Abigail had just been enjoying a mystical erotic moment with a being who had
emerged from a bookshelf.  Unfortunately he had dissappeared when her boss walked
in, leaving her on the floor.  She was lying there, her underwear tossed on the
floor, her hair down and her skirt and shirt pulled up.  She had serious doubts
about keeping her librarian job for much longer.

"What the Hell are you doing in the Women's Studies section?" asked an astonished
Robert Armitage.  He was mentally willing his erection away but it wasn't easy. 
He had no idea her tits were so big.  I mean he had had his suspicions, but to
actually see them was to confirm the existence of a God simply because they were
so beautiful.  Judging by how round and firm they were, God also had to be a male
because only a divine male could create such perfection.

Abigail was scrambling on the ground to collect her underwear and found herself
having to make an excuse for her bad behavior for the first time in her life. 
Not to mention she had this incredible urge to keep masturbating.  It was like
her seducer had left an emptiness in her.

"Well umm, Mr. Armitage sir, I was walking behind here, and I was by myself and I
saw someone had left a bra on the floor.  And umm....." babbled the confused
Abigail.

Robert's own erotic imagination finished the story for her.

"Oh, I've had those kind of moments myself.  It's nothing to be embarrassed about
Abigail.  Sometimes when I'm alone in the library and surrounded by all these
books, I feel like a thousand writers are watching me."

Abigail was standing now, holding her underwear behind her as she tried to figure
out where Mr. Armitage was going with this line of reasoning.

"In fact," he continued, "I once masturbated twice one night in the Modern
Culture section.  I have to admit it was pretty exciting to be having sex in
front of books of Marilyn Monroe and Madonna. It's perfectly normal for
librarians, in fact we publish a private newsletter for it."

Abigail considered explaining to him about her magical lover, but decided that it
would be easier if she agreed to his story instead.  After receiving a handful of
embarrassing tips on which areas of the library were best for seclusion, she
promised to be more careful in the future and to keep her panties on if they
weren't crotchless.  He left her alone after saying he would forward the online
librarian masturbation newsletter to her.

The next day found Abigail sitting in one of the secluded places Robert had
mentioned, the basement study cubicle next to the 1940's chemistry books.  She
had a stack of occult books next to her and she was currently trying to make
sense out of Prin's De Vermis Mysterious (Golden Reader Edition).  It was even
harder to read because one hand was holding an ice pack under her skirt, pressed
against her sex.

Normally Abigail would get aroused maybe once a month, usually while watching
Nightline, but last night had been different.  She found herself grinding into
her sofa while watching a cologne commercial.  Her underwear had been too much
for her sensitive sex so she had discarded them.  To Abigail's suprise she nearly
touched herself five times during Nightline.  She had had to resort to placing a
box of ice cream in her lap to cool her ardor.

Sleeping had been a challenge.  Everytime she fell asleep she would have dreams
about all the men in her life she had avoided, such as Alvin Chester, her High
School Chess Club Chairman who had never asked her out.  In her dream she ended
up with his Bishop inside her Rook.  She immediately awoke from that dream and
took a cold shower.

When she fell asleep again, she dreamed of Barry Anderson, the attractive black
man who ran the bookstore she would go to in college.  He always was such a
gentleman with her, treating her like gold and discussing the downfall of modern
fiction.  Only this time, in her dream they ended up trying new positions out of
the Kuma Satra. Once again when she woke up, it was for another shower.

And so the night went on.  Her next door neighbor, her college history teacher,
the mailman, the handymen from her last job and many others all had starring
roles in Abigail's erotic dreams.  Her skin became wrinkled from all the showers
she kept taking, not to mention the shivering from all the cold water.  Despite
her many icy attempts, she had to sleep on her hands to prevent masturbation.

Since morning, she had been fighting the urge to masturbate. Worse, masturbating
seemed to be the least of her sins.  At one point she found her eyes wondering to
her boss's pants wondering how much of a bulge he had there.  Abigail knew if she
didn't do something about this soon, she would end up a bigger slut than her
employer at the brothel had been.

