The following story is more-or-less true. It takes place at a
Long Island-based university whose main campus is on a main road named
after a compass reference and whose admission policies are generally
concerned with confirming your pulse and checkbook balance. Not that
the place does not provide a good education, it simply isn’t known as
inexpensive or picky. The buildings are all brick except for the
really old ones and the roof of its student union once collapsed under
a snow load. Email me if you think you’ve guessed the answer. No real
prize, I’d just like to see how many people get it. You’ve already got
several big hints. Ten extra points if you know one additional hint
that would give it away completely.

Anyway, one of the neat things about this college is a good
large library. The library has stacks on several floors, accessible by
elevator or stairs. Most activity goes on on the main floor and
basement, although there’s a small steady trickle of people flowing
through the upper floors. The window perimeters of the top two floors
are occupied by small study or reading cubicles. Wooden roomettes with
latch able doors, a built-in desk, a loose chair and walls that start
about 1′ above the floor and end at a height of above 7′ above the
carpeted floor. The cubicles are about 4′ wide and 5′ long, maybe
less.

Oh, this is not fair. You’ve already figured out the whole
thing. Maybe I should just leave and you make up your own fantasy.

The year is 1979. I was an assistant professor in philosophy
and Molly was a senior, only six years younger than I. Molly was 22
and brighter than I’ve ever been. 5’6″, long brown hair and eyes that
spoke volumes. Small breasted, she usually went braless and often wore
t-shirts and Indian skirts. We were friends and lovers and although I
had a role in “corrupting” her (getting her used to working toward her
own pleasure instead of viewing sex as lying on her back and letting
some guy grunt in her) she was just as influential with me. I did
anything she asked. A woman who can start turning me on with her ideas
about balancing real life and the search for spiritual enlightenment
and end up later than night stroking my cock until I came on her thigh
is someone I cannot resist.

I was working in the library on a bright spring day, two weeks
before finals and one week before my publisher wanted my new paper for
peer review. I was on the fifth floor of the library, sitting in one
the study cubicles surrounded by paper, the story of my life, even
today. There were also volumes of philosophy of science, including
Kuhn’s The Structure of Scientific Revolutions.

I heard the door from the stairwell close in the background
and the very soft patter of feet. I had not been paying attention but
I didn’t think there were many people up there with me at 10 A.M. on a
Sunday morning.

Then there was the scent of jasmine and a rush slid up my
spine. Molly? I glanced out through the very limited field of view
outside the cubicle door and saw no one, the scent of jasmine seemed
to have disappeared. Or perhaps my nose had just become accustomed to
it.

I never saw the hand that grabbed my ankle from the adjoining
cubicle, but the laughing “Gotcha!” ended any doubt. The grip was
released after a few seconds and silence was quickly followed by Molly
standing in the open cubicle door. She paused for only a moment,
closed and latched the door behind her and straddled my lap. Warmth of
her body against mine, her arms loosely around my neck, awash in
jasmine once again. And that smile. And those eyes.

“And what happened to you?”

“You fell asleep last night after you came. I stayed curled up
with you until Terry got back and then I left the dorm room. It may be
1979 but I still think they frown on instructors being too obvious
about sleeping with students. I also think Terry’s a bit uncomfortable
about staying in the room with us.”

“Creep. I wanted to wake up with you in my arms.”

“Well, after finals you COULD move in with me.”

“Is that a proposition?”

“It was the first three times I suggested it, too. Rita gets
upset when she can’t curl up between us at night.”

“Your DOG just wants another set of hands to rub her belly.”

“Well, that too.”

“Let’s get back to the present, babe. You left me last night,
a Saturday night going into Sunday morning when you know, full well,
that you have gotten me into your An Orgasm or Three Every Sunday
Morning’ habit. Now, here it is, Sunday morning and – hey – no beard
in bed with me when I need him, his tongue, fingers and cock. She
laughed and threw her hair back, “Don’t push it, buddy, you could be
replaced with a machine. Panasonic. Hitachi.”

“Well, why don’t I just pack up and we can… ”

“No way lover. I’m much too far along for that. Right here.
Right now. That tongue is mine for the next half hour or so.”

We kissed, strong and deep, like two people who have kissed
often enough and care enough to know what each needs and wants. She
began to rub herself against me and rub the back of my neck and head
with her hand. My hands rubbed her back and reached down for her ass.

