Agnus_Dei posted:

I have my doubts you wrote this book

Well I did write it so, sorry you feel that way. I've just sold 3 copies so, I'm now Rhizzone's must published author since I can't imagine more than Impper and his mom bought his own book.

FSAD posted:

Impper what's your opinion vis-a-vis writing for the New Yorker? Blase, or is it worth it just to get the exposure?

its worth it for the exposure

tpaine posted:

stegosaurus posted:

hey lgps wife. whats good

not her marriage! lmao!

roseweird posted:

so do books about pornography but i'm sure we can both break some exciting new ground

"We’re gonna get caught," Janice whined, looking around nervously as I groped for the loose board. I grabbed the flashlight out of her hand. "You are useless," I scolded, "you should just go back to your dorm." I found the board and moved it to the side, revealing a person-sized opening. "Come on!" I took her hand and dragged her in with me. My hand found a switch on the wall and I turned on the lights. It didn’t do much, but I could put away the flashlight. A few dim yellow wall sconces illuminated, revealing dusty velvet couches and enormous wooden bookcases.
I walked the length of the room, scanning the shelves: Virginia Woolf’s diaries, Sylvia Plath first editions, a late 19th century edition of the Divine Comedy with Doré’s engravings… I opened the glass doors to a nearby case and stuck my face inside, inhaling deeply, growing incredibly aroused. Between my nervous sweat and my dripping cunt, my underwear was now soaked.
I opened my eyes. “Gross! Dickens!” I reached under my skirt and pulled off my underwear. Between the rich stink of my cunt and the heavenly old book smell my head was spinning. I grabbed a red leather tome at random. A first edition of A Tale of Two Cities. I wrinkled my nose in disgust and opened it, taking another deep whiff of book. The plates were actually quite lovely, I had to admit, and the smell was other-worldly. I skipped ahead through that piece of counterrevolutionary garbage and slammed my filthy wet underwear between the pages with a great sense of satisfaction.
"Okay," I said, "let’s get to it." I found an outlet by a lamp table on the floor and plugged my trusty Hitachi in. Janice was busily grabbing books from the cases and organizing them in piles. I beelined back to the Dickens and dumped armful after armful onto the floor until the case was empty.
I revved the Hitachi’s engine a couple of times to make sure the outlet worked before stripping and lying down on top of the rare Dickens. I called out that I was ready and Janice began to take books and documents from her piles and lay them on top of me and around me. The feel of rotting leather against my skin and all of those musty dusty smells sent me into sensory overload. I tried to move but couldn’t. I was trapped, weighed down by half the books in the rare book room. I felt a wet page rip apart under my ass.
Janice was pacing back and forth, nervously looking at me and then the door. “What’s wrong,” I asked.
She looked back at me with big plaintive brown eyes. ”I’m NERVOUS! I’m scared we’re going to get CAUGHT and I have to PEE!” Her voice squeaked on the last word, and she flinched as the sound echoed back to her from the vaulted ceilings. An evil smile spread across my face. My eyes sparkled. “How bad do you have to go?” She pouted and began to whine, but I could see her subtly shifting her weight from one foot to the other. I considered letting her piss in my mouth, but we’d come here with a definite mission, and I didn’t want to get distracted. “Just hold it in and keep piling the books.”
I switched the toy on and felt the vibrations reverberate through my pelvic bone. A loud buzz filled the room. Janice’s face scrunched up more and more in discomfort as she walked back and forth, burying me up to my chin in books. She was blushing hard, with anger or arousal or embarrassment or (probably) all three combined. My muscles were clenched— I was bracing myself against the hard, intense vibration. I was trying to relax and slow my breathing when I heard a whimper from the other side of the room. I smiled again, instantly more relaxed, as I watched the piss stream down Janice’s legs, staining her white socks, pooling at her feet. The muscles in my cunt began to contract involuntarily. “More books!” I barked. She sniffled audibly, turning to look at me with red puffy eyes, and complied. She approached with a small pile of books, making a “squish” sound with each piss-soaked step. I felt my climax start to build, an electric explosion in my head and tingling in my toes, as she gingerly placed each book on top of me.
I almost let myself come when I noticed an old stack of papers she hugged to her chest. She bit her lip, smiling softly. “This last one is a surprise.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath when I felt the paper up against my nose. She held the paper away from my face so I could see, and I blinked until the handwritten letters came into focus. It was…a letter? I couldn’t fend off my orgasm any longer, and let the waves begin to roll over me. She turned the last page and pointed to the signature. Mary Shelley. My eyes widened and my body went limp, the room spinning around me. “I knew you’d like it,” she said, and kissed me chastely on the cheek.
I slept for a few hours as she put all the books in order, wiping off my sweat and juices as best she could before placing them back on the shelves. She rolled me off of the soaked and ruined Dickens, and before I knew it she was shaking me awake. “Time to go.” I threw my clothes back on and staggered out, she followed closely behind, smiling as she turned off the lights. We held hands and walked up Elm Street back to her dorm. The sun was rising.