Abagail collected all the occult books the Molloky County Library had to offer. 
She also did some research into who contributed that starnge and mysterious
bookshelf.  And as a temporary solution, she also carried with her a bag of ice
cubes she was saving in the library lounge.  So far she had skimmed twelve occult
books, four donation record books and about eight of the ice cubes in her lap.

Among the records she found that Obediah Whatley had donated the black bookshelf
with the runes to the library in 1932.  She also found records that stated that
Obediah had donated the bookshelf right before he was hanged for killing young
women.  Apparently his donation was an attempt to make amends before his death. 
Abigail noted they never found the bodies of the women.

She paused to place another ice cube on her crotch, for the others had already
melted.  After trying to sooth her hungry sex, she had turned to look through the
occult books.  Those that she could read that was.

The Book of Iod seemed to be written by a maniac with a fetish for bells and the
dark.  She turned to the Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan but she couldn't read
Chinese and the pictures of sinister octupi seemed silly.  She wasn't impressed
by Nasty Monsters of Newark or Cliffnotes of the Necronomicon.  She was about to
give up when she saw one with a catchy title.  It was called "The Sixty-Nine Sins
of Sister Sarah Bedford".  She set it in front of her and opened it up.

She took one look inside and slammed the book shut, her cheeks bright red in a
blush.  The ice in her lap melted very quickly. Abigail closed her eyes and tried
to banish the image she saw from her mind.  She recited the Dewey decimal system
to no avail.  For the rest of her days, Abigail would wonder how so many women
could be balanced on one picket fence and not loose their balance.  Not to
mention where they get so much wax.

Abigail considered giving up her research into the occult and finding a new job. 
But she thought about how she only got this job because her mother knew Mr.
Armitage from church.  If she quit, she might have to explain a few unpleasent
things.  Besides, Abigail was tired of being fired or running from jobs, this
time she was going to make her stand.  Finally, if she didn't continue her
research, she might never stop this desire she felt in her sex and end up a
hooker or something.

Placing another ice cube under her skirt, she tried again. Averting her eyes at
every illustration, she slowly skimmed through the Sixty-Nine Sins looking for
something that pertained to her plight.

The book was an account of a nun who fell under dark powers and became the most
perverse woman ever burned at the stake. Strangely,  her notes were collected,
bound together and given illustrations and sold among the Vatican where it became
a best seller.  Abigail was not suprised.

She scanned through the index and was startled to see the listing "Demonic and
Sexual Shelves- page 323".  She flipped to the page and added another ice cube to
herself.  What she read was clear and concise with a few notes someone added in
the margin.

"Know that in ancient times the Great Ole One named ShubSexpot of the Thousand
Nipples and Six Holes was accosted by the Lesser New One, Cockullu of the
Talented Appendage and he did take pleasure from her for five centuries and two
hours. (Here someone wrote "That's shorter than when AzoPrick mated with the Deep
Throat Ones). In revenge ShubSexpot imprisoned Cockullu in a book shelf made of
Strange Wood from the Stars.  He may emerge when he smells the scent of a woman,
but can only be released permenently from his curse by fornicating no less than
with a thousand, thousand women. (At the mention of so many women,  someone wrote
"Lucky guy" in the margins) Only a female may release him for the seed of a male
is deadly to him.

And it came to pass that ShubSexpot was consumed with longing for Cockullu
despite his emprisonment and she did copulate with Great Yog-sofat, Hastur the
Unsuckable and some lucky creatures from distant Alderan in an orgy that lasted
six decades and two days.  She broke the curse of wantoness by summoning Cockullu
out of his bookshelf long enough to make him gaze upon the Elder Symbol Of
Limpness and the curse fell away. (and here someone scribbled "Page 211 of De
Vermis Mysterious")"

Abigail read further as Sister Sarah Bedford told of her search for a black wood
bookshelf with strange runic writings and a tendency to make women sexual wneches
forever after.  Sister Sarah never found the bookshelf, and regretted it always. 
Abigail then turned in De Vermis Mysterious to the page listed and saw a drawing
of an arcane symbol with a long rod that curves to the ground.

Abigail sat for a moment and considered what she had read. Was there really
ancient creatures who were locked in furniture? Would photocopying the drawing be
enough to stop the creature?  Did she nearly release an evil being by sleeping
with it?  She had her doubts, but was soon horrified to find she had run out of
ice!

