At The Library

Voyeurism at public library in Cape Town.
I had to take my books back to check them out again and even though it was raining outside, braved the cold and driving rain. The road was awash with water, as our long–awaited spring showers finally arrived with angry thunder and huge black murderous clouds. I made my way across the road to the shelter at the taxi stop and joined the other people already waiting there. It was a little after half past eight in the morning and so their were a ton of people moving about and I was feeling lucky to have managed to score a day off from teaching, instead of having to trudge to work through this highly inclement weather.
At 8:35 the taxi pulled up and squeezed as many of us into it as it could take. While I was taking out my fare, I noticed that the young woman next to me had library books on her lap, as she rummaged in her purse for change. It was holidays for school students (after completing exams) and study leave for varsity students (before theirs).
It took us over ten minutes to travel to the other side of Sea Point, because the taxi stopped repeated to let off passengers and let on others, but roughly at 8:46, it stopped infront of the library and both the young woman and I ran like hell for the front doors. Inside, we found twenty or thirty people standing infront of the doors waiting for the librarians to open up for the public with more people arriving every moment.
At 8:50, I noticed that one teenage girl ,with an Adidas gym bag, was pacing around impatiently and then stopped to look at her watch, before resuming pacing. There was still ten minutes left before the library opened and so I knew the girl would have to hold it in. I didn’t know how long she had been waiting already, but judging by how calm she was, it couldn’t have been too urgent not to be able to wait ten minutes. However, over the next two minutes, she started perspiring and jiggling very slightly, but enough for me to notice. Other than that, she managed to retain her dignity by and large, even though she obviously had to pee.
When nine o’clock came by, everyone got up and stood at the doors waiting, but nothing happened. The girl stood right in front of the doors wiggling her knee around, as the librarians could be seen moving around inside. When they didn’t come and open up, she knocked loudly on the door, as several of the other women began tapping their feet impatiently on the tiled floor.
Jasmine, one of the librarians came over and said, ‘We open at nine, you will have to wait until then.’.
‘But it is nine already…’, one of the women said.
‘There’s still another five minutes left.’, the librarian said shaking her head and pointing to the clock inside, ‘Please be patient.’.
The people reluctantly gave in and went back to milling about in the foyer. The teenage girl went over to the tables of second hand books and began looking through them anxiously, occasionally making a quick curtseying movement. She was still sweating, as she went from one table to the next over the next minute. Then she looked back through the door at the clock and bit her bottom lip, as she crossed her legs and stuck her butt out behind her. She had a look of sheer anguish on her face, as she bent her knees slightly and the I saw her right hand drop down on to her abdomen, revealing just how swollen her bladder truly was underneath her loose–fitting skirt.
At 9:03 (by my watch), I could she that she was reaching the desperate stage, because she was prancing about and unable to stay still for a second. Then she froze suddenly and looked down towards her feet. I couldn’t tell whether she had started wetting, but gave herself a quick squeeze before returning to her usual fidgeting and squirming. I decided to take a chance and get closer, by going and browsing through the books myself. She then took up a position at the corner of one table with her crotch against the rounded corner and began lifting herself forward up on to the balls of her feet. I knew that she was doing that as a way of rubbing her crotch against the corner and I continued to watch her, as she started pushing her crotch up against the corner harder. Once or twice, I thought I saw a drop run down her leg and I really wanted to touch her panties with my hand to feel if they were wet, but knew that she would scream at least and I have no desire to be charged with indecent assault by the police. A minute later, I saw her suddenly stiffen, pressing her groin into the corner, as waves of colour flooded her face and watched mesmerised, as several drops of piss fell to the floor between her teeny–bopper legs. She quickly clamped her knees together and I saw a thin trickle run down the inside of her right leg. After a few hazardous moments she stepped back and surreptitiously ran her hand under her skirt to survey the damage, before walking back to the front doors. ‘Please, I really need to use the toilet!’, she said after she managed to get one of the librarians attention by banging hard on the door.
‘Me too…’, another woman sitting on one of the benches to the right of the doors.
‘All right. I’ll go and get Jenny to come open up for you.’, the librarian replied before disappearing.
