In the Library ?

( An absolutely true story )


In 1964, I was 17 and a freshman at Land of Lincoln Institute of engineering. I was not doing particularly well in my work even though I had graduated top of my course of instruction from a technical high shoal in Chicago. As I remember, I had three John Major problem : 1 ) I was a commuter bookman. One and one one-half hours on the bus and `` L '' ( rapid theodolite ) each way, from home plate to school. Classes from 900 to 1800 left little prison term to learn or sleep. 2 ) Chicago 's college preparatory high school schools ( an all son high school at that ! ) left me ill prepared to handle the numerical severeness needed in engineering school.3 ) Last and probably foremost was my compulsion with sex. When my mastermind was on sex the amount of learning that went on was near right-down naught. Oh sure, I had lots of sexual experiences, but still a virgin where it mattered, at least to me. I dated to no avail. My girlfriend that I fell madly in dear with over six months, upon commencement, left for a western college, never to be seen again. I fondled fair sex and girls on the bus and wagon train, they must have known mus n't they ( ? ), still no luck, I tried to pick up a hooker, with no car, I was almost laughed off the street. Yeah, at 16 I had gotten so preoccupied one dark that I had sex with 4 guys, and after that, even tried to earn a few redundant bucks selling myself. What a calamity ! Whenever, sex took over it seemed like I lost all control. I was like a nut when it came to sex ; once turned on I could n't resist. I was attracted to little girl and charwoman, I was n't attracted to men. However, it seemed guy cable were attracted to me. I think my tall, fragile chassis and feminine facial features were somehow creditworthy for that. Guys grabbed my ass at some of my summertime caper, or sometimes made verbal overtures about getting together. No thanks, I was n't worry, I wanted puss ! Boy did I ever ! I 'd spend time of day at the arcade and adult book fund on due south Wabash, getting my dose of porn. Women sucking, char fucking. I was going out of my mind.

I left the `` HUB '', a low forward-looking building, housing the cafeteria, auditorium, and worldwide social areas. This is where student congregated when not in socio-economic class. An avant garde art appearance had just been hung on the walls and one art object in peculiar was causing quite a splash. At to the lowest degree, it did for me. The deed of conveyance was called `` Blow Job '' and it was a bleak and white picture, probably 8 foot on a side, depicting film negatives that showed the details of female person lips and tongue sucking and licking a penis. The strips were horizontal, overlapping and at angles. Each frame depicting another front, like seeing a movie underframe by frame. I could n't take my eyes of it. Trying to classify and segregate each frame of reference in my minds eye. My erecting became obvious, tenting my release fitting slacks. I used my arm to agitate it up. near to have a puffiness than a collapsible shelter. It started to become obvious I was spending too often time standing there looking at one icon, so I regrettably forced myself to pull up stakes. The study was later removed due to too many complaints.

It was inhuman outside and I was glad to get into the library. It was always warm, almost too warm. The subroutine library was my refuge. Quiet ! No distractions. I could get my study done, charm a few z 's, and fantasize without disruption. I remember the bathrooms were unclouded and the dividers, red. People would write piffling distinction on the wall and sometimes just the Holy Scripture or crude drafting would grow me on so practically that I had to masterbate right there. The building itself was a Bodoni font raised single floor, designed by Bruno Walter Netsch, I believe, in a very Miesian style. Mies Van der Rohe had designed several of the buildings on the campus and the passkey plan for IIT facilities. On the south end was the IIT student library, the northerly end was the John D. Carrar ( ca n't remember the exact spelling ) business supported engineering program library. That was my front-runner as it was less populated and I usually would n't run into anyone I knew there. The center of the libary was adminstrative agency and the circulation desk. Gray windows encirlced the entire edifice. You could see out but during the day they appeared Shirley Temple Black from outside. Along the windows were the individual chairs and desks for patrons. My limited speckle was the last desk against the west paries. Behind that desk was the rampart of the adminstrative offices, to the left the Windows, to the right, wrangle of shelving for periodicals. Tall black building block crammed with reference stuff that it seemed cipher cared about. At the end of the book raft, probably 30 feet east of my desk was an aisle leading to doors for the adminstrative agency. Along the former position of the aisle a Natalie Wood wall. You were n't supposed to sleep in the library but if you stayed out of sight nobody really bothered you and this desk was the most secluded in the library. I put my Samsonite briefcase on the desk, took off my darkness green courdouroy coat, and collapsed into the hot seat. There were only two people on my position of the program library. One about 7 seats from mine and one completely at the other end. Stretching my wooden leg out, I rubbed my prick principal through my falling off with my pollex thought process of the `` Blow Job ''. Why was n't that me in the house painting ? How amount I could n't get any pussy ? I mean I was n't bad looking, tall, blondish brown hair's-breadth, pocket-size boned frame of reference, sort of precious human face. Was I wierd or something, was I not aggressive enough. Was I too aggresive ? I saw girls throwing themselves at guys who looked and acted like shit. What was I doing wrong ? I could n't get that oral cavity out of my mind, sucking, licking. I leaned forward, putting my arms on top of the briefcase and my brain resting on them. I needed to sedate down, I needed to rest, I dozed off slightly.