She went to stand up and sweet fire traveled through her body. her desire was
stronger than anything she had ever felt before and she stood there as still as
she can be.  Her sex was immensely hot and when she took a step she was forced to
sit back down.  The motion of her legs had created a friction in her sex that was
impossible to ignore.  Abigail had a vision of herself trying to use the zerox
machine in this condition and it wasn't a pretty picture.  Desperate measures
were called for.

She looked around to make sure she was alone.  Then, biting her lip, she reached
under her skirt.  Her trembling finger guided itself to between her legs.  She
was shocked as she felt how moist her curly hair was.  A tremor moved through her
body as her finger parted the wet hair to touch her delta lips.  She ran her
finger along her opening,  partly because she was stalling and partly because it
just felt so good.  She tilted her head back and uttered a low moan as her finger
caressed her slick inner lips.

With a start she sat up and pulled her hand free.  A blush spread from her face
down her neck.  She was completly embarrassed with herself yet at the same time
knowing she could not stop now.  She looked at her finger accusingly and was
distressed by how well it shined in the light.  The wet lubrication revealed just
how unstoppable her situation was.  Abigail remembered reading in a Reader's
Digest her mother had given her that masturbation among women caused split ends. 
As well as leading to harder sexual abuse like dildos, cucumbers and small
animals.  Although Abigail was wiser now, she still was terrified of what path
she was leading down.

"Oh well," Abigail said miserably, "At least I know what really causes split
ends.  And maybe if I only do it once, I can go cold turkey before I start
haunting pet stores."

Closing her eyes, she reached under her skirt again.  This time she used her
entire hand to part herself with.  Her legs spread themselves wider and she
leaned back in the chair.  Her fingertips pushed her sex open and Abigail was
amazed at the heat she felt there. As two of her fingers slid into herself,
Abigail felt more alive than she had ever before.

Her toes curled inside her shoes as she began thrusting inside her self.  The
friction of her fingers was delicious and Abigail shifted her legs wider in
response.  As her rubbing became more intense, she became aware of every
sensation on her body.  The way her bra clung to her breasts, the pressure of her
nipples straining to be touched, the feeling of her skirt pressing her bare
buttocks and the air conditioner hitting her face when she tilted her head, all
of this helped Abigail feel incredibly sensual.

With her other hand, she reached and touched that most sinful of places acording
to that long ago Reader's Digest.  Her clitoris was a hard bud when she touched
it gingerly and she was amazed when her finger slid off of it from the slickness.
 Even more amazing was the electricity that ran through her when she touched it. 
More carefully this time, she rouched it with new found respect and began gently
rubbing it.  With one hand on her clit and another inside her sex, her breathing
became a ragged mess.  Anigail was self-concious enough to not moan too loudly,
but the sounds of her wet slick hand were impossible to quiet.

Abigail had her eyes closed tight and before her erotic images flashed through
her mind.  As her thumb rolled over her clit, she imagined a tongue there.  Her
sheltered mind easily conjured up how the tongue would roll her clit around
softly and gently.  Her hips were buckling upwards as her body succumbed to
pleasure.  Her mind was racing through an entire cast of lovers, some real and
unfufilled while others were strangers Abigail had seen but never met.  They all
appeared breifly in her mind, each taking a delightful lick of her hard, moist
bud.

Abigail felt a tremendous pressure well up inside her.  Her throat was sore from
her heavy breathing but she didn't care.  Her hand was stroking with a rythym she
didn't know she had and finally she came in a long searing orgasm.  She lifted
her head up and slowly bent over forward, her mouth open in sweet shock.  Her
hand froze inside her and she took a moment to uncurl her toes.  As she pulled
her fingers out,  she felt another tremor rack her body as her over sensitive sex
cried out for more.

Abigail pulled her skirt down and looked at her shining fingers.  She had been
around sluts at the brothel long enough to know that she was supposed to lick her
fingers now, but she decided to just go wash up.  And then she would go make a
photocopy of that mystic symbol and be rid of this curse.

When she stood up, she saw the huge wet stain on chair. Horrified, she examined
her skirt and saw the stain on her backside. Her face reaching new levels of
blushing, she ran off to the washroom.