The girl looked very anxious and pouted, as the librarian vanished, while she began bouncing up and down rapidly from the knee up. I then watched mesmerised, as she went from bad to worse, and out of the corner of my eye spotted one of the women wincing in sympathy at the girl’s agony. After a while, when no librarian returned, the girl started panicking and instantly her cute little butt shot out behind her. She then did it again, before whipping her right leg up across her left and pushing both hands into her groin. A second later, she dropped her right leg down and then immediately replaced it with her left leg, as she continued to press her groin for all she was worth. After several long moments, her eyes bulged and she doubled over, turning and running between the tables towards the stairwell in the far corner, as a soft hissing noise erupted from her groin. She disappeared into the stairwell and a second later, everyone could hear a loud squirting noise coming from that direction.
She kept on pissing for what seemed like at least a minute and a half, sighing audibly and unable to hear or oblivious to the sound of the librarian unlocking the door. ‘Where’s the girl?’, the librarian asked looking around.
‘Around the corner in the stair well.’, the still seated woman answered.
The librarian quickly made her way around to the stairwell and then came back with an astonished look on her face and one hand over her mouth. She spotted another librarian, who was now standing in the doorway and said, ‘Can you get a towel from the tea–room, Celia? Please, she’s really flooded the place out and Dora will have to clean up before we can go upstairs…’. I made as if to look at some of the books on sale at the back of the foyer, which would put me in a position to see around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and felt cum squirt into my pants. The girl was sitting on her heels in the middle of a massive pool of piss 3ft wide and at least 11/2 inches deep in the shallow depression of the large cement slab. Both her skirt and panties were completely soaked and I caught a glimpse of her transparent white panties still dripping piss on to the floor.
The other librarian nodded, red–faced, as she swept through the doors and vanished from view. The other librarians chose this time to open the doors and start checking in the books of the waiting people. There was a long line for the check–in computers and so I ended up behind the young woman, who had been on the taxi with me. There was a fair amount of wiggling and restlessness amongst the women in the line, but the only woman that was showing any real signs of desperation was the woman wearing red slacks, who had been sitting on the bench.
As the people were dealt with they dispersed throughout the library and it was about a few minutes later that the first librarian brought the trembling girl through passed all of us with the towel wrapped around her waist, hiding her dress. I could see tear streaks on her cheeks, which were scarlet from embarrassment and I only then realised that I had a Woody (Toy Story2), which I promptly hid with a book (hardcover naturally).
What was interesting was the look of disappointment and anxiety on the face of the woman in the red slacks, as the librarian and the girl walked around towards the toilets. She was obviously starting to feel the effects of gravity on a swelling bladder, which can cause drastic increases in pressure and which were, no doubt, exacerbated by the heavy rain outside and the frigid cold air. Once passed the check–in, the woman quickly made her way around the central admin area of the public area of the library and then down the out–of–sight passage to the toilets. After a minute, I heard someone knock briefly on one of the toilet doors and say something.
Once I too had gotten passed the check–in, I made my way quickly after the woman and found her standing in front of the door. Unfortunately, I had no other choice but to make out like I was going to the men’s to cover my following her and had to smile when she gave me the perfect alibi for hanging around to watch her, ‘There’s someone in the men’s…’.
‘Thanks.’, I said, trying to look disappointed, ‘I hate it when this happens…’.
‘Me too, but I didn’t have a choice.’, she replied, distracted, as her right knee was grinding against her left.
After three minutes, when no one came out, she stepped up to the door and knocked on it, saying, ‘Can you please hurry in there? I need to go urgently.’.
‘All right, just give us a minute.’, the voice of the librarian answered.
‘God, I can’t wait much longer…’, the women moaned, twisting her legs around each other with a small wiggling movement.
The guy in the men’s then came out and I went inside, locking the door behind me. I immediately got my basic needs taken care of and then listened at the window at the conversation going on in the women’s.
‘You need to hurry. There’s a woman getting impatient outside.’, the librarian’s voice stated.
‘I’m going as fast as I can. I’m just trying to find where my sweat pants are.’, the girl replied.
‘Please hurry!’, the woman outside whined, ‘I can’t wait anymore.’.
‘I’ve found them, I just need a moment to change…’, the girl whimpered.
‘Okay, just go as fast as you can.’, the librarian added.
Half a minute past, as I heard the girl shuffling about inside the cubicle and then the voice of the librarian speaking to the woman in the red slacks, ‘Just a moment, we’re almost finished.’.