I moved a hand in front to caress her breasts and began to
nibble her ear. She moaned a “yeah” and pulled on my hair. Some time
later I unbuttoned the waistband of the Indian skirt and moved her off
of my lap, pulling the skirt off and draping it over the back of the
chair. We moved her onto the desk with her ass positioned on the edge
and Molly smiled widely as I hooked my fingers on the waist of her
cotton panties and slowly pulled them off. Still sitting in the chair,
I leaned forward to place my warm mouth on her mound.

She was already moist and fragrant. Without any physical
contact I started getting hard as my lips began to run up and down
hers. She leaned back as best she could, reached down for my head,
rested her heels on the edge of the desk and looked down at me as I
licked her pussy. I widened my tongue to spread her lips apart and
licked up and down the insides of her delicious slit. My tongue slid
inside, which caused her to stiffen, moan and tighten her grip on my
head. I moistened and then slipped a finger into her as my tongue
began to concentrate more on her clit. Rapid tongue strokes and steady
fingering. She was squirming and she draped her legs over my back,
sliding her soles firmly up and down my back.

Keeping quiet was not one of Molly’s strong suits, whether in
sexual or nonsexual situations. She was trying to muffle herself
considering where we were, but even that level of self-control
produced some quiet, but still memorable sounds. Particularly the one
she let loose when we heard the stairwell door open.

It was something like “Eeeepfh!” I had entered a state of LIBF
(Lust-Induced-Brain-Freeze) and had no intention of stopping. I was
into licking and fingering Molly’s pussy and nothing was going to get
me to stop except Molly. Both of us had, maybe 2% of our brains (the
rational parts) listening for voices and footsteps and the other 98%
was headed straight toward having Molly’s cunt grinding desperately
and involuntarily all over my face. I looked up at her and she seemed
even more turned on by this set of circumstances. Sure, SHE wouldn’t
get fired, just earn a confirmation of her rep.

Her lips were clamped together and I could tell she was trying
to hold off until the intruder left. Her nails were scraping off
pieces of my scalp and I couldn’t have cared less. I decided to up the
ante. I began to suck on her clit, something that Molly cannot
generally hold up under for more than two or three minutes, tops. Her
head snapped back and I heard her gasp, “Bastard,” she maintained a
thread of control.

Then, just like the camping trip three years before when I’d
awakened at 3 AM to hear a bear padding right past our tent, Molly and
I heard footsteps right past our cubicle. Looking up into her eyes I
couldn’t tell if she was going to crack up or cum. And just like the
bear which had trudged off into the woods, our intruder clicked off
down the linoleum floor to the sound of the closing stairwell door
behind him/her.

Molly’s vow of relative silence was immediately withdrawn and
she began laughing, crying and coming all at once. I dropped to my
knees and pressed my face against her pussy, using the bridge of my
nose to rub her, my tongue to lick her and a spare finger to slide
into her ass as she came.

She scaled one peak and seemed to leap off another, guttural
animal moans combined with laughing and the tears in her eyes. She
held my head hard and fast against her as she ground herself against
my face. Minutes later she slowed and then stopped, resting her legs
over my shoulders and petting/stroking my head as I continued to
gently lick and kiss juices from her pussy and the insides of her
thighs.

I looked up at her, the tension gone from her body, sweat on
her t-shirt, brow and hair. Her 155-IQ brain turned to oatmeal.

She reached down, grabbed me by my shirt and tugged to get me
standing. We kissed as she reached down to unbuckle my belt and unzip
my pants. She reached inside, said “What have we here?” as she tugged
to get my hard cock out of jockey briefs. She pushed my pants down
below my balls, grabbed my cock and started using it to rub her pussy
lips anew.

“You have plans for that?” I asked.

“Maybe,” she smiled.

I reached down, aimed and slid into her in one wet stroke. Her
arms went around my back, her legs locked around my waist and I wasted
no time fucking her. We gazed into each others eyes, pressed close as
we were, kissed and grunted indulgently. The cubicle shook a bit and
so did we.

She wouldn’t play fair either and reached down to squeeze my
balls. She looked into my eyes with her “resistance is useless” look
and whispered for me to empty my balls into her. I came shuddering,
pulled into her sweet gaze, and then her lips.

We left the library looking a bit sweaty and disheveled,
although no one seemed to notice. She said, “Now can we go back to
your place for orgasms two through four?”

“I didn’t tell you? I came once early this morning before I
got up to come here. I’m already up to two today for Sunday morning.”

“Creep!” she laughed as she gave me a dope slap on my head and
we walked to my car arm-in-arm.