After Hours in the Archives
I never thought I'd be the kind of woman who got off on a secret. At thirty-two, I'd spent most of my adult life behind the reference desk at the university library, hair in a tight bun, glasses perched on my nose, voice barely above a whisper. Reserved. Professional. Boring, some might say. But no one knew about the silver barbell through my clit hood or the tiny hoops that decorated my inner labia. I got them on a drunken dare in grad school and never took them off. They were my private rebellion, a constant little thrill every time I crossed my legs.
Then Marcus started. The new archivist. Bold where I was quiet, with a wicked grin and tattoos peeking from his collar. He flirted shamelessly from day one.
"Hey, Elena," he'd say, leaning over my desk. "You ever get tired of being so buttoned-up? Bet there's a wild side under all those cardigans."
I'd roll my eyes and shush him, but my cheeks would burn. And my piercings would tingle.
It took three weeks of his teasing before I cracked. Last Thursday, after the building emptied, I found him in the restricted archives sorting old manuscripts. The air smelled of dust and aged paper, the only light coming from a green banker’s lamp on the long oak table.
"Marcus," I said softly, closing the heavy door behind me. My heart hammered so loud I was sure he could hear it.
He looked up, surprised, then that grin spread across his face. "Elena. You here to scold me for dog-earing pages again?"
I swallowed hard. "No. I... I want to show you something."
His eyebrows rose. "Yeah? What's that?"
I stepped closer, my fingers trembling as I reached for the hem of my pencil skirt. "Something private. Something no one else knows about."
He set the manuscript down carefully. "You sure? You look like you're about to bolt."
"I'm sure," I whispered. "But only if you use that talented tongue you keep bragging about."
His eyes darkened with hunger. "Fuck, Elena. You've been hiding a dirty side all this time?"
I nodded, hiking my skirt up to my waist. No panties tonight. I'd planned this. The cool air kissed my shaved pussy, making the metal jewelry catch the lamplight.
Marcus dropped to his knees right there on the archive floor like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Holy shit. Look at you. Pierced all pretty like that. How many?"
"Four," I breathed. "One in my clit hood, three along my lips. They make everything... intense."
He leaned in, breath hot against my sensitive skin. "God, you smell sweet. Like honey and old books. My two favorite things."
I leaned back against the sturdy table, gripping its edge as he parted my thighs wider. His hands were warm, calloused from handling boxes all day. When his tongue first touched me, I nearly cried out.
"Oh fuck... Marcus..."
He licked slowly along my outer lips first, tracing the little silver hoops with the tip of his tongue. The wet sound of it echoed softly in the quiet room. Each flick sent sparks racing up my spine.
"You like that, baby?" he murmured against my pussy. "These rings are fucking sexy. Bet they feel amazing when you play with yourself."
"Yes," I gasped. "I tug on them when I'm close. Makes me cum so hard."
He groaned and sucked one of the hoops gently between his lips, tugging just like I described. My knees buckled. I grabbed his hair, that thick dark hair I'd fantasized about for weeks.
"More. Please. Use your whole tongue."
He obeyed, flattening it against my pierced clit and dragging it up and down in long, deliberate strokes. The barbell shifted with every pass, sending jolts of sharp pleasure straight to my core. I could hear how wet I was getting, the obscene slick sounds mixing with my ragged breathing.
"Shit, Elena, your pussy is dripping down my chin. So fucking eager."
"Don't stop," I begged, voice cracking. "Lick inside me. Taste all of it."
He pushed his tongue into my entrance, fucking me with it while his nose bumped my clit piercing. The dual sensation made my thighs shake. I was moaning now, no longer caring if the night security guard might hear.
"Marcus... oh god, right there... suck on my clit. Hard."
He wrapped his lips around the hood, barbell and all, and sucked while his tongue flicked rapidly underneath. The pressure built fast, coiling tight in my belly. My hips started grinding against his face, smearing my juices across his mouth and stubble.
"I'm gonna cum," I whimpered. "Don't you dare stop. Please don't stop."
He hummed against me, the vibration pushing me over. My orgasm crashed through me like a wave, thighs clamping around his head as I shook and cried out. Hot pulses of pleasure radiated from my pierced clit, making my toes curl in my sensible heels.
When I finally sagged against the table, panting, he pulled back with a wet grin. His lips and chin glistened.
"Damn, librarian. You taste even better than I imagined. Think the archives have ever seen anything this filthy?"
I laughed breathlessly, pulling him up for a deep kiss, tasting myself on his tongue. "Not until tonight. But we're not done. I want that cock next. Right here on this table."
His eyes lit up. "Whatever the head librarian wants."