A Reader’s Delight: Reading-Sex

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A Reader’s Delight: Sex While Reading

By: AnonymousNin


Upon entering college, my mantra was: Why have sex when you can read about it; I would much rather read about Murakami characters fucking than have sex myself.

Now I am not so sure.

The only thing better than reading about sex, is having sex while reading.


In my first semester of college, I made a mistake and signed up for Anthro 100 early in the morning. The class started at nine, aka the college break of dawn..

On the first day, I sat next to this cute knucklehead named Jake.

Jake was a west coast skinny, surfer. He had a tan skin, a sun-freckled face and medium-long blonde hair. His hair wasn’t long enough to tie into a ponytail, but it was long enough to grip.

When I walked to class, Jake would nickel-board past me, turn around, get off his board, and walk with me.


One morning I awoke to the vibration of my phone.

Jake texted me:

“Skipping class Kiko. (short for Akishino) Shame on you. Did you at least have a good time last night? ;)”

(The second part of this text was a joke).

Jake sent me another text

“If you want, you can borrow my notes to copy?”

“Sure!” I replied. “That would be awesome, can I stop by VV (Valley-View Hall) at like 1-ish?”


At one, I arrived at Valley View. Jake let me in the dorm and led me down the hall to his room

Although Jake sometimes acts like a meathead, his room was not the room of a meathead..

Jake’s dorm room was a room dedicated to books.

Not for sleeping, not for watching tv, not for playing video games, not even for doing homework. This room was set up for the pure enjoyment of reading.

All of Jake’s shelves were bookshelves; his floor to ceiling window frames were bookshelves; and his desk was a bookshelf.

There were only two non readable objects: Jake’s nickel-board, and, in the corner— a lone fiddle-leafed fig.

Upon inspection, the spines were sorted alphabetically: Hammett, Hawking, Hawthorne, Hemmingway, Hesse, Hugo…

You can learn all you need to know about a person from their living spaces: the first time I came into Jake”s dorm room, I knew I wanted to have sex with him.

Jake handed me his notes and I left.


In my exit, I opened the front door of Valley View— onto the quad— and hesitated.

“Surely Jake must like me?” I asked. “He noticed me when I was absent..”

“Just go for it,” I rationalized. “What’s the worst that can happen.”

Last second, I stopped the door before it locked me out.

I let myself back into Valley View.

I walked back down the hall to Jake’s room and knocked— my patented jingle— on his door.

“Oh hey, Kiko, it’s you again,” Jake said. “Did I forget to give you something.”

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” I replied. “It’s just. if you ever need a friend to go get coffee with, or something, you should call me.”


That evening— as I read Faulkner’s As I Lay Dying for Freshman Comp— Jake called me.

Jake invited me to get coffee with him tomorrow once classes were over.

Faulker became impenetrable. I gave up, rolled around in bed, and laid there.


I awoke early bursa escort the next morning; it was already a nice, warm, fall day.

Eventually, my last class ended, and I returned to my dorm room to change for our coffee-date.

I changed from jean short shorts and a white T, into a blue sequined sundress— a dress a cut shorter than I had ever worn.

I looked good in this dress. The blue went well with my warm, Asian, skintone. And the cut of the dress somehow balanced good taste, while showing off my skin.

The sundress had a tasteful sluttiness.

I was shocked when Mom said she would buy this dress for me. This dress was low cut, and made no effort to hide my cleavage— not that I had much to hide— nor my legs.

I think Mom knew what type of dress this was— what it was for.

My tits looked great braless, so I just slid on— matching light blue— panties.


Arriving at the cafe, in my dress, I found Jake sitting at a table next to a window, paging through a tattered Steinbeck novel.

“Alright Akishino, I whispered. “Don’t mess this up,”

I smoothed my dress, and walked to his table.


As Jake and I sipped our coffee, our legs and hands inched closer. Neither of us noticed the beginnings of rain.

“Ah man, Kiko,” said Jake. “you wore the wrong outfit today.”

“I know, right?” I replied.

“Hey, if you want Kiko, my dorm is close by, we can watch a movie or something while the rain passes?”


Jake let me into his little library with a bed. His room had been cleaned since yesterday.

“I only have one chair,” said Jake. Do you mind if we sit on the bed?”

“Are you sure,” I asked, “My dress is wet from the rain.”

“Don’t worry, it was just a sprinkle.”

I sat myself on Jake’s bed. I grabbed the hem of my dress to prevent it from riding up. Jake fetched his laptop off his desk, and sat down next to me.

Jake’s knee touched mine.

“What movie do you want to watch,” Jake asked.

“Actually, I don’t know,” I replied. “Do you have something you want to watch?”

“Um, I mostly read, as you can tell by the state of my room,” Jake said with a laugh. “So I don’t really know what movies are good right now.”

“Yeah, me neither,” I replied. “We should read! I have a book in my purse that I need to read for class anyways— it’s perfect.”

“Awesome!” Josh said with a smile, “I am in the middle of Steinbeck’s East of Eden right now: it is getting so good.”

I jumped to my feet, and went over to get my Faulkner nove out of my pursel.

As I bent over to search for my book, I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Jake looking at my legs. My short dress was riding up, revealing the upper echelons of my hamstring.

Jake looked away,

(I may have worn the wrong clothes for rain, but I wore thy right dress for Jake).

I wanted to see that look again. So I bent over, this time pretending to adjust my purse, and I let my dress rise with only the perfunctory effort at modesty.


We read together through the pitter patter.

Jake’s knee still touched mine.

Eventually, Jake let one of his hands fall from his book to the space between our thighs.