I felt the tap on my right field berm. I jumped, sitting up. Was individual objecting to my sleeping ? I was groggy. The person tapping me was an Oriental guy in a yellow sweater and jeans. He was probably Formosan, and I remember his font was rather dour and ashen looking.He was about 5'5 '', and quite fragile. He put a folded up paper in forepart of me on the desk. I looked at it but had no idea what it said. It just looked like some numbers. I looked up at him, and shrugged my shoulder joint, handing it back to him. I assumed he could n't speak english. He just stood there like he had asked me a question and was waiting for the answer. I shook my head and shrugged again. He took as footfall closer. My gaze dropped from his face and I could tell he had an erection straining against the tight jeans. I quickly looked down, my hand grasping the edge of the desk. I was shaking slightly. I knew I should n't but ..., he now moved from somewhat behind me to next to me. I was now looking right at his member outlined in his jeans, what was I doing ? My right helping hand left the desk edge like I had no ascendence over it. I slowly reached for his cock, I could only gaze at my hired hand now grasping his denim feeling the shaft within. It was fond and business firm, I squeezed gently, rubbing its entire length. I kept asking myself, `` what are you doing ? ``, but I could n't contain. My fingers grasped the zipper tab and slowly pulled it down, the fly parted, exposing his shaft inch by inch. I wrapped my long thin fingers around the shaft and freed it from its containment. I stroked slowly up and down its distance feeling the warmth, and smoothness. My finger slowly rubbed the thickess of its glans. I watched my script stroke, rubbing, his cock getting more engorged with parentage, responding to me. He reached over and unlatched my briefcase opening it so that it provided a barrier to anyone in front of us. I held onto him, I could n't let go. It was at least 6.5 column inch of hot, hard, smooth, beautiful cut stopcock. I wanted to be the painting, both penis and sassing. My head word moved forward, my rim pressed against the end. He moved toward me, pushing his legs against the desk, closing the gap between my briefcase lid and his body. My lips parted slightly, I felt his cock slipping against my backtalk, from the sleekness of the slam, up to the duncical rim of its principal. I could n't think I was doing this, but I wanted it, needed it. My tongue rotated around the slick head of his cock, licking the crease from the rim to the puss, up and down. Then lowering my head I moved my sassing up and down the jibe making exquisite sexual love to this phallus. I could n't get enough. He reached down and lowered his cock so that it was sticking straight out at me. I looked up into his optic and he nodded as my brim parted and his dick head slipped into my sassing. My natural language kept encircling his knob, a small amount of precum oozed from the snatch and my natural language was there to houseclean it from him, tasting him. I thought about what I was doing, could someone see us, what would happen if we got caught ? I still could n't stop. I slid him deeper into my oral cavity sucking hard. He moaned. My lips were sliding from the tip to almost the substructure of his dick while I sucked it like an all-day sucker. Saliva was making him wet and keeping me swallowing almost continually. His hips started to rock back and Forth and I could feel the tension in him building. My forget hand was holding his hawkshaw with two fingerbreadth, keeping it in line with my mouthpiece, the former was squeezing his left ass cheek, pulling him into me.

'' Yeessss ! ``, His hands grabbed the top of my head and held me down on him as he pumped cock deep into my oral cavity, spasm after spasm of hot cum shot into my lip. I could taste the salinity, the alkalinity, I could smell his cum and I loved it, I could n't get enough. The for the first time two spasms and hot cum and his cock filled my mouth. I swallowed, both ! My backtalk were now pressed against his zipper. My throat closed tightly around the read/write head. Spurt, jet, spirt. I could feel him throbbing against the inside of my mouthpiece and my lingua. Thick cud of cum splashed against the back of my pharynx. Trying to accept and breath caused my throat to contract bridge, pulling at the knob lodged there, milking it. I was getting out of breath. I slowly backed off, sucking and licking every last juice off that beautiful prick. He looked down at me as I licked the remaining cum from my back talk.

'' semen ''

He took my coat off the dorsum of the chair and handed it to me to put on and had me stand between the Word racks. He went down on his knees and parted the coat as if somehow that was going to keep people from seeing what was happening. He started kissing my fork, rubbing his face into me. I felt disgusted, my erection melted. He unzipped my slacks and pulled my flacid phallus from my underwear and quag. I looked up, the door to the office opened and a girl walked down the aisle. What if she looked over here ? What if she saw us and reported it ? She did n't, but I was scared shitless. He was now stroking my non-erect penis.

'' Why so smarr ? '' he sounded so disappointed I was diminished. He started to kiss and wipe my peter across his nerve. Yuck, just suck the damn thing, I thought.

'' Scared '', I whispered, `` what if some one sees us ? '' I started to draw out away but he quickly sucked me into his mouth grabbing my ass nerve with both hands and pulling me toward him. `` aaahhh..ohhhh ... .just suck it '', was all I could muster.

'' MMMMMmmmmm '', he sucked for only a few seconds, and I could feel my physical structure start to shudder. I was cumming and I was n't even raise yet. I pulled back and the cum stab out hitting him in the face and squirting onto his sweater. I was embarrassed. He leaned forward again sucking me into his back talk until the sexual climax subsided, swallowing all I had to founder.

'' It 's on your sweater '', I said feebly, trying to get the cum off his sweater, with my fingers. He grabbed my digit and licked them clean. I wanted to go, had to get out of there, I could n't stand it, I felt humiliated. What had I done ?

I stuffed my penis in my slackness and zipped up, I grabbed my briefcase and headed down the next gangway over. I was moving as fast as my leg could take the air. I did n't even see a guy standing in the aisle until I almost bumped into him. `` Hi '', he said as he turned toward me. He was a big, older guy in a top coat and suit and he was holding his cock. Then it dawned on me, he was jacking off watching us. buddy, what was the world cumming to ?