Library Girl Sex Story 2024 – Y2 Stories

A story about a strange girl who works in a public library.

You could call me a dirty pervert, but I’m really into paper books, since I was a little boy. What’s the big deal about paper books, you’d say, everything’s digital and online now, and I’d say you don’t get it at all. Screens don’t give you that solid weight in your hands, that unique smell of old paper and typographic ink, that feeling of the pages against your fingers that have been turned by hundreds of people before you, leaving their fingerprints (and sometimes other things) on them, that crackling sound when you open an old volume, that resistance when you try to fold the corner of the page to mark where you stopped (yes, I know librarians hate it when we readers do that)…. And most of all, the smell. Nothing in the world smells better than big rooms full of old books.

That’s why the first thing I did after moving to this city… well, the second thing, the first thing was renting the apartment… the second thing was finding the Central Library and signing in.

The building was big and old, over three centuries old, and it had always been the library. It had been repaired and expanded many times, and like the ship of Theseus, it was still the same library.

I was filling out the registration form at the checkout – no cheap electronic fake, real old yellowish paper, and they even offered an ink pen if you wanted it, they totally won my heart and soul with that – when I caught a glimpse of bare skin out of the corner of my eye. I glanced to the side and froze, my mouth hanging open.

There was a slender, completely naked teenage girl, walking noiselessly barefoot, carrying a neat stack of books that reached from her hips to her chin, pressed against her small, firm breasts, and the light from the reading lamps reflected off her delicate, almost transparent skin. Her long hair, of an unusually light, almost grayish white color, reached down to her beautiful buttocks and was tied back with a few leather straps. Paying no attention to us, she walked along the rows of tables and disappeared behind the storage door.

The librarian on desk duty caught my stare and chuckled softly.

“Meet Lila, our depository keeper. And welcome to the club. Everyone’s first reaction to her is like that.”

I made a heroic effort to complete my form without making any mistakes and handed it back to her.

“Wha… Why… Who is that?”

She rested her chin on her hands and told the story I assumed every new library member was told.

“You’ve probably heard of those autistic savants, haven’t you? Well, Lila is one of them. She registered with our library as soon as she learned to read – which was about four years old – and has spent almost all of her time in our reading rooms ever since. She is incredibly intelligent and remembers everything she reads.”

She pointed to the storage door.

“All those books over there, thousands and thousands of volumes – Lila knows them all by heart. Cover to cover. Titles, contents, text, illustrations, sources, footnotes. Everything. I’m sure she has our entire index in her head, and not just the titles, but the position of each book on its shelf.

“When she was in middle school, she came to our director and said she wanted to work here. We were happy to take her on as an apprentice. When it came time for the kids to start the summer jobs, we hired her part-time, and she’s going to become full-time as soon as she graduates. She’ll probably be here her whole life. She’s our most valuable asset.”

“I could tell…” I muttered. “But… why…”

“As is often the case with the autistic spectrum, she’s also a highly sensitive person. She can’t stand large crowds, loud noises and bright lights. The library is really the perfect place for her. And also,” the librarian smiled, “she is irritated by almost any fabric that touches her skin. She wears loose clothes outside, she’s socially adjusted enough… but she takes everything off whenever she can. We see no problem with that, as she never works at the reception, her domain is our depository, where people rarely go”.

The librarian gave me a key card and showed me around, pointing out the rules and regulations.

“Our index room is to the left. The most popular books are in the reading rooms, and if you need anything special, just ask Lila, she’s always happy to help.”

***

I thanked her and dug into the index. I was really looking for something special. In my love of books, call it perverse or not, I often searched not just for a particular title, but for a particular edition and print, for particular errata, typefaces, and illustration versions. Well, if you just want the plain text, you can always resort to soulless digitals, but with real books, every little detail is precious.

And of course, the book I was looking for today – William Burroughs’ “The Soft Machine”, second edition – was not in the reading rooms, so I called Lila.

“The Soft Machine, second edition? Yes, no problem. Follow me, please,” she said in a soft voice and led me to the depository.

As I said, the library building was old and big, and most of it was the depository, with all its corridors, stairs, and countless rooms with independent microclimate control. The smell of old books was everywhere, and I revelled in it, as one might revel in the bouquet of an expensive wine.

I was lost after the second turn, but Lila confidently led the way, her pale bare feet making no sound, turning through corridors and up and down stairs, leading me deeper and deeper into this book labyrinth, and I felt like I was in a fairy tale, in the land of books, led by a naked Snow White. And by the way, the sight of her slender figure from behind was a delight in itself.

