Free Dominated by the Librarian #2: ‘Surrender to Please Her’ (male submission erotica) by Tara Jones Page A

described as “kinky “and even during the days she invaded my thoughts when I was awake, although I didn’t even want it to happened.
    And t onight, finally , I was going to see her again .
     
    I had deliberately waited a couple of weeks before I went back to the local library with my overdue borrowed book late a Thursday evening.
    Autumn had come over night to London and the October air was chilly as I crossed the small parking lot that was located next to the library.
    It was quite a nice library actually. The building was built in the thirties or so and located in the corner of a small park where children and d ogs used to play during daytime . Had it been a warmer evening perhaps a group of bored teenagers w ould have gathered to exchange kisses or cigarettes from each other, but as far as I could see, the park looked abandoned.
    I felt excited and even a little bit nervous, although I didn’t like to admit it.
    Would she be there? Would she be ashamed of what we had done? She looked like the kind of girl who would pretend that it never happened. And I mean if I was slightly embarrassed over the whole occasion, imagine how she must feel! After all, she was the one who started it and who more or less manhandled me and then –
    Well. And then she had simply forced me down and kept my hands behind my back and just fucked me ruthlessly right there and then on the carpet and clearly enjoyed every second of it.
    The mere thought about it made me stir and I felt myself stiffening as a reaction. I had to concentrate on breaking the direction of my thoughts before they started to wander off further and I began to think about how she had touched her breast, how tight she had felt when I entered her and...
    Get a grip, I told myself. Just return the book, be friendly and charming , and ask causa l l y if she wants to go and have drinks after work someday, I repeated to myself slightly annoyed with myself. Casually I checked my reflection in the windscreen of a small cream-coloured convertible Porsche that stood among the other sparsely numbers of cars. The library’s parking lot was shared by customers from the nearby Waitrose, so perhaps it belonged to one of them, I speculated.
    Clearly someone was compensating for something, I thought with a smirk and made a small mental comment to myself that I would never sink that low. In fact, I didn’t even own a car at all. And, well. Let’s just say there was a reason for that, which didn’t had anything to do with London’s unreasonably expensive parking space prices.
    I knew that a lot of women found me attractive and I liked to see myself as a young man in his early thirties, above average height, charming, and reasonabl y fit despite a stressful lifestyle. To my satisfaction my wavy brown hair still had the casual and slightly careless “The devil may care”-style that had taken me almost fifteen minutes in front of the mirror to achieve.
    I left the parking lot and felt my pulse increase with anticipation as I walked up the worn stone steps towards the automatic doors to the library. I checked my watch on my wrist. Five to nine. The library was only open evenings on Thursdays when it closed at nine o’clock.
    The library would close in a couple of minutes and if she was there, we would be alone. Perfect timing, I thought with a small smile and stepped through the doors.
     
    I entered the library and the instant I saw her, my heart skipping a beat or two.
    She was standing behind the counter with the back towards me, sorting through books on a low wooden shelf on wheels. A quick glance around the deserted library told me that we were alone, just like I had hoped for.
    The library had been threatened with close-downs several times due to the economical crisis, which of course had sparked an outrage by all the middle class people in the area who had gathered to protest and managed to save the library from being closed. I found it slightly ironic, since they or their