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While this story is played as if it happened, and certain mundane elements are taken from personal experience, the following is completely fictitious, and any similarities to real world people or events are coincidental.
Summers come and go, but I’ll never forget this one. I come back to it, time and time again, a journey gifted to me by some miraculous stroke of luck so perfectly placed in time it might as well have been divine intervention. Nowadays it feels almost like a dream, a dream where every sensation, every act of depravity and pleasure, is as vivid as when they happened all those years ago.
This is a story of growth; of how a woman whose power, generosity, experience and insatiable desire saved me from myself. I dedicate this account to her.
Like all stories, mine began with a choice.
I was eighteen, fresh out of high school, and utterly unsure of what to do with my life. To compensate I decided to stay home while I earned my associate’s degree at the nearby community college. It seemed like a financially responsible thing to do, allowing me to get my gen eds out of the way while also giving myself more time to explore my future options. In hindsight this was an obvious attempt to avoid the daunting prospect of university life for a few more years.
However, my father insisted that if I was going to stay home, I needed a part time job. I couldn’t fault his logic, and I needed a steady paycheck, so I applied to the nearest and most inoffensive place I could find: the library. I was a nervous wreck walking through those doors the first time. It was my very first interview, and I was afraid, as always, of not knowing what to say; of embarrassing myself and of being rejected.
But to my great surprise I was hired on the spot. Sandy, my interviewer turned boss, was incredibly nice and had an outgoing bubbly personality that made it easy to be yourself around her. Immediately after hiring me she showed me around the building, acquainted me with the various sections (fiction, non-fiction, teen, dvds, etc), introduced me to all of the staff, and told me I would start the following week.
I cannot express how much the library was an ideal place to work for me at the time. It was a holy place; a mecca for the shy, the awkward, and the introverted. My job, a lowly shelver, was simple, had flexible hours, and required bare minimum social interaction, allowing me to spend most of my time alone in the world of books, listening to music and my favorite podcasts as I went about my menial tasks. I could be alone and away from people. It was perfect.
Don’t get me wrong, the staff were wonderfully kind, and small talk with them was pleasant enough. But it consisted of mostly elderly women, and I’d always found talking to old people to be easy. There was less pressure to impress, and so I didn’t get anxious around them like I did with people my own age. Especially girls. Back then, nothing got me more flustered and clam up more than talking to the opposite sex, especially if I was attracted to them.
It’s not that I thought I was ugly or anything. I was self-aware enough to know that I was decent looking, though definitely on the short and skinny side, which I was self-conscious about. I wasn’t the most masculine looking guy. I had very little confidence and mild social anxiety, so I avoided talking to people as much as possible. The result? Zero sexual experiences during high school, which was maddening because my sex drive was absurd. I know most teenagers are sex-crazed monsters, but I always felt like my libido was well above average. I was a chronic masturbator; at my peak I had to relieve myself a few times a day bare minimum.
Despite this, I still couldn’t ever muster up the courage to even approach girls, let alone talk to them. And there were so many girls. So many sizes and shapes and colors. The opportunities were overwhelming. And I didn’t just want sex, though that was a major priority. I wanted intimacy; to experience another person. But fear held me back.
And so by the time I was ready to move on from high school and into the next chapter of my life, I still had yet to even kiss a girl. Hell, I hadn’t even held a girl’s hand. I felt like a loser. I felt like I was missing out on a fundamental human experience; missing out on the connections and confusions and experimentations of youth.
But with all that behind me, I held out hope that this could change. I figured community college was a chance to start fresh and meet new people, including girls. I was genuinely looking forward to my new job and a new school, determined to make the most out of the next stage of my life.
But old habits die hard, and in my case they got worse.
I didn’t seize the opportunities in front of me. I was afraid, afraid of rejection and crippled with self-doubt. Time passed, and I grew complacent, and instead of summoning up the courage and forcing myself to go out and mingle with the world, I doubled down and withdrew from it. I lost touch escort beşevler with what few friends I had from high school and made no attempts to make new ones in college. In fact the only times I talked to other students was when I was forced to through a group project or collaboration, which I dreaded. The majority of my socializing came from either my immediate family or small talk I had with the senior members of the library staff. Outside of going to my classes and the library, I spent all of my free time at home playing video games, reading books, rewatching my favorite movies, and of course, masturbating to pornography. Multiple times a day. Every day. Imagining and wishing I was the man in the video. Pleasing beautiful women without fear.
