The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

“Isn’t she pretty?” Julie whispered in my ear, “I wonder what she’s reading.” Her lips warm and intimate by my earlobe. “Do you think she’d like you to make love to her?”

We were in one of the more obscure sub-basements of the main library at the U, in the Medical Law archives. Julie was doing research for a paper, and I was keeping her company, dozing, and covertly admiring the young woman seated at a desk on the other side of the alcove. The archetypal pretty repressed young librarian, hair pulled tightly up behind her head, in a trim and paradoxically sexy grey suit and white shirt, wire-frame glasses. I’d been fantasizing about quiet bookish sex between her and the college kid who wheeled by occasionally with the shelving cart.

I grinned and turned my head quickly, to catch Julie’s lips with mine. She let me kiss her; her mouth, as ever, small and soft and sweet. Then she looked over at my librarian.

Feeling her gaze, the librarian looked up from her book. Polite and professional at first, a “what can I do for you, Miss?” look, her eyes gradually brightened and softened as they looked at each other. By the time Julie turned back to me, the librarian’s face was surprised, joyful, her skin flushed. “Go over and touch her,” said Julie very quietly, “she’d like that.”

I raised my eyebrows. Although the young woman had gone back to her book, I saw that one graceful hand now rested on top of the desk, toward us. As I watched, her forefinger extended, and then crooked, in one slow, obvious beckoning motion. For an instant her grey eyes looked up from the book and sparkled at me. I rose and walked to her.

I stood behind her, looking down at the top of her head, the shoulders of her jacket, her lap disappearing under the desk. She didn’t look up. Her hand moved off of the desk to turn a page of her book. I reached down and put one hand on her shoulder. She sighed the quietest of sighs, and her body shifted minutely in the chair. I smelled a hint of floral perfume.

In the alcove, the kid with the cart stood across the table >from Julie, transfixed by her eyes. He was a tall brown-haired boy, probably nineteen, like Julie. As I watched, Julie’s face lit up, and the boy leaned foward, lowering himself across the table like a dancer, his legs long behind him, his face close to hers. Slowly, they kissed.

I moved my hand along the librarian’s shoulder, up the side of her head. Her ear was small and pink, long-lobed, with a round silver earring. Her hair was soft and clean. I undid the clip holding it back, and it tumbled down around her face, over her shoulders. My skin tingled under my clothes.

Julie took the boy’s head in her hands and opened her mouth, kissing him deeply and passionately. His hands moved down over her body. The librarian turned another page. I ran my fingers over her hair, down her forehead, over her eyelids. She raised one hand to mine, and drew my fingers to her lips. One at a time, she took my fingers into her mouth, sucking each one gently into her. Her tongue was soft and warm against my skin, sliding along my fingernails. A low groan welled in my throat.

Julie was standing now, the boy still on the table, his head at the level of her chest. She grinned down at him as he undid the buttons of her shirt and nuzzled her small perfect breasts. He licked her nipples, and they came erect. He slid his hands under her shirt, behind her, and drew her body closer to him. His tongue was long and wet, playing over her skin. She closed her eyes and caressed his shoulders with her hands.

My librarian closed her book and turned her head, my finger coming out of her mouth, wetting her cheek with her own saliva. She turned and stood up, her body almost touching mine, and put her arms slowly around my neck. Behind her, the boy finished unwrapping Julie, and took her in his strong young arms. Warm grey eyes looked into mine, deep and elegant behind the glasses, the woman’s face happy but serious, her breasts and her left knee just brushing against me through our clothes. We moved our heads together, our noses touching gently, the clean flowery smell of her in my nostrils. We kissed lightly, softly, mouths closed and eyes open. I touched the back of her jacket, drew her forward an inch, and her body was against me, and our mouths pressed together completely, lips on lips, my heart almost painful in my chest. She closed her eyes, and her tongue came softly into my mouth.

An eternity later, she drew her face away from mine, smiling. Over her shoulder, I saw Julie, naked, on her back on the table among piles of books, her legs spread, her body open to the youth, grinning at him as he fumbled with his pants, idly moving her hands over herself and waiting for him.

