“I work here in the library,” I said.
“Swell,” she snarked. “Want me to help you shelve some books?”
“I had to put some things away in the recording studio a while back,” I said, snaking my arm around Beth again (after double-checking once more that the coast was still clear). “Ms. Sarniochi gave me the code to the lock. I think I still have it in my phone.”
We barely had the presence of mind to grab our laptops and other stuff from the table before we hustled into the seldom-used back stairwell and from there down to the basement.
The recording studio is a small room in the basement of the library. A minor rock star who was an alumnus had gifted the school, out of the blue, a complete, modern, professional recording suite. It had been fun my Sophomore year when it had arrived and there had been a faculty tempest over where to set it up, and how. Finally, they had relented and let some of our more musically gifted students install it for them.
The equipment was installed and stored in a locked room in the back of the basement of the library. At nine o’clock on a Wednesday night, there was simply no way there would be any faculty ‘drive-bys’ in that dark, locked space.
I did still have the code. The door opened and we slipped in, closing it behind us. I checked that it was now once again locked.
I had no more turned to move into the room when Beth’s hand snaked around from behind me and once more into my pants. My hard-on had in no way abated as we ran downstairs, and her fingers curled around me again. “Now this is more like it!” Beth exclaimed. I just moaned.
Beth slipped her hand free again and pushed me back to lean against a table. “At last, I get to see this legendary monster,” she giggled.
“Legendary?” I asked skeptically.
“Well, the three of us may have had a discussion or three about whether to believe you after you dropped that ‘innocent’ little comment about not knowing everyone didn’t have donkey cocks. We decided that it wasn’t in you to pull off a lie like that.”
“What is it with all this?” I complained, briefly derailed from the thought of Beth’s mouth. “I’m not some kind of circus freak.”
“I would very much like to be the judge of that,” Beth snorted. “Show me.”
“Show you?”
“If you want me to bend down and snork your cock into my mouth, lavishing all my attention on it for a good long time,” Beth said with the silky-smooth evil of a succubus demon in her voice, “you will take that penis out and show it to me.”
“Wow. Uh. Okay,” was all I could manage. I fumbled at my fly, unzipped, and shoved both slacks and underwear down to my ankles. I straightened.
“You are a circus freak,” Beth said breathlessly.
“What?!”
She giggled, getting down on one knee in front of me, “In the best possible way. Don’t worry.” But then, instead of doing anything, she just stared at me, or more precisely, at my cock. I could see her eyes running up and down it, her head tilting back and forth. The whole thing started getting uncomfortable. She was kneeling there, thinking about… frankly, I didn’t know what she was up to right then. I just knew that I was feeling a bit like a creature in an exhibit.
Moreover, no blowjob was happening. I was really rather fixated on that idea by now. But I didn’t want to sound pushy or demanding. However, she had kind of promised, hadn’t she? Damn, my cock was aching.
“Beth, um, you said you might…” I couldn’t finish the question.
She looked up at me swiftly, her cute, broad smile popping the dimple in her right cheek that only appears when she is really amused or happy. “Don’t worry, Alistaire,” she said, emphasizing my newly decided-upon name. “I said that I would, not might. I’m just planning out how to go about this,” She looked back down at my dick, and her smile morphed in to crookedly pursed lips.
The sigh that escaped my lips as she finally reached out and stroked my shaft with a single fingertip was blissful. Beth ran that finger up my length, then wrapped her hand around my head and slowly stroked about halfway back down. Then she held me there as she bent and kissed my tip.
If I had been bliss-filled at her first touch, I felt transcendent now as she advanced to that kiss. She began with her lips lightly pursed upon my very top. Then she began to kiss me a little harder, then harder still. She next let her lips slip open slowly, still kissing me. Her tongue flicked out lightly and briefly, glancing across the now insanely sensitive, swollen, and purple skin of my cock’s head as it slowly entered her mouth.
Now her lips were even more open, pressing downward to wrap gently around the circumference of my glans. Her tongue rolled back and forth now, caressing my helmet within her mouth. I felt her work her mouth to release more saliva, which seeped out through the gentle seal of her lips around me, dripping down my shaft. As she, with that same deliberate, agonizing, fantastic, deliberate pace, took bit after bit more of me into her mouth, her hand began to slide along my exposed shaft, reaching for the wetness of her spit to lubricate its progress up and down me.
I was far enough into her mouth now that her tongue had less freedom of movement. Instead she simply pressed it up against me, cradling the invader on a soft bed of warm, wet, responsive flesh.
My sighs were now groans.
Slowly, and either leisurely or cautiously, she took more of me, sliding me deeper. Her hands now both jacked up and down the exposed portion of my length with deliberate, firm movements. Finally, I felt myself bump against the back of her throat and she instantly gagged. Beth backed off, opening her lips around my cock for the first time, but not removing me from her mouth. She looked up at me with an unreadable expression, licked the underside of my shaft, and closed her lips tightly around me again.
Again she slid me into her mouth. And again she gagged. And then one more time.
The last time, she held it a moment, while she slid her hand up to her lips. Then she let my dick slide completely free of her mouth, measuring how much she had taken in… and how much more there had been to go.
“Nope,” she said. Her hand slipped up to the end of my dick, soaking itself in the copious saliva all over me there, and she resumed stroking me in even longer strokes. Beth bent and circled her extended tongue all around my head in circles, pausing here and there to talk to me. “I could never… in a million, ugulk, years… get all of you down my throat,” she said, breathlessly.
“You really don’t have…” I gasped, worried that she might not be feeling good about herself. And, I’ll admit, more worried that she might give up.
“Heh… I know I… don’t, glulck, have to… take it all, to make you, hnng, come,” Beth said, licking and kissing the end of my cock fervently. “When I’m done with you, glk, you are going to paint… my face like a Pointillist, hglck, masterpiece.” With that little boast (I especially liked the Art History knowledge flex), she sucked a good bit of my length back into her mouth and began for bob up and down in earnest, moist lips locked tightly around my circumference. She twisted and rolled her head as she worked, stimulating every millimeter of me from multiple angles. The firm, velvety grasp of her hand kept up its metronomic movements, like a base line for the music of her mouth.
Her free hand suddenly slid up my inner thigh and she dragged a nail lightly between my legs, under my balls. I jumped and felt my orgasm lurch up on deck. That second, stroking hand now cupped my balls and squeezed them gently. She also was sucking really hard on me, as if trying to drink an overly thick milkshake through a straw.
She was going get that milkshake any second now.