This is how it went for almost two years. Suddenly I was twenty years old and close to graduating again. And yet it felt like nothing had changed; like I was frozen in place. And perhaps most disappointing of all, I was still a virgin. And there was nobody to blame but myself.
Thank god she came along when she did.
HAPPY RETIREMENT MISS LILLY!
The banner hung from the ceiling, and stretched from wall to wall of the circulation office. Underneath was a large card crowded with signatures accompanied with variations of well wishes and congratulations. With pen in hand I scanned for an open space to sign my own name, all the while trying to come up with something creative to say. I found a vacant space in the top left corner, and still running on blanks with what to write, ended up defaulting to what so many had already said.
“Enjoy your retirement. You’ll be missed!” -Jacob
It was bland and generic, but mostly the truth. Miss Lilly had been the children’s librarian when I started, and had been for almost thirty years. She was a quiet but friendly old lady who brought a warmth to the library that made it a welcoming place to work. Her leaving, as unfortunate as it was for the community, was well known ahead of time, which meant that the library had already hired someone new to take her place. I didn’t think anything of it, nor did I give much consideration as to who would replace her. There was too much going on in my own life to care too much.
I had just started my final semester of community college, which meant I was only a few short months away from graduating, so the pressure was on to figure out my major and what school I would be going to next. My father, newly retired at the time, was on my case about it constantly, and part of me resented him for it; for putting all that pressure on me. But the reasonable part of me understood. He was no nonsense baby boomer, and the only one in his family who went to college. He simply wanted the same opportunity for me, and had spent his entire career saving up to give me that opportunity. He intended for it to be used, regardless of how I felt.
Having fulfilled my social duty, I left circulation to grab a cart of books. The library seemed abnormally busy that day, which happened every so often, which meant an above average number of books that needed to be shelved. I welcomed this. There was nothing worse than having to work a four hour shift with nothing to do.
An hour later, while returning back to circulation with an empty cart I noticed Sandy talking with a woman so striking she immediately caught my eye. She was remarkably beautiful; I couldn’t help but stare. Eventually Sandy noticed, and waved me over, eager to introduce me to this mysterious woman.
“Hey Jacob,” said Sandy, “I just wanted to quickly introduce you to Miss Amber, our new children’s librarian.”
She’s Miss Lilly’s replacement? I thought. I was shocked. I had figured it would be another elderly bookish woman or ex-elementary school teacher, not someone who looked like she just stepped off the runway. I was so taken aback by this unexpected development that I hesitated for a second, but I quickly regained my composure and held out my hand.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I meekly said.
She smiled and shook my hand. “Nice to meet you too Jacob,” she replied.
While I figured she was probably in her late thirties or even early forties, Miss Amber had a healthy, youthful appearance that made her look much younger. She was slightly taller than me, maybe only by an inch or so, with dark wavy auburn hair that fell down over her shoulders; an appealing contrast to her fair complexion. Her face was pleasing to look at, soft featured and punctuated with large dark green eyes and full bright pink lips.
“Jacob’s one of our shelvers,” Sandy said. “He’s been going to Rockview while working here. You’ll be graduating this May, right?”
“Yeah,” I said, trailing off, unable to think of anything else to say. If single word responses were an art form, I was a master.
“Oh wow, that’s great,” Miss Amber replied enthusiastically. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I said tepidly, attempting to hide how distracted I was. Miss Amber was obviously dressed with first impressions in mind, wearing a dark escort balgat maroon blazer over a white blouse, along with a matching midi skirt and dark high heels. She looked strong, confident, and stunningly pretty.
“So you got any plans for after?” she asked.
I dreaded that question, only because I didn’t quite have an answer.
“Umm, I’m not really sure yet. I know I’m gonna continue with school, but I don’t know where or what I’ll study.”