My arms were empty. My librarian, hair disheveled floating around her like a halo, had picked up her book and was walking to the stacks. She reached up, her body lovely, and slid the book onto its shelf. As the boy moved onto Julie, his penis swelling proudly out from his body, the librarian turned, her back against the shelves, and looked me in the eyes. Slowly, she reached up and undid the top button of her blouse.

Julie and the boy made hot passionate love on the table, among the books, his muscular young ass clenching and relaxing as he pumped himself into her vagina, and she moaned and screamed and kissed him hungrily on the mouth. But I hardly noticed them, my eyes captivated by my bespectacled beauty as she slowly stripped, framed against the rows and rows of laden shelves. She undid the buttons of her blouse, and it fell open, baring her pink stomach and the innocent womanly white of her bra. She put her arms behind her and the jacket slid down and pooled on the floor, followed a moment later by the blouse. Her hands went to her hip, and she unzipped her skirt; with the movement of her arms, her breasts rubbed together deliciously in their cups. Julie came. The librarian smiled.

She stepped out of her grey skirt and out of her shoes. She undid her bra and let it fall to the floor, her upper body bare and simple in the light. She bent one leg, running her hand down over her hip and along her thigh to her knee. Her eyes were on me. She hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and slipped them off, down her long legs in grey sheer knee-highs. Then she stood, her arms behind her, looking at me, wearing only her glasses, earrings, and stockings. She smiled. Her breasts, round and upturned, with wide pink aureolas, moved gently up and down as she breathed. I swallowed. The boy, groaning and gasping, his long cock deep inside Julie, finally came, and they moaned together on the table, her small hands scratching down his back. My librarian held out her arms to me.

I don’t remember taking off my clothes or crossing the floor. I remember her skin against my skin, her eyes hot and eager on mine, the silken skin of her back and her ass against my hands. My penis, stiff and erect, trapped between us as we kissed, leaving a sticky trail on her stomach. My tongue in her mouth, she closed her eyes, and her body shuddered, her knees buckling. I helped her to the floor, and my mouth and hands stroked her body. She groaned, restraint abandoned, and writhed under me, her hands gripping my shoulders. I squeezed her breasts and licked her nipples; her aureolas were taut and smooth. My heart pounded, and I would have tantalized myself longer with the yielding surfaces of her body, but she pulled me over on top of her, pressed her hips against me, and slid her labia around the head of my cock. I let out a long helpless sigh of pleasure as she engulfed me.

Her eyes were closed and her head thrown back, the long pale curve of her throat bared to me. I kissed her neck and her jaw as she moved beneath me, my cock swelling and throbbing within her. Her hands moved to my hips and my buttocks, caressing and pulling me violently deeper into her. I thrust gradually harder and faster, and her mouth opened and she moaned, and her glasses slipped off of her eyes and up her forehead. The smooth slick walls of her cunt squeezed my hot rigid staff, her legs wrapped around me, her body beginning to convulse. I slowed down, holding her on the edge of orgasm, tweaking her nipples with my fingers, and then slamming into her, pushing her hard over the edge, and her fingernails dug into my flesh, and I kissed her mouth and sucked on her tongue, and we both came, came long and blissfully, intertwined, helpless, gasping, transported, hot semen spurting into her and her juices soaking our skin. She wrapped her arms around my head and held me to her, warm and quiet and still, the odors of love mixing with the smell of old books.

Julie and I came out of the elevator in the lobby and walked toward the doors, though the big crowded marble room. “How do you DO that?” I asked her casually. She stopped and swung around in front of me, arms loosely around my neck.

“I don’t DO anything. It was what they wanted.” Then she drew my head down to hers, and whispered almost inaudibly, “Sometimes there are just a few chains I can loosen,” and she kissed my mouth, and her eyes were deep and trackless, her lips sweet and soft and maddening, and I fell into her and loved her and died.

Then she let go of me and stepped back, her grin impish, and we went out to Sandwich King for dinner.