isn’t a personal fantasy of mine, but it was at my husband’s request, and I always do right by him. I went right into the mindset of a girl who would want to be fucked like crazy at her library, and there she was, ready to let me peek into her fantasy. Please enjoy Venice’s story and tell me what else you want to know about her so I can write her future chapters!
Venice ran her finger up the bridge of her nose. It was pure habit – she’d abandoned her clunky librarian glasses years ago, after the laser surgery, but it was as ingrained in her as her adoration of books. She kept an eye on the three shuffling young men who had just entered and were drifting towards the dusty archive section. One was white and looked a lot like her kid brother, with blonde hair and freckles; the other two could have been twins, their dark skin absorbing the light as they vanished beyond where she could see them.
Trying to perfect her disapproving librarian stare, Venice stood up and scanned the library. There was a graduate student in one corner, dutifully spread-eagled across her homework, but otherwise the building was empty. With a sigh – she could never leave well enough alone, and she knew it – Venice sidled away from the desk and made a beeline for the archives.
She had to navigate a bit of a maze to find them, but at least she found the trio, lounging against the shelves in a tight half-circle. She cleared her throat. “Excuse me. Can I help you find something?”
One of the twins raised a hand in greeting. “Hey, suga’. Got a quiiiiet little corner back here.” He dragged out the I so the pinch in Venice’s gut tightened and drifted lower. Without thinking she rested her hands on her hips, just above the line of her slacks.
“Yes,” she said, then cleared her throat because three pairs of eyes belonging to three well-built, good-looking, inevitably well-hung men were boring into her. “Ahem. Yes. I do. And I want to keep it that way, so what can I help you find?” She tried to stand taller, but all 5’5″ of her was minuscule in comparison to the bulk surrounding her.
They shifted closer, and Venice felt her heart in her pussy, its throbbing ever quickening. This was something she’d barely let herself admit she’d dreamed about. This was one of the deepest, darkest fantasies she had, one she’d never let surface, even in her open relationship with Ken. That was long gone, and she hadn’t been fucked properly in months (though there was that one hipster at the bar, but he’d been laughable), and – their eyes, their stances were very clear. They wanted her.
All of them.
She realized she must have conveyed the same with her gaze, because they backed off just a bit now and a ripple of knowing laughter ran around the circle. Venice’s cheeks burned and she ducked to peek out into the library. All was still quiet. On an impulse, she dashed out towards the door and flipped the sign: “Out, Back Later, Will Return in One (1) Hour.” She turned the lock, too. The grad student had dozed off and did not even stir.
Venice darted back to where the men were waiting, her fingers working to unbutton her blouse. By the time she returned, her shirt was off and dangling at her waist where it was still tucked into her slacks, and both the twins had their cocks out. The white boy was still unzipping his jeans, but soon three sizeable dicks were waiting in a circle for her.
Barely able to breathe, Venice knelt down in the center and reached for all three, two with her hands and one with her mouth. Her lips closed around the nearest twin’s cock. He tasted like baby powder and cheap cologne and hungry sweat. She was readying herself to take him deeper when he grabbed the back of her head and plunged into her throat.
Venice gagged uncontrollably around the mass of pulsing flesh. She tried to pull away, to breathe, but he held her there by the hair. Even as she blinked away tears from the blow, Venice could not deny that she was turned on. More than turned on: she was unleashed. She clamped her teeth gently around the cock and tugged without moving, just using her neck, and was rewarded with a satisfied sigh from the man. Her hands kept working when she remembered to move them.
Finally he let her go and she turned to his brother, closing the distance with small steps of her knees. His hair and flesh smelled the same, but he tasted wilder, woodier, like a room that has been opened to a forest. He was less violent, so she was able to gaze up at him with her wide brown eyes, thrilled when he smiled through the contortions of pleasure.
Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and someone roughly undid her slacks, yanking them down her legs. The twin she was blowing dove both his hands into her bra and released her tits so they swung brazenly when she moved. Her ass was pulled into the air and her hands hit the floor. It was the white boy behind her; he even moved like her brother, swinging with every step he took. He positioned himself behind her while the twins shoved their cocks in her face. Venice frantically licked them both, back and forth, while the third cock hovered at her entrance.
Then it was in her ass, not her pussy, lubed by a wad of spit the white boy dropped just before he pushed inside of her. Venice could have screamed as guilt and pleasure overcame her, but her inner librarian squawked, “INSIDE VOICE!” and she muffled it against the carpet. As he slammed into her, the white boy grunted. The twins chuckled under their breath. One knelt down on the carpet and offered her his very erect cock. Through her tears, Venice reached for him and sucked hard. There was no recovering now – she was lost in the adrenaline.
With a final heave, the white boy came in her ass, his ill-cut nails digging into her sides. Venice arched her back and took him as deep as she could, having to catch her breath as he popped out and sat back, hard. The twin in her mouth yanked himself free and wrenched her around so he could delve into her pussy. He was massive, but compared to the ass fucking he felt like a dream. Venice let herself fall into the rhythm, focusing only on the sound of her bare thighs slapping his.
The other twin tipped her chin back and made her open her eyes. “Yeah, take it like a bitch.” He was grinning, his teeth very white in the dim light. Venice opened her mouth and he slid his cock inside, holding her head so he rammed into the back of her throat. She was skewered from both ends – now a third place, as the twin behind her slid his finger into her lubed asshole. He wriggled it vigorously as he increased his thrusting; as if on the same wavelength, his brother did the same. Venice was completely filled. The pain was excruciatingly wonderful. She knew exactly how brutalized she would feel tomorrow, and all she wanted was more.
She came, uncontrollably shaking and writhing against them. The cock in her mouth squirted first, gushing warm and thick down her throat. Venice swallowed obediently and gasped for air, her hips convulsing as the finger in her asshole pumped with the ferocity of a vibrator. Then the cock in her pussy hardened, pulsed, came. The twin shoved her away and she was left in a shivering heap on the floor.
Above her, three pairs of jeans zipped and buttoned. Three pairs of Nike tennis shoes clunked past her head. None of them said a word. Venice did not dare lift her head. She wanted them to leave before she stood and collected what remained of her dignity. She stared almost unseeingly into the row of archived books, and it was only when she realized she was reaching to put them in the correct order that she knew she would be just fine.
Shakily, she stood and dressed. Her legs would not hold her, so she hobbled back to her desk and sat down with relief. Blood pumped in her lower extremities and she could hear her heart in her ears.
The grad student raised her head, wiping drool from the corner of her mouth. She caught Venice’s gaze across the room and smiled. “Quiet in here,” she said.
“Yes,” Venice said, her hand slipping into her pants and touching her engorged clit. She was already reminiscing, a coy smile on her trembling lips. “Quiet. Sure.”
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 heaving 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 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—”