His knuckles made contact with my leg.

We bursa escort bayan continued on reading, and Jake’s hand grew bolder with each page.


Jake’s hand now played with the hem of my dress.

I pretended to read, but the only thing in my mind was the sensation of Jake’s hand.

Finally I could not take it any longer, and I draped my legs over his.

I grabbed Jake’s hand and placed it on the inside of my thigh. Jake gripped my leg in consent. His hand on the inside of my thigh sent chills up my spine. My nipples became erect.


Slowly before my eyes, Faulkner turned into a jumble of lines and dots.

I removed a hand from my book and set it on the inside of Jake’s thigh— and I copied the strokes of his fingers with mine.

Every movement Jake made on the inside of my leg, I traced back on his. Neither of us dared to look up from our novels, afraid that a glance would break the spell.


After following the lead of Jake, I decided to take charge.

My legs still draped over Jake’s, I moved my hand across his jeans.

With a light touch, I began to trace the outlines of his sex.

Through the denim, I could feel him twitch and pulse

Eventually, Jake copied me. His hand slid up my thigh, and began to trace the outer edges of my panties.


We sat there, still pretending to read— at least I was— as our hands molested one another.

Without looking, I unbuttoned Jakes jeans, and slid my hand on him.

Skin to skin, motionless, I could feel Jake throb.


While we read, I began to rub, with my thumb, Jake’s tip.

Returning the favor— through my thin, damp, blue, panties— Jake began to rub me.


With Jake’s touch, I became more sensitive— my panties felt thinner— and I gave up all illusion of reading.

“Keep reading,” I told Jake. “But tell me what feels good.”

I sat my book down on the bed, and layed out on his bed

I placed my mouth on Jake.

My tongue and lips tasted his sex: I licked him; I nibbled him; I dribbled spit on him; and I touched him with my throat.

Jake read.

I traced Jake’s tip with my tongue.

“Yeah, that,” Jake said, turning the page of his book.

I continued to lick Jake here, and tasted his precum.

I felt Jake flex against my tongue; I could now hear him breath, and I began to feel his hips hump my mouth.


When I removed Jake, spit and precum strung down.

“Keep reading,” I told him.

I stood up, went to my purse, removed a condom, returned, and slipped it on to his sex.

I pushed Jake into a lying posture; his head propped with a pillow; his arms holding his novel above his face.

I slid my panties to the side: I lined Jake up with me; and I slid myself onto him.

It felt good. I began to kiss Jake’s neck, while he turned the page.

I began to move, licking and moaning into Jake’s collarbone. I pulled my dress down revealing my tits. My nipples chafed against him.

“If you stop reading,” I whimpered, “this stops too.”

Jake gave his consent with a moan.


I stopped moving, and rested with just Jake’s tip inside me.

Jake escort bursa moved his pelvis, trying to grind his way into me, but I left him here and teased him,

Jake’s hips grew more and more desperate. The friction on just the tip was not enough for him.

Jake’s pelvis was now in a desperate search for mine. I let Jake quiver here, and then I brought him in when he was most desperate to fuck me.

Jake threw East of Eden on the floor and wrapped his arms around me

I held onto him and kissed his neck, ran my fingers through his hair, and moaned into his ear.

Jake rhythmically beat his pelvis into mine.

Jake gripped me and kept me in place as he fucked me

With Jake’s desperate rhythm, I felt myself begin to orgasm.


There was no escape, I could not get out of Jake’s adamant grip— not that I wanted to. I quivered on his rhythmic beating,

I whimpered.

It was too much for me: the feeling of being fucked after being teased for so long.

I was now a mess of whimpering and shaking

Jake loosened his grip on me, and I pulled him out.

“What did I say Jake, you stopped reading.”

“Oh come on, really?”


I kissed Jake’s neck again, and rubbed my wetness along his length.

“Good try though,” I said. “I thought you were going to be able to cum while ignoring me.”

“I was so close Kiko,” Jake said.

Jake began to squeeze and play with my nipples.

“That feels good,” I said.

Jake played with me, his sex humping and sliding along me.

“Please?” Jake asked.

“Maybe you will do better next time.” I said.

With a kiss on the lips, I stood from the bed, walked into his bathroom, adjusted my dress and panties in the mirror, and when I came out— Jake was lying on his bed masturbating.

Jake’s pelvis humped the sky,

I opened Jake’s door, and left him there— in his little library with a bed— to think about me and masturbate.


In our next Anthro lecture, I gave Jake his notes back.

Halfway through the class, I grabbed Jake’s hand and put it on the inside of my thigh.

After class Jake and I went straight to his dorm to read. This time he ignored me and orgasmed.


For the rest of the semester, Jake and I would text each other and ask if the other person was down to read.

Often we met late at night. I bought Jake some candles and a reading lamp to put by his bed to reduce the eye strain while we fucked.


It was a fifty-fifty proposition whether Jake focused on his book and orgasmed


Eventually, Jake failed to focus on his book so many times in a row, I began to let him masturbate while he played with my tits.

(To this day, I masturbate picturing Jake breathing heavily— stroking himself).


College is weird. If I had never missed class that morning, I would have never stopped by Jake’s dorm,

I would have never summoned the courage to give him my phone number, never went on a coffee-date with him, and we would have never started to read-fuck every day after class.

One thing leads to another, and in college, it is usually fucking.


On a final note, one time Jake looked away from his book as he started to orgasm.

I had the self control to pull him out of me.

I grabbed his hands and made him fail-orgasm all over himself.

Jake was so mad.

(I still masturbate to this memory too).

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