‘Oh, please hurry!’, the woman moaned, ‘Please, I’m bursting at the seams.’.
‘Use the men’s toilet if you have to.’, the librarian replied.
‘I c–c–can’t, there’s a g–g–guy in there.’, the woman stuttered, as she started groaning audibly.
I knew that this was my chance to see her approaching damburst, but didn’t want to leave the men’s and give her an escape route. So I waited, praying for another guy to turn up and one did after another half a minute. I heard the woman start to say something to the guy, as I opened the door, but he ignored her and went into the men’s, locking the door behind him.
The woman was in agony with both hands wedged into her groin, as she twisted her legs around each other in a never–ending blur of movement. ‘Asshole.’, she swore at the closed men’s door.
‘Are you still waiting?’, I said in mock astonishment.
‘Yes…’, she groaned excruciatingly and then sucked in a breath, as I spotted a thin line race down the inside of her left leg. ‘For crissake, what’s taking so long!’, she fumed knocking hard on the door, ‘I can’t hold it in…’. She then leaned against the wall with her back to me, as I heard a squishing noise come from her crotch each time she gave herself a squeeze and I could see a very distinct wet spot forming between her legs.
Just then the door opened and I watched her disappear inside with both hands squeezing her crotch for all she was worth. The librarian stared at the peeing woman, as I walked away and a couple of seconds later, I saw the girl come out holding her gym bag under her arm. The girl left the library post haste with a dark blush on her cheeks and disappeared into the foyer, as one librarian told her that her father was waiting around the corner.
Things calmed down after that and about five minutes later, the woman in red came out with her jersey wrapped around her waist and gave the toilet key to one of the librarians, before walking over to the paperback section of the library. I contented myself with browsing the Sci–fi/fantasy shelf, as I wondered about the aisles.
Sometime around ten o’clock, I found myself standing at the magazine counter, as Jasmine (a Muslim librarian) came down from upstairs and headed straight for the back shelf in the librarian’s area, which held the toilet keys. However, she couldn’t find the key and so asked Nudjema, one of the other librarians, who replied something but I couldn’t hear.
Jasmine then walked over to the checkout counter and began helping members that had chosen books to lend out. She carried on helping the members for a few minutes, as she waited for the key to return, but I could see the strain beginning to show, as she became more and more uncomfortable. I watched her from the cover of a rack of Hello magazines and noticed that she was wearing a sky blue cotton skirt with a full length white blouse. After a couple of minutes, she finished helping the people at the checkout counter and turned to look in the direction of the toilets with a deep look of longing. She then walked over to the cart holding the returned books and pushed it over near to the other carts with returned books that people could look through before they were re–shelved..
I then made a trip to the men’s to see if I could hear if there was a woman inside the women’s toilet and had to wait for the sound of the cars outside to get softer before I heard the faint sighing and groaning coming from inside. I had to suppress a chuckle, as it was obvious that the occupant inside was getting herself off, oblivious to Jasmine’s increasing urgency. I then exited the men’s just, as Jasmine walked up to the door of the women’s, about to knock on the door. ‘Someone just went in.’, I lied fiendishly.
‘Are you sure?’, she asked with a note of alarm in her voice.
‘Yes, just before I went into the men’s.’.
Drops of perspiration appeared on her forehead, as she replied, ‘God, I am dying to go…’.
‘Hang on it won’t be long.’.
‘I hope so.’, she groaned, as I heard her right knee start slapping against her left, ‘I can’t wait much longer…’.
I then walked passed her and made my way over to the opposite end of the magazine section, where I could still watch her inconspicuously. She was getting desperate fast, but I was amazed by how much control and composure she was showing, as by this point most women would be openly displaying signs of “being about to burst”. It was another minute or two before she started swaying back and forth restlessly and chewing her lip, before knocking on the door. I barely heard her mumble something and then the person inside mumbled in reply.
After another minute, she walked over to a nearby shelf of books and started pacing up and down its length, occasionally stopping briefly to squeeze her thighs together and close her eyes tightly. After half a minute, she began bobbing up and down, as I gauged that she was nearing the point of wetting herself, which would be very unusual, as I have only once before seen her show any signs of desperation. She continued to breathe heavily, as if that were helping to control her bladder and I could hear her breath beginning to whistle, as she inhaled and exhaled sharply each time. She began to squeeze her thighs together for longer and lean forward, slightly bent over, as she cast anxious looks at the toilet door. I felt my dick swell, as I could see the material in the back of her long skirt bunching up in the crack of her butt whenever she squeezed her thighs together.
