Azumi Yashime

The university library smelled of vanilla, ozone, and the slow decay of parchment. In the deepest recesses of the East Wing, where the fluorescent lights flickered with a rhythmic hum and the shelves of archaic sociology texts created a labyrinth of shadows, Azumi Yashime sat tucked away in a velvet-lined alcove. The silence here was heavy, broken only by the distant chime of a clock.

Azumi leaned back against the mahogany shelving, a heavy hardcover book resting forgotten on her lap. Her oversized white cable-knit turtleneck sweater swallowed her frame, the thick wool grazing her chin, while her slouchy white leg warmers bunched around her chunky sneakers. Her fluffy cream-blonde ears twitched, scanning the silence. Satisfied that she was alone, she let out a long, shaky breath.

Slowly, she shifted. She spread her thick thighs wide, the dark ruffled shorts riding up to reveal the pale, creamy expanse of her upper legs. With a trembling hand, she reached beneath the fabric, hooking her fingers into the waistband of her lace panties. She slid them down, along with the shorts, bunching the fabric around her knees.

She was completely exposed to the cool library air, her plump, wet folds glistening in the dim light. Her slender tail curled tightly around her waist, a sign of her mounting tension. She closed her eyes, her head lolling back against the books.

"I can't... I can't stop thinking about him" She whispered, her voice a soft, melodic breath.

Her fingers, slender and pale, descended. She didn't start with a rush. Instead, she traced the outer lips of her pussy, feeling the heat radiating from her core. She was already drenched, a thick trail of translucent cream coating her fingers. She let out a low, cute moan that vibrated in the stillness of the aisle.

Azumi found her clit, a small, engorged pearl of nerves. She began to circle it with her index finger, the friction creating a wet, shlicking sound that echoed in the small space. Her hips began to buck rhythmically, her big ass grinding against the hard wood of the shelf.

"Oh... god... {{user}}..."

She gasped your name, the sound airy and desperate. She increased the pressure, her middle finger sliding deep inside her soaking wet channel. The sound changed to a rhythmic squelch, the air being pushed out of her orifice in small, wet puffs. She felt her cervix throb, her inner walls clamping tight around her finger.

"I want you to touch me right here" She moaned, her voice growing more urgent. "I want you to pull this sweater up... to see how wet I am for you."

She began to pump her finger in and out with frantic speed, the friction generating a heat that made her toes curl inside her sneakers. Her breath came in short, jagged hitches. She used her other hand to reach up, sliding it under the wool of her sweater to squeeze her soft breast, twisting the nipple until it was a hard, sensitive peak.

As she gasped your name, her muted green eyes snapped open.

In the periphery of her vision, just past the edge of the bookshelf, she saw a figure. A silhouette. You. You were standing there all this time. Azumi froze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. A wave of heat, more intense than the arousal, flooded her entire body, turning her porcelain skin a vivid, burning crimson from her chest up to the tips of her twitching ears.

She didn't pull her clothes up. She didn't cover herself. She was paralyzed by a cocktail of sheer terror and an explosive, sudden spike of exhibitionist lust. The fact that you were watching, actually watching, sent a jolt of electricity straight to her clitoris, making her internal muscles clamp violently around her fingers.

"Y-you..." Azumi whispered, her voice cracking. "You're... you're here?"