“You’ve still got time; you’ll figure it out,” she assured me. “Lots of people don’t have a clue what they wanna do during college. I know I didn’t.”
She smiled at me, maintaining eye contact, and even though I had just met her, and even though I had heard that sentiment a million times already, I couldn’t help but smile back. Miss Amber really was a sight to behold, and her voice had a soothing pitch.
“Well I’m gonna keep showing her around,” said Sandy, cutting the conversation mercifully short, “and Miss Amber if you’re ever not sure where something goes you can always ask him. He’s been here long enough that he probably knows more than I do.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, turning back to me. “See you around Jacob, nice meeting you.”
“Yeah, nice meeting you too.”
I watched her walk away with Sandy, utterly unaware of the impact this woman would have on my life.
It wasn’t long before I found myself frequently thinking about Miss Amber; her combination of age and beauty having left a huge impression on me. I started masturbating to her, and I grew increasingly excited to see her every day. Not to interact with her of course, but just to see her. For weeks whenever we bumped into each other we exchanged nothing more but hurried pleasantries, but nonetheless I always welcomed the chance to put a children’s cart away because it meant I could spend time admiring her from afar. Her body was as slim as it was curvy, and never ceased to command my attention. She was a beautiful woman, and the more I watched her the more apparent it became.
As time passed I started to see a little more of Miss Amber than I expected. Despite a strict dress code, somehow she was able to dress herself in such a way that was both revealing and modest. She was very fond of form fitting button-up dress shirts and loose, low cut blouses that emphasized her sizable breasts. She also made a habit of wearing skirts, the kind that ended just above her knees, which, while not revealing, managed to show off her toned, lissome legs. She was incredibly sexy from head to toe, and she knew how to show it off in understated ways.
Countless times I found myself totally frozen in admiration of her milky white skin, how it gave off an ethereal glow under the fluorescent lighting. And her subtly exposed cleavage made my mind go wild imagining what her tits looked like. From what I could tell they weren’t particularly large by any means, but they appeared to fit her figure perfectly. I often drifted in thoughts of what it would feel like to suckle them, or to stick my cock between them. Such thoughts gave me a raging hard on, and it was all I could do not to relieve myself at work. It was hell, but a good kind of hell.
Eventually I was thinking about Miss Amber on a near constant basis. I was drawn to the way she smiled at me every time she said hello; how she carried herself with aged confidence and experience. I jerked off to her everyday, imagining myself fucking her in every way possible.
One day, a little over a month after Miss Amber had started working at the library, Sandy told me she had requested my help in setting up for a children’s program. Oh no, I thought. Up until this point I had managed to keep a comfortable distance from her, but now I was being forced to work with her directly. While I was excited for obvious reasons, I was also panicked. What would I say, and how would I make sure that whatever I said didn’t make me look like a socially awkward fool?
As I walked towards the children’s department I tried to relax, telling myself that there was nothing to be nervous about; reminding myself that she was an older woman, and to just talk to her like I would any of the other staff members.
As soon as I saw her though I knew that wasn’t possible. Miss Amber was wearing a really loose fitting dark pink blouse and a black hip fitting skirt that, frankly, I can’t believe she got away with. She was kneeling down, picking up some of the toys left on the floor of the toy room, her well-rounded ass facing my direction, and I drank it all in.
Then, as if to tease me more, she suddenly turned to face my direction, and I quickly noticed I could see down her blouse. Is she wearing a bra? I thought. I wasn’t sure, but regardless I wasn’t complaining. Her breasts hung low, jiggling from side to side as she picked up the remainder of the toys. My cock was quivering with excitement at this point, and we hadn’t even begun setting up the program yet.
“Jacob,” she said, noticing my approach, “there’s the strapping escort batıkent young man I was looking for.”
“Hi Miss Amber. Sandy told me you needed my help?” I turned to the side, hoping my growing erection wasn’t too obvious.