Finally, we reached the row of bookcases, and Lila reached for the book. I could swear she was not looking for the bookshelf, she knew exactly where it was. And she pulled out the volume without hesitation among the similar ones, knowing exactly what she needed.

“Let’s go to the desk, I’ll check her in for you right away.”

Her. She called the book ‘her’, which earned Lila another ten points in my eyes.

***

Lila made the entry in the paper ledger – her handwriting was calligraphic – then duplicated it in the tablet (well, I guess they should keep up with the times). Then she looked somewhere around my shoulder (probably the closest she could get to a direct stare) and asked in the same soft, even voice:

“Would you like to fuck me too?”

“Wha… Ugh…” I was even more shocked than when I first saw her. To ask such things as casually as if she were asking if I wanted another book…

She smiled. “Most men and some women want it, I learned it years ago. That’s why I suggest it to everyone, just to simplify things. So, do you want to fuck me?”

“Um… T-to be h-honest, y-yes…” I felt my dick getting hard, it had its unsolicited opinion on the subject. “Yes, Lila. I want…”

“Perfect,” she smiled again, standing up and walking over to me, putting her slender hands on my shoulders.

I pulled her to me and tried to kiss her, but she put her fingers on my lips.

“I don’t get those lips-to-lips kisses, sorry. Anywhere else is fine.”

And she nudged me gently with her forehead and purred like a cat. I stroked her hair, which was incredibly soft, like cashmere, ran my hands down her back, touched her small, elastic breasts, kissed her neck, shoulders, collarbones, and ears, and began to undress. Lila helped me, unbuttoning my shirt, unzipping my fly, and taking off my shoes. She definitely didn’t stop at half measures.

She also gently bit my shoulder and scratched my back, her behavior was really very cat-like. I liked it.

Soon she was lying with her breasts on the table, her fine ass up against me, her hair running from the tabletop almost to the floor at her side. She looked over her shoulder and asked:

“Do you want me in the vagina or the anus? I like both, but if you are for the anus, the lubricant is there.” She nodded at the bottle on the shelf and chuckled. “Just don’t mix it up with the stationery glue, it’s on the same shelf.”

“Let it be the vagina then,” I smirked as well.

I slowly pushed into her – she was tight, but not too much, and extremely wet, so I pushed and pushed without resistance all the way in. Lila let out a deep, long exhalation.

“Just remember, keep quiet in the Library,” she whispered. I could clearly hear the capital L in her voice.

“Of course,” I whispered back and began to move inside her, gradually speeding up and pushing harder. Lila grabbed the edge of the table with both hands and rocked in sync with my movements, purring and breathing heavily. She was not moaning or crying, just breathing, exhaling with each of my thrusts, and those sharp exhalations were the most arousing things I had ever heard in my life.

I leaned over and kissed her back, running my fingers through her hair. She smelled of old books, the sexiest smell I could imagine. I picked up the pace even more, pushing faster and harder, and Lila responded with louder and sharper breathing, until finally, with one particularly sharp exhalation, she moaned – very short and soft – tensed and shivered in my arms, and relaxed, catching her breath.

I finished immediately after that.

“Thank you… Thank you so much…” I whispered, kissing her shoulders and caressing her all over.

“Thank you too,” she smiled, looking distracted and content.

I started to get dressed.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course. Anything.”

“How did it come to be that you are so damn easy to have sex with a man you are seeing for the first time in your life?”

She shrugged.

“I’m very bad at recognizing people, you know. Unlike books. So whether it’s the first or the hundredth time doesn’t matter much to me. And as for sex…” she shrugged again. “Sex is the simplest thing. Even mice and stupid hamsters have no problems with it. So I just don’t understand why we humans have to overcomplicate everything.”

She tapped my cheek lightly with her fingertips and gave me the book.

“Be careful with her and bring her back in time. Let me take you to the reading room…”

***

I had a hard time concentrating on reading. The book smelled exactly like Lila and I could not get her picture out of my head. She’s so strange and unusual… but strange in exactly the way I liked it best. I almost wanted to propose to her right away, but she would probably refuse… and, I thought, she would probably never agree to exchange hundreds of library readers for me alone.

But Burroughs always had a way of grabbing my attention, and soon I was immersed in the story until it was time to return the book and go home.

“Thank you! Come back again,” the librarian said.

“Sure. I’ll be your regular.”

I bowed and left.

Needless to say, since then I asked for Lila’s assistance every other day. I’m not sure if she recognized and remembered me, but she was always eager to offer whatever service she could.