Then suddenly I spotted her right hand dart for her crotch, as she grimaced in agony, and her legs clenched together in that unforgettable knock kneed stance. She quickly removed her hand and started walking back towards the toilets, trying not to attract any attention, but was forced to give herself a quick squeeze twice as she went. I couldn’t believe it, she was actually starting to lose her composure, as the need grew unbearable. When she reached the toilet door, she knocked hard on it with her left hand, as she brought her left leg up across her right leg. I couldn’t see where her right hand was, but was fairly certain that she had it in a skirt pocket. A thought nagged at me, as I saw her starting to drop into a half crouching position with an open–mouthed/eyes–closed look on her face and tried to follow her right arm down from the shoulder. That was when I noticed a faint movement underneath her skirt and nearly came in my pants, as I realised that she had slipped her right hand under the waistband of her skirt and was frigging herself for all she was worth.
Suddenly, waves of scarlet washed over her face, as she froze stiff only her right hand moving, and I saw a shiny wetness race down her right leg, as I walked closer. Her stockings went dark where the wetness had been and I saw several trickles fall down between her legs on to the carpet and the front of her tennis shoes. She had clearly started wetting herself or at the very least let loose a gully washer, but I couldn’t see any wet stain on the front or back of her skirt.
Just then the woman inside opened the door and came out, as Jasmine rushed passed her with a dirty look in her eyes. Five minutes later, a much relieved Jasmine came back out of the women’s with no sign of wetness in her skirt, but with her shoes and stockings having been wiped clean, as they were uniformly dark.
She then went around to the librarian’s area and moaned at the woman, who had been inside the toilet and I chuckled recognising the woman as one of the librarians too and knowing that she had been in the toilet getting herself off the whole time. The librarian appeared to apologise to Jasmine and then walked away with a sly smile on her face, as I realised that she was the same librarian that had helped the girl get changed. Did the librarian get off watching other women wet themselves? It wouldn’t be surprising, knowing what the library was like in summer and it merited further investigation.
I couldn’t see if Jasmine had a wet spot on her skirt, so I took the chance of following her around to see if I could get a glimpse under her long shirt (it came halfway to her knees). It took a while to find the right angle and opportunity, but as she crouched down to sort out the books on a bottom shelf, the front of her dress flashed in front of my eyes and I saw a platter sized navy blue stain running from just below her bellybutton to mid–thigh. She had sprayed some perfume over it, but I could still detect the faint odour of pee coming from her. Realising that I could see the front of her dress, she pushed the bottom of her shirt down, blushing a deep red and all the memories flashed back of our roughly six months together.
‘Are you alright?’, I said genuinely concerned.
A tear ran down her left cheek, as she nodded, ‘Yes… That bitch, Sandy, made me wait on purpose.’.
Sandy was in her late forties and still on the same level as Jasmine, even after having been at this library for over ten years, which was probably what was eating at her in the first place. ‘It’s okay now.’, I consoled, ‘It could happen to anyone.’.
Jasmine sniffled a couple of times and then I saw the tears come streaming down her face, as she whimpered in my ear, ‘I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. She knew I was desperate to go and went in ahead of me anyway on purpose.’.
I let my right hand wander down to her bum, under her shirt, and felt that it was very damp to the touch. ‘You’re completely wet…’, I said, as my hand slipped between her buttocks, ‘Don’t you have anything to change into?’.
‘I haven’t had a chance yet to get upstairs, because Jenny is watching me.’, Jasmine answered squirming away from my hand, ‘I think that she must have put something in my coffee this morning, because I have never had to go that bad before and even now my bladder is still sore.’. I brought my right hand around and slipped it along her abdomen into her crotch, my dick throbbed as I felt her still distended bladder underneath her skirt. ‘You have to stop before someone sees us.’, she moaned as her mouth opened, but I was happy to find her still attracted to me, even though she was currently in a lesbian relationship with Nudjema.
The rest is another story…
John Sniper