“I need your muscles to make room for tomorrow’s magic show,” she said, standing up and tossing a few toy dinosaurs into a plastic bin. “Follow me.” She sounded almost like a drill sergeant, and I followed close behind as we made our way to the program room, watching her ass swing from side to side. I wondered if she could feel my eyes on her, a thought which caused me to divert my gaze. I figured there was no need to tempt fate.
The program room was a mess, with three rows of three tables strewn out across the floor in front of the stage. Miss Amber wasted no time giving me orders.
“All of these tables need to be moved into the storage closet. Then we need to set up some chairs against the wall for the parents.” She walked towards one of the tables and I followed.
“Careful, these are pretty heavy,” she said as she grabbed one end while I grabbed the other. We lifted in unison, shuffled our way into the storage closest, and stuffed the table all the way into the back.
“You weren’t kidding,” I said, slightly winded, “that is pretty heavy.”
“I know, these tables are such a pain. We’re supposed to be getting some fancy new ones soon, ones with wheels. Should make things easier.”
“Yeah I bet,” I said in agreement.
The next few tables we moved without either of us saying anything, and as I feared would happen, it appeared all small talk had been exhausted. Great, here comes the awkward silence, I thought to myself. But then Miss Amber broke that silence.
“So how’s school going?” she suddenly inquired.
“Ok, I guess,” I said in my typically reserved manner.
“Uh oh, you don’t exactly sound enthusiastic.”
“I mean, it’s fine, it’s just, I’m not a fan of one of the classes I’m taking, that’s all.”
“Speech class. It’s a required credit and I waited until my final semester to take it. I hate public speaking.”
That was an understatement. I had bad experiences doing presentations all throughout my academic career. I would get all of the classic symptoms; a sinking pit in my stomach, shaky legs, dry mouth, the works. The worst part was that it didn’t seem to matter how much I tried to rationally talk myself down; my body would always betray me. And it was no different this time.
“Oh, I know that feeling,” Miss Amber said, flashing a sympathetic smile. “I never liked that stuff either. I’m pretty sure nobody does. But you gotta do it.”
“Yeah, I guess,” I mumbled.
The way Miss Amber was looking at me now felt like she was reading me like a book.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be fine,” she reassured me.
Her simple words or encouragement lifted me slightly. She continued to smile at me, and I couldn’t help but crack a smile back. And it wasn’t the feigned smile I typically used to get my way through conversation. This was genuine. Her eyes caught mine, and suddenly I realized we had been looking at each other for a few long seconds. I instinctively turned away and looked at the ground. I could feel my cheeks getting flush, and even though I couldn’t see her anymore I could tell she was still looking at me.
“C’mon, we need to get the last tables in here,” she said softly, and as I looked back up she walked right past me, ever so faintly brushing her body against mine. It was the closest I had ever been to her, and for the briefest moment I could smell her, and my heart fluttered.
Another few weeks passed by with little incident. I continued my routine of spending as much time as possible in children’s to be near Miss Amber, all the while obsessing over the moment we had in my head. Her scent, earthy and sweet, was ingrained into my memory, and every time I beat off to her I’d remember, which made me come even harder than I usually did.
Eventually one night, as I was making the rounds during closing, Miss Amber approached me while I was straightening the juvenile non-fiction.
“Hey there stranger,” she said playfully.
“Oh, hey Miss Amber,” I said. I was a bit startled, and did my best to hide it.
“So I’ve got a quick question for you.” She held up a CD case. “I’m not quite sure whether this goes in with the CD’s or the audio books. I figured you’d know. What do you think?”
She handed me the case, and I looked at the call number. It read J236.76
“I’m pretty sure this gets shelved with the audio books,” I said confidently.
“Ok, that’s what I figured, but I wasn’t sure. Thanks Jacob.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Since I’ve got you here, would you mind shelving it for me?”
“No, of course not. That’s what I’m here for,” I said, trying to playful and confident, only to instinctively turn away before I could register her reaction.
I walked back to the audio visual section and returned the case to its rightful home. I thought it was kind of strange that Miss Amber didn’t know where a non-fiction audio book would go, but I chalked it up to her still getting the hang of things. She didn’t spend all of her hours putting away books like I did, so it was understandable how she could be a little unsure of